#apparently my meant to be read top to bottom comic is too meant to be read top to bottom for the read top to bottom site

[franeridart]

The Housecat Philosophy - Ep 37

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[grapesodatozier]

so close to the real thing (closer than you think)

rating: explicit

word count: 6.8k

summary: Eddie's been pining over Richie for as long as he can remember. He loves everything about Richie; especially how much Richie loves touching him. It's a little inconvenient, though. Eddie copes with his pent up sexual tension by constantly checking a porn blog he's obsessed with on tumblr. This guy has the same type of body as Richie, he talks like Richie, his name is even Richie! It makes it all too easy for Eddie to pretend it really is Richie while getting himself off to all of the blog's content.

You'll never guess what he finds out when he starts sexting this stranger named Richie from his anonymous porn blog.

tags: friends to lovers, porn with feelings, love confessions, dom/sub dynamics, bi dom top richie, gay sub bottom eddie, the most oblivious pining idiots in the world lol we love them

notes: this is one of my more ridiculous ideas but I had so much fun with it lol. also as a note you probably should not approach people on the internet the way they do in this fic, but they're just v enthusiastic and everything here is v consensual!! still tho definitely don't take this indulgent fic as a guide on how to approach real people online lmao. okay have fun!!

read on ao3 or below!!

notsfw under the cut

Eddie Kaspbrak’s friends were his entire world; time spent with them meant everything to him. But he also really valued his alone time. He’d always been the sort who needed time to just sit on a grassy hill and watch the trains go by, to catch up on comics in his room, to get lost in Netflix shows or even just his thoughts as he moseyed around his apartment—one he live in by himself, for when these moods hit. He needed time to himself to unwind. And sometimes he unwound by scrolling through some porn blogs on tumblr with his hand in his pants.

There was one blog that he was particularly fond of. There were other blogs more catered to his personal interests, namely blogs that didn’t feature women like this one did. But there was a good balance of genders represented, so Eddie figured he could just scroll past those posts. This guy was worth it. His pictures were ridiculously hot, and his dirty talk was even hotter.

Also, his name was Richie. Which Eddie refused to acknowledge as part of the draw.

It was harder to ignore tonight. He’d been out with the losers, and Richie had just been so touchy. And there was something about the way he'd been talking; his voice was lower than normal, slower in a way that made Eddie’s stomach flip. And his touches had lingered, his hand squeezing Eddie’s hip slow, then lazily brushing against his ass as he dropped it. Eddie could hardly take it. He brushed it off as Richie just being tired from work, but god, Eddie wanted it to mean more. The hardest part was hiding how much he wanted Richie to keep doing it.

There were so many things Eddie wanted Richie to do to him. He wanted Richie to touch him harder, to grab him by his hips with both hands. Richie’s hands were so big; Eddie just knew Richie could manhandle him so easily, so roughly. He wanted to know what it would feel like to have Richie’s hands all over him, grabbing at his ass and his thighs, holding his wrists down, making him feel so small. While Eddie would never admit it, huffing at every short joke Richie made, but he loved being shorter than Richie. He loved how safe he felt when Richie held him. And he was dying to know how small he would feel with Richie looming above him, or sitting in Richie’s lap, bouncing on his cock. He wanted to hear Richie talking to him in that low, slow voice, with that condescension Eddie did his best to pretend not to be affected by. He wanted Richie to whisper in his ear and call him all those pretty names he always dropped so casually, all those sweet ones and also ones that were a lot meaner. He wanted Richie to want him.

But it was easier to think about it than to ask for it. He knew Richie had way more experience than him. Well, okay, maybe not way more necessarily, but they were starting their third year of college, and he hadn’t wasted any time. Eddie, on the other hand, hadn’t done anything more than hand stuff with someone else. The guys he’d hooked up with were nice enough, and hot enough, but they just… weren’t Richie.

He supposed this guy on tumblr wasn’t Richie either, but at least he was everything else Eddie wanted. None of his hookups had been so, well, dominant, and that was this guy’s whole thing. He was dominant and a top and into guys that looked like Eddie. He even kind of talked like Richie, and he was apparently pining over his best friend, just like Eddie was. It had him completely smitten. Plus, internet-Richie’s crush had brown eyes like Eddie, and he ran track, just like Eddie did. Internet-Richie had posted once about his dick getting hard watching his friend at his track meet, and Eddie had come so hard that night, his track shorts around his ankles, imagining his Richie thinking those things about him.

Eddie was in bed now, in nothing but his boxers and one of Richie’s old shirts that had been Eddie’s for a while now. Still reeling from the way Richie had been acting that night, he logged into his porn account on his phone and scrolled through his dash for a grand total of thirty seconds before going immediately to internet-Richie’s blog. A thrill went through Eddie’s body when he saw that he had just posted. He’d written, “god my friends gonna fuckn kill me with that ass, i wanna plow him so bad” then reblogged it and added, “reminder that my asks and dms are always open if any pretty needy little subs need help getting off. please come be sluts in my messages.” Eddie’s breath caught in his throat when he saw that there was a picture, too, one of him gripping his hard cock, his boxers pulled down just enough for Eddie to see the dark hair around the base of his cock. Eddie moaned at the sight. His cock was so nice, so long and thick and pink. And fuck, his fingers. They were so long and slim, almost as nice as his-Richie’s.

Eddie scrolled a little farther down, his heart racing. There were a lot of reblogs, but some original posts here and there, things like, “what i wouldn’t do to have a pretty guy drooling all over my cock rn,” and, “in the mood to get someone dick drunk. wanna fuck a someone so hard they forget their own name.” One that made Eddie nearly choke said, “want someone i can pump my come into whenever i want, over and over again. want a sub i can keep full of my come all the fuckn time.” That post had Eddie getting out his lube.

It also had him thinking about internet-Richie’s most recent post, his post about his DMs being open.

Eddie bit his lip and thought about it. He’d sent internet-Richie some asks before from his porn blog (his blog didn’t have his name on it, just the teddy bear emoji, since he privately thought the teddy/Eddie rhyme was fun and clever, and also it was cute), and he’d seemed plenty happy enough to respond then. Still, it felt like a much bigger step to DM him, to talk to him just one on one. But the more he read his posts, the more he thought about his-Richie and how he’d touched Eddie that night, the easier it was to convince himself to shoot his shot with this stranger.

Eddie just messaged him a simple, “hi,” with a heart emoji. It was innocent enough, but his heart was still racing.

Internet-Richie responded a lot faster than Eddie was expecting. Honestly he hadn’t been expecting a response at all. But he said:

hiya cutie (; ive been hoping youd message me

Eddie flushed. He couldn’t help but hear cutie in his-Richie’s voice—especially given how often Richie used the nickname. really? he typed back.

fuck yes, ur cute little messages make me so hard. i can tell ur a pretty little thing just from the way you type

Eddie was blushing deep. Pretty little thing. That was hotter than it should’ve been. He wanted his Richie to talk to him like that, in that deep, sleepy voice.

there’s no way you can tell that from some messages :P, Eddie sent.

His heart stopped at the next messages internet-Richie sent.

oh, u dont think so?

why dont u send me some pics to prove me wrong (;

Oh my god, Eddie thought, his breath coming short. His head swam at the thought of sending this guy nudes, of showing himself off to someone who clearly wanted to see him, who would know how to take care of him and fuck him the way he liked, a guy with his crush’s fucking name and body type and hands. It had Eddie’s cock hard and leaking, and he slowly slid a finger inside of himself.

But just because the thought turned him on didn’t mean he was gonna send this stranger what he wanted so easily, even if he desperately wanted to.

you’d like that, wouldn’t you?

He fingered himself open as he waited for a response, working his way up to two fingers. It was nearly impossible to ignore his cock, but he didn’t want to come before the conversation even had a chance to start.

fuck ya i would, internet-Richie responded. Then, in a second message, whats wrong baby? you shy? ill show u mine ;)

Eddie's breath caught. God, this guy even made stupid shit sound hot, just like Eddie’s Richie. This was unreal.

i’ve seen yours, Eddie pointed out.

ya and you musta liked it if ur messaging me rn

Eddie bit his lip. ...maybe

aw thats cute sweetheart. u know i can see all the needy little tags you add when u reblog my stuff right?

Eddie blushed. He’d kind of always hoped he’d read them, but he never thought he actually did. i didn’t know you read those

oh ya, read them, jerk off to them. bit of a size queen, aren’t you? ;) it’s cute. makes me so fuckn hard when u talk abt how u want me to fill you up

Eddie whimpered out loud, sliding a third finger into himself. Fuck, he wanted that cock inside of him so bad. But right now one of his toys would have to do, once he was stretched out enough. He sped up his fingers, getting impatient. Gathering up all of his horny courage, he sent, show me.

what, no please? only good boys who use their manners get dick pics babydoll

Eddie pouted and whined to himself, making quick work of sliding his hot pink vibrator inside of himself—well, as quickly as he could without hurting himself. He moaned as it filled him up, making pleasure spread deep through his body. Slowly pumping it in and out, he reached for his phone. please, he typed, please let me see? wanna know what to picture while i fuck myself with my vibrator. He even added the wide eyed pouting emoji to really milk the whole begging thing. He knew he’d been playing a little coy, but now with the way internet-Richie was talking to him he was getting desperate.

well fuck baby since ur begging ;)

Eddie held his breath as he waited for the picture, slowly rocking his toy in and out, savoring the feeling. He wished it was Richie doing it, wished it was his cock. The lines between which Richie blurred; he wanted to get fucked by either of them, both of them.

What Eddie received when his phone lit up was not a picture, but a video. It was short, just a few seconds of Richie’s hand dragging wetly, smoothly over his cock, but it had Eddie drooling. The room was dark, so he’d used a flash, and it made the mix of what Eddie assumed was precome and spit glisten as the swollen head of Richie’s cock disappeared and reappeared from behind his fingers. Eddie must’ve played it at least five times, fucking himself a little faster, before remembering to say something back. And to take a video of his own. fuck, I want you so bad, want you to fucking ruin me, he wrote back. A part of him couldn’t believe how openly desperate he was being, but he found that he liked it; he liked the way it made him blush, he liked the way it felt to beg, to ask for what he wanted.

Richie’s response came fast: show me kitten. show me how you want me to fuck your pretty little ass.

Eddie moaned at the pet name; casual little nicknames were such a weakness for him. He was already so far gone, just picturing Richie’s cock inside of him, picturing him stroking his cock to thoughts of Eddie. The attention had his cock hard and leaking as he thrust his vibrator even deeper inside of himself, pumping it in and out a few more times before rolling over and getting on his hands and knees. It was hard to take a video from this angle, but he wanted to show off his ass and hide his face. Plus, there was something so hot about having his ass in the air and his face shoved in his pillow, looking like the perfect image of someone desperate to be fucked. He loved the way it made him feel, loved the thought of being so open for someone. For Richie.

He ended up shooting a short video as well, about ten seconds of him sliding his vibrator slowly in and out of himself, letting out soft little moans. He was pretty pleased with the way it turned out, his hole pink and smooth and wet as it stretched around his toy. The angle was a little weird, showing a lot of his room once or twice when his hand slipped a little, but overall he thought his ass looked amazing, if he did say so himself. He sent it and said, feels so good. do you want me to go faster?

As he sent it, he got settled on his back, forcing himself to go slow as he fucked himself while he waited for internet-Richie’s response. It was taking longer than before, and Eddie was getting antsy; it was so hard to drag it out, to not get ahead of himself. But whatever Richie was doing, Eddie knew it would be worth the wait. Still, he pouted as his cock ached, begging for attention.

He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a knock at the door.

He groaned to himself and stayed put, fucking himself even slower as he waited for whoever it was to leave. But then the knocking continued, loud and incessant and obnoxious, and Eddie knew exactly who it was. He also knew he wasn’t going to go away any time soon, which honestly made him smile and blush. Richie had terrible timing, but Eddie would never be upset to see him.

Reluctantly, he slowly slid the toy out and pulled on his shorts, leaving his shirt off. He still had a pretty obvious boner, but his horny brain did not mind the idea of Richie seeing it. So he strode lazily down the hall, shouting a performatively annoyed, “I’m coming!” Finally, he opened the door, cocking his hip to the side and giving Richie an expectant look. “Can I help you?” he asked, a small smile dancing around the corner of his lips. He had to fight off a smirk at the wide eyed look Richie gave him as he ran his eyes over Eddie’s body.

“Fuck,” he muttered lowly, his eyes trained on Eddie’s cock, which was getting even harder the more Richie stared. Eddie bit his lip and grinned a little, making doe eyes at Richie. But Richie didn’t meet his gaze—instead he brushed past Eddie, his mouth still hanging open as he made his way urgently toward Eddie’s bedroom.

“Richie?” Eddie asked, a little let down that Richie’s hands weren’t all over him right now. But hey, if he was heading to Eddie’s bedroom he figured that was at least the right direction. He closed his front door and followed Richie into his room, where he found him staring at the bright pink vibrator on the bed. As confident and horny as Eddie was feeling, that still made him blush. He was only human. Crossing his arms, he said, bashful now, “I was kind of in the middle of something.”

Richie looked over at him, his cheeks bright red under his freckles. Then he got a glimmer of that trademark shit-eating grin on his face. “Eds, you fucking slut,” he said, sounding both delighted and breathless. “You are so fucking hot.”

Eddie flushed and tried not to squirm, but he couldn’t help but press his legs together, his eyes brightening. Fuck, was this actually happening? Shit, he needed to think of something witty to say. “You gonna do anything about it?” Okay, that kinda sounded like a corny porn, but he had to give himself credit for even being able to form words just after his lifelong crush and personal wet dream had just admitted his attraction to him.

“I think I already have been,” Richie said, still grinning.

Eddie cocked an eyebrow at him. He couldn’t help but smile back. “Oh yeah? How do you figure that?”

Eddie was expecting a confession. He was expecting something along the lines of you think I don’t notice how you look at me? or did you really think those were casual touches earlier? What he was not expecting was for Richie to unlock his phone and hold it up, showing Eddie the video he had just taken, the video he’d sent to internet-Richie.

Oh. Oh. Oh fuck.

“Oh my god, that’s you?” Eddie cried in disbelief.

“You’re telling me you didn’t recognize this dick?” Richie asked, swaggering over to Eddie, clearly enjoying himself.

“How did you recognize it was me?”

Richie nodded toward the Thundercats poster on Eddie’s wall, then to the model train that sat on his dresser. “What other guy has decor like that and the ass to match?”

Eddie grinned and shook his head. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Well pardon me for not being especially eloquent when I’ve just learned that the guy I’ve been masturbating to since I learned how to and been in love with for even longer has been masturbating to me too.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide, all thoughts of getting fucked leaving for a moment. “You’re in love with me?” he asked, his voice as soft as his smile.

Richie was not a bashful person, but the little laugh he let out just then was close to it. “Have been my whole life, but thanks for finally noticing.”

Eddie shook his head and stepped closer, until he had to crane his head up to meet Richie’s gaze. “I love you too.”

Richie’s eyes widened behind his thick frames. Eddie had only seen that look in Richie’s eyes a few times before, but he never wanted to lose sight of it again. He always wanted Richie to look at him like that. But then Richie was closing his eyes and leaning down. It only took Eddie a second to get with the program, drinking in the moment just a little longer before letting his own eyes fall shut as he pressed his lips against Richie’s.

It started gentle enough, if deep and passionate and intentional. But then Richie’s hands were on Eddie’s bare waist, skin against skin, and Eddie was gasping into Richie’s mouth, his hands coming up and resting against Richie’s chest. He curled his fingers into Richie’s shirt as Richie ran his tongue over Eddie’s lips, just before pulling away. He laughed at Eddie’s indignant little whine.

“Oh, you mean you don’t want me to take off my shirt right now?” he smirked as Eddie tried to pull him closer by the offending fabric. Huffing, Eddie conceded and let go long enough to let Richie pull the shirt off over his head.

“Oh,” he said softly, his voice a little, awed moan as he drank in Richie’s chest. It wasn’t like Richie had never been shirtless in front of Eddie before, but Eddie had never felt like he was allowed to really look at Richie all those times. But now he could; now he could touch. And he did, running his fingers over Richie’s smooth, warm skin, over his acne scars and blackheads and freckles. “Fuck, Richie,” he sighed before pressing his lips to Richie’s collarbones, trailing them all over Richie’s beautiful chest.

Richie gave a breathless, almost shy laugh as he stroked Eddie’s hair. “Damn, Eds, never pegged you as a tits guy.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Eddie giggled, bringing his lips back to Richie’s. They both smiled into it, getting lost for a moment as Richie’s hands slid slowly down Eddie’s sides. His hands lingered on Eddie’s hips for a moment before he slid them further down and grabbed at Eddie’s ass, making him gasp.

“Is that any way to talk to the guy who’s about to rail you ‘til you can’t walk?”

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Eddie asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Spank me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Richie smirked. He gave Eddie’s ass a playful smack, making Eddie gasp again and fall into him, needing more. Richie’s voice was dripping with adoration as he purred, “Little brat,” and pulled Eddie against him, kissing him again. Eddie went with it easily and happily parted his lips to let Richie lick into his mouth. Richie had one hand gripping Eddie’s jaw and the other on his ass, touching him in a way that exuded a command Eddie was desperate to follow. God, Eddie knew Richie had big hands, but they felt huge on him like this. It was dizzyingly hot. And the way Richie’s tongue was teasing his had Eddie’s knees going weak. His dick was throbbing in his shorts, aching to finish what he’d started, what had been interrupted. When he thought about it all—about playing with himself for Richie, about the video Richie had sent him, about all those things Richie had said about filling Eddie up—he felt himself clench down on nothing, desperate to get fucked. Desperate to feel Richie’s cock so deep inside of him.

“Richie,” he whined into the kiss, pulling on Richie’s belt loops, “please.” He pressed himself urgently against Richie and rutted shamelessly against his thigh.

“Fuck, you’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” His voice was cocky and teasing, but there was an apparent undercurrent of wonder there as well.

Eddie shoved his face into Richie’s neck and whined, grabbing onto Richie’s wrists without even knowing what his goal was. “Richie,” he whimpered, sounding pitiful and ruined already.

“What do you want, baby?” Richie’s voice made it clear that he was enjoying seeing Eddie this wrecked, and that just made Eddie even harder. “Come on, tell me, use your words.”

Eddie squirmed as Richie held him close, but still not touching him in any relieving way. “I need you inside,” Eddie said, his voice high and soft as he squirmed in Richie’s grip. “God, please, Richie, need you to fuck me. Fuck me so hard I can’t even think. Fuck me like I’m your little toy.”

Eddie could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth, and judging by the gasp he heard Richie let out, he’d caught Richie off guard too. But if the hard bulge in his jeans that brushed up against Eddie was any indication, he was apparently just as turned on as Eddie was. Besides, Eddie knew from his blog that Richie was really into that sort of thing too—and, apparently, really into the idea of doing those things with Eddie. The realization that Richie had been saying all those filthy things about him had him grinding against him with even more fervor, kissing his neck with a heated confidence. Richie moaned, and Eddie could feel the warmth of it spreading through him. “Yeah, sweetheart? You want to feel me inside you? You think you’re ready for me?”

“Yes,” Eddie sighed, looking up at Richie with wide, desperate eyes. He shivered at the new look in Richie’s eyes, the blue nearly entirely eclipsed by how wide his pupils were. He looked hungry for Eddie; Eddie wanted to feel it. “‘M ready, Richie, please, so open for you.” He looked to the toy on his bed pointedly, but Richie only gave a deep laugh.

“Oh honey, that’s cute that you think that little thing is gonna have you ready for my cock.” Eddie’s breath caught; that toy wasn’t small. Before he could gather his scattered brain enough to react, Richie was scooping him up and tossing him on the bed, the toy falling forgotten to the floor. Richie moved Eddie onto his back, and Eddie went happily, pliantly. Richie’s fingers were cool against Eddie’s burning skin as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of Eddie’s shorts, slowly dragging them over his hips and down his legs, tossing them to the floor. Eddie’s cock was dripping with precome, his chest flushed a bright red as he squirmed under Richie’s gaze. Eddie been dreaming of Richie manhandling him like this for he didn’t even know how long; he couldn’t help the way he reacted. And he especially couldn’t help the pleased little sound he made when Richie murmured, “God, you’re gorgeous, Eds.” Then Richie was grabbing him by the ankles, gently but firmly spreading Eddie’s legs, and Eddie let out the most pathetic, genuine moan he’d ever heard. “Fuck, baby, you sound pretty. You like when I spread you open?” Richie asked. He was smirking down at Eddie, but Eddie could see how flushed he was, could see the thrilled awe in his dark, hungry eyes as Eddie nodded.

“Richie, please,” Eddie whimpered. “I need you so bad.” He sat up, reaching for Richie’s belt, but Richie easily pressed him back against the mattress with a large hand on the center of his chest. The confidence in Richie’s dominance took Eddie’s breath away, and he stayed right where he was, nice and obedient, as he watched Richie get off the bed and slowly undo his belt, then his button and zipper. He took his time dragging his jeans and boxers off, enough time to let Eddie’s eyes linger on the reveal of the dark hair under Richie’s waistband. Then Richie’s cock was bouncing up against his stomach, hard and flushed and fucking long. Eddie moaned at the sight and fisted the sheets underneath him. He wanted so badly to get his mouth on Richie, to breathe him in and be nice and good for Richie on his knees. But he was also desperate to get fucked; his hole clenched down on nothing at the thought, and then it was all he could think about again. “Richie,” he repeated, whining now as he reached for him. “Stop being such a tease.”

Richie laughed as he moved easily out of Eddie’s grip and climbed on top of him. Eddie gasped softly at the sight of Richie above him, his dark curls surrounding his face, his full, pink lips pulled into the most beautiful smile Eddie had ever seen in his life. He ran his hands over Richie’s chest and sides, marveling at the fact that this was really happening. Then, his eyes flickering down, he tentatively brought his hand to Richie’s cock.

“Oh, fuck,” they said, both at the same time, making them giggle together.

“Fuck, Eds, your pretty little hand looks so cute wrapped around my cock,” Richie teased in a low, rough voice. Eddie shivered; he couldn’t tell if Richie was praising him or degrading him, but either way it made his head fuzzy.

“‘M not that little,” Eddie grumbled out of habit. But he was clearly breathless. He’d never been good at pretending not to like Richie’s compliments, however teasing.

“Aw, but you are, baby,” Richie cooed, nuzzling his nose against Eddie’s and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “You’re so cute and tiny for me. I don’t even know if we’ll be able to fit my cock inside you.”

“I can,” Eddie whined, both indignant and impatient. He bucked his hips up, but Richie held him down. He gasped when he felt the warm, soft skin of Richie’s cock press against his stomach. Looking down, he saw that Richie had his cock lying on Eddie’s stomach, showing just how deep he would be once he was inside Eddie.

“You sure about that, babydoll?” While the teasing note was still there, Richie’s voice got noticeably softer as he said, “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Eddie’s chest swelled at that. Cupping Richie’s face in his hands, he insisted, “I can take it.” Then he reached down and took Richie in his hand, glowing with pride when Richie let out a low moan. “Richie, please, I want you so bad.”

“Okay, baby,” Richie agreed, turning his head to kiss Eddie’s palm. “Fuck, I want you, too.” But he stalled. “Have you ever… like, been fucked before?”

Eddie flushed. “Well, not by someone else, but I have some toys. I’m not gonna break, Richie.” He huffed, but the way Richie was looking at him soothed any ruffled feathers.

“I’m your first?” His smile was soft, and while his eyes glittered, there was nothing teasing about his tone.

“I didn’t wanna do it with anyone else,” Eddie mumbled. He tried to look away, but Richie pulled him into a kiss.

“Fuck, I never thought you’d want me,” he chuckled. “Sorry, that was depressing, I just mean I can’t believe we didn’t do this sooner, you know?”

Eddie beamed, a small, giddy giggle dancing on his lips. “Well it’ll happen sooner if you stop talking so much.” But his smile, and all of the little kisses he planted on Richie’s freckled shoulders told Richie that Eddie never wanted him to stop talking.

“Alright, alright, sheesh, I know I’m hot but you don’t gotta rush me.” Eddie was still giggling when Richie kissed him, and he could feel that Richie was smiling too. “Where’s your lube?”

Eddie stretched his hand out and patted the bed for a moment, searching. After what was probably only four seconds but felt like an eternity, he finally found the bottle and handed it eagerly to Richie. “Oh, right,” Richie smirked, “you’re already wet for me, aren’t you?” Eddie moaned as Richie swiped his fingers over Eddie’s slick hole, pressing in just a bit. His fingers went in easily, and he pumped them slowly, drawing little, breathy moans out of Eddie. Richie’s fingers were a lot longer and thicker than his own, and they felt amazing, but they weren’t what he wanted in that moment.

“Richie, fuck me,” he whined.

“Aw, no please? Again?” Richie tsked and shook his head, curling his fingers against Eddie’s prostate, making him cry out. “I told you, sweetheart, only good boys who use their manners get fucked.”

“Please,” Eddie cried. He rocked his hips and grabbed at Richie’s shoulders, at his arms, not even sure what his goal was there other than to get Richie closer, to get his attention, to show him how desperate he was. “Please fuck me, please.” He sounded pathetic begging like this, but that just made him harder. And it made Richie’s pupils even wider as he slid his fingers out of Eddie and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Good boy,” he purred. Eddie moaned and arched into Richie’s touch, but he only gave Eddie one more kiss on his cheek before pulling back and covering his cock in lube. Eddie watched, entranced, as Richie’s hand moved smoothly over his cock, glistening and slick. Then Richie was gently spreading Eddie’s legs even further and pressing the head of his cock against Eddie’s hole.

“Yes,” Eddie whimpered brokenly, grasping at the sheets beneath him. “Richie, please.” Meeting his gaze, he said softly, “I need you.”

“I’ve got you,” Richie assured him in a voice that made Eddie feel like he was glowing. Richie took Eddie’s hand in his and entwined their fingers, using his other hand to guide his cock inside of Eddie, who gasped at the feeling. God, he couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe his first time was going to be with his favorite person. He couldn’t believe he was finally getting exactly what he wanted. Love flooded through him, warm and perfect, somehow both soothing and electrifying as he watched Richie’s face. Eddie’s mouth dropped as Richie pressed into him, deeper and deeper and still fucking deeper, until finally Richie let out a low moan and Eddie felt absolutely breathless. The stretch was intense, and he held onto Richie tightly as he caught his breath. “Are you alright?” Richie asked. His voice was strained, but the care and concern in it was clear. “You don’t have to take all of it if it’s too much.”

Eddie wanted to laugh at the remark or roll his eyes, but with how breathless and dizzied by pleasure he already was, he had to admit Richie had a point. “Just need a minute,” he gasped. Richie ran a soothing hand over Eddie’s skin, helping him even out his breathing and relax. The feeling of Richie’s cock twitching in anticipation inside of him had him letting out little moans as he adjusted, getting more and more used to the feeling until he felt comfortable enough to tell Richie he could move. Richie kissed him before he did, his lips soft against Eddie’s, a reassuring weight. Eddie breathed in sharply as Richie pulled back, grabbing at Richie’s shoulders.

Richie immediately stopped. “You okay, baby?” he asked, caressing Eddie’s face.

Eddie wanted to melt. Richie was always touching him, always jokingly flirting with him, but this unabashed concern and, well, love had previously been reserved for dire situations, like panic attacks or injuries. Eddie couldn’t help the dopey smile that bloomed on his face as he tilted his chin up and kissed Richie. “I’m okay,” he said breathlessly. “It’s just a little different from my vibrator.” They both gave a shaky laugh as Richie nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“Better, I hope?” he grinned.

“Can’t tell yet,” Eddie retorted. Another snarky comment was on the tip of his tongue when Richie pulled his hips further back, effectively sucking all the air—and attitude—from Eddie’s chest. And then Richie was pushing back in, and Eddie let out a moan he couldn’t have faked if he tried, relaxing back into the mattress as his eyes fell shut. It was the best thing he’d ever felt, pleasure and relief flooding through his body. They’d been building up this tension for years; Eddie had figured it would feel good to break it, but it really felt magical, like something had just clicked into place. Feeling Richie inside of him, rocking his hips carefully, feeling Richie twitch as he tried not to lose control had Eddie’s head reeling. Eddie’s eyes fluttered open, focusing on Richie above him, on how flushed his face was. When Richie met his eye, pressing in deep, Eddie let out a small, “Fuck.”

“Yeah? Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

Richie was smirking as he said it, but there was something else sparkling in his eyes. Something giddy and awed. Something that made Eddie sigh dreamily, “I love you.”

Richie’s eyes widened for a moment before he pressed his lips firmly against Eddie’s, his hands roaming over Eddie’s body like he couldn’t choose where to put them, where to touch him. “I love you so much,” he beamed, pressing a few more kisses to Eddie’s cheeks. Eddie giggled at the feeling, but then Richie’s hips moved just a little faster, pressing him in just a little deeper, and he was back to melting under Richie’s touch, clinging to him as he rocked his hips with Richie’s. “Fuck, you’re so amazing, baby, so fucking beautiful. You look so good like this, holy shit.”

Eddie smiled almost drunkenly at Richie’s ability to ramble even when blowing Eddie’s mind. “Feels so good,” he moaned, his voice breathy and just a little bit higher than normal. He wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist. “Please, Richie, please.”

“Fuck, baby, wanna make you feel like this all the fucking time,” Richie groaned as he picked up the pace. Eddie whined in pleasure at the change, and that just spurred Richie to go faster, harder, until he was well and truly fucking Eddie, both of them moaning with every thrust.

“Oh my god,” Eddie cried, “ohmygodohmygodhmygod, oh fuck, Richie, please.” It felt so amazing, Richie fucking into him like this, but he needed that little bit more. His cock was throbbing desperately, achingly hard; he needed to feel Richie’s hand on him. “Richie, please,” he whimpered, “please, please touch me. I need you, I need you so bad, please, Richie.” Eddie was pouting now, grabbing aimlessly at Richie, his legs still wrapped tight around him.

“Fuck, you’re so hard for me,” Richie marveled, his voice sweet and condescending as he wrapped his hand around Eddie’s cock. Eddie nearly screamed at the contact, his back arching off the bed. Richie laughed a little, which just made Eddie even harder. The way Richie spread his precome over his cock, twisting his wrist just so as he stroked him had that familiar tension coiling in his lower stomach. “Aw, does that feel good? You gonna come on my cock, kitten?”

“Fuck, yes!” Eddie screamed. He gripped at the sheets as Richie stroked him, his voice washing over Eddie, mixing with the pleasure of Richie’s touch, of his thrusts. “Yes, yes, yes, please let me come, please, please, please.”

“That’s a good boy,” Richie purred, and Eddie could feel himself tipping over the edge at the words, at how low and affected Richie’s voice was. He groaned out, “Come on my cock like a good boy, princess,” and pure pleasure crashed over Eddie like a wave. He arched his back and cried out as he came, his moans filling the room as he squirmed under Richie, grabbed at him, at the sheets. It was fucking ethereal. He felt somehow so in tune with his body and yet so detached, like he was floating. He was barely cognizant of what Richie was saying, but when he put the sounds together and realized Richie had just said, panting, “Fuck, baby, gonna come,” Eddie felt like a live wire again.

“In me,” he said urgently. His mind was still a little too scattered for full sentences, but he knew what he wanted. God, he felt like he needed it. Like he needed to feel that connected to Richie. “Richie, come inside me, please.”

Richie apparently didn’t need to be told twice; he let out a moaned, “Oh, fuck,” before burying his face in Eddie’s neck, his breathy moans like music in Eddie’s ear. And then, as Eddie was coming down from his own high, he felt the holiest thing in the world: Richie’s cock, twitching inside of him, then his warm come filling Eddie up. It was unreal, being this close to him. Richie clutching at him as he came. It was even better than the little fantasies Eddie occasionally allowed himself. Richie was here, in his arms, pressing kisses to his neck as he caught his breath. Eddie was stroking his hair and rubbing his back as Richie nuzzled into him. Richie’s skin pressed against his skin, his legs wrapped around Richie’s waist, then falling to his sides, but still pressed to him. Still keeping him close. There wasn’t a single thought in his head that wasn’t about Richie.

Richie pulled him from his dreamy haze with light kisses pressed up his jaw, then over his cheeks. Eddie giggled at the onslaught of affection, still reeling from how fucking hot and euphoric what they had just done together had been. But he happily accepted Richie’s kisses, his heart bursting, then racing as Richie pulled back to look in his eyes. “Holy, fuck,” Richie beamed, his face flushed and blue eyes hooded from the weight of his orgasm, even as they sparkled.

“I know,” Eddie said, returning Richie’s grin as he basked in the surreality of having Richie on top of him, his dorky yet charming smile framed by lips that were red and swollen because of Eddie. His glasses were knocked askew, and Eddie instinctively reached up to fix them. With a sense of wonder, he realized that his touch was allowed to linger this time. He ran his fingers down Richie’s cheekbones, over his jaw, cupped his cheeks. “I love you,” he said. The words spilled out over his lips like he couldn’t stand not to say them. And while it made his heart race a little to say it out loud now that the adrenaline and tension was all worked through, it felt even better this time when Richie’s face softened and he nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“I love you so fucking much.” Richie’s voice rarely got that soft, that sincere; it felt like a blanket wrapping around Eddie. It felt safe, secure. It felt like a promise. And if there was anyone in the world Eddie knew he could trust, it was Richie. That feeling of everything coming together came back to Eddie as he lay there under Richie, their lips moving together, feeling light as a feather now that everything was finally out in the open.

[kintatsujo]

LOZ AU- The Courage of Running Away PART ONE

warnings: Parental abuse, fantasy religion, fantasy religious abuse

So the original grain of this concept was actually a dream I had once but we'll get to that.

A major aspect of this idea that makes it an "AU" as opposed to "just" a "game pitch as fanfic" concept is that it has a worldmap that looks something like this: 

[Image Description: A map of a continent.  In the center is Gerudo Desert, ringed by mountains that extend from the bottom to top of the continent.  On the west side of Gerudo Desert, from north to south, are countries labeled "Termina," "Holodrum," and "Labrynna," while on the east side are countries labeled "Hytopia," "Hyrule" and "Lorule."  Hytopia is indicated to be a sky island above a territory labeled "Drablands."  Hyrule and Termina are more directly east and west of one another, as the Drablands are the northernmost country of the continent and Labrynna is the southernmost country.  There is an indication of another continent to the east, and off the eastern shore is a sky island labeled "Sky Temple."  To the south of Labrynna is a proper island labeled "Windfish Isle."  There is a legend in the upper left corner that reads "Really generalized AU map.  Proportions not to be taken too seriously and most of the sky islands besides Hytopia just aren't there because it would get too busy."  End Description.]

Lorule as a physical country to the south of Hyrule rather than a mirror version of Hyrule is because I am weak for dumb puns.  Also in general you can describe this as "this is my AU and I do what I want."  

Also the map of Hyrule itself in this AU should be considered to be heavily similar to the Breath of the Wild map because that's what I want shh.  Does this mean the other countries are similar in scope despite being based on countries from earlier and smaller games?  Well, yeah.  

I actually tried out making this worldmap in RPGMaker btw but to get something I was happy with I'd at LEAST need a nicer worldmap tileset for MZ.  Do I have the skills to make that?  Yep.  Have I got the time to make that?  Nope.

Anyway so as noted there's actually a NUMBER of floating sky islands in this version of the setting, and its version of Link was raised here, in the sky temple monastery/commune/abbey don't look at me:

[Image description: A floating island with a round temple, some sort of pillars arranged in a circle, and a few other buildings, one of which might be a dormitory.  The temple has a statue of the Triforce nested in Hylia's wings on the roof.  End description.]

A couple notes here since it's the only good place: In this Hyrule there are Loftwings because I said so.  There is also a Rito run mail service and there are also balloon-based airships.  Again, because I said so.  The Rito are the main people who run supplies to the Sky Temple, but there's also a number of hylians with bonded Loftwings living there.  The Loftwings are a little less mysterious in that they clearly roost nearby riders they've bonded with; note the large archways kind of indicated on the side of the dorm building.  Link, at this point in the story, does not have a Loftwing, which is important for reasons that will become clear by the end of this post.  Also, I'm not sure how obvious it is but I do intend that there's a cucoo/chicken coop set up near the dorm; this is for the eggs but the monk or whatever in charge of them is definitely a crazy bird person and probably also keeps messenger pigeons.  There would also be a garden somewhere and as one can possibly tell there's a graveyard.  Basically this Sky Temple is what I thought Skyloft was going to be a little more like until I found out it was literally a Boarding School Town.  Anyway.

The thing is that this Link was discovered to be the Hero of the age sometime in his infancy.

And this is the person who discovered him:

[Image description: On one half of the page is an establishing shot of a hylian man in blue and white (light gray) robes and a hat, with long hair in a braid and graying at the temples.  He's approximately middle aged by the lines in his face, tall and slender and moderately attractive.  He is wearing heavy gold diamond shaped earrings to match the symbols of Hylia and the Triforce on his clothing.  He is frowning, and he is labeled "Astramorus."  On the other half of the page are a series of comic panels: In the first, a young Link is hiding from a Rito behind Astramorus's cloak.  Astramorus asks, apparently fondly, "Come now boy, where's your courage?" while the Rito sheepishly assures him "Th-that's quite all right, Lordship."  In the second panel, a very small Link dressed in the Hero of Hylia's traditional green outfit is wiping his eyes while holding a sword too large for him.  There is blood on Link's clothes.  Astramorus, standing so that only the hem of his robes are in shot, asks "Come now boy, where's your courage?"  And in the last panel, lit as though by fire, Astramorus now has a much older Link by the back of the neck in a controlling manner, once again asking, "Come now boy, where's your COURAGE?"  End description.]

By the way the manner in which Astramorus is holding the back of Link's neck in the final panel is a sneaky thing my dad used to pull sometimes; basically if you squeeze just hard enough to hurt nobody but the person you're doing it to can actually tell so you can even do it in public without people necessarily noticing.  It took me ages to go "wait that was actually really fucked up that he used to do that."  Shoulder touch is good, neck touch bad.

A note on Astramorus's costume: It's basically an evil version of the costume worn by the priestly guy from the Sanctuary in alttp.  Astramorus himself, well, I had the idea for him well before Age of Calamity came out but yes he is basically named after Aster, so you can guess that he's more than just a terrible father.

Astramorus has been training Link since he could lift his sword, including trials he should have been too small for and acquiring things for him to fight-- and kill.    Link isn't allowed to speak to anyone unless asked questions or told to by Astramorus, not even the other members of the monastery (although perhaps many of the people there have taken their own vows of silence.)  

And he's not allowed to have opinions, and he's not allowed to back down in a fight or say that he's too tired to keep training, and this has been going on since Link was six.  Astramorus tells him this is the ideal.  That never backing down and never stopping is what courage means and what being the hero means.  That starting from a young age is only proof of the hero's purity of heart.

And when Link is nearing seventeen, Astramorus tells him that he's going to present him to the royal family of Hyrule, and that at last the HARD part will truly begin.  (Keeping in mind that he was putting a six year old through trials MEANT for a seventeen year old.)  And Link breaks: 

[Image Description: A comic.  Link is putting together a paraglider not dissimilar to the one from BotW.

He narrates: Tomorrow we're supposed to set out so that I can meet the king of Hyrule.  Which means that this is my last chance to run away.

Link grinds his classic hat into the ground with one boot, and leaves his sword stabbed into the earth behind him.  He leaps off the sky island and toward the sun on the horizon.

Link narrates: I don't care if this is cowardly anymore.

End description.]

And THAT one page is what the dream that started the concept was about; some people might remember me talking about it as long as three years ago and it's just been stuck in my head ever since!  (Also: I love the idea of there being a Link who starts out wearing the classic outfit and THEN switches to other costumes.)

This is obviously not the end of this AU, lol, stay tuned for where Link finally crash lands (spoiler: He makes it pretty far and you might be able to guess from the map >:3c)

#AU August

#LoZ AU: The Courage of Running Away

Bonus: 

[Image description: A headshot flat color sketch of this Link, who has short fluffy light blonde hair and green eyes.  He is yelling, with tears in his eyes: "I am NEVER wearing that STUPID hat again!"  End description!]

[missroserose]

Fic Writer Question Meme!

Thanks for the tag, @venhedish—I love stuff like this! I'd apologize in advance for how long this is likely to be, but I suspect we share that tendency, haha.

How many works do you have on AO3?

20 total. I've been publishing there since late 2018, so about three years now. That sounds right for me—I'm way too perfectionist to ever be prolific.

What's your total AO3 word count?

125,744! Apparently it takes me three years to write a novel's worth of words I feel are worth publishing...which also sounds right.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Three, primarily: The Lost Boys, Stranger Things, and Supernatural. Mostly Stranger Things, since I was pretty enmeshed in the Harringrove community for about a year and a half, though these days I'm hanging out more with the SPN crowd. We'll see if that translates to more fics.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1.) Sunflower (524) 2.) Quickly, look away (506) 3.) We'll Become Who We Meant To Be (383) 4.) Too Young To Fall In Love (333) 5.) When the Waters Start to Cross (283)

First, what's not surprising: all are Stranger Things/Harringrove works. I'm a little surprised to see that "Sunflower" had edged out "Quickly" as my most-kudosed story, for years it was the other way around—but maybe that's actually not that surprising—part of the reason I haven't been as active in the fandom is that I really love the darker and more complex renditions of Billy Hargrove's character (a la "Quickly") and since S3 aired it seems like the fashion has moved more towards more lighthearted fluff (a la "Sunflower"). Still, both are pretty undemanding smut, so it makes sense that they're on top; similarly, I'm not surprised to see "Too Young To Fall In Love" in the top five either.

I am a little surprised that "We'll Become Who We Meant To Be" is #3—it's honestly close to genfic, there's only the tiniest moment of hinted-at attraction in there. I'm not mad about it, I honestly feel like it's one of my better efforts; on the other hand, "Wake Me Up" was in a similar vein and it's close to the bottom. I guess there's just no telling what's going to catch on...in fairness, a 25K outsider POV novella is a much bigger ask than a 3K short story.

Honestly, I'm probably most surprised at "When the Waters Start to Cross" cracking the top five—it's a 52K+ WIP and a profoundly complex atmospheric existential horror/romance, which is, like, five strikes against it. I'm not mad about it, though—I love that fic, even if it is a huge time and energy suck, and it definitely contains some of my best writing.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do! Sometimes it takes me a while, but I genuinely appreciate people taking the time to leave feedback (even if it's just a string of emoji!). And every once in a while I'll get really thoughtful or incisive comments that spark whole conversations—that's one of the best reasons to write fic!

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Hmm...to be honest, nothing immediately comes to mind; I love angst but tend to want it to serve a purpose, i.e. it gets a character closer to who they want to be. So most of my endings are at least hopeful. *checks list* It looks like probably my angstiest ending is also my first fic posted, "Blue Masquerade". Poor Michael.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you've written?

I don't currently write crossovers; I wouldn't rule it out, but frankly I haven't come across an idea that appeals to me. Waaaaaay back in the mists of time I had a Daria/Harry Potter crossover that I was actually pretty proud of, but I got about as far as getting them to Hogwarts and then kinda ran out of ideas, so I never posted it.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not that I can think of? I'm not big-time enough to get hate, haha. Worst I ever got was some rando asking for top or bottom tags, which I just ignored, and one person on "We'll Become" who was like "I don't like this pairing but you did a good job", which kinda had me like ??? thanks, I guess? I did get one comment on "Quickly, look away" from someone who felt like it was in a different headspace from the fic I wrote it as a sequel to, but that didn't strike me as hate, it's a perfectly fair observation.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

So first off, yes, and second...I recently came across this great Garth Greenwell quote that really gets at what I'm trying to do when I write smut:

In America in 2019 we are inundated with images of bodies to an absolutely unprecedented degree—images of eroticized bodies, images of sexual bodies; the Internet makes all our fantasies visible, and it trains us in new fantasies. And yet it also seems to me that our culture suffers from a dearth of representations of embodiedness, by which I mean of bodies imbued with consciousness. I’m not at all antiporn, but sometimes pornography (maybe especially Internet pornography, with its arms race of extremity) seems to want to evacuate bodies of personhood, to present them as objects. I think literature is the best technology we have for representing consciousness, and so I think there’s a kind of intervention that literature can perform in representing sex explicitly: it can reclaim the sexual body as a site of consciousness.

"Embodied porn" is probably the best description I can come up with—I love writing sex precisely because it's such a charged form of communication (Greenwell's words again), because there are things a character can do and say in that context that they never would normally. Like, sex acts are great and all, but what really does it for me is what's going on in their head, what's the history that brought the character to this point, how're they handling the inherent vulnerability and intimacy of this incredibly risky but potentially rewarding moment. Kink (whether through roleplaying, props, costumes, or whatever) is really just another way of adding to that personal meaning, since without the characters' reactions any trappings are meaningless.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, although I'd love to work with a translator someday (whether with fic or another context)—I'm fascinated by the inherent puzzles in translating between languages, especially with informal speech and its many idioms and cultural references.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not yet! I'd be open to the idea, but it definitely has to be with the right person...

What's your all time favorite ship?

Isn't that basically like asking a mom to choose her favorite kid? Seriously, I like different things about all of them...which one's getting the most attention depends entirely on mood and headspace and other effectively random variables.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I don't have any I've given up on entirely, yet. Even Waters, as beastly complicated as it is, I've been ruminating on and adding to and arranging in my head lately...

What are your writing strengths?

Atmosphere, character, dialogue. I've said it before, I'm a capital-R Romantic at heart: I love writing settings that reflect and reinforce a character's headspace—while also implying what said character might be missing in their viewpoint.

Something I've noticed—my husband worked for years as a penetration tester, which meant he would regularly have to talk his way past people on a moment's notice. So, unsurprisingly, we both notice people, but he tends to observe their presentation (clothing, accessories, especially ones that're markers of social class and group belonging that allow him to tailor his approach), whereas I notice what they say and how they say it—and, often, what they don't say.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I suddenly feel like I'm in a job interview, haha. Perfectionism is a big one—I have a tendency to feel hopeless and quit if something's taking too long, rather than persisting until I get it sorted, even though some of my best work is stuff where I persisted. Also, I'm big on emotional intensity—which isn't a bad thing, necessarily, but I sometimes read back over my stuff and I'm like "geez, Ambrosia, ease up a bit"...I could definitely use some comic relief in my writing sometimes, but I think I'm often too insecure to try it.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I don't have any in particular—I rarely do it myself, because I don't trust myself to do it properly. (Perfectionism again!)

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Daria, way back in the day. My work is still up on FF.net...sometimes I wonder if anyone's ever going to dig it up and confront me with it, haha. (I doubt anyone will ever care that much...I guess I'm more just curious if my style from twenty years ago is recognizably me.)

What's your favorite fic you've written?

If we're talking about finished fics, probably either "Wake Me Up" or "Young At Heart"—they're both pretty oddball, but both required a fuckton of work and both came out pretty close to what I wanted. But "Waters" is my biggest baby...maybe I'll open up Act III to work on today...

Thanks again for the tag, Ven! I'm going to tag @ihni, @redmyeyes, @twobrokenwyngs, @skybound2, @sambrosia, @shewritesdirty, @introvertia, @coffeeandchemicals, and @anarchist-billy—if you're up for some rumination, I'd love to hear your thoughts on your writing!

[sweetescapeartist]

MY DBS MANGA CHAPTER 70 REVIEW

We learn in the last chapter that the Cerealian Dragon's name is Toronbo when Granolah speaks Namekian. Toronbo grants Granolah's wish but can't make Granolah stronger than the gods.

Here's the confusion I have... Goku is a mortal beyond GoDs so making Granolah the strongest mortal is making him stronger than gods. If you wanna say Beerus has been training and is now stronger than Goku, there's still a problem. It was said that Goku and Vegeta were stronger than some GoDs right before the ToP (but that might be anime only, so maybe it doesn't apply here). So Granolah is stronger than GoDs no matter what. If the gods that Toronbo is speaking of are the Angels, then that means Granolah is Ultra Instinct level of power since Goku is the lowest in Angel tier. But whatever. Bottom line is Granolah is temporarily stronger than Goku who may or may not be stronger than Beerus.

Granolah gets his wish granted and the cost is shortening his life... cool. Not much to say except let's see how its executed.

(I recently read that in DBXV2, during the Infinite History Saga, Videl is enchanted with Towa's Dark Magic spell by Dabura shaving off her life but granting her greater power. So granting power at the cost of lifespan has been done in DB before. Not in canon but in the games.)

Also, Granolah's life being shortened to 3 yrs got me thinking... Currently it's almost AGE 781 in the DBS manga timeline. Goku leaves to train Uub in AGE 784. We got 3 yrs left. The original manga shows Bulma said she hadn't seen Goku in 5 yrs. How I see DBS is that it is an alternate timeline that just happens to have a similar outcome to the EoZ.

So... why is Vegeta learing from Beerus again if Beerus isn't that strong now? Is Vegeta being like Krillin and continuing his learning from a master weaker than him, but gaining wisdom & knowledge? I-is Vegeta becoming Krillin 2.0?! (More like dollar-store Krillin)

I do think beerus got stronger tho. He seems very confident that Vegeta can get stronger from learning from him. Beerus probably saw Goku get UI then decide to train aftet the ToP

Anyways, Beerus is teaching us about hakai/destruction energy. Its erasing something from existence, not just destroying it (we already knew that). But, Vegeta quickly figures out how to do it anyways. By destroying a tiny pebble...

A tangent again but I personally think Piccolo is capable of easily learning Hakai energy. Think about it. Piccolo can create clothing out of nothing, why could he not do the reverse?

Goku is uninterested in what Beerus & Vegeta are doing. I dont know about you, but it sounds like Goku thinks that he's above Beerus in strength. Beerus & Vegeta aren't considered a challenge to him in any way. Goku sees UI as more important & better than anything Beerus has to teach, and Goku is right. Plus Goku learned Hakai on his own while Vegeta needs Beerus to teach him. It's a waste of Goku's time to learn it again.

(God Comics is funny. I imagine Toribot writes them)

Goku says "Let's see which one of us can be the strongest in the universe!" Really, Goku...? At present time, Goku is the strongest mortal in the universe already. He should know that. Then Vegeta for some reason thinks he will become the strongest in the universe. The last time manga Vegeta was the strongest mortal in the universe was... never. He's always behind Goku or whatever new opponent arises. This scene is meant to be comedic that they're arguing over who will be the greatest but it's not funny to me. And yet Vegeta fans still hold on for hope.

But why is Goku concerned about being the strongest between him & Vegeta? Goku is far above Vegeta. They're not rivals at this point. Also, Goku was the strongest in the universe until just a few moments ago. Goku should be saying "I knew bein' the strongest wouldn't last for too long. Roshi did tell me there will always be somebody stronger out there. Hehe! This is gettin' me excited! I can't wait to meet 'em!" (This would alsp parallel Monaito giving Granolah the same advice Goku already knows.)

Also, I guess Broly isn't that strong after all. Bye Broly, you served your purpose. And to think that Goku had said that he thinks Broly is stronger than Beerus...

Oh yeah. So Vegeta destroys a pebble. Impressive? Goku kinda gives a compliment or he is practically saying "Good job Vegeta! You're doing great following in my footsteps!" Seriously, this would be so much better and cooler if this seperate paths of training began right after the Universe 6 vs Universe 7 tournament. That would be the perfect spot to have them train under Beerus & Whis. [Vegeta using Hakai against Merged Zamasu, Goku able to fight Merged Zamasu temporarily because he is getting better at letting his body move on its own, Toppo & Vegeta using Hakai against each other as Goku & Jiren use power above GoDs. That would work so much better.]

Then Vegeta says he's gonna destroy bigger things soon... is that supposed to be more impressive? Its not. But this it to build up Vegeta even though there is nothing amazing about anything he is doing at the moment. Maybe later tho.

So Cerealians can't grow beards. Also I guess Granolah's race don't age? His hair grew when his lifespan was shortened but he has no wrinkles. It seems that they age more gracefully than Saiyans. If he has some wrinkles he would have looked cooler imo. Or those lines under the eyes at the very least. If the wish shortened his life & made his hair grow, it should have also showed that he aged. (Here's an edit I made of "Grampa Granolah." You're welcome)

And remember Vegeta destroying a pebble? Granolah can suddenly destroy big rocks! Cool right?! No? Its not cool? Showing Granolah destroy a much larger object right afterwards kinda belittles Vegeta's accomplishment.

Oatmil is surprised by a boulder exploding. This means one of 2 things. Oatmil is stupid & never saw an Granolah explode a boulder. Or it's implying that the boulder exploding is some technique Oatmil doesn't know of. Idk how he can tell its any different from just blowing up a rock with ki. I think it's supposed to be destruction energy. If it is then, ok. If getting his wish was so easy, then why can't he suddenly learn destruction as well?

Yay! Monaito! (This really should be a Namekian focused arc)

Granolah reminds me of Zamasu with his attitude a bit. Monaito tells him somebody stronger will definetly appear. Granolah has become like Vegeta and is over confident, so he is destined to get humbled. And think about this. Goku can probably train a bit and surpass Granolah within a week.

Granolah can now sense ki. Meaning he can have the destruction technique or UI, because why not?

Monaito blames himself for Granolah's actions. Its not your fault Monaito! You did nothing wrong! Dont be so hard on yourself.

Whis being a creep and peeping on people lol.

Granolah's hair growing was pointless because he cuts it off soon after. Nothing changed visually. This kinda reminds me of how Moro lost his arm. Goku gave him a senzu, Moro grew it back, & then Moro broke his arm when attacking Goku. Then Moro tore his arm off & reattached his old one. There was no need for Moro to grow his arm back then tear it off. Similarly, there is no need for Granolah to have grown long hair then cut it off.

Maki still brings a smile to my face. She & Gas stand out the most out of the Heeters. Maki's personality is kinda like Zangya combined with a teasing Bulma. Gas reminds me of a Krillin/Piccolo fusion with dreadlocks. I also ship Maki x Gas cause they're short and look cute together. (please don't be siblings so I can draw them together🤞)

Granolah fights Oil & Maki. I'm not impressed. They seem like they could be defeated by Chaoitzu (he's stronger than Raditz and probably Nappa now too). Granolah's movements could be seen as UI. If it is or isn't UI, it doesn't matter. Showing off that kind of power is like Goku using Ultra Instinct during a rematch with Nam or King Chappa. Its not effective storytelling. There had to be a better way of showing Granolah's new strength than making him fight opponents that give him zero challenge.

The art is good as usual and the panel flow is nice. Toyotaro is improving at creating the illusion of motion. The environment being used in the fight was smart and a good visual. Toyo still uses a ton of panels almost every page tho. But he's still a better artist than I am.

Granolah appears to have used Hakai again. Not the explosive variant but the sand variant (yes I think there are 2 ways of using Hakai).

The "Sand Variant" that Beerus & Goku (& maybe Granolah) have used.

The "Explosive Variant" Beerus & Vegeta (& maybe Granolah) have used.

Maki thinks the "Hakai" is magic so that's interesting. I would say I'd like for the next enemy to be a magic user but, we know how Moro turned out... 😓

Maki has "ki claws" & I like the idea but it would be better if she had used it against an enemy she can defeat. It doesn't make her look useful in this fight. Gas seems confident when he is about to fight Granolah, but Elec stops him. Gas would've gotten beaten but it make ya wonder what Gas can do.

Granolah appears to be a person that is easily manipulated and persuaded. He even gave information they weren't even asking for. He'll probably be easily convinced and manipulated by Freeza/the Hedters or quickly have a truce with Goku.

The Heeters plan to go to Planet Cereal to get the Dragon Balls. As I suspected, the Cerealian Dragon Balls were created so that it would be easy for wishes to be granted. Gathering 2 Dragon Balls on a nearby planet instead of gathering 7 on New Namek or Earth. Plus these new Dragon Balls ensures no interaction between Earthlings & Granolah/the Heeters. A perfect way to write Gohan & company out of the story... *sigh* 😔😒

We learn Cerealians live for 2 centuries. How's that compare to other races in Universe 7? Freeza & King Cold apparently can live more than 200 yrs, But that may be because they are mutants. Namekians can live for like 500 yrs & its possible for them to reincarnate themselves too. So in a way, Namekians can live forever. Saiyans stay youthful & live to be in their 80's, but rapidly age when they reach their 60's or 70's. Average Earthlings appear live to be in their 80's or 90's but some are over 100 yrs old (Dr. Briefs, Panchy, & Ox King are in their 90's in GT) and others can increase their lifespan through elixers or the Paradise Herb. Just some thoughts of mine.

Maki says "If he ices Freeza..." Ha, an ice pun. Elec wants to defeat Freeza so he can control his army. Its revealed they wanna kill Granolah & that they worked with Freeza to destroy his planet & race. Well... that more than likely means they're gonna die by Granolah's hand or Freeza's. This info is also an attempt to make the reader more sympathetic for Granolah. Granolah is too bland (pun intended) so I don't feel any more sympathy than I already had for him. Elec plans to make Goku & Vegeta fight Granolah since Granolah hates Saiyans. Smart but we all kinda expected it. Not bad writing tho.

The final panel talks about fate bringing the 3 (Goku, Vegeta, & Granolah) together. Sounds like a repeat of the Broly movie.

We've had 4 chapters in this arc & not 1 panel of Freeza... If Freeza doesnt appear & do something in the next chapter then I will be disappointed in the writing. Showing Freeza here and there would give tension and build up until we get the encounter with him. We also have no idea who Oatmil is. Is he an A.I. or a person? Not that big of a deal yet, but I would like to find out soon. Either show Freeza or tell us more about Oatmil next chapter pleaae

This chapter was like oatmeal (the food not the character) without butter, brown sugar, milk, & honey or raisins. Not bad, but not very good either. 

So here's my thoughts on the things that could or could not happen in this arc.

Goku vs Granolah. I don't care for the fight because the power is at a point that it doesnt make sense for enemies to get to without cheating somehow. The fight will look cool but I have no interest in it.

Vegeta vs Granolah will have Vegeta being stomped as always and Vegeta fans will make excuses & complain how it's not fair. A lot of Vegeta fans often make fun of Yamcha & Krillin for getting beat up even though those 2 bravely fight opponents leagues stronger than they are. Vegeta has gotten stomped by opponents more times than Krillin & Yamcha combined but the fans gotta deflect somehow. I don't care to hear or see the complaining again.

The interaction and dialogue between Granolah & Vegeta is going to be more interesting than their fight. But I worry because Toyo isn't the best at writing dialogue.

I have no reason to care about power growth, certain interactions, or Goku & Vegeta's training.

What I am curious about/want to see?

Monaito's well being. I want him to reunite with other Namekians. But I think he's been set up to die.

Lore about the dragon gods & Namekian lore we probably wont get.

I want Piccolo, Krillin, Gohan, & others will be involved. Piccolo because of the Namekian & wosh granting dragon lore. Gohan because his interaction with Granolah eould be interesting since Gohan is half Saiyan & views himself as an Earthling. Krillin & other Earthlings because they can bring tensions where characters like Goku & Vegeta can't. Those 2 are too strong for there to be any real tension. However Earthlings aren't all powerful so them using wits to survive is more exciting. But I doubt any of their involvement.

How long a Cerealian year is? Is it shorter than a Namekian year? How much time will pass for the Cerealian Dragon Balls to be active? How much stronger than Granolah will Goku get? Hopefully the answers aren't lazy...

Will Beerus finally fight somebody? There are 6 mortals that are near or above his power (Goku, Granolah, Vegeta, Broly, Freeza, Gohan).

Who's the villian of the next arc & what explanation is going to be given for them having power on the level of Angels? Angel tier fights don't sound interesting to me anymore. After those kinds of battles, Goku will have no challengers left.

Will Goku disappear to train or something so the story can TRY to match up with the EoZ?

Will Goten, Trunks, & Marron hit their growth spurts within 3 yrs?

Will we get spin-off manga about other characters? PLEASE!? 🙏

Also DBS moved too quickly when it comes to power. Now we're at the point that Goku & Vegeta need to stop being involved in fights for there to be any actual threat or tension. The Buu saga took place in AGE  774. After training for 4 years of peace, Goku thought SS3 & fusion was his limits as a Saiyan and he was right. Well, kinda... Goku was introduced to god ki near the end of AGE 778. Then in AGE 781, Goku masters Ultra Instinct... He mastered an Angel technique in 2 year or 2.5 yrs. That was waaaay too fast. As a result the storytelling & writing are suffering from this rushed progress. Now we're gonna have an Angel tier opponent? According to the pattern of DBS, Goku's gonna end up surpassing the Angels within 2 or 3 yrs after learning god ki. Thats not impressive for Goku, that's terrible writing. And no, Goku getting this strong so fast is not a benefit to Saiyans either. It just shows us that without god ki, Saiyans ain't all that powerful unless they're the legendary Saiyan like Broly. Saiyans didn't even have a concept of training until Goku was trained by Earthlings. Gohan, Freeza, 17, & I'm pretty sure Piccolo as well have all surpassed SS3 without the help of god ki. God ki makes Saiyans look like they have limits. With god ki, the writing is broken....

I got off topic again... Anyways that's the end of my review.

[raph-and-spike]

Taking a Swim - Leo x fem!reader

request? yes/no 

I want a Story WITH LEO  It could be also nsfw. 😅🤤🤭 i'm a long friend of April and she make a Meeting between the turtles and me.Leo fall in love with me and dont know how he should tell me that.  We meet us in 4th July at first. Then its the 14.august and the turtles, April, casey and i go Swimming in a little sea... I hope you know the scenes,that i mean..  Have a good day 🤗😘 Nice wishes from germany

a/n: @tkappi I hope you don’t mind that I slightly altered it... I wanted the swimming scene to be a little more intimate ;) I’m sorry this request took so long!! Hope you like it <33 

warnings: NSFW...aka smut. Read at your own risk. For the sake of this being smut, both the reader and Leo will be 18 years old in this imagine. 

Finally, you thought to yourself with a smile of relief as you gripped the straps of your backpack on your walk home. It was summer–which meant you were free from school, free to do whatever you please for the next two and a half months. You couldn’t wait to spend everyday with your best friend, April O’Neil. The two of you had been best friends for as long as you could remember; you knew the redhead like the back of your hand. 

Though, summer didn’t end up going according to plan. Instead, you spent it calling April every morning and afternoon, asking to hang out. At first, she’d claimed that she was spending time with her aunt or hanging out with Casey. You believed her for a while, but once her excuses turned into not answering her phone, you began to get angry. It had already been the beginning of July, and the two of you had yet to hang out once! You’d had it.

Stomping on the pavement to her apartment, your mind raced with millions of different phrases you’d say to her. ‘Why haven’t you been answering my calls?’ was one. ‘Do you not like me anymore?’ was another. As you reached her apartment door, your heart raced through your chest as you brought your knuckles to the hard, painted wood. As it begun to swing open, you froze in your spot. 

“Raph, you could have just used the fire escape–”

You froze as a green figure stood in front of you, wearing an orange mask with matching nunchucks at its sides. You couldn’t move nor could you speak. You felt paralyzed.

“Uh, guys?!” It spoke. 

You looked behind it, two identical creatures standing next to April and Casey. You watched April’s eyes meet yours, her blue orbs widening in fear at your frozen figure. She wasn’t sure what to do or how to alleviate this situation. Panicking, she finally decided to pull you into her bedroom and tell you what she’d been hiding.

“We need to talk,” she stated calmly, grabbing your hand and pulling you into her apartment, leading you into her bedroom.

Once she shut her bedroom door behind you, she took a seat on her bed. You couldn’t find the ability to sit, so you stood in front of her with your arms at your sides.

“I met them at the beginning of last year. My Dad and I...” she struggled for words, “we were taken by these alien robots, called the ‘Kraang’.”

You cocked an eyebrow, obviously thinking that she was making this up.

“I know it sounds ridiculous, Y/n, but you have to listen,” she begged.

With a sigh, you sat down on the bed next to her and did as you were told. She told you everything. From when they saved her, to when her father was freed and then mutated, how she'd been trained by her turtle friends’ father–a tall rat, apparently–to be a kunoichi, to their adventures saving the city from not only mutants, but their enemy named Shredder, as well. You had no choice but to believe the redhead. After all, you’d known the girl your entire life. 

“So, that’s why you’ve been dodging my calls?” you asked, rerunning the story she’d just told you over again in your head.

She nodded sadly. “I didn’t mean to ignore you, Y/n. I’m so sorry,” she admitted guiltily. 

You put a hand on her shoulder with a small smile. “It’s okay, April...just promise me that you won’t push me away like that again? I mean, we’ve been through everything together, you can’t get rid of me now with a few mutant turtles,” you said with a laugh. 

She chuckled before pulling you into a hug.

“Actually, the turtles, Casey, and I were going to spend the rest of the summer at the farmhouse, and now since you know about them...” she trailed off before a knocking on the door interrupted her.

“Can you two, like, hurry up or somethin’? Mikey’s eatin’ all the road snacks!” a voice yelled from outside the door.

She rolled her eyes. “Coming, Raph!”

She looked at you, raising her eyebrows. 

“You wanna spend your summer with a couple of mutants at a farmhouse upstate?”

After introducing you to the turtles, and quickly bringing you to your own apartment so that you could fill a suitcase with clothes and other belongings, all seven of you sat in Mr. O’Neil’s Volkswagen bus as Casey drove to April’s farmhouse. With Mikey pestering you with questions–and a certain blue-masked turtle telling him to leave you alone–the ride went by pretty fast. 

The house was beautiful. It was incredibly secluded and quiet, which you preferred much more to the loud, packed city of New York. 

Mikey offered to cook everyday, often switching with you whenever he was busy sparring with the others, or occupied with comic books. You didn’t mind it, cooking eased your mind. You’d offer to do the dishes afterwards as well. It wasn’t until Mikey had picked up a new compelling comic series, when you’d been picking up cooking and dish-washing duty almost daily. Leo noticed this and offered to help one night. You immediately accepted his offer with a blush.

You ordered him to dry the dishes and put them away after you washed them. It was a steady, easy system between the two of you. He’d ask you questions about your interests and hobbies, and you’d ask him about his. You noticed that he didn’t seem much interested in talking about himself–he seemed rather interested in your answers instead. Talking with Leo was easy. With him, you knew he wouldn’t judge you or make you feel uncomfortable. 

He easily became closer to you than the others, always making excuses to spend time with you, and even asking you to teach him how to cook. You taught him how to make homemade pizzas, much to Mikey’s dinner request, along with some easy pasta dishes. 

One night, as you slept on the twin bed in April’s old childhood bedroom, you felt a tapping on your shoulder. You sat up, peering into the deep blue eyes that still seemed so magnetic in the darkness. 

“I want to show you something,” he whispered. 

Butterflies swarming in your stomach, you grinned.

Quietly tip-toeing down the creeky, aged wooden stairs and out the door, he gently grabbed your hand and began leading you through the grass. Once the two of you headed toward the edge of the forest, you frowned.

“Why are you taking me into the woods?” you asked, suspicion in your voice.

He stopped, a dreamy smile on his lips. “It’s going to be good, I promise.”

You chewed your lip hesitantly, causing his invisible eyebrows to knit together. 

“If I gave you one of my katanas, would you feel safer?” he asked, skillfully pulling the blade out from its sheath on his shell. 

You gladly took it, gripping the wrapped hilt as he lead you deeper into the forest. The broken twigs, rocks, and rough roots weren’t gentle on the bare soles of your feet, but your excitement and nervousness distracted you from it.

At last, a large clearing with a wide pond stared back at you, entirely lit by the large moon in the sky. Your jaw nearly dropped at the beautiful sight in front of you, tossing his katana onto the ground whilst you stared in awe. 

“I found it yesterday,” the blue-masked turtle explained briefly.

You hadn’t noticed that he was staring at you, wondering how the girl of his dreams would react to his discovery.

“Leo, it’s,” you struggled for words, “’incredible’ feels like too small of a word to describe it,” you admitted. 

He chuckled. “I know what you mean, that’s how I felt when I first saw it too... It’s–”

“Perfect,” you finished.

He gazed at you as if you were a star–no, that’s too small. He gazed at you as if you were an entire universe; he felt like a small, floating asteroid compared to you, an entire universe. How were you so perfect? How was creation able to give you such beautiful features, a personality sculpted just for him? Dissecting your mind all this time while the two of you spent so much time together made him realize just how much he’d fallen for you and how much he adored you. 

You watched him as he stared at you intently, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Leo?” you asked hesitantly.

“Can I, uhm, may I...kiss you?” he stuttered, attempting to raise his shoulders back confidently as he waited for your response.

You felt your cheeks turn crimson. With a slow nod, you moved to fill the space between the two of you, watching as he stared at you in awe. Within seconds, he pressed his lips against yours. Surprised, you nearly pulled away before melting against him, wrapping your arms around his neck and closing your eyes. He didn’t attempt to move his lips, after all, he had no experience with kissing whatsoever. You took the initiative to begin moving your lips slowly, knowing not to introduce your tongue just yet. Your lips moved gently against each other’s, and you’d never felt closer to Leo. 

Pulling away to catch your breath, you turned your head toward the pond, and back at Leo. Getting your drift, he grinned, shrugging his other katana off before jumping into the pond. You looked down at your pajamas. Deciding not to get them wet, you slowly pulled your pajama top off, revealing your bra to Leonardo. He watched from the water, cheeks pinker than you’d ever seen them before, as you began to pull down your pajama bottoms. You stood in the cool, summer night air, nearly naked, before jumping into the water with him. With a shriek at the cold temperature of the pond, you attempted to swim toward him before he moved away.

“I have sort of an...issue; we should probably keep our distance,” he admitted, his cheeks still blushing profusely. 

You cocked a brow in confusion. “What?”

He made a downward motion with his head, before it hit you. Your own cheeks flushed once more.

“Well,” you began, slowing making your way toward him, despite his warning, “we can...fix that, if you want.”

You watched as his blue orbs widened, Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped.

“A-are you sure?” he asked, looking bewildered, shocked that someone as beautiful as you would ever want to do something like that with him. 

You nodded, closing the space between the two of you and forcing his lips against your own. This kiss was incredibly different than the first; it was needy, it was desperate, as if you couldn’t breathe without him in between your legs.

You didn’t waste time introducing your tongue, feeling him do the same as your lips danced sloppily against each other’s, begging for a release of tension. He leant down, grabbing your legs to wrap them around his waist. You easily leant into him, the water helping hold you up, as you felt his hardened length brush against your clothed core. You moaned against his lips, grinding your heat against it. Growling, he brought his hands to your bum, ripping the fabric of your panties off. You gasped, feeling his hands squeeze your bare ass and push you further against him.

With ease, due to how wet you were, he was able to slide his length into you. You groaned, feeling him fill you up.

“Is this okay? A-am I doing this right?” he asked, his voice breathy and raspy.

“Yes, Leo, move,” you begged, resting your forehead against his. 

He thrusted hard, causing you to nearly scream. He continued to thrust, every stroke going deeper and deeper until he developed a steady rhythm. His thrusts quickened as your walls began to clench, grasping onto his plastron as you felt your climax nearing.

“Leo, please,” you groaned, shoving your head into the crook of his neck, trying to muffle your moans into his skin.

He thrusted even faster, squeezing your ass against him as your hips met his movements. Your eyes squeezed shut as your climax hit you, body spasming against him as you felt his own hips still, his cock spurting inside of you. Your body fell weak against him as you felt him gently pull out. He moved his hands to your back, stroking the soft skin whilst he held you against his chest.

The two of you rested there, basking in the moonlight, warm skin pressed against each other. It was then, that Leo knew he was in love. 

[destiniesfic]

132 Hours, Chapter 4:

“I think I have a plan. But…”

Cardan sits forward. “But?”

“I don’t know if it’ll get you out.”

Previous

Read chapter 4 on AO3, or read below:

“You know what?” I ask abruptly, some time later.

Cardan picks up his head. “What?”

“I need to use the bathroom.”

His brow furrows, and then he looks vaguely panicked for the first time. “Um, right. Well, it’s not a big space, but I can turn around—”

I sigh. “No. Why don’t you go knock on the door and ask them to take me outside?”

Cardan blinks at me. “Oh,” he says. “You don’t want to try that yourself?”

“You’re the alpha.” I shrug. “They’re more likely to listen to you than to me.”

“Huh. Yeah. Good point.” He looks at me a little longer, head cocked, and then a grin breaks across his face like a sunrise. I feel my cheeks warm and hate that some cruel trick of fate assures that even though I know he is one of the world’s worst human beings, a small, primal part of me will always find him attractive. “How’s it feel?”

“How does what feel?”

“Bossing me around. Seems to come pretty naturally to you.”

I roll my eyes. I don’t need anyone else reminding me that I’m the world’s worst excuse for an omega. Being valedictorian sealed that. Valerian sealed that. My smart mouth sealed it, too. “Shut up, Greenbriar.”

His grin widens. “That the best you got?”

I glare. “Stop talking if you want the part of you that apparently makes you so ‘superior’ to me to remain intact.”

“A little vague, but we’ll workshop it.” Cardan pushes himself to his feet. With his long legs, it only takes him two strides to cross the room to the door. He glances at me. “If they shoot me, it’s your fault.”

“I’ll cry big, fat tears at your funeral.”

“You’d better write a kick-ass eulogy. You’re a good speaker, right? I don’t really remember graduation.”

Probably drunk, I think. Or high. “Can you just knock?”

Cardan raises his hand and deals the door three hard raps, so loud I nearly jump. He waits a beat, then says, “Oh, no answer. Well, I guess I’ll—”

“What is it?”

This time it’s a woman’s voice that comes through the door. Cardan and I glance at each other. “Bathroom,” he calls. I notice the way he instinctively pitches his voice a little lower, trying to sound more adult, more alpha. “Both of us. And I’m thirsty.”

There’s another pause, then the woman says, “Step back, then. Against the far wall.”

Raising both his hands, Cardan retreats until his back hits the wall. I stand, too, awaiting whatever might happen when the door opens.

But when it does, I am momentarily taken aback. A small woman stands there, holding a different pistol, one better suited to her hand than the man’s. Like the scarred man, she too has a distinct appearance: her brown skin is dappled white from vitiligo, and her hair, too, is a shocking white cloud of curls around her face. She’s pretty, I realize. Totally out of place holding a gun in a hostage situation.

She is holding a gun, though—smaller than her companion’s, so they aren’t trading off—and keeps it fixed on Cardan even when she looks at me. “You first,” she says. “Through the door. Come on.”

I do need to pee, but this is what I really want: a chance to get a glimpse of the space outside of our small room. I nod and take cautious steps, edging myself around her and out of the door, careful not to make any moves that would seem threatening and spook her into firing that gun. But she keeps it trained on Cardan until I am out, which is when she finally turns away from him.

She keeps the barrel of her pistol aimed at me as she secures both locks, and I look around. It is a larger open area and in the middle is a round plastic table with four chairs. In one of the chairs sits the scarred man, playing Solitaire. He looks up. “What’s this?”

“Bathroom break,” says the woman, taking my arm. It’s comical—she’s tiny, barely comes up past my shoulder—but she’s the one with the weapon. I let her lead me through the main space, which is mostly bare. Aside from the table and chairs, I see a mini-fridge plugged into one wall, and stairs that lead out of the basement.

I hope my escort is going to take me upstairs so I can get a sense of the situation, but I am not that lucky. Instead she steers me past the tables to a short hallway on the other side of the main space. There are two doors, and she motions me toward the first one.

“In there,” she says.

I don’t thank her, because what point is there in thanking my abductor? I just open the door and go inside. The bathroom is just a bathroom, but it has toilet paper and a functioning toilet and a sink and paper towels, which is all I need at the moment. There is also a shower stall in the corner with a frosted glass door, which makes me think that this is the basement of a house after all. The room we are being kept in might have once been a very small guest bedroom, or a storage room.

Someone has left bar soap in a little tray in the sink. It looks old and grody, its color faded to an unattractive pale green, but I soap my hands up anyway after I finish my business, and then I splash water on my face. I always keep a spare elastic around my wrist and use it to pull my hair, now an unruly tangle of loose curls, back from my face. I am glad I thought to wear a sweatshirt over my black tank top—I’ll probably need that to stay warm when night falls. I stare at my face in the mirror until my vision splits, and then shake my head. I cannot crack now. I can’t. I will get through this. I have been through worse. A terrible car wreck, a rocky transition to a new home, years of bullying that culminated in something worse. I can survive this, too.

So I go back outside, where the woman takes me by the arm and leads me back to my prison. I don’t protest. I am quiet, and hopefully look dazed and a little scared. No one can know I’m already planning to escape, that I still have my wits about me.

My escort undoes the locks, then pushes me back into the room, and, with the gun trained on Cardan, she says, “All right. You next.”

Cardan, who had taken up his position in the corner again, scrambles to his feet. His eyes flick over me, head to toe, like he’s judging me for looking disheveled when he himself isn’t much better off. I listen for the click of the locks, and am only a little disappointed when I hear them.

Blessedly alone, I sit on the edge of the mattress, inventorying what I know. The main obstacle will be whatever lies upstairs, but I don’t think there is any way to convince our captors to take me out for fresh air. Maybe I can claim a condition? Asthma? I doubt they would buy it.

It only takes a couple of minutes for the door to open and Cardan to come back in, the small woman at his back. He holds a bottle of water fresh from the mini-fridge, condensation already gathering on its surface. I am glad to see the water, hoping I can steal a swig and banish the greasy feeling of cold McMuffin from my mouth once and for all.

“In,” the woman urges Cardan, and he takes another step inside the room so he’s well clear of the door. I think it’s weird that he doesn’t protest, or talk back to her like he did to me, but he had been stalling then, and now there’s actual danger.

I am starting to realize that when he doesn’t hold power in a situation, Cardan Greenbriar is kind of a coward.

This should make me feel smug, but I would rather have a brash alpha to use as a shield while we make our escape. It’ll be fine. Alpha or not, hopefully I have enough brashness for the both of us.

The woman looks from me to Cardan, then back to me. Her eyes look almost kind. “I am sorry about this,” she says. “We were only meant to take him.”

“Um,” I say. “Oh.”

“It shouldn’t be too much longer.”

“That’s… good.” I look at Cardan, who seems as baffled as I am. “You could always just let me go?”

The woman sighs. “The boss says it’s not an option anymore. But don’t worry. If you keep cooperating, you won’t be in any danger. Either of you,” she adds, looking at Cardan.

“Good to know,” Cardan says. “Although I’m not sure why I should trust the promise of a person who kidnapped and drugged us.”

Her lip twitches. “Fair enough,” she says, and then she closes the door and locks it.

We both exhale our relief. Cardan sits back down in his corner, takes a large swig of water, then screws on the cap and rolls the bottle across the floor to me. “Good thinking,” he says. “One, because it would suck to have to pee on the floor, but two because now we have a sense of where we are.”

“Yeah,” I said, only half-paying attention. I unscrew the bottle cap and take a sip of cool, clean water. Then I lower my voice. “I think I have a plan. But…”

Cardan sits forward. “But?”

“I don’t know if it’ll get you out.”

He frowns, but somehow doesn’t sound surprised when he just says, “Oh.”

“Haven’t you noticed? They’re only scared of you. They only train the gun on you. They don’t think of me…” I shrug one shoulder. “Well, at all, but definitely not as a threat. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. As far as they know, I chose the wrong boy to kiss on a beach.”

“Yeah.” Cardan rubs a hand over his face. “Yeah, okay. So I’m the big, bad alpha… and the decoy, while you slip under the radar. And then I get to follow you, maybe. If we’re lucky.”

I am surprised to find that I feel a little bad for him. A few hours ago, I would have been fine leaving him to rot, but then we spoke more words to each other than we have maybe in our entire lives, and now I’m not so sure. I say, “You probably get to follow me, it’s just not a guarantee. But I still think it’s worth trying.”

“Anything is,” he says, surprising me. “You know why?”

“Why?”

“They’re not wearing masks.”

I stare at him for a moment, then dread pools at the bottom of my stomach, a cold egg someone’s cracked open in my chest. “Either they’re consummate professionals who’ve managed to wipe themselves from every database, or…”

“Or we’re not supposed to be around to tell anyone what we’ve seen.” Cardan’s mouth presses into a thin line, grimmer and more serious than I’ve ever seen him.

“Okay,” I say, trying to ignore my heartbeat as it speeds up. “Okay, let’s—okay. So we make our plan and carry it out. That’s what we do.”

“We carry out our plan,” he says, a gloomy echo, “or die trying.”

Silence falls over the room like a blanket of snow, but I take a flamethrower to it by asking, “Really?”

“What?”

“Being dramatic doesn’t help. We have to focus on getting out of here. So.” I wave my hand. “Stop that. No one’s going to kill you, except maybe me if you keep getting on my nerves.”

He looks at me, his eyes darker now, in the unlit basement, than they were even last night on the beach. “Who’s going to stop them from killing us? You? A little omega girl who doesn’t know when to quit?”

“I’m not little,” I snap. God, why is he like this? “And yeah, it’s a good thing I don’t know when to quit, because apparently that’s all that stands between you and suicidal sulking. So stop being so Shakespearean tragedy and help me.”

“I could never do theater,” Cardan muses aloud, letting his head fall back against the wall. “Wasn’t alpha enough for me, apparently.”

I frown at him. “Plenty of alphas do theater. Our school had a great theater program.” I would know—I volunteered as a stagehand enough times as a freshman and sophomore. It was something else to put on a college application, and I liked moving in the dark, not being seen but making everything run smoothly. But eventually I had to stop, too. Madoc never said outright that it was a waste of time, but…

“My brother didn’t like it,” Cardan says, like he’s finishing my thought. He picks at some loose plaster on the wall.

I end up just looking at him for a minute, mostly because I am shocked to hear him sound wistful. I didn’t know he was capable of it. “I think you would have been good,” I say, surprised to find I mean it. I mean, he has the looks, and he’s certainly proven to have a flair for the dramatic.

He turns his head to look back at me, and just like that we had zigzagged back from enemies, or rivals, or whatever we were, to allies. “I always thought so, too.”

---

“So,” Cardan says. “I stand in the door.”

“You do,” I affirm. “You make sure that whoever opens the door, all they see is you.”

“And you’ll be beside the door, out of sight,” he recites. “So you can grab them, disarm them, and pull them in.” He blinks at me. I’ve begun to notice the gold edging his near-black irises, the whole spectacle framed by dark eyelashes. I feel like if I look long enough, I might be able to pick out other colors in them. Eyes like black opals.

“Jude,” he says, like it’s the second time he’s said my name. “Earth to Duarte, hello. Can you actually do that?”

I blink too, shake out of it. “In theory.” I’ve only had to use what I’ve learned on martial arts mats or in boxing studios a few times outside of my lessons, and never on anyone actually armed. But I’m relatively small, so I’ve been taught specifically how to go against people stronger, taller, faster. And I’ve only ever frozen once.

“What if it’s two of them at the door?”

“It won’t be. It’s been one at the door, one at the table all day. You noticed too, right?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “So, the tricky part. You lock person one in the room, I go for whoever’s at the table.” He sneers. “‘Go for.’ Like, what, a linebacker?”

“Again, you’re an alpha.” I did not in my life ever think I would be giving Cardan a pep talk, much less this pep talk. “Use those reflexes.”

“My reflexes are rusty.”

“You’d better oil them fast.”

He exhales audibly. “Okay. So I grapple with—whoever’s at the table, under the hope that they’re surprised enough when their buddy gets grabbed that they’ll be slow getting out the gun. And if they do?”

“You’re too valuable to kill until they have your money.”

“They could wound me.”

I roll my eyes. “I could wound you. Suck it up.”

Cardan chuckles softly and touches his side like he’s already imagining bruises blossoming there. “Ouch.”

“You’ll only be without me for a few seconds,” I reassure him. “You draw focus, keep them on the ground, and then I’ll show up, hopefully armed. Then we’re good.”

“And if we’re not good, you just leave me. You just run.” He gives me a weirdly intense look. “Right? I’m the one they want, anyway.”

“It won’t come to that,” I say.

“But if it does.”

“Cardan.”

“I have concerns.”

I bite the inside of my cheek before I can tell him he’s an idiot if he doesn’t have concerns. “What are they?”

“The third man. I haven’t seen him since yesterday, and you haven’t seen him at all. We know what the other two are like, but you have no read on him and I don’t really trust mine.”

That is a good concern, although I’m loath to give Cardan any credit. It had crossed my mind too, along with the possibility that Cardan might have been too drowsy while he was coming out of his drugged haze and made a mistake. But even if he was in a stupor, it isn’t likely that he mistook a scarred man of medium height or a short woman for a tall man with no scars at all.

“Maybe he’s the ringleader,” I suggest. “He might have left once we were settled in.”

“Might have,” Cardan agrees, but he sounds unconvinced.

We pass the rest of the day like that, in our precarious truce. When one of us has an idea, we speak up, trade it back and forth for a while. And then silence again. It would be incredibly boring, and almost is without my phone, except that Cardan is right: this might be literally life or death.

Our captors let us out a few more times to use the bathroom. In the evening, they bring us cold, dry pre-packaged deli sandwiches from a supermarket and an extra pillow and blanket for Cardan, because I am on the mattress and there was only supposed to be one of us. Cardan just accepts the bedding and food, quiet for once. I know he’s wondering the same thing I am: whether they still mean to kill us, or whether we’re worth more alive.

When the light has totally vanished from our tiny window and we have both exhausted our store of potential plans, Cardan unties his shoes, props his pillow in the corner, and starts making himself as comfortable as possible on the floor.

“What are you doing?” I ask, before my brain catches up to my mouth.

“I think this is called ‘sleeping,’” he replies. “I thought everybody did it, but I guess with all those AP classes and mock trial and…”

I roll my eyes. “It’s a big enough mattress,” I say. “Just don’t touch me.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” I scoot to the side of the mattress, the one closer to the wall, and turn onto my side, away from the spot I’m vacating for him. “Before I change my mind.”

Cardan seems to realize I actually do mean it, so about half a second later I feel him crawl onto the mattress and flop down. And just as he’s groaning, “God, that is better,” even though the mattress is old and stained and doesn’t smell great, I realize I’ve made a gigantic mistake, because my body is a live wire and not even for the reason he’d think.

I glance over my shoulder at him, and although it’s hard to make out details in the dark, I can see that he is also on his side with his back to me, his midnight curls a stark contrast against the pillow. Breathe, I tell myself. For about five years, Cardan could not have been clearer that he does not want me in any conceivable way, and we’re not in the danger zone yet. There is no “safe” in our situation, but I am at least protected from that.

“I can feel you staring,” he says to the empty air.

Startled, I almost bite down on my own tongue. I turn back around and curl my knees to my chest. I don’t want to ask. Asking would be the worst thing in the world. Asking would be admitting to fear, and naming fear gives it power.

But I am spared when Cardan says, unprompted, “I’m not going to try anything, Jesus.” The Don’t you know that? hangs unspoken in the air between us, because I should know it, seeing as he’s been telling me I stink for years. That while his kind ostensibly was made to dominate mine, my chemicals do not agree with his, and so he would never stoop to that level.

I get it. And sure, it stings to be unwanted, but not so much now, because I can sleep through the night with Cardan at my back and really, truly not worry about being prey. “Right,” I say. “Good. Because you’re the last person in the world I’d want that from, anyway.”

“Yes, you’ve made that clear.”

Never mind that he made it clear first. I burrow into my pillow as best I can. “Well, enjoy your uninterrupted sleep.”

I expect a smart remark from him, but there’s nothing but a sigh. Then, because I am listening carefully, I hear his breathing grow long and even, and I realize he actually has fallen asleep. He isn’t too nervous, too tense to be kept awake. I am both of those things, but also exhausted, so I guess I can understand that eventually, exhaustion has its way.

It’s weird that twenty-four hours ago he was one of the people I hated most in the world, someone who stood in for the system that had scorned me my whole life. He still might be, outside these walls. But for now he’s just a boy, sleeping at my back.

I close my eyes, and sleep too.

Next

[theflashdriver]

Just Five Minutes (A Silvaze Oneshot)

Heavy was the head that wears the crown, both due to the burden carried by its owner and the lack of sleep that accompanied it. Blaze the cat was known for being a workaholic, friends and colleges alike has claimed such and made efforts to curtail her tendencies. To some extent her overworking was indeed self-imposed, it was in her nature to take on burdens and the work of others, but it wasn’t solely her own fault. As the singular monarch of the Sol kingdom, she worked long hours with little hope of respite.

One o’clock was nearing, it was only fourteen minutes away, yet Blaze had already sat through two meetings totalling almost four hours between them. The day had started at half past seven with some additional reading and preparation, she was supposed to have had a pair of hour and a half long meetings yet both had seen fit to overextend by around fifteen minutes. It wasn’t that these meetings were unimportant per say, the first had been regarding a foreseen bumper crop while the second had concerned utilising more modern defences to protect the Sol emeralds, but both of them going into overtime was taking its toll.

The twenty-one-year-old princess was supposed to have a half hour break between each meeting, supposed to being the operative words. A half hour break cut in half once more, it’d be comical if it wasn’t such a common occurrence. Even if there was no break whatsoever between these discussions, she was supposed to retain a prim and proper attitude whilst her visitors could yawn and slouch without risk of it being taken as an afront. Even doffing her usual guardian’s outfit, her robes and tights, risked being viewed as some sort of afront. As she walked the palace halls, now free from that stuffy meeting room, she knew that she was stewing on this much too intently. If she kept this up, she wouldn’t enjoy this brief hiatus and her patience would wear thin when the next meeting undoubtedly exceeded its allotment.

Groggily, she shouldered her way through a set of old double doors and into the library. The scent of old paper and stagnant air hit her, but it signalled a sort of sanctuary. She moved quickly across the emerald carpeted floor, breezing along the great wall formed by the historic fiction section. The massive room was like a labyrinth lined from floor to ceiling with books, but she knew her path through it better than anyone else. It didn’t take long for her to notice that a few tomes had been lifted, a pair on specific pirates and three more containing hyperbolised accounts of the island’s early history. If she hadn’t known he was here, then that would be a clear indication of his presence.

She coasted along the next wall, passing by historic poetry, before crossing by a section filled with pure historic nonfiction. The old wooden shelves that framed her surroundings were surely soon due their monthly dusting, a job that her partner had taken on with gusto in an effort to make this space nicer for the pair of them. As she snuck past yet another library shelf, she swore she heard him snort. With no more than a parse at the row upon row of encyclopaedias, she rounded the final corner and her eyes fell upon him.

Lounging on their shared couch at the heart of the library was Silver the hedgehog, three days into his return from the other world’s future. Both of them had dramatic burdens on their shoulders, she had a world to run while he was tasked with saving his, but to say that he was enjoying his rest would be an understatement. Books were piled on the coffee table before the psychic, claiming residence beside a filled fruit bowl, and he was currently nose deep in a newer retelling of Jet the Second of Babylon’s exploits. He’d taken on clothes too, adding to snug display. She’d stolen the maroon hoodie he was wearing on a number of occasions and his ability to wear baggy grey tracksuit bottoms as he pleased was making her quite envious.

Sneaking behind him, she placed her chin atop his head and draped her arms across his chest. Though she felt him shift, he quickly seemed to relax as he realised just who was holding him. Her eyes dared to close as she took comfort. He’d arrived in as messy a state as usual, smelling of old sweat and thoroughly filthy. Three days deep into bathing though, he smelt of pines and was unbelievably fluffy.

“You look too comfortable, mind if I join you?” She heard the tone of a princess in her voice and winced, “Sorry I’m late.”

“You sound tired,” She felt his hand reach up and his thumb caressed her cheek, “Did everything go okay?”

“We just ran over time, it was as mundane as ever,” She sighed, pulling herself away and rounding the couch. She shrugged off her purple robe, revealing the white tank top beneath, but knew she wouldn’t be free for long. In an attempt to make up for lost time, she immediately lay across the couch and set her head in his lap.

His book was quickly put aside, and their eyes met for the first time today. Age had certainly treated the hedgehog kindly, granting him a height that she couldn’t match even in heels. His shoulders had broadened, and his voice had deepened but that innocent spark still lingered in his piecing yellow eyes, reminding her of what an innocent he was. Casually, she sank a hand into the small plume of chest fur that had escaped him clothes and watched his smile grow warmer.

What they were to each other now had gone unspoken for months, if not years. The nature of their relationship had only ever been confronted through actions like this for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which were their duties. Still, that made things fun, it meant she could perform actions like this and watch as he struggled to react. Blush had claimed his cheeks and he’d quickly broken from their stare-off. She had won, as was so often the case.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, his gaze having undoubtedly fallen on the fruit bowl.

“Famished,” She replied, yawning up at him.

With a whir of psychic energy, Blaze watched a bunch of grapes drift into view before arriving in his hand. He gently lowered his hand and, without so much as blinking, she bit one from the vine. He’d probably filled the bowl himself before coming, the hedgehog had a serious sweet tooth, but she’d started to wean him off of chocolate and towards fruit as of late. His sugar intake was still ludicrous, but he was on the path to improving at least.

“I’m sorry it’s not a proper lunch, Marine needed more help that I’d thought,” He claimed a grape for himself. They’d intended to meet during her first break but a call from the raccoon had dashed that plan, “Apparently her ship had sank an hour before she called me in, but she didn’t want to admit that.”

“Hush,” She commanded, claiming some more fruit, “If you’re that worried about it then you can make me something in time for the next break. A little sugar boost will more than get me through,” The feline elaborated, “Did you manage to fish it out the ocean?”

“I did, and it’s mostly patched up, but I think it’ll take her another day or so to get it ready. She had a bit of a pre-emptive launch,” He explained.

For a while they simply lived in silence, quiet and calm. Moments like these were still rather new to them, intimate in a way they hadn’t really experienced. The fact that they could just exist like this for a while, sharing food and unwinding, was wonderful. He hadn’t known comfort in this lifetime, just as he hadn’t the prior, but she was here now to make certain that he did. They were together and they were safe; in moments like this, she could thing of nothing else.

Blaze found herself snuggling deeper into his lap, relaxing her shoulders and clasping her hands. Soon the sound of her purring came to fill the air, overwhelming the silence. This was the closest to the traditional view of a princess that her life got. It was all work, none of what the storybooks had told her. She worked constantly and fought to defend her world, she was born into a position of equal proportions servitude and luxury. At least Silver could open her eyes to the latter, even whilst the former hung over them.

She swallowed another mouthful, realising that a thought wriggled its way to the forefront of her mind, “What time is it?” She was ruining what little time they had but she had to know.

Silver glanced over his shoulder toward the library’s ancient grandfather clock. It had been introduced when the castle was first built but, gradually, none of the original remained, “Five minutes to one,” He glumly responded.

“Only five minutes left already,” She mused, “More like three, considering the walk.”

She heard him sigh, “It’s not fair…”

“It’s the path I’m on, there’s no escaping it,” She eased him, biting another grape off the vine, “In a handful of minutes I’ll be back in that room, discussing the construction of a new graveyard and replacing old tombstones.”

“A handful of minutes…” He hummed.

Blaze looked beyond the bushel and found that a quirk had entered his expression. Silver and new ideas were a paring that often mixed strangely. The hedgehog wasn’t unintelligent but his still relative inexperience with social situations and the nature of the modern world had led to some rather embarrassing situations. Innocently embarrassing of course, but certainly still worth avoiding.

Pushing the grapes aside she looked him in the eye, “What are you thinking, Silver?”

“What if that handful of minutes didn’t have to be just a handful?” He thought aloud, allowing his hand to mingle with his chest fur and quickly finding hers, “What if that handful of minutes could be as long as you wanted it to be?”

She flipped her right hand, interlocking her fingers with his, “It’s important work, I need to get back to it. There’s no way of changing the system to make that go away. You know how important my role is.”

“I know it is but,” He squeezed her hand, “You’ve already missed half of your break today, you deserve that much at least, right?”

“You’re so naïve,” Blaze yawned again, “I’ve missed it, so it’s gone. Rushing through meetings, or avoiding them to steal it back, isn’t an option. Let’s just enjoy the time we have.”

“But what if you could have it…” He hummed again, releasing her hand, “What if I could get you it…” Blaze sat up, turning to face him only to find that he’d looked away. Before she could open her mouth again, he’d jumped to his feet, “I’ll be right back. Don’t worry, I can do this.”

“Silver,” As the hedgehog went to stand, Blaze caught his hand. While she had an inkling of what he was going to attempt, she just didn’t know how safe it was, “You don’t have to overdo it, not for me.”

“You’re clearly tired and I want to help you, Blaze,” As he smiled down at her, speaking so honestly, she couldn’t help but feel a butterfly flap in her stomach, “I’ll do whatever it takes, even if it only changes things a little,” She let go of her hand and his smile grew even bigger, “I’ll be right back.”

The hedgehog took off like a shot, vanishing amongst the bookshelves, but Blaze didn’t hear his footfalls for long. There was a flash of cyan light, accompanied by a rumbling like thunder, and then the hedgehog was gone from the library, likely even from the entire castle. The princess glanced to the library’s grandfather clock. Her next meeting was set to start in three minutes. Had he not just run off then she would be preparing, hurrying back in the hopes of brushing up on the itinerary.

Her gaze dropped to the bunch of grapes he’d left but, just as she was about to pluck one, another thundercrack rolled through the library. Blaze looked up only to find that a portal had manifested in front of her, a bright cyan disk that washed the table, couch and her in its psychic glow. Just as quickly as it had manifested, Blaze watched as a hand with a familiar circular symbol reached through and into the library. She rose quickly, grabbing her robe before stepping over the table and toward the gateway. She took one last glance at the clock; she only had two minutes left, but how long did he plan to make those last? Blaze took his hand, closed her eyes and, feeling his tug, stepped into the warbling energy wall.

A change in air pressure immediately greeted her. The feline felt a gentle breeze blow through her fur, yet sunlight was shining warmly upon her. A stumbling step that brought her fully free from the portal lead her to discover the thick grass underfoot, matched by the mixed scent of countless wildflowers. She blinked away the difference as, in an instant, her world had gone from being lit by electrical lights to basking in a sun shining overhead. Around her, and even from far afield, Blaze could hear the hum of insects mixing with all manner of marvellous birdsong.

Her eyes fell upon the hedgehog who’d brought her here. In what had been mere seconds to her had been long enough for him not only to choose this location but his garb entirely. The hedgehog stood before her dressed in a short sleaved, open-buttoned, teal paisley shirt with accents of orange and white throughout the pattern. A set of still comfortable looking black trousers had taken the place of his joggers and he’d donned a set of hiking boots. As nice as his clothes were though, they couldn’t hold her attention like the overexcited grin on his muzzle.

He stepped out the way, revealing both a picnic spread and a far better view of their surroundings. Beyond the woven basket and tartan blanket, Blaze could see tree after tree stocked with ripe peaches, on the verge of dropping, and rolling green hills that spanned out towards the horizon. She soon however found herself becoming lost in the smaller beauties of this band new landscape. Lavender, crocuses, violets, bluebells, buttercups and countless other species of small flower covered the ground but around them were also foxgloves that harboured blundering bumblebees and wild sunflowers on magnificently tall stalks. The sight of a green hummingbird, daring to fly so curiously close out of blissful innocent, pulled her from staring at their surroundings.

There was no one else here, it seemed like no one had ever been here. When the hedgehog has left, she’d known his plan was to travel through time and find them a peaceful spot, but she’d expected to arrive somewhere in the reccent past or the other dimension. This must have taken far more effort than that, it absolutely had to. Not only had he found a place so wonderful but he’d found it on a day that the sky was perfect, errant clouds were drifting through the sky but never lingering too long in front of the sun. The grass wasn’t wet, rainfall must have been days prior, and yet the world around them was so vibrant.

“Silver, where are we?” She asked, her mouth agape.

“Where? We’ve hardly left where you were sitting,” He cheekily answered, wandering back to sit on the far side of the blanket, “We’re now on a simple grass plain on an undiscovered island, you’ll sit on that couch, around about where we are now, in a little under two thousand years.”

The feline walked to the edge of the blanket, “How long did it take you to find this time? How many days did you cycle through?”

“Well, I got us a good while away from the folks first landing on the island and then kept trying this same day every year until it was nice,” He answered casually but his blush betrayed how proud he was of this plan, ���I think I went through a couple hundred years before picking this one.”

“And I take it this safe?” She lowered herself to sit, still eying him intently, “There’s no chance of a time paradox?”

“As long as we don’t do anything to disrupt the land, nothing should change. The timeline seems to do what’s easiest, it can stomach a small change like this,” He promised, opening the hamper with a wave of his hand, “Picking the spot was the last thing I did, gathering and cooking everything took way longer.”

Silver began to waggle his fingers in the air, almost like he was pretending to conduct. Blaze watched as shapes began to dance free from the basket. First came a large, sealed, pitcher, plainly filled with raspberry lemonade and still containing a half dozen frozen ice cubes. Next came a large silver serving dish which, upon landing, removed its top to reveal a spread of far more sandwiches than they could ever hope to eat. From tuna and cucumber to cheese and tomato, all manner of fillings had manifested in the blink of an eye. Soon after followed a troop of cupcakes set atop a two-tier stand, each iced a different colour and decorated from sweets ranging from lemon jelly slices to maraschino cherries to give each cake their own theme.

Silver the hedgehog could make wonderful use of a minute, that much was more than clear, but how long had that minute lasted for him?

“Just how long did you spend on this,” She squinted at him, causing the hedgehog to break eye contact.

“N-Not longer than eight hours?” He gulped.

“Silver!” The feline shouted, genuinely shocked. She’d expected a couple of hours, three at most, but eight?

“I can rest up and everything will be fine, we can stay here for as long as you like,” He promised, “As long as you don’t plan to stay for more than two hundred years, then we might bump into your ancestors.”

“I should have you send us back right now, this is far too much of an effort and I didn’t contribute anything,” She was flustered, again slipping into the voice she used to rule, but she was anything but upset with him.

“You just being here is more than enough on its own,” Silver responded, clearly growing flustered himself, “I-It’s not like I did this all totally on my own, I went to the other dimension and Amy let me use her oven. I didn’t want to go back and use mine in case I encountered Marine or messed something up permanently.”

In a lot of ways, Blaze knew she was exceptionally lucky to have Silver in her life, let alone to have a relationship like this with him. For as mundane as the cooking behind his effort was, and as normal as their prior time in the library had been, the hedgehog was anything but regular and so casual in how he showed it. No one else could ever have come remotely close to what she was experiencing right now, no one else had a partner who could stretch a minute into eight hours before whisking them away for as long as they liked. The feline almost felt selfish for keeping him all to herself like this but she knew that, fundamentally, that he did this because he cared. He’d seen how bedraggled she was and wanted to make her happy, to shirk this opportunity would be foolish. That and, well, he’d set this up for her to take advantage of. Blaze could tease him to her heart’s content, and no one was around to catch them in the act.

“We can eat, we can rest, we can explore,” He offered, awkwardly smiling at her again, “We can do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want, hm,” The feline pawed her way across the blanket and toward the hedgehog, “I think I’d like to retake our prior position.”

With half a yawn and no further warning, she pushed her way to rest her head atop the hedgehog’s lap. She’d always known that he made a good pillow but something about this position, coupled with the warmth of the sun seeping into her fur, was truly blissful. Their cloistered times in the library were wonderful, but there was something entirely heavenly about doing this so publicly yet not having to worry about the prying eyes of others. There was no chance of rumours, no potential for tabloids, just the two of them, enjoying each other’s company. The sight of the blue sky above as they did this too; something about it felt so liberating.

“You said you were famished, right? I managed to get fresh salmon,” As he babbled, she glanced up at him. The hedgehog had used his power to draw one of the triangle-cut sandwiches from the tray, “I guess that’s not much of a feat when you can time travel but-

Before he could undersell himself, the feline reached up and shooed away his glowing aura. The sandwich retrieved, she only spoke two words, “Thank you,” That alone was enough to restoke the fire on his muzzle.

The clink of ice filled her ears as she took the first bite, signalling that he was pouring them drinks through the use of his power. Seared salmon and baby spinach in a delicately creamy sauce, the flavours mingled to perfectly. If every single one of those sandwiches had this level of effort put into them then the long hours he’d mentioned more than made sense. It’d be akin to making four or five separate dishes and then reshaping them to suit sandwiches, atop that even crafting the cupcakes and drink.

As a glass filled to the brim with a faint pink liquid drifted towards Blaze, she looked up to him again, “You really did go too far with all of this. You know I was expecting to arrive in the other dimension or the past, to step into some kind of café or a different library.”

“I may have gotten a little overexcited, Amy did tell me I was going overboard. Even if she then insisted that I go all out…” He admitted as she took a sip. It was frightfully sweet, as one should anticipate a concoction made by the two hedgehogs would be, but surprisingly subtle in its flavouring. The lemon only faintly undercut the primary raspberry taste, “I kind of owe her now. I promised to help her do something similar for her and Sonic…”

“Well, it does seem that you have a knack for this,” She complimented him before taking another sip, “I’m sure she’ll be more than pleased with wherever and whenever you send them.”

“She already has ideas, but I’m scared of granting her free reign in the past,” He cringed, “I need to find a middle ground between an interesting place and somewhere it’d be difficult to change the future,” She watched as a cupcake flew through the air, the hedgehog hadn’t had a sandwich yet but she was too comfortable to scold him, “I was thinking about letting them go on a winter date in the middle of summer… she seemed to think that was a great idea.”

“That does sound rather romantic. Very unique,” Blaze responded, before a likely truth ran through her mind, “Although, she’ll probably want you to surprise him with it. If you do that, she’ll surely be ready for the cold while he won’t be. It’ll be an opportunity to get closer to him, in more ways than one.”

“She wouldn’t let him freeze, right?” He asked, so very innocently.

“No, she certainly wouldn’t,” The pyrokinetic half-joked, “But I think, deep down, he’d enjoy that just as much as her.”

Conversation ebbed and flowed, just as the tide or changes in the clouds. One moment they would be discussing the food but the next they would be simply holding each other and enjoying their serene surroundings, only to later end up laughing about their friends’ potential antics. They were never quiet for too long, but conversation never felt forced or as though it was some sort of requirement, it was allowed to come and go as it pleased. Silver’s pointing out of a cloud shaped like Cream’s head led to a long span of time where they stared to the sky, occasionally pointing out the strange forms they observed. It was all so regular, so fundamentally plain, and it brought her nigh unending peace. Though she yawned throughout their meal, Blaze never found herself falling asleep.

His arms had found their way to hold her, clasping just above her bellybutton. This had been intended to relax her, but the princess couldn’t help but take in how peaceful her partner looked. He’d been so overexcited, but he’d equally worked so hard. It wasn’t surprising to see him so tired. After another long bout of silence, the hedgehog began to shift.

“Well, the food’s done,” He hummed, beginning to return the crockery to the hamper. In truth, they hadn’t managed to entirely finish all the sandwiches but she’d long since expressed her fullness, “We should probably head back, right?”

It wasn’t what she’d expected him to say, but she fundamentally understood it. He was trying to be mature, trying to match the seriousness she so often displayed, but Blaze had been spurred on by their surroundings. If they truly were outside of time, able to return to it at any moment, then what was the rush? Why would she ever waste a day as perfect as this. Just this once, perhaps only this once ever, Blaze the cat, the guardian of the Sol emeralds and princess of the Sol kingdom, decided to be greedy.

“I don’t think two hundred years have passed yet,” The pyrokinetic hummed, sitting up stretching.

“Eh?” He was clearly caught off guard.

“I thought I got to decide when we went back?” She teased, now fully rising to her feet. Blaze turned to him, “If this is my kingdom then I would like to see it.”

The hedgehog stumbled to his feet, beaming, “R-Really? I didn’t look around too much, just in case you wanted to. I just took a bit of a glance around from above, made sure everything was as it should be.”

She brushed past him, taking the hedgehog’s hand and feeling her tail wrap around his waist, “Shall we stroll then? Take in this island, unsullied by others’ footsteps?”

He squeezed her hand, bundling their picnic spread into a neat pile and setting her royal robe atop it, “There’s nothing I’d rather do.”

That stroll quickly evolved into a frankly stupid dash through the woods. Hand in hand soon turned to arm in arm as they leapt through the thick bracken of the underbrush. Though the hedgehog apparently had some knowledge of the layout, the feline soon ended up leading and racing to reach spots she knew would be transformed with time. A great peach tree forest presently stood, proud and strong, where the royal gardens would eventually take root. The feline had known that these trees were native to the island, but not that they were nearly so plentiful. In her time, only a few remained on Southern Island, one at the heart of the aforementioned garden and another near the town centre. Both were said to be centuries old but now Blaze knew that was certainly true.

Beyond those trees were a swamp, now the site of southern island’s main shopping district. The countless croaking of frogs proved to her that this part of her kingdom had always been loud, but seeing it in such a natural state almost made Blaze wish it was still in such a state. Still, that feeling was quickly washed away as Silver went to pick up a small amphibian only to tumble over himself. Though he managed to psychically keep himself from falling, the response from all the frogs was to leap from the brackish liquid and scatter in all directions. The cacophony of croaks was only rivalled by the sound of their slippery forms crashing back into the water and against the ferns of the undergrowth. The sight of him, bashfully hanging there as if he’d been ensnared in some unseen trap, was more than enough to make her laugh. In an instant, the hunter had taken the place of his supposed prey. What he’d intended to do with a frog if he’d caught it, let alone why he’d tried to catch one with his hands, Blaze had no idea, but it’d only added to the enjoyable mundanity of the day.

No reason, beyond the virtue of freedom she felt welling in her chest, led Blaze to break from staring at him and, still grinning from ear to ear, take off running. The hedgehog gave pursuit, for once not so oblivious as to think this was more than a mere game. Blaze jumped over roots and weaved through trees, running just out of arm’s reach ahead of the psychic. Her heart pounded as though this was some harsh battle, some life-or-death scenario, but she knew it’d only been stoked by the childish part of infatuation. She couldn’t do this in her time, not without feeling the eyes of her people scrutinising her every movement. Even when she was in the other dimension, the presence of so many people made her feel as though her every movement was being analysed. This was freedom, a form of release from her inhibitions that she’d never experience otherwise. It was as though they were in that destroyed future again, still children who were oblivious to how the world was supposed to be, but free from the pressures that world had forced upon them.

She ran and ran and ran until the trees were no more, until the grass vanished from under her and stone took its place. Blaze found herself at the edge of a bluff, overlooking the beach and the sea just beyond it. The feline knew this rockface well, she and he had enjoyed many picnics atop it. Though it was open and exposed now, it would with time become one of the most secluded and private places on the entire island. Panting, she drew the back of her hand across her brow and threw a glance back to him. Cyan light was glowing from the trees, he was in pursuit but had perhaps lost her.

“Silver! This way!” She called out before quickly turning her attention back to the view.

To Blaze, the value of the sea had been lost to her life spent on an island nation. She’d come to take the waters for granted, it was all she’d known for much too long, her relationship with the ocean had been a rather dull one. But now, seeing a beach devoid of people and waters more pristine than ever before, the beauty of the view took her by force. An untouched driftwood barrier formed a long yet broken line along the shore, protecting and simultaneously buffering a wide collection of rocks and shells of all different sizes and shapes.

She heard him land at her side; the key reason that she could stand heights like this. Across both lives, he’d helped her overcome that fear of falling. That alone was a miracle, she couldn’t believe she’d overlooked his potential for quite so long. What had once been a power she was equal parts captivated by and envious of had quickly become a rather romantic tool, a key part of unspoken his arsenal. Though this was the first occasion he’d taken them out of time for such a casual reason, he’d so often and so casually snuck her gifts with his power and carried her for miles above the ground. With the wave of his hand he could sweep her off her feet, not that he would without checking in first.

“It’s beautiful. This spot reminds me of when I first arrived in this world, everything looked so incredible. Undamaged, untouched,” The hedgehog thought aloud, “Do you want to head down there?”

Her tail had already snuck its way around his side again, but she knew that wasn’t enough of a hint for him. She had control, the almighty time traveling psychic was practically wrapped around her finger. It was probably due to their lonely situation but, now that they were away from the forest, it was as though the pair were more isolated than ever. She couldn’t help but feel just a little more confident than usual.

Yawning, mimicking the kind of movements she’d only ever seen in movies and read of in books, the feline stretched her arm around his far shoulder, “I suppose I might.”

Beet red colouration rushed to colour his cheeks as she stepped closer and allowed her right hand to sink into his chest fur, “I-I’ll take you wherever you want to go…”

She raised her leg and he quickly caught on, using his psychic pull to bring her into a bridal carry. This position had taken on different meanings across their lives. While once the feeling of his arm beneath her knee was a sign that they were retreating, it now signified a journey toward something. Be it the peak of a mountain or deep into a valley or simply further in their relationship, this position was a sign of movement. Gently, casually, she let herself lean into his shoulder.

Plainly trying to ignore his blush, a sheen of cyan overtook the hedgehog’s body as gravity abandoned them. With a single step they were floating above the abyss, but he didn’t stop there. As if walking on any normal road, the hedgehog paced further and further forward. With each step they would descend as far down as they did forward. Despite their relatively slow pace, Blaze lost track of time as she stared up at him.

There was something about moments like this, when that psychic glow coated him and his quills hardened in response. It contrasted so heavily with the childhood view she’d had of him, of an adorable ball of white fluff who was far too serious for his own good. Places like this brought out the best in him, let him be more casual and match his inherently soft aesthetic. He could be harsh and strong when he had to be, but she knew this was his closer to his natural state.

As his feet met the ground his eyes crashed into hers. She opted not to step out of his grasp, “S-So, um, we’re here.”

“I’d noticed,” She hummed, scanning their surroundings. He’d landed them on the inner edge of the driftwood barrier, where shells had gathered for years on this untouched land, “Shall we sit?”

“If you want,” The hedgehog struggled to respond, lowering the pair of them to the ground. Naturally, she maintained her position in his lap and atop him.

So very casually, or at least as casually as she could manage, the pyrokinetic cast a glance to her surroundings. The crashing of waves was somehow clearer than it typically was in her time, perhaps due in part to the lack of individuals intruding upon the ocean’s path. The sand was especially smooth, perhaps a result of the ocean’s efforts going entirely unhindered. She blindly stretched behind her, feeling her way through what few shells were in reach. They were cockles, as was supposed to be the case on the island. She had a meeting regarding their harvesting later today or, rather, in almost two thousand years.

She caught sight of his staring out of the corner of her eye. He was looking out to sea, but the remnants of his blush still lingered on his cheeks. Her only regret in all this was that she hadn’t seen his reaction as he first laid eyes upon this untouched world. The hedgehog had grown such an affinity for nature, a want to both experience and protect. It’d become an additional aspect of his role defending that other world, making sure that nature continued to thrive. From gardening to birdwatching to hiking, he’d fully embraced what he so often had to go weeks without.

He would leave again soon to perform that duty, she had to take advantage of what they had both here and now.

“You know, this has all been quite the flagrant misuse of your powers,” She tutted, shifting her weight to push him backwards as she broke the silence, “Very irresponsible.”

It was hardly the most scathing of her taunts but, perhaps due to the physical act that had coincided with it, her words it clearly snatched the hedgehog’s attention. His eyes flickered up to her, wide with surprise. The term your highness, or any of her royal titles for that matter, didn’t much appeal to the feline, but turning her learned regal traits on the hedgehog was an endless source of fun. She watched as surprise was gradually overcome by what little defiance he could muster; she already knew what he was going to say.

“W-Well,” He stuttered, trapped beneath her, “I thought it was for the best? It’s not like I only use my powers to save the world, I used them to pass you grapes before we left.”

“Ah yes, how long ago was that? More than ten minutes must have past by now,” The feline felt a smirk grow on her face as the hedgehog squirmed, “You’ve made me late.”

“We’ll be back on time, I promise,” He managed to reply, struggling to meet her gaze, “I-I’ll drop you right into the meeting room if you want, we can even arrive early. Your past self will be in the library for ten minutes before it starts, you can spend all that time getting ready for the next meeting.”

“How naïve, making such decisions for a princess,” She sat up straight, shuffling off of him a little.

The hedgehog managed to rise just a little, though his blush hadn’t cleared in the slightest, “Y-You’re happy to be here though, right? You’re happy to have this break?”

“Am I?” Blaze turned away from him and smirked toward the sea, “Whyever would you think that?”

“Y-You’ve been smiling,” He stammered, she could imagine the worry on his face without even glancing his way.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” She lied, still looking out to sea. Far away, she could see where the waves dipped beneath the horizon. They really were alone out here. Playing with him like this in such a public space was truly liberating, “Though I supposed I have enjoyed this, somewhat.”

“I’m glad,” Like a switch had been flipped, he was beaming again, “You looked so tired back in the library. I know I can’t do much to help with your work but, if you ever need something like this again, you only need to say.”

“We can’t do this every time, Silver. There will be occasions when I’ll want to, but I know we shouldn’t,” His smile wavered, she cupped his cheek. He was so genuine, so sweet, so naïve, “Just having you by my side is more than enough,” She allowed that hand to slip to his quills and ruffle them, “Although, that’s not to say I won’t ever take you up on that offer…”

For a long while, surrounded by this serene scene, they simply sat and enjoyed each other’s company. Blaze found herself not sleeping but simply snuggling into the time traveller, burying her head into the crook of his neck before lowering to reclaim the pillow that was his chest. Eventually though, the feline knew that she was as comfortable as was possible, that all her relaxation had reached its climax. Pushing herself from his frame to loom above him once again.

“We should probably head back,” She snorted, as he fumbled to his feet, “Or, I suppose, head forward in this case.”

“If you’re sure you’re ready,” He double checked, only casting his hands skyward as she nodded.

Psychokinesis whirred and hummed, a great blue pulse left the markings on his hand only to soar above and beyond the cliff-face. While that energy was racing towards their belongings, the hedgehog’s face took on a frankly goofy expression. Despite how casual this situation was, his commonly serious demeanour had leached through to make him look rather foolish. His very colourful and uniquely patterned shirt certainly wasn’t helping matters.

In no less than a minute, Blaze sighted a glowing bundle soaring over the bluff’s lip. Like some kind of soft meteor, the wrapped-up picnic basket crashed towards them, only just stopping before it could hit the hedgehog in the chest. As the pile swept past, she plucked her robe from the top and shouldered it.

“You’re sure that you’ll be able to get us back to the right time, aren’t you?” The princess asked, dusting the sand from her tights.

“I promise,” He smiled, floating the bundle behind them before stretching his hands forward. From the quills at the back of his head, a well-cut green stone flew to hover in front of them. A chaos emerald, his preferred source of energy.

As though he was washing a window with sponges strapped to both of his palms, the hedgehog began to wave his hands in repeated circles. More energy began to pool in front of him like a warbling plate, it quickly grew from the size of a droplet to become far larger than either of them. The outer edge of the disk gradually ceased in their shifting and the hedgehog’s hands fell to his sides. The effort did seem to take it out of him a little but, with them now both bathing in the light of transportation, he wouldn’t have to work again.

“After you,” He gestured ahead, plucking the emerald from the air.

Blaze, entirely trusting her partner, stepped forward. Shifting across time and space was, by now, practically second nature to her. Once upon a time she’d struggled with the instantaneous shift from one place to another, her first arrival in the other dimension had left her dizzy and exhausted. Now she knew some best practices; to close her eyes, hold her breath and keep her balance.

She stepped off of sand and straight onto hardwood.

The strong scent of coffee struck Blaze first, the only true amenity in the room was a small coffeepot set on a small side table. That much was enough to let Blaze know that they’d arrived. No wind rustled through her fur and the room was lit by a series of electric lights that had been plugged into the celling when she was five. They were at the heart of the palace, there were no windows for the sun to breach. Just a boring wooden table with reflective varnish. He walked in behind her, sealing the portal with no more than a wave as he finished arriving.

Compared to the world they’d just known; the silence of the meeting room was deafening. She already missed the breaking of waves and the ticking of the room’s clock wasn’t a worthy replacement. They’d manifested at the head of the table, her position, and were faced with six empty seats. A glance to the wall proved that Silver had stuck to his word, it was exactly ten minutes till one o’clock. On the long stretching desk, directly in front of her seat, was a bulky binder filled with notes and opened to the hour’s itinerary. Ah yes, she’d gone from running through forests, trudging through swamps and having a heart to heart on the beach to discussing where to bury the dead in no more than a moment.

How long had they spent away? She’d assumed that it couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours but, in truth, time had been rather lost on her. Despite his intent being to create a time for resting, they’d ran and acted in such a wild manned. Instead, he’d energised her in an entirely different way. He’d brought her excitement; he’d given her the strength to carry on and get through today. How could she even begin to repay that?

An idea wriggled its way into Blaze’s head.

Nonchalantly, the feline redonned her robe and neatly fastened it before retaking her seat, pretending to scan her notes, “Well, everything seems to be in order…”

“I told you that I’d get us back on time,” She could hear the joy in his voice.

“You certainly did,” The princess squinted at the page, placing her finger beneath a chosen random word, “But it does look like the timeline has changed, ever so slightly.”

“W-What? It has?” He rushed to her side, leaning over her shoulder to look at the papers, “Blaze, what are you talking about? This is still all about refurbishing gravesto-

The moment he turned from the page to look at her, Blaze’s hand sunk into the quills on the back of his head and pulled him in just a little closer. He surely knew what she was about to do, she’d done it often enough, but that didn’t seem to stop him from becoming flustered. After a moment of staring, taking in his blushing face, Blaze closed her eyes and closed the distance.

Feeling him shudder at the first contact, wanting to return her efforts but being restricted by her hold, brought the princess endless jubilation. Blaze’s heartbeat shot up, as she pulled him in and offered him the slightest of opportunities. He hurriedly took it, pushing to further close the distance as is such a thing was possible. The taste of raspberry lemonade on his lips was just an added bonus. Feeling him grow tense beneath her touch, knowing that, despite his capacity to take her back in time, she had this power over him, was incredible. A might not born of her royal position or pyrokinetic might, but love.

The kiss didn’t last for long, of course. Not only did she have work to return to, but Blaze knew it was best to leave him wanting more. As she pulled back, her eyes reopened and his bashful face filled her vision. Eyes lit like overexcited lighting bolts, cheeks like poppy petals and a thorough look of overexcitement had claimed his face.

“S-So, I take it the timeline hasn’t actually changed then?” The psychic eventually asked.

“Not that I’ve noticed,” She smirked, “You’re the same naïve hedgehog you were when we left.”

“That’s good,” He struggled to reply, “I-I think.”

For a moment longer she simply stared into his eyes and watched him squirm. The princess didn’t especially wear makeup but the idea of leaving a lipstick stain on him had crossed her mind a handful of times. He probably wouldn’t even notice until it was too late. But, alas, similarly too late, they’d been lingering together for much too long. The pair of them had just spent hours together, she’d decided it was time to go, and yet she didn’t want to release him. What foolishness…

“I’ll see you in an hour and a half, perhaps a little longer,” She mused, still holding the back of his head, “If you can make such good use of two minutes, what can you do with so much more?”

“W-Well, um,” He squeaked, “I guess I’ll try to think of something?”

Her fingers uncurled from his quills but the hedgehog, plainly stunned, didn’t move, “I’m sure you will, but, for now, we must part.”

“O-Oh, right, yes, um,” He shot up straight, quickly looking away, “Good luck with, um, t-the graveyard people.”

“You’ll need to get used to this eventually,” She rolled her eyes. Despite the rarity of their kisses, given only when she was certain no one else could see, she’d thought that he’d have grown a little bolder by now. Despite the smallness of her action in comparison to his, the hedgehog was adorably lovestruck.

“I don’t know that I can do that in an hour and a half, even with time travel,” He mumbled, tugging at his chest fur, “And an extra fifteen minutes probably won’t change that.”

He could be so naïve, so blunt and oblivious. Without a second thought, Blaze rose from her seat and took him by the collar. Uttering nothing more than the word “Well, if you can’t manage that,” For the second time in so many minutes, her lips found his. The ticking of the wall clock filled her ears as they parted again, “Just brace yourself for when I finish up.”

[9worldstales]

In reply to this post @woodelf68 said:

The jr. novel having Thor say that Loki stole the throne twice is ridiculous. He was lawfully given the throne when Odin was Sleeping and Thor banished, as he was next in line of the succession. And he offered the throne to Thor in TDW and Thor refused it! What was he going to do, abandon Asgard? Loki was the one who stepped up and took on the burden of rule, and yet got none of the credit. And Thor was the ‘savage, chaotic, lawless’ one when he stormed Jotunheim, breaking the peace treaty and gleefully slaughtering Frost Giants. The only time that description fit Loki was after he’d been tortured and was under the influence of the Mind Stone.

My apologies if I reply to you in a separate post but this got too long for the comments...

I’ll try to keep this as impartial and objective as I can, please, everyone, forgive me if I fail.

For start, oh yes, you’re absolutely right, as I said the whole bit of the junior novel contains canon mistakes in regard to both Thor and Loki.

Going in order:

Thor never demanded the throne, the throne was ALWAYS meant to be given to him by Odin, nor he refused it when Asgard needed him the most. He refused it when Asgard just won the war against the Dark Elves and, after Thor refused it, Asgard went through 4 years of peace. Things got worse only because Hela came back after 4 years, something no one had an idea would happen except Odin.

As for Loki yeah, the first time in “Thor” he ABSOLUTELY didn’t steal the throne. He was also a heir to it and with Thor banished for something Thor did (I’ve a long meta digging into how it was Thor who caused his own banishment if someone is in doubt about it) he was the next in line and rightful heir to it. There was ABSOLUTELY no stealing of the throne in a cut scene we see Frigga herself telling so to a surprised Loki.

Loki: What hope is there for Thor? Frigga: There's always a purpose to everything your father does. Thor may yet find a way home. Loki looks troubled by the revelation. He rises, heads for the exit, when they hear the clatter of ARMORED FOOTSTEPS hurriedly approaching. THE EINHERJAR GUARD Enter the room, block his way out. Loki tenses, prepared for the worst, but the guards just stand before them. Loki is baffled. Frigga: (cont’d) Thor is banished. The line of succession falls to you. Until he awakens, Asgard is yours.

And it’s worth to mention Thor accepted Loki as the one inheriting the throne. When Loki tells him the burden of the throne has fallen on him, Thor doesn’t say ‘no, nope, the throne is mine’. He just asks if, since his brother is now in charge HE CAN COME HOME. He doesn’t ask for the throne he just wants to come home. And when Loki tells him nope, Thor doesn’t accuse him of stealing the throne either, he accepts it.

It’s also worth to remember Loki had no idea they would pass the throne to him when Odin fell into Odinsleep. As it apparently happened before, likely Frigga took regency in those moments and Loki had no idea Odin would fall into Odinsleep back then anyway. There was no plotting whatsoever for Loki to take the throne. The movie and the side-material make clear Loki never expected the throne to pass to him, when he let the Frost Giants in Asgard, he merely aimed to stall the coronation for a bit longer.

“Thor: The Dark World” is actually a bit more controversial. Loki has been sentenced by Odin to lifelong imprisonment. This implies he has lost the rights to the throne so he’s no more a legitimate heir to it (in the comic “Thor: The Dark World Prelude” n° 2 written by Yost (scriptwriter for “Thor: The Dark World Prelude” and Kyle) which was likely written prior to Joss Whedon writing the scene for the meeting between Loki and Odin in “Thor: The Dark World” whcih was later added into the movie, Odin even rejects him as a son, telling him the boy he knew is dead and what remains is a creature he doesn’t recognize and calls him ‘Loki Laufeyson’).

The moment Loki takes Odin’s place, he technically steals the throne.

Yes, he offers it to Thor, which implies he didn’t plan to keep it, but it wasn’t his to offer in the first place and although Odin always meant to make Thor the next king (and in the first ending of the movie it’s implied that’s what he would do as soon as Thor was back in good shape) he had no idea if he meant to make him the next king right then.

What’s more he doesn’t return it to Odin when Thor refuses it. So, since Loki wasn’t anymore a legitimate heir and the throne wasn’t his to take yes, in this case he stole it from Odin, not from Thor because Thor refused it.

Now yeah, I know Feige left open the possibility that Thor refused due to what Loki said to him in the guise of Odin…

Feige: That last scene needed to work for people watching the movie for the first time, who believed that it’s Odin talking to Thor, and then the surprise, but it also needs to work a second and third time. Why is Odin saying those things? Why is Loki saying those things to Thor? They’re very nice things, they’re very caring things, that he says to him. Is it partly because he loves his brother? I like to think so. Is it also because that’s what his brother needs… to leave? Perhaps. [“Kevin Feige: It was always the plan to have Loki have a redemptive death. It was always planned that he wouldn’t really be gone.”]

But this is the first exchange Thor and ‘Odin’ had in the movie after Thor returns:

Odin: You once said there would never be a wiser king than me. You were wrong. The Alignment has brought all the realms together. Every one of them saw you offer your life to save them. What can Asgard offer its new king in return? Thor: My life. Father, I cannot be king of Asgard. I will protect Asgard and all the realms with my last and every breath, but I cannot do so from that chair. Loki, for all his grave imbalance, understood rule as I know I never will. The brutality, the sacrifice... It changes you. I'd rather be a good man than a great king. Odin: Is this my son I hear, or the woman he loves? Thor: When you speak, do I never hear Mother's voice'? This is not for Jane, Father. She does not know what I came here to say. Now, forbid me to see her, or say she can rule at my side. It changes nothing.

Thor went there specifically to tell his father he didn’t want to be king and that he wouldn’t change his mind not even if Odin were to forbid him to see Jane or allow him to marry her.

So no, Loki’s words weren’t what Thor needed to leave, Thor didn’t need to be persuaded to leave. So maybe Feige should re-read the script before talking.

So yeah, Thor refused it on his own. Loki didn’t manipulate him into doing it.

(The script of this part is messed up though, because it starts with a reference to what Thor said to Odin at the end of “Thor”… and Loki back then wasn’t around to hear it so really, Feige isn’t the only one who should re-read their script but whatever, this was a bit they rushed to put together when they decided to toss away the original ending of the movie for this new one.)

But there’s more that’s wrong with that bit.

Thor says: “My point is that our self-centered conflict over Asgard has ruined our kingdom. We have been so focused on fighting for the top we’ve forgotten there’s a middle and a bottom.”

There was no self-centered conflict over Asgard that has ruined the kingdom. The kingdom wasn’t ruined, it was perfectly fine until Hela attacked and Hela’s attack is due to Odin and how he raised her and handled her when he couldn’t control her any longer, not due to Loki and Thor.

Also the real problem wasn’t a ‘self-centered conflict for the top’… more like Odin’s screwed up parenting.

So yeah, if the Junior novel is based on the old script there’s a lot of questionable material and not just in this scene. But let’s talk a bit about Eric Pearson, the guy who wrote the script.

As I said in another post about how people came to think Loki is a serial betrayal this guy never worked on a script with Thor and Loki previously and the most he did was to be involved in the “Marvel’s The Avengers Prelude: Fury’s Big Week” in which Thor and Loki have some cameo appearances.

To continue that’s what he says about working on the script:

Fun sells, especially in the Marvel Comic Universe. Did you have a hard time balancing how hilarious the film had to be with the high stakes it has going on? Pearson: I did, yeah. It was tricky. First of all, it took a couple of interactions with Taika before we got on the same page. He’s such a different guy with a different sense of humor [he says fondly]. After I pitched the scene that happens first in the movie I got a sense of his sense of humor and going forward that was really helpful. The first draft was really about nailing the structure and the character arcs, and having our skeleton. That was when I started working more closely with Taika to get his little comedic flourishes in there. Plus, on the day during shooting, he’s bound to do anything. Suddenly there will be a weird prop in the scene and you have to be like “Ok, there it is! We’re gonna move right along!” He knew what he was doing from the beginning. He was going to rob the bank and get away with a ton of comedy, so I was just trying to keep the story together for the most part. And keep the characters honest and true to the world and their respective journeys. [“A Talk With THOR: RAGNAROK’s Eric Pearson”]

The Junior novel has basically no humour. I would say the script used is, if not the very first one, something like the second… which is also hinted by how there’s no mention of Hela being Odin’s daughter.

Let’s talk about Hela. There’s been a certain spoiler going around about her lineage, and we’d love to hear how that came about. Pearson: The decision to make Hela Odin's banished daughter came really late into writing my first draft. We had discussed her backstory as someone from Asgard's past, the Goddess of Death being a weapon of war that Odin used to conquer the Nine Realms and build his empire, but as I was writing and getting closer to the end, knowing that a Thor-Hela face-off was imminent, I felt like we needed more. More connection between the two, more depth to their ideological conflict. And it was one of those late nights, probably 11 pm working at Marvel, and I expressed this concern to Brad Winderbaum (producer). I basically told him that I'd been thinking about it, and I thought that making Hela Thor's sister made the most sense for the story and had the most impact to a shared history. He agreed and told me, "Don't pitch it to anyone because it'll be more likely to get shot down. Just write it into the script and let everyone discover the connection the same way that Thor will." Ultimately it was the right move because, after I wrote the ending and retconned the earlier scenes to reflect the family relation, everybody who read it was surprised, and pleasantly so. [“A Talk With THOR: RAGNAROK’s Eric Pearson”]

And this guy clearly has no idea what the relationship between Thor and Loki was previously and not only because he needed Chris Hemsworth to point out he wasn’t handing them correctly (how Hemsworth’s input helped or worsened the matter is up to debate)…

Pearson: For introductions, working on Thor’s voice was really great just because Hemsworth is great with the script. He actually pulled me aside one morning to talk to me about the Thor and Loki scenes. He pointed out, correctly so, that what I had was retreading a bit of what had already happened in Thor, Thor: The Dark World and The Avengers. We needed to have their relationship exhibit the amount of awareness that it should have after the audience spent so much time with them on screen. So, the Thor and Loki stuff is also some of my favorite. [“A Talk With THOR: RAGNAROK’s Eric Pearson”]

But that’s how, after Hemsworth’s tips, he describes Loki and Thor’s situation:

As the villains in the cinematic universe go, Loki is far and away considered the best by fans. Now you’ve got to bring forward his humor a little more with Hela acting as the main antagonist. What was it like reconciling all the history that Thor and Loki have while there’s another big bad threatening their world? Pearson: We find Loki in a different headspace at the beginning of the movie. Since Thor: The Dark World he’s been ruling Asgard as Odin as he’s always wanted. He’s on sort of a villainous vacation while in a role that plays to his narcissism. So, he’s mostly off his world conquering villain agenda already at the beginning of the film. Plus, Thor and Loki have had so many interactions, and alliances, and betrayals. They’ve been each others’ nemeses for so long that even they’re a little exhausted by themselves. It’s almost like the fatigue of dealing with each other allows this terminator like force of Hela to just walk in. They’re divided so she conquers. [“A Talk With THOR: RAGNAROK’s Eric Pearson”]

Thor and Loki has been each others’ nemeses for so long?

They started having an argument in “Thor” that’s placed in 2011 and that lasted basically 1 day before Loki fell into the void. They saw each other again the following year in “The Avengers” and argued for what? 2 days? Then Loki gets jailed for a year and in “Thor: The Dark World” they’re on the same page, allied against Malekith! Thor believes Loki dead and discover he’s not in 2017, when “Thor: Ragnarok” takes place!

(Now, whoever is about to say they actually have a story of Loki trying to kill Thor and tries to mention this scene to me:

Valkyrie: He did try to kill me. Thor: Yes, me too. On many, many occasions. There was one time when we were children, he transformed himself into a snake, and he knows that I love snakes. So, I went to pick up the snake to admire it and he transformed back into himself and he was like, "Yeah, it's me!" And he stabbed me. We were eight at the time.

...can either accept the short explanation that this scene is a retcon of Thor and Loki's relation or read the long explanation with all the official sources that explains how this is a retcon as prior to “Thor: Ragnarok” the canon was that Thor and Loki were loving brothers until “Thor” happened. That movie is meant to be the start of their fighting, for crying out loud.)

They have a total of 3 days of actively being on each others’ throats. This exhausted them? Even if we consider the full year in which Thor was aware Loki was alive and jailed, we’re talking of people that lives for centuries and a jailed Loki can’t really be considered at Thor’s throat.

So no, if “Thor: Ragnarok” had followed the original script, it wouldn’t have been canon compliant all the same… but Marvel wasn’t interested in protecting canon from the get-go and let Waititi free to create ‘his own thing’…

Waititi: I was lucky enough they didn’t force me to acknowledge things- there were certain things in the film, like the play, which makes fun of the scene in The Dark World where Loki dies, but there’s a point to that play, sort of to recap what happened, but also to tell the audience, “This is not what you think it’s going to be, this film is not going to be a continuation of that. It’s its own thing, and what you think you expect from this film ends at this play. [“Empire Podcast Spoiler Special: Thor: Ragnarok with Taika Waititi”]

…so really, I doubt the pressured Pearson into keeping the old scripts into consideration when writing his own.

As for Thor… the guy in the first part of “Thor” was presented as someone who absolutely loved fighting for the sake of fighting, which, I think, would have made him thrilled to fight in Sakaar, hadn’t it been for the fact they wouldn’t have paid him proper respect.

However, credits when it’s due, the second part of “Thor” is all about him abandoning this mindset. There were cut scenes in Thor which even showed how Thor refused to start a fight over being called ‘princess’ by an earthling just to show he had grown up and wasn’t anymore someone who would jump at the first chance to have a fight. “Thor: The Dark World” is also about him trying to avoid involving Asgard in a fight. So in theory Thor has stopped being someone chaotic and savage by… 6 years.

(I’m trying to preted “Thor: Ragnarok - A New Story” which is a tale included in the Junior Novel at the hands of Steve Behling and that, among other things, depicted Thor as a warmongrel again, is not part of the canon.)

On the opposite side Loki has never been savage or chaotic, he’s elegant, well organized, plans forward and, unless he’s in a deep emotional storm, remains calm and controlled.

I would argue also he’s not lawless either as, although he has broken some laws, he doesn’t wish for a world with no rules. Even when in charge of Asgard he didn’t let it turn into nobody’s land but still organized and ruled it. So really, that improvisation was mostly out of nowhere.

“Thor: Ragnarok” merely decided to retcon Loki and Marvel allowed it because they wanted to kill him in “Avengers: Infinity war” without fans to make the same fuss they did in “Thor: The Dark World” that forced them to change the ending.

Not that they succeeded as fans rejected the “Avengers: Infinity war” death too, but whatever, that’s Marvel for you.

[chispas-and-broken-bindings]

A Preview...

Someone requested a fix for their birthday...I don’t have the next chapter for I Just Think I’ll Scream quite ready for prime time, but here’s a sneak peak: 

Ch 20 Sansa

Robb and Ned were up and away before Sansa emerged from her shower in the morning. The house is chaos as Catelyn tries to wrangle the remaining Starks out the door. "Sansa, stop feeding Shaggydog scraps from the table and get dressed! Bran, there are two boxes of gourds by the back door that need to be brought to the store for the window display. Be a dear and put them in the car. And where are Arya and Rickon?" 

 Sansa skips up the stairs before she's pulled into the hunt, almost knocking into her younger sister as she slides down the bannister. "One of these days that's going to break."

 "Whatever, killjoy."

 "Mom is looking for you, but you better change. We are supposed to wear floral for the Women's Club Bake Sale. It's themed and Cersei Lannister is going to be there, so we have to be on our best behavior." Her little sister is wearing their dad's old Falcon's sweatshirt and ripped up jeans, looking for all the world like she's about to spend the day painting a house or cleaning out a garage, and not hobnobbing with their mother's friends and clients. 

 "I'm not working the bake sale. I'm selling tickets to the haunted fun house with Mycah." 

 "Says who?" 

Before Arya can respond, Catelyn is at the bottom of the stairs. "Me. You know that it'll be better for everyone if Arya isn't cooped up all day in a tent with the Women's Club ladies. Help me get through the midday rush, Sansa, and you can slip away and spend the afternoon with Harry if you'd like." 

 "Gods, Mom! They broke up weeks ago! Catch up!" Arya yells as the back door slams behind her and Sansa is alone, staring down the steps at her mother whose face has fallen into a look of concern. 

 "Oh, Sansa, dear. Why didn't you tell me?" 

 She sighs, "It's fine, Mom. Like Arya said, it happened weeks ago, and it was just a high school fling. They aren't meant to last." She turns back up the stairs, not waiting to see if her brush off was convincing. She dresses in the dark maxi dress waiting on her hook, with its long flowy sleeves and pattern of intricate woodland flowers. Usually, she feels like Florence Welch in it. Today though, as she inspects herself before the mirror, it's coming off less stylishly bohemian and more dowdy Victorian with the small ruffles along the high collar and shoulders. Ygritte would never wear something like this, a small ugly voice whispers. 

 Just as she's about to dive back into her closet, Bran yells up the stairs, "We're going to leave without you, Sansa," and it makes her choice for her. It's fine. She'll just hide in a corner of the tent with Old Nan and sneak lemon cakes all day. No one has to see her. So what if the band is playing this afternoon? It's not like any of them care if she watches their show, and she's basically heard the whole set already in rehearsals. It's not like Robb told everybody at school about it. It's not like she promised to get there early and save a spot up front with Marge and Jeyne. 

Ygritte will probably be there to watch Jon. Best to skip...at least until she gets over her absurd crush. 

 "Sansa! Mom is literally starting the engine!" Bran yells again. 

 "Coming!" The best she can do is throw on sunglasses and a wide-brimmed fedora and hope no one recognizes her. Outside, Arya is still arguing with Rickon about buckling his car seat and Cat is on her phone, pacing up the driveway while Bran sits on the back step, whistling the march from Bridge Over the River Kwai. "Liar," Sansa flicks off his baseball cap. "We're nowhere near about to leave."

 "She was starting the engine before her phone rang."

 When they finally find a parking spot, it's apparent to everyone that they would have been better off leaving the car at home and walking. Though the festival hasn't officially started yet, the main street is closed off, and the big parking lot has been covered in carnival rides overnight. Arya peels off from their group when Mycah gives her a holler from on top of the Ferris wheel, leaving Bran and Sansa to lug the several boxes filled with decorative gourds to the hardware store, while their mom takes Rickon and their contributions to the bake sale in the opposite direction.  

 Outside the store entrance, Benjen is struggling with his pop-up tent, which keeps leaning to one side in the wind, while Meera watches him from the front step. "This is your fault, Sansa! Making me set up a stand, like I'm some lady selling doilies at a craft fair," He curses when the whole thing folds up on top of him.

 "Good morning to you too, Uncle Ben," she rolls her eyes. "Where is Robb? He can get you bags of sand to anchor the tent. And don't knock doilies. There are entire rooms at the Met devoted to Myrish Lace alone. You can poke fun at craft fairs once even one of your pieces is on display at a similarly storied institution. Until then, you better get comfortable setting up this tent because I have three holiday craft markets lined up for you this season."

 "You're just supposed to be sprucing up my website, not taking over the business! And don't get me started on your brother. I haven't had my morning caffeine fix yet because he disappeared on a coffee run ages ago. How long does it take to pour a bloody cup of coffee? If Jon Snow is holding up my joe with some pumpkin spice, whipped cream nonsense-"

On cue, Mr. paparazzo himself, appears in the doorway and before Sansa can land on an emotion, he's lifting the box from her arms with a gruff "G'morning Sansa," and then he's back in the shop, leaving her empty-handed and a bit empty-headed. 

 "He looks like he needs caffeine more than you," she remarks at last, meeting eyes with her uncle.

 Meera sniggers. "You think? He looks like he spent the night sleeping under a car." Sansa wouldn't go that far, but it was hard to miss the circles under his eyes or how pale and papery his skin looked in the cold morning light. 

 "Give the kid a break. They played their first show last night, didn't they? If he's a bit wrung out this morning, that just means he's doing it right." Benjen jumps to Jon's defense. 

 "Well then, he's been doing it right every weekend. He's looked like this every morning since he started at the store," Meera says, heading back inside to supervise since Robb is still M.I.A. Sansa thinks about Ygritte's Instagram feed with its late night cigarettes and coffee at the diner and regular parties in what looks like someone's grungy basement. So, Jon works hard and plays hard. It's not entirely shocking. It niggles at her though; how tired he looks and how he doesn't talk about partying when he's at Winterfell. Her other friends are always eager to share their weekend escapades, but when Sansa asked how his party went when his Mom was out of town, Jon just gave her a noncommittal shrug and told her it was fine. 

 That's because you aren't really friends. She turns, more than ready to join her mom at the bake sale, when Robb comes skipping across the street with a drink carrier in hand. "Sansa! Just the girl I'm looking for." Her brother is as chipper as ever, seemingly inured to whatever effects from last night's show have taken the wind from Jon Snow's sails. "Can you help with the window display? Mom told me to spiff it up for the festival, but you've got a better eye for that kind of thing."

 "Oh, sure. Skip out of work for an hour to flirt with some barista and then come back at the last minute to coerce your sister into doing your job?" Benjen barks and Robb's face turns scarlet. 

 "I… uh, what? No… I wasn't flirting…" 

 "Aren't you doing the same thing to me, Uncle Ben?" Sansa retorts, saving her brother from his bumbling. She makes a note to stop by the coffee shop and find out who this barista is. Uncle Benjen may be onto something. "Come on Robb, give Uncle Benji his coffee and I'll spare a few minutes for a consultation." 

 Inside, Bran and Meera are balancing tiny pumpkins on their heads as they wind through the aisles, trying to trip each other up. Jon Snow is leaning against the paint counter, looking ragged. She fights the urge to ask him if he's okay, opting instead to tip over Bran's pumpkin and herd him over to the window display. "Here, help me before Mom walks by and turns Robb into the headless horseman." They distribute the gourds in artfully artless piles throughout the window, as Jon and Robb hang a paint chip mobile over their heads; the autumnal pièce de résistance that Sansa spent hours making last year.

"Sans, I wish you could have been there last night. It was amazing," Robb excitedly recounts the band's show, "Jon was on fire, and apparently some promoters from White Harbor were there and Satin thinks he can book us some shows at North State! Isn't that great?"

 "Yeah, though, won't that be hard with swimming?" She doesn't want to rain on Robb's parade, but maybe Arya is right. She is a killjoy.

 "I have a meet in White Harbor next month. Maybe we can book a few gigs around it. What do you think, Jon? You up for a weekend road trip?"

 "Uh.." Jon scratches at his neck, blearily. "I mean, that's a long drive to do late at night."

 "Don't worry, we'll get a hotel for the weekend!"

 "I don't know-"

 The bell jingles at the door, and before Meera can scramble off the counter where she's been reading a comic, Catelyn is inside, gazing around the space, looking deeply unimpressed. 

 "Mom, uh, we were just finishing up with the decorations." Robb wobbles on the ladder in terror, unable to hook the last end of the mobile in place, and Bran ducks behind a pile of pumpkins, trying to hide his glee.

 "Robb, you should have opened the store fifteen minutes ago. How are you just now finishing the decorations?"

“Well, the gourds only just arrived-” Robb starts, lamely. 

“Never mind,” their mom sweeps through the space, picking up the boxes still out from stocking, tidying the candy by the register, before turning one last critical eye on her teenage employees. Jon cups his neck as he holds the ladder with his other hand. Robb scrambles down, having finally managed to hang the mobile correctly, rushing forward to grab the empty boxes from his mother. “Cersei Lannister is going to be here any minute. Get this garbage to the back. Meera, flip the sign and Jon, take the ladder back and...splash some water on your face or something. You look like death, warmed over. Jory is coming around ten, if you need to take the afternoon off.” 

Jon’s ears turn pink as he folds up the ladder beside Sansa, and she looks out the window, mortified. “Sorry Mrs. Stark, but that’s not necessary” he begins, but Catelyn is already walking back to the office with a tired wave. 

“I said it was a lot of hours you were taking on between school, the lumberyard and this. Just make sure you are fitting sleep in or you’ll make yourself sick, dear.” 

[ikesenhell]

Welcome Home

GLITTER & GOLD, CHAPTER 8 AND THE FINALE. You can find all other IkeSen/IkeVamp works of mine on my page. NOTES: AT LONG LAST. We reach the end. Thank you all for hanging in there with me. HERE @chezzkaa COME GET YOUR JUICE. TRIGGER WARNINGS: drowning, panic-inducing scenarios. Smut!

---

It took some jiggling on his part. The door was pretty well fused. Whoever fastened it in the first place meant business--and when he finally managed to kick in the steel frame, they finally knew why. 

“Holy shit,” Masamune whistled. 

It was once a standard workstation and supply closet. Whoever got to it afterward--no doubt after the blast and the worst of the fallout--had transformed its contents. A skeleton lay on a cot in the corner, cradling a pillow to its chest, apparently the victim of only old age and the gentle slip into death’s embrace. Around him, piled high on shelves and stacked across the tables, were the supplies of an old world. 

“Seeds,” she read, picking through a drawer. “These are more valuable than gold. They’re native to these parts. I haven’t seen some of these ever, just read about them.”

Masamune opened a box. “Water filters, Life Straws, radiation tests--”

She cradled her face in her hands and released a laugh. It echoed in the tight quarters. “That was the whole point of the damn ship. It was a beacon. It was leading people here for supplies.”

“See the ship, go for the source,” he mused. “Find the projector, get the coordinates, come here, get supplies that could kick start your settlement all over again. This man must’ve put in blood and sweat to get all of this together.”

“And we--” She threw her hands in the air, frustration and anger and relief and sorrow blending together. “People died for this.”

Masamune cracked open another box, revealing a huge stockpile of medical supplies: antibiotics, bandages, testing kits. True. People had died. He thought about all of the skeletons in the bottom of the well, of all the vanished and missing people. His father swam in his mind’s eye. If he held his breath and focused hard enough, he could still feel his father’s embrace. 

“Yeah,” he said. “They did. But people are also going to survive because of this. And that’s what we have to move forward with. My dad’s death is what got us here. That’s what I’m going with. He didn't die for nothing. He lead us here in the end. I’m sticking to that.”

She gave him a tender smile, brushed the hair back from his forehead, and kissed him. 

---

Going down was one thing. They still hadn’t sorted out the most important part: getting back up. They returned to the highest room, the door to the stairwell up leaking water. 

“How bad do you think it is?” She asked. 

“I mean…” Masamune sighed. “Wish I was better at math right now.”

“Mm?”

“I dunno. Mitsunari could probably calculate how much of the lower levels could fill with water and drain out the interior or some shit before it started getting dangerous.”

She fixed him with a wide-eyed stare. “That’s smart as hell on its own.” 

“Not if we don’t know how much space we have to work with, Kit.”

“Even then.” She paced around the room. “We can drain the upper level into the lower level, as long as we keep all of the doors open. We didn't close any of them further down, so we’ve got at least that to work with. If it gets too high, we can bail out into the central chamber. Without cinder blocks on our feet, I imagine we could probably tread water over to some ladders. There has to be a service ladder out there.”

Masamune chewed his lip. So soon after almost drowning, he wasn’t keen on getting back into the water. But… well, they didn't have a bevy of options, did they? There was always the chance that the others would track down where they were, but could they figure out they were in the well and still alive? 

No. Probably not. In their shoes, Masamune wouldn’t assume anything of the sort. 

“Alright.” He gathered her into his arms and kissed her forehead. “I’ll open the door over at the stairs. You stick by the main chamber door, okay? The second the water starts really rising in here, you punch that button and get out of here. Hold onto the cinderblocks for support until you can get out.”

She eyed him balefully. “You’re giving me the job you think has the highest rate of survival.”

He knew she was too smart to fool, so Masamune just shrugged. “I made a promise.”

“No.” Fixing him with an intense frown, she gripped his hand. “We’re doing this together. We get out together.”

Masamune sighed. “Kitkat--”

“Don’t ‘kitten’ me right now.” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “We’ll drain the stairwell together. You’ll need the support from the cinder blocks for that, too. If you get washed down the lower chambers, even if it turns out alright, you could drown regardless. We’re getting out together.”

He hadn’t considered that possibility. Finally caving, he grabbed her wrist and kissed it. “Dunno how I can say no when you pout like that. You got it. You’re calling the shots.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Together they set the scene. Masamune scraped the cinder blocks into place by the stairwell, wrapping the rope around his hand for support and bracing her into the wall to keep her secure. She flushed at his chest pressed to hers and didn't complain until he shot her a finger gun. 

“You’re a disaster,” she moaned, swatting at his arm. “Be serious.”

“Figured you might want a little comic relief before we possibly die.”

“Masamune!”

“I know. I know. I’m awful. Ready?”

She inhaled and wrapped her hands around his wrists, swallowing hard. “I think so.”

Now or never. He considered again if this was the only way. Once again, his mind came up blank. The only way out was up. The only way up was through the water. The only way through the water was this. 

He inhaled hard and shot a silent prayer to his father. 

“Alright, Kitten,” he murmured, groping for the button. “Hang on to me. Three, two, one…”

The button clicked ominously, and the door rattled to life. Water gushed a torrent through the sparse opening. It was a small mercy that it didn't open too quickly; Masamune barely managed to brace against the pressure that crashed through now. She gasped and clung to his shoulders, wrapping her heel into the doorframe to stabilize them. The waterfall roared past them and down the open stairwells, shoving its merciless bulk inside. He could feel their makeshift weights scraping away from them, threatening to take them both with it. 

Plan A was failing. They’d never considered Plan B. Masamune raced through his options. If the weight went, then he did, and so did she--

“Hang on to me,” he commanded, wrapping her arm around his neck. “Hold on tight, as tight as you can.”

It was a testament to her trust that she did without question. There would only be a fraction of a second to move. The door was still sliding upward, and when it was really and fully open, the pressure would be too intense to even risk this stupidity. Clasping her face tight into his chest, he urged, “Take a deep breath. Hold it tight, no matter what.”

He felt her lungs fill, his own alongside her. Two hearts, beating in sync. She won’t die. Not here, not now. All of the things he’d never let himself imagine about the future played in his mind’s eye--a house, Waŋblí Hoȟpi thriving as they watched on, the smell of bergamot in her shop and waking up tangled in her arms every day as they grew old and she only became more and more and more beautiful--

Deep breath. Don’t let go.

Masamune trusted her to hold onto him and used his free hand to grab into the door opening. It took all of his strength. The water threatened to peel him free, but he held fast. With a loud yell of effort, he pulled them both forward into the rushing tide, under the half-open doorway and into the current. Pull! With as much force as he could muster, he slung his arm to the side and caught hold of a pipe, yanking them into the space beside the door, trapping them against the pressure there. All of the merciless water crashed against him. It rushed up his nose and down his throat, choking him. 

Don’t let go. Don’t let go. Crushing his panic, he wrapped his arms tight around her body and waited. 

Seconds later--seconds that felt like hours to his frantic lungs and wheeling brain--the water level lowered and he gasped for air. At long last, it dipped below his collarbone, freeing them both. 

“Damn,” she coughed. “How did you know that would work?”

“I didn't,” he admitted. “Just that the other way definitely wouldn’t. Are you okay?”

“Yes.” She shivered in the cool stairwell, but nodded, still holding tight to his chest. “Yes. I’m here with you.”

“Good.” He meant it. His sinuses were killing him from all the water, his throat raw and his muscles burning, but Masamune still stroked her hair. “That’s all I need.”

---

The rest of the walk up was almost uneventful. They passed through soaked rooms that time forgot, office chairs settled in heaps by doors. Near the top, they located the source of the leak. One of the viewing room windows was cracked. He was too tired to comment on it or care. Instead, they laced their hands together and moved forward. 

Finally--after what felt like centuries--they neared the hatch to the top. Masamune inhaled hard and hefted a loose piece of pipe over his shoulder. 

“Do you think they’re still out there?” She asked, visibly nervous.

“Dunno. We ain’t really got options, do we? It’s been hours.”

She appraised the ladder. There weren’t any other options. Someone had to go up first. Masamune rubbed his thumb over her cheek and planted a kiss on her mouth. “You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

Would he ever get over the shine of her eyes when she looked at him? Cupping her hand over his, she leaned into his palm. “Stare down a ghost ship that haunted you for most of your life, fist fight some cultists, almost drown, all on my account, if I’m remembering correctly.”

He shook the pipe meaningfully. “I’ll fight ‘em again, too.”

“Stay alive,” she urged. “Please. There’s so much more I want to do with you. There are ten thousand places I want to go with you, so many firsts…”

In any other circumstance, he would’ve made a raunchy joke. Now--now he just nodded. “I got you, Kitten. I’m sticking around just to see that through.”

The space in his hand was cold when he withdrew, the ladder rough and rusty on his palm. His boots clanked hard on the rungs. Would the hatch even open? That was a good question. Masamune fiddled with the draw back and found it responsive. Where would this even deposit them? Back into danger? Straight into a fire fight? 

Fuck that. He was staying alive. He was staying alive for his dad, for all the people that drowned before them, and for a future with her. 

Masamune drew back the latch and snapped out of the hole. 

The orange rays of morning stretched in the sky, blue-grey clouds drifting by. Over the cornfield came the sharp sunlight. What a terrible vantage point. It blinded him; cupping a hand over his good eye, he winced and braced himself, charging out of the hole to keep from losing the advantage of surprise. 

“What the hell--!”

Everything swam into view. The well, the house, the red truck. At his feet lay the body of the older man that had sacrificed them to the water only hours ago, and standing before him--

“Hey!” Masamune laughed, swinging the pipe to rest behind his neck. “You guys tracked us down!”

Nobunaga physically restrained Ieyasu from attacking him, Mitsuhide releasing a low whistle of shock. Hideyoshi sat heavily on the lip of the silo and cradled his head in his hands. Even the Takeda-Uesugi party was there, looking equally surprised. 

“Wow,” Yukimura managed. “We--we thought you were dead.”

“Nah.” Masamune reached down into the hole and helped her out, bracing her wobbly legs against the hard earth. A cool breeze rushed around them. He could smell the far-off mountains and the prairie grass, the clean air. She shivered and he pulled her tight, rubbing her arms to warm them. She was safe. She was safe, and that was all that mattered. “But I tell you what--we’ve got a hell of a gift for y’all, that’s for damn sure.” 

---

They weren’t allowed to help with retrieving the items from the silo. Ieyasu all but banished them back to the bedroom in the little yellow house, his unbridled rage the surest gauge for how honestly afraid he’d been. Nobunaga stopped by just to let them know that the items in the Ark were invaluable, that the Takeda-Uesugi and they were working out an arrangement to split them between the two settlements and prosper, and then to order them to rest.

“Shit,” Masamune laughed, barely pausing from wolfing down the breakfast Hideyoshi had thrown together. “Are we doing orders? Didn't know we were a military outfit now. Should I call you ‘sir’, too?”

Nobunaga smiled that imperious, impossible smile. “Perhaps. That would fit.”

Truth be told, Masamune didn't need anyone to order him to rest. His body screamed for it--and, more importantly, she looked utterly exhausted. They collapsed into the bed upstairs together only seconds after changing from their soaked clothes, limbs tangled and limp. When he woke, the sun was high in the sky and streaming through the curtains, her mouth pressed into his chest. 

Wow. He carded a hand through her hair in silent reverence. He’d traveled all over the nation. He’d seen impossible things and incredible mountains, forests and oceans and lakes, and yet--here, in his childhood home--she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on. She stirred under his attention and his heart swelled. 

“Hey, Kit,” he murmured. “Still tired?”

She scrunched her nose and murmured assent. 

“Go back to sleep, then. You ain’t gotta go anywhere. We can keep sleeping.”

But she shifted nonetheless. Her hand danced up his collar and neck, rested on his cheek and pulled him in. Would he ever get tired of these lips? Masamune didn't think so. She was impossibly gentle, thousands of good memories and promises of the future hanging on her mouth. He could taste them on her tongue, his own brushing against hers. She moaned into him and his whole body flushed. 

“Damn, babe,” he chuckled, flirting his fingertips over her shoulder. “Can’t make those sounds if you want to keep sleeping.”

She smiled and hooked her fingers into his pajama waistband. When her eyes fluttered open, they took his breath away. They were like the deep earth of the vast plains, the lifebringer in this land. “I was going to keep sleeping, but then you just had to wake me up.”

“Wake you up?” Electric sparks of desire pulsed in his stomach. Masamune buried his nose in her neck and lapped along her skin. “You were the one that kissed me.”

“Damn. I guess I got caught. My ruse is up.” For all her words, she didn't seem too sorry. Her hands tugged at his pants, revealing the curve of his hip to cool air. “However will I be punished for my lies?”

Masamune laughed softly against her. “Punished? Is that what you want?”

“Not exactly.”

He didn't need her to clarify. They both stripped each other instead, exchanging slow, long, tender kisses, his thumb trailing all over her until she gasped and wriggled and blushed. Her waist curved perfectly into his. His arm fit like a puzzle piece in her lower back. When he thrust inside her, the leg she slung over his shoulder rested comfortably there. All the thousands of miles he’d put between him and Waŋblí Hoȟpi, and here she was, the other half of him. 

He would never run again. 

“I love you,” he murmured, pressing her hands back into the bed with hers. She curled her fingers tight into his. “I’m never letting you go. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Her kiss was grace itself. All of her soul was there. He could feel it, singing through her breath, as if he were sanctified. How wrong she was. She was the sanctified one. He felt it in the gasp of her breath and every sweet beat of her heart. 

“I love you too, Masamune Date,” she murmured. “Welcome home.”

[a-vintage-snake]

That’s It, It’s Split

Pairing(s): Romantic Royality

First chapter - Previous chapter - Next chapter

Warnings: Abusive parenting, threats of violence, Remus centric stuff Characters: Roman Sanders, Patton Sanders, Remus Sanders, Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Character Thomas (For like a two lines)

Summary: Roman meets some unexpected new friends who have new information on his missing brother 

Word Count: 9339 (I am so sorry)

Author’s Note: Man I hope you all like long ass chapters CAUSE I GOT CARRIED AWAY HAHAHAHAHA but hey I am happy I got this chapter out, cause I am super stoked for writing the next chapter! Who knows, maybe next chapter some familiar faces will return...

People who were asked to be tagged: @avocados26, @fandoms-will-collide @nottoonormalme, @bihighandgivinghighfives, @atticusfinchthelegend​

If you want to be removed or added to the taglist, just ask!

Read on AO3

The second Roman pushed open the doors of the library Patton let out a delighted gasp beside him.

“Oh my goodness… So many books!” Patton squealed. He let go of Roman’s hand to run into the room. Roman smiled at the adorable way Patton’s eyes grew huge behind his glasses as he took everything in. He couldn’t blame him though. The library was massive, rows of rows of neatly lined up books in oaken bookcases so large you could only reach the top shelves if you climbed one of the high ladders that were scattered among the bookcases. Spiralling staircases led up to different storeys, the dark wood decorated with fading pictures of flowers, plants and trees. The high ceiling was painted to look like a night sky, dark blue paint showing off glittering constellations. Tall windows bathed the library in golden light. Scattered between the bookcases stood tattered sofas and worn desks, inviting you to sit down with a book for hours and hours.

The scent of thousand year old tomes drifted into Roman’s nose, and he smiled. Despite that he rarely had the chance to spent time in the library it was still one of his favourite places in the castle.

“I’ve never seen so many books in one place!” Patton twirled around to take in all the scenery. “It’s amazing!”

“It is…” Roman said softly as they walked into the library. He listened with half an ear to Patton as his fiancé ran to bookcases to inspect the tomes, chattering excitedly when he found one that he particularly liked. Roman inspected the library with a scrutinizing gaze. What had it been about this place that his brother spent so much time here? Remus had never been the scholarly type…

“That’s it. I give up.”

Roman jerked up at a loud cluttering sound. Remus, who had been sitting at his desk, had made a sweeping arm movement and thrown all the contents of his desk on the floor. His inkwell shattered and tainted the carpet with a deep black stain.

“Remus what the heck!” Roman rose from his own desk to inspect the damage. “Why did you do that? Mom and dad will be mad if they see-”

His sentence trailed off when Roman looked at Remus, who had buried his face into his crossed arms, his shoulders taut.

“…Remus?” Roman frowned. “Are you okay?”

“They’re right…” Remus muttered with a sniff, much to Roman’s horror. “They’re all right… I guess I am just dumb…”

“What! No! Of course you’re not!” Roman said.

“Yes I am!” Remus lifted his head up, his eyes shiny. “If I weren’t I would actually GET this stupid stuff!” Angrily he gestured at the papers on the floor before he hid his face away in his arms again. Roman stared flabbergasted. He had never seen his twin so… so… sad before. Usually Remus was the one who pulled Roman away from his homework, grin on his face and a thousand plans for weird pranks on his mind. The castle staff had quickly learned that the 10-year-old princes were double trouble. Luckily for the princes, most of them were still swayed by their sweet faces and innocent looking eyes. Roman was quite proud of their innocent expressions- Remus and him had practised them to perfection on Roman’s insistence.

“Come on, Rem…” Roman punched his twin’s arm. “You know that’s not true! Could a dumb person ever come up with pranks as good as yours?”

No response.

“I mean,” Roman tried again. “Nailing nanny’s slippers to the floor was brilliant! Did you see the look on his face when he put them on, tried to walk away but couldn’t and fell over? That was so funny!”

A soft snort was heard. Roman grinned. Success!

“Or that time you read all about swamp monsters, so we covered ourselves in algae from the moat and scared the kitchen girls?” Roman continued.

“That was a good one…” Remus lifted his head a little, a small smile on his face.

“Yeah!” Roman had to stifle a snort in his hand. “Or how about when you had the idea to sew all the wigs of the lackeys together?”

Remus sat up, his lips pulled into a wide grin that showed off the gap between his front teeth.

“They tried to find their wigs, but there was only… THE ULTRA WIG!!” He yelled, raising his fists towards the sky. Both boys collapsed into giggles.

“Well… I guess I am pretty great.” Remus said proudly after they managed to get their laughter under control. However his look darkened when he looked down on the papers on the floor. “But then why can’t I just understand these stupid sums?”

Roman picked up one of the papers that were strewn all over the floor. Neatly written numbers their teacher had written out for them were crammed between Remus’ hastened scrawl where he tried to make sense of what was written down, and drawings of Remus stabbing the numbers with what looked like a large sharp knife. Clearly he had been frustrated for a while now.

Roman bit down on his bottom lip; he understood why. Divisions were hard. He had only gotten them after his teacher taught the class a trick to make it easier. But Remus had been pulled out of the class a while ago and given a private tutor. Apparently his brother had been ‘too disruptive of a presence for the other children’, whatever the heck that meant.

But… He could totally teach him that trick too!

“Scooch over.” Roman said as he sat down next to Remus on his chair and put the paper down in front of them. No time to get his own chair, he had teaching to do! Remus looked confused, but made room anyway. “Okay bro, this is what you do...”

For a while Roman tried his best to explain the trick. Remus didn’t understand it as quickly as Roman had. Luckily he knew his brother very well, so he added a little part to make it more interesting.

“So if you cut the witch up into ninety-eight pieces with your axe, and separate all those bits into neat piles of two, how many piles do you have?” Roman asked. Remus scrunched up his nose in deep thought. Roman practically saw him churning the math over with the trick he was taught.

“…Forty-nine?” Remus answered hesitantly.

“Yes!” Roman whooped. “Yes Rem that’s exactly right!”

Remus’ eyes widened and his mouth fell open, before he laughed and jumped up from his chair with a victorious yell.

“YES!! I did it!! Take that, math!” Remus screeched. “You ain’t got shit on me!!”

“Remus!” Roman gasped. “That’s a bad word!”

“I know,” Remus’ eyes glinted. “Shall I say it again…?”

“Noooooooo…” Roman snickered.

“Too bad! Shit!” Remus cackled when Roman nearly fell off the chair laughing. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT, SHIT, SHIIIIII-!!”

“What the devil is going on here?!”

Both boys immediately fell silent at the shocked outcry. Without them noticing their mother had entered their shared room. Quickly Roman and Remus scrambled to stand and guiltily try to hide the mess around Remus’ desk. Their mother had already seen however.

“What on earth is this?” She hissed while making her way over to her sons. She took in the black stain on the carpet, and then turned her furious glare to Remus, who shrunk into himself. “What did you do, you horrendous boy? Don’t you make enough of a mess of our lives as it is?”

“Well, I-” Remus tried to say.

“Don’t interrupt me! Ungrateful little freak!” She grabbed her son’s arm in a vice grip and shook him hard. “Maybe we should let you live in the stables, next to all the other pigs who can’t clean up their mess!”

“Mom wait! It was me!” Roman rushed out. Their mother immediately turned her attention on him. “I knocked the inkwell off the desk, like a doofus! It’s not Remus’ fault!”

Their mother’s eyes narrowed, while Remus’ eyes went almost comically wide. Roman felt his heart beat in his throat. Slowly queen Nadia released her Remus’ arm.

“Why were you at his desk?” His mother asked Roman.

“I was helping him… With his math homework.” Roman muttered.

“Y-Yeah!” Remus said, rubbing his painful arm. “I understand the math now, mom! I can do it!”

Queen Nadia looked between her sons, before letting out an impatient sigh.

“Remus, you won’t learn anything if you let Roman do your homework for you.”

Roman sputtered. “What? I wasn’t doing that!”

“He wasn’t!” Remus said. “He just showed me a neat trick, I can do the math now!”

“Oh really?” Queen Nadia raised a sceptical eyebrow. “Then tell me, what’s seventy-eight divided by three?”

“It’s… It’s…” Remus stammered. He pulled at his hair in frustration. “I know it, I do, I just need-”

“Roman, what’s seventy-eight divided by three?” Their mother turned to him.

“Twenty-six.” Roman answered automatically.

“I knew that too! I did!” Remus yelled.

“Apparently not, seeing as you took so long to answer me.” Their mother shook her head in disappointment. “Go back to your homework, the both of you. Individually and quietly.”

Her tone left nothing up to the debate. Both the princes reluctantly sat down at their respective desks and continued their sums in silence.

The next morning Roman had to helplessly watch as servants moved Remus’ bed and belongings from their shared room.

“But I don’t want a room of my own!” Remus wailed, struggling in the grip of his new governess.

“Me neither!” Roman screamed and he turned to his parents who overlooked the move. “Please let him stay! I-I’ll never do his homework again, I promise!”

“Take Remus away, he’s late for his lesson.” King Augusto waved the governess away, and the woman dragged his screaming brother away from the room. Before Roman could move to run after them his father placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Roman, please,” His father’s voice was soft. “I know this may seem harsh, but it’s the best for the both of you.”

“But… But…” He couldn’t take it anymore; the tears started to flow freely down his cheeks.

“Oh honey…” His mother’s arms embraced him and picked him up. Roman clung to her and cried into her hair while his parents rubbed his back soothingly.

“You must understand Roman,” His father said. “You are the crown prince! You have responsibilities, and your brother keeps distracting you from them.”

“I just helped him with sums…” Roman hiccupped.

“It’s sweet that you want to help him,” His mother said. “But he can’t be dependant on you forever. You two have your own lives, and I promise you’re doing him a favour by letting him discover his own path.”

“You can still spend time with him whenever you don’t have lessons or homework.” His father added.

Roman sniffled. “Promise…?” He whispered.

“Promise, sweetie.” Queen Nadia pressed a kiss to his temple. “Would we lie to you?”

Lost in his memories Roman trailed after Patton, who rushed ahead of him completely enamoured. Patton was so entranced by the library that he didn’t hear the approaching footsteps from around a bookcase until he crashed into the person.

Roman was startled from his thoughts when he heard a loud clatter and saw his fiancé nose-dive down, pulling the man he crashed into and the large stack of books he was carrying along with him. They unceremoniously fell in a heap on the floor, Patton on top of the other, knocking all the air out of the man’s lungs.

“Oh-Oh my goodness I am so sorry!!” Patton scrambled up and started gathering the books that had scattered over the floor while simultaneously trying to help the other man up.

“My love, have you hurt yourself?” Roman hurried to the pair.

“Holy shit Lo, are you okay?” A fourth voice said, the owner of said voice appearing from around the bookcase.

“I’m quite alright, Virgil,” The man sat up on his knees and adjusted his rectangular glasses that had been knocked off his nose. “Let me clear up these books. They were in a specific order.”

Curtly the man pulled the books from Patton’s hands and started to stack them in their original order. Patton held still, his hands held up in that wary position of someone torn between wanting to help and not wanting to upset the other further.

“Uuuh, Logan?” The fourth person spoke up. Roman recognized the short man dressed in purple and black robes as the court sorcerer. “Maybe that’s a bit rude…? Just saying.”

The man- Logan apparently- glanced up from his task a little miffed to look at Roman and Patton, showing off bright blue eyes behind the square glasses. They stood in stark contrast with his dark skin and wavy black hair.

“Oh, I see,” Logan said upon seeing who he was snubbing help from. “Pardon me- Let me clear up these books, your Highnesses.”

“That’s not-! Never mind…” Virgil sighed, before turning to Roman and Patton. “Sorry about that.”

“Oh, that’s alright!” Patton beamed. “I would probably make it even messier anyway! We’ll get out of your hair!”

Patton turned to Roman as Logan gave a confused little pat to his hair. “On with exploring?” Patton chirped.

Roman felt his heart sink as he and Patton walked further. Why had he thought that a clue would magically present itself by coming here? How could he know what attracted Remus to this place?

“Excuse me, prince Roman?”

Stopping in his tracks, Roman turned back to the questioning voice to find that the dark-haired librarian had called out to him of all people. “Yes?”

“If I may be so bold to ask,” Logan said as he stood up from the floor, balancing the newly stacked books in his arms. “I was wondering when your brother will return home?”

Roman’s eyes widened. He barely bit back a gasp of surprise. Was this his clue? “Why do you ask?” He said.

“Well, I brought in some new books that I thought would be interesting for him, but he still hasn’t seen them,” Logan answered. “His travels normally don’t last this long, do they?”

“…No. No they don’t.” Roman walked back to the two men, curiosity awakening inside his chest. He took in the tall librarian from head till toe. Logan didn’t seem to notice, he was busy piling the books on a desk.

“So when will he return?” Logan asked. Roman felt the hollow feeling in his chest deepen at the question.

“I’m afraid those books will remain unread for now, my literary fellow,” He managed. “Remus, he…” Roman swallowed thickly. “He’s missing.”

“Missing?” Logan frowned, looking up from his task. “What happened?”

Before he could answer, Roman felt a soft hand slip into his own. Patton walked up next to him, and gently squeezed his hand with a soft smile.

“Remus has gone to the Desolate Mountains.” Patton quietly continued for Roman, which made him want to kiss Patton in sheer gratitude. “He what?” Virgil’s face drained of the little colour he had, making the dark marks around his eyes stand out even more. “You mean he actually went?”

Roman’s attention immediately snapped to the court sorcerer.  “What do you mean, ‘he actually went’?” he asked sharply. Virgil flinched at the sudden cutting tone thrown at him.

“Last time I saw him,” Virgil faltered. “He was babbling nonsense about wanting to kill the warlock-”

“Last time you saw- You KNEW about this??” Roman ripped his hand from Patton’s grasp. “You knew and didn’t think of telling anyone?!” Fury swept up inside Roman. Someone else had known all along. If Roman had someone who would have backed up his story, believed him, they could have gone after his brother months ago. They could have… Could have…

“I didn’t think he would actually-!” Virgil tried.

“YOU ARE NOT HERE TO THINK!!” Roman roared at him. He didn’t care that Virgil backed away from him, holding up his hands in a failing soothing gesture. He didn’t care that Patton grasped his arms to keep him from advancing further on the man, or that Logan tried to step between the two of them. He couldn’t focus on anything else but the dull thrum in his ears, and the cowering sorcerer before him. “You are here to SERVE AND PROTECT OUR FAMILY-” “Roman, honeybee, please stop-!”

“YOU FAILED AT THE ONE JOB YOU WERE HIRED FOR!!”

“Your Highness, calm down please!” Logan stepped between him and Virgil. “I’m sure we can talk this over-”

With a mighty push, Roman shoved Logan aside. The librarian tumbled to the ground, but Roman didn’t care. He tore himself free from Patton’s grasp and stormed to the shorter man, fuming. Virgil’s eyes started to glow purple and he summoned shadows to his hands, the dark energy crackling in the air. Roman grabbed a fistful of Virgil’s robes, raised his fist and-

“THAT IS ENOUGH!!”

Everyone’s head snapped towards Logan, who had scrambled up from the ground. He was breathing heavily, his glasses standing askew on his nose.

“We are in a library, for goodness’ sake!” Logan snarled. “Have a little respect!”

Roman stared at the librarian, rooted to his spot. He then looked down at the man he held up by his collar. Virgil’s eyes were still glowing a vibrant purple, but that did nothing to hide the tinge of fear in them. Roman released Virgil’s cloak and backed away like had burned himself.

“I- I am so sorry, I didn’t-” He stammered. “I don’t- I don’t know what came over me-” Horrified Roman looked at his own hands. What on earth was happening to him?

Looking at the three men, all in various states of shaken up, Logan sighed, straightened his cravat and adjusted his glasses.

“I think,” He said calmly. “We could all use a cup of tea.”

--

Red-hot shame burned up Roman’s cheeks as the little group followed Logan through the library. He didn’t dare to take his eyes away from the ground, even when they climbed up several stairs to the higher levels of the library, and Patton was hugging his arm while trying to catch his eyes. Roman couldn’t answer his fiancé’s concerned gaze though. Not when he acted so shamefully in front of him. What kind of prince was he?

“Here we are,” Logan said in front of them, interrupting Roman’s spiral of guilt. The librarian opened a small door hidden between two bookcases. “Do come in, everyone.”

Stepping through the door, Roman finally lifted his head to look around. The room he just entered was an attic, large windows overhead showing off the summer sky. Every bit of a wall was hidden behind star charts and papers full of constellation drawings and notes written in a neat handwriting. Several stands were scattered among the room, displaying several models of the solar system. A spiralling iron staircase led up to a loft where a large telescope proudly stood underneath an open skylight.

“What is this place?” Patton asked, his voice full of wonder.

“My work space,” Logan answered, as he cleared up a big table in the middle of the room, overflowing with notebooks and papers. “I’m a scholar; I study the stars and the possible life beyond them.”

“I thought you were a librarian?”

“I am too. In exchange for the usage of the equipment here, I help maintain the library,” Logan moved armfuls of papers away. “It is quite a good arrangement. I wouldn’t be able to afford half the material needed for proper studying otherwise.”

“Oh here, let me help you with that!” Patton released Roman’s arm to help with clearing the table. This left Roman standing with Virgil. Both men tensed, and Virgil awkwardly tried to avoid the other’s eyes. Before Roman could think of anything to break the tension, Virgil muttered ‘we came here for tea right’ before quickly walking over to the other side of the room where a table with a kettle stood next to small sink. Roman was left standing by the door, feeling like an idiot and unsure of what to do. He decided to keep himself busy by looking at the star charts.

Virgil filled the kettle up, and lifted up a tiny jar without a lid from below the desk. A small purple flame was nestled at the bottom of the jar; it’s flames crackled softly in the tense air.

Patton stopped next to Virgil, arms full of papers. “What is that?” He asked curiously as he stared at the purple flame.

“Oh this?” Virgil said as he placed the kettle on the little fire. “An invention of my own. The flames are hot, but do not burn anything that it comes in touch with. Thought it might be useful for Logan cause-” Virgil looked up into Patton’s curious eyes, and coughed a little embarrassed. “You know… Books are flammable…” He finished lamely.

“That is incredible.” Patton said breathlessly. “You must be so talented!”

Virgil’s cheeks flared up. “It’s okay I guess…” He mumbled. “I mean, I only managed one so far since it’s so difficult to make, and haven’t been able to replicate it ever since, so I figured it was just a lucky shot-”

“Now don’t you dare talk bad about yourself, young man!” Patton said sternly.

“…I think we’re the same age-?”

“You’ve already made such an amazing thing! You should be-” Patton’s gaze flicked to something moving on Virgil’s shoulder. “ProaaAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!”

Roman, who had been inspecting a star model, shocked up at his fiancé high pitched screaming to see Patton dropping all the papers and nearly hop skipping to get away as fast as possible from a startled Virgil. “What happened??” He said as he quickly made his way over to Patton.

“SPIDER!” Patton screeched as he jumped into Roman’s arms. “SPIDER!!” He screamed again while pointing at Virgil. Following his love’s shaking finger, Roman saw what had spooked Patton so bad. Crawling on Virgil’s shoulder was quite possibly the largest tarantula Roman had ever seen. The arachnid was about as big as Roman’s hand, and had a dark purple colouring. Right now it appeared to have frozen in alarm at the sudden screaming.

Virgil followed Patton’s pointing as well, and his eyes widened in realization. “Oh, no no no! It’s alright!” Virgil gently picked up the spider from his shoulder, and now Roman felt a little queasy too when Virgil held the beast up in both hands. “This is just Romeo! He’s a good spider! He won’t do anything! He’s not even an ordinary spider, he’s-” Virgil stopped. Romeo the spider had taken one glance at Roman, and immediately took up a defensive position, letting out tiny hissy sounds and squatted on his long legs. Virgil immediately cupped him close to his chest. “No! Bad Romeo! No face jumping today!”

“He jumps on FACES?!” Patton shrieked.

“Only when I’m threatened,” Virgil answered absent-mindedly, which did exactly nothing to make Patton feel better. Virgil let a short stream of curses, before he quickly held open his cloak. “Come on Romeo, better hide. Yes, I know it’s not fun!” Virgil said when the arachnid again made short hissy sounds. “But it can’t be helped right now. Come on…”

Roman could swear that he heard the spider make soft grumbling noises, but the tarantula reluctantly crawled underneath the soft fabric.

“There, he’s gone,” Virgil said as he closed his cloak. “You can look again.”

Patton carefully peeked from Roman’s neck where he had hidden his face. Shakily he sagged in relief when he couldn’t spot the creepy crawly death dealer anywhere.

“Oh dear John that was scary…” Patton said in a trembling voice. “Uuhh, sorry for screaming there kiddo, I’m just- Terribly afraid of spiders!”

“Oh really? I wouldn’t have guessed.” Virgil said.

A short cough caught everyone’s attention. Logan, who had witnessed the whole ordeal silently, looked like he felt a migraine coming on.

“Can we please have that tea now?” He said while rubbing his temples with his fingers.

A short while after the four men sat down at the cleared table, steaming cups of tea in front of them. Patton was still a bit rattled, Virgil steadily avoided looking at Roman and Roman himself sat stiffly, holding the cup between his hands like it was his last line of sanity holding him together.

“Well then,” Logan said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “I think we can all agree that we figuratively started off on the wrong foot.”

“Understatement of the year.” Virgil muttered under his breath, making Roman wince. Logan gave him a warning glare.

“If we got off on the wrong foot,” Patton said with small smile. “Maybe we should take some steps to remedy that?”

Logan stared ahead, his face blank, yet his eyes betrayed the pain he was in. He inhaled deeply through his nose.

“I’m just going to,” Logan muttered. “Figuratively let that pass by. Anyway!” He said in a normal volume. “What brings you to my library? Also how come that our prince going missing isn’t widespread news?”

“We only realized today that he was truly missing,” Roman answered. He hesitated a second before he continued. “…A friend told me that Remus came to the library often, so I hoped to… I don’t know, find a clue here I guess?” Roman let his head hang in shame. Now Patton knew he had brought him here under false circumstances. He truly was the worst fiancé.

“Oh honeycakes!” Patton said. “Why didn’t you say so? We could have been detectives together!”

Bewildered Roman turned to Patton. “You’re not… Mad?” He asked incredulously.

“Why would I be mad about that, silly?” Patton giggled, and gently booped Roman’s nose. Amazed Roman entwined their hands together. Honestly, what did he do to deserve such kindness?

“I’m afraid I can’t help you, your Highness,” Logan said, interrupting the moment. “If his Grace left some kind of hint of his whereabouts behind, I have yet to find it. But it is true that he visited the library quite frequently.”

“Did he come here for a specific reason? Or for some special kind of books?”

“No. Despite his broad interests, the books only seemed to interest him occasionally,” Logan said thoughtfully. “I mean, take his last visit for example-”

In Logan’s eyes there would never be anything more beautiful than a perfectly organized bookcase. With a satisfied smile he slid the last book into his rightful place, and he took a step back to inspect his hard work. Very well done, if he said so himself.

Content Logan turned away from the shelf to continue on with the next bookcase, but when he turned he was greeted by an upside down grin.

“Hey nerd!” The owner of said grin cheerfully said.

“Good afternoon, your Grace.” Logan answered, observing the prince’s upside down state. Remus had his knees hooked into one of the bookcase’s ladders. “How long have you been hanging like that?”

“A while! Boy do you absorb yourself in a task! You didn’t even notice when I climbed up here!” Remus shrugged playfully, his face red and sweating. “Hey, do you think my head will explode if I hang like this for too long? Decorate these books with brain goo?” Remus giggled as he threw his arms wide. “Splat! All new paint for free!”

“That would be an unlikely occurrence. However,” Logan said as Remus let his arms drop in disappointment. “Being flipped over like that makes it harder for you to breath, heart problems may arise due to the increased blood flow, and your vision may experience permanent damage because of the added pressure on your eyes.”

“Neat!” Remus whispered, his eyes sparkling. “How long ya gotta dangle like this for that to work? Nevermind, we’ll just test it now!”

“That seems hardly healthy for you,” Logan answered.

“Oh come on, living science experiment in the making here! Isn’t that like your stuff? What kind of scholar are you?”

“The astronomy kind, your Grace, not the biology kind. Besides, today I’m here for my librarian duties.”

“Ugh, bore-snore!” Remus groaned. “Unethical science experiments are WAY better! What’s so fun about books anyway?”

“Well,” Logan said, knowing exactly how to distract the prince. “We do have a fascinating new book in about octopi.”

“REALLY!?” Remus gasped, wiggling his knees free excitedly. “Holy fuck, I gotta see that! Lemme just-!”

“Your Grace, WAIT-!” Logan started, but it was too late as Remus as elegantly as a rock thrown through a window fell on the ground with a thud. He sprung back up however before Logan could even ask if he was hurt.

“I’m okay! Whooo, headrush!” Remus snickered as he dizzily grabbed onto Logan’s shoulders. Logan diligently held the swaying prince up on his feet. “Alright nerd, show me the nerd book!”

Ten minutes later Logan was back on his task of organizing the bookcases, but occasionally threw glances at prince Remus who had sat himself down at one of the desks. He had yanked the book from Logan’s hands with an excited wiggle and was currently drawing furiously in a sketchbook, copying the pictures and diagrams of the squid with a nearly manic glee. His brow was furrowed in concentration, the tip of his tongue peeking out of his mouth.

Momentarily distracted by the sight Logan accidentally knocked over a pile of books that were still waiting to be organized off the desk. “Oh bother.” Muttered Logan, as he quickly gathered them off of the ground.

“You know,” the prince said, looking up from his sketching. “I don’t think I ever heard you curse! It’s always ‘oh dear’ or ‘good heavens’ with you! What gives, Geek Squad?”

“I don’t make a habit out of cursing.” Logan answered distractedly.

“But aren’t you tired of being nice?” Remus asked. “Don’t you just wanna go ape shit sometimes?”

“I hardly see how monkey feces applies to this situation.”

Logan restacked the picked up books and looked up to ask Remus if the book was to his liking, only to find the prince staring at him intently.

“As your prince,” Remus said, more serious in tone than Logan had ever heard him speak. “I order you to say a swearword, right here, right now.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, and adjusted his glasses with a sigh.

“…Well that’s just fucking inconvenient.” He said.

Remus’ eyes widened and his mouth fell open, before he burst out into wild, delighted cackling. Nearly choking on his own laughter Remus fell from his chair, screeching gleefully while rolling over the floor. In a minute Logan would remind Remus that he was in a library, and gently ask him to be quiet. But for now Logan just allowed himself a small, fond smile as he watched the laughing prince.

It was hard not to smile along with the story. Patton let out a small chuckle next to him, and even Virgil huffed out a short laugh. Roman regarded the stoic librarian with different eyes. So that’s why Remus came here so often…

“You were never… Bothered by his unusual questions or requests?” Roman asked hesitantly. He knew Remus had a tendency to frighten away people with his interest in the macabre. Logan however only shrugged.

“Hardly. He may be unconventional, but unconventional people have made some of the most amazing discoveries in our world’s history. So who am I to judge?”

Roman felt the vague urge to offer this man a hug. “I’m glad my brother found a friend in you.” He warmly said instead. Logan sputtered, his already dark cheeks turning several shades warmer.

“I am unsure if he saw me as a friend…” Logan said uncertainly. “I’m told that I’m… Not very good with friendship.”

“Oh hey, I’m sure that’s not true!” Patton said.

“Virgil only realized we were friends after I explicitly stated it at one of his ritually based conventions of supernatural conjuring.” Logan deadpanned.

“It was a coven gathering!” Virgil nearly yelled. “We were trying to exchange new magic! You were only supposed to bring a book! Seriously Lo, learn how to read a room!”

“How could I possibly read the room?” Logan questioned. “There was no text on the walls.”

“That is not-!” Virgil stopped himself and inhaled deeply. “Oh forget it…” He muttered.

“Well, uhm,” Roman said, trying his hardest not to laugh. “I believe he saw you as a friend, Logan!”

“…I hope so,” Logan said. “Truth be told, I have… quite missed him these past months.”

“Really?” Virgil asked incredulously before he could stop himself. Logan let out a sigh.

“Virgil, as we discussed many times, just because you don’t like the man doesn’t mean I have to dislike him as well.”

“You dislike my brother?” Roman asked the purple clad man. Virgil had the decency to look a little sheepish at the question.

“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t exactly be thrilled either by someone who continuously screws up your magic experiments just because, and I quote, ‘why the fuck not?’ ” Virgil grumbled, avoiding eye contact.

“That-!” Roman started, pointing a finger at Virgil, who tensed, before he dropped his hand with a sigh. “That does sound like Remus, I’m so sorry.” Virgil looked up at him with a surprised look, but he shrugged.

“Eh, it’s not your fault. But thanks.” Virgil said with a brief flash of a crooked half smile. Guiltily Virgil glanced down again, anxiously twiddling his thumbs. “Look-” He started. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about your brother… I honestly didn’t think that he would, you know…”

“No, it is I who should apologize to you,” Roman said sombrely. “I shouldn’t have shouted at you, or blamed you. That was very un-princely of me. The truth is… None of us thought Remus would be that reckless. I am more at fault for this mess than you, since I’m his brother.”

“Hey, I would freak out too out if my family would disappear.”

“It was still bad of me…” “Yeah, it was kind of a dick move,” Virgil agreed. “But… It’s cool. I understand.”

Both men shared a look across the table, the tension between them slowly ebbing away. Roman nearly sagged in relief when the sorcerer seemed to finally relax since they sat down.

“Come on, sweetie…” Patton patted Roman’s arm. “Don’t be so hard on yourself! You couldn’t have known either!”

“I should have!” Roman pulled his fingers through his hair. “But I didn’t, and now my brother has gone into the lion’s den! Who knows what the warlock might do to him?!”

“You may not need to worry too much about that,” Logan said. “Technically we don’t even know if the warlock actually exists.”

“What do you mean?” Roman confusedly asked.

“I mean that we have no factual evidence of this figure’s reality. He might just be an overblown exaggeration of local folktales and rumours.”

“Oh, the warlock is real alright…” Virgil said darkly.

“How do you know that?” Logan asked. “Have you met him recently?”

Virgil shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers fidgeting nervously with his cloak’s sleeve. “Well, no, obviously,” He muttered, avoiding everyone’s eyes. “…But I have a feeling-”

“Saying fiction is fact based on feelings is bad science, Virgil,” Logan adjusted his glasses. “The real fact is that no one has ever seen this supposed warlock. We have documents stating a witch once lived in the mountains, but she appeared to have left a long time ago. If the warlock is actually real and not a blatant falsehood, shouldn’t we have gotten some actual proof of his existence by now?”

“Then how do you explain all the disappearances?” Patton asked with a thoughtful frown.

“There are plenty ways of disappearing in the mountains that are not supernatural in any way. For example, you have rockslides, avalanches, abrupt weather changes to name a few,” Logan rambled from the top of his head. “There’s the wildlife of course, like mountain lions and bears. Not to mention the many fantastical creatures that are potentially dangerous! Not many have encountered trolls and lived to tell the tale. Dare I say, there’s a very high risk of endangering one’s life-”

“Lo,” Virgil interrupted urgently, holding a finger against his lips. “Not the time.” He very pointedly looked across the table, where Roman had balled his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. He stared down at the table with a forlorn expression, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Patton had his arms thrown around him, rubbing his cheek against Roman’s shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

“Uuh, I mean,” Logan scrambled awkwardly, trying to salvage the situation. “These are all just statistics. Your brother could very well be alive!”

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Maybe he… He just injured himself and he can’t properly travel back just yet.”

“Or!” Patton added. “He met someone in distress in the mountains and he is on a quest to rescue them!”

“Perhaps he made an amazing new discovery,” Logan smiled. “And he simply must document everything before returning.”

Roman lifted his head to give the people around the table a watery smile. “Thank you…” He quietly said.

Logan looked around to see everyone’s empty cup, and rose from his chair. “I’ll make us some more tea,” He said, before pausing to look hesitantly at Roman. “Would you…  perhaps be interested in seeing the books I ordered for your brother?”

Roman let out a shuddery sigh, before he nodded. “Yeah… Yeah, I would like that.”

--

Time seemed to fly by as fast as the wind.

When Logan returned with more tea and two books under his arm, Roman flipped through the pages as if he could find his brother in the pressed paper. One book was a bundle of quite possibly the most gruesome folktales Roman had ever read, while the other showed the inner works of the body in more detail than Roman wanted to know. Despite the morbid subjects however, Roman only felt an aching kind of fondness while reading them. Both books carried so much of Remus in them, even when his brother had never read any of the pages, that it made the hollow feeling inside Roman’s chest feel a little less overbearing.

At that point Logan and Virgil started taking turns telling stories and anecdotes about Remus. Little slices of life Roman had spent so long ignoring, but now he eagerly listened to. Every new tale only made the four men laugh harder than the one’s before, and soon the strange little group was chatting, joking and teasing like they had been friends for years.

“You’re kidding!” Roman laughed. “He actually chugged a potion you had specifically said was for cleaning the kitchen floors??”

“Man, I wish I was kidding,” Virgil groaned. “After he was done vomiting in my cauldron, you know what he said?”

“What?”

“That it tasted disgusting and I needed to add more mint.”

Wheezing Roman doubled over, clutching his stomach that was hurting from laughing so much.

“Oh gosh Roman!” Patton suddenly gasped. “It’s almost sundown! We have to hurry or we’ll be late for dinner!”

Surprised Roman looked out of the window to find Patton was right; the sky had turned several soft shades of orange and pink.

“Have we truly spent the entire afternoon here?” Roman marvelled as he got up. “So sorry for keeping you so long!”

“No need to worry,” Logan said. “This day was quite enjoyable, despite it’s… rocky start.”

“Yeah,” Virgil smirked. “No better way to start a day than almost getting in a fight with the ruling class.” “Hey nooo! I apologized-!” Roman whined. Virgil waved him off.

“Chill princey, you’re good. Although…” Virgil’s smirk grew more mischievous. “If you can convince your parents to get me more budget for a new set of beakers and potion supplies, I might not retaliate with spiders in your bed.”

Roman snorted. “I’ll see what I can do,” He said good-naturedly, before sliding the books still on the table towards Logan. “Thank you for showing me these!”

“Actually,” Logan said, as he pushed the books back. “Keep them for now. You might want them more than I do.”

Gently Roman picked up the books. “…Thank you,” He said softly, as he held them close to his chest. “That’s so kind.” He cursed that the day had ended so quickly. He had so much more questions to ask, more stories to listen to…

“Hey, I was wondering!” Patton spoke up beside him. “Do you think we could meet up again tomorrow?” Roman gave Patton a baffled stare. His fiancé only returned it with a smile and a quick wink, and Roman felt his heart swell up with love for this man.

“Tomorrow?” Logan said. “I’m afraid not, I have work to do in the library.”

“Yeah sorry, I got responsibility things too.” Virgil added.

“Oh… That’s alright!” Roman said, trying to not let the disappointment shine through.

“However,” Virgil said. “I can do Friday afternoon? How about you, Lo?”

“I do believe Friday would be adequate.” Logan responded. Roman looked between the two men, before a dazzling grin broke out on his face.

“Friday it is then!” He said cheerfully, before he followed Patton to the door. “We’ll see you then!”

Logan nodded a goodbye and Virgil gave a lazy salute while the two princes quickly made their way out of Logan’s workspace.

“They seem nice!” Patton said as they made their way to the dining room.

“They do!” Roman agreed. His thumb ran over the worn leather covers of the books grasped close to his chest. “Even after I acted so rude they remained so friendly…”

“Oh, don’t continue to beat yourself up over that,” Patton said sweetly. “Sure, you made quite a blunder, but nobody’s perfect! Virgil accepted your apology. Best way to continue on now is not to repeat the same mistake!”

Patton happily hummed as he threw one arm around Roman’s waist. Roman was too busy being flabbergasted to return the gesture. Honestly, the kindness of this man just kept surprising him.

Gently Roman pushed the dining room doors open, revealing his parents and king Thomas already seated… And, strangely enough, general Isolda standing next to his father’s seat.

“There the two lovebirds are!” King Thomas smiled as Roman and Patton entered the dining room. “We thought we would have to start without you!”

“So sorry,” Roman quickly said. “I was showing Patton the library and lost track of time-!”

“Oh, not to worry,” His mother said. “Love is distracting, after all!” She daintily chuckled, but the look she threw Roman over the rim of her wineglass was a silent warning. Don’t let it happen again. Roman anxiously swallowed and gave the barest hint of a nod.

“Well, now that you’ve made it,” His father said. “We have some great news for you!” The king gestured to general Isolda. “We have discussed it today, and the general is dispatching a group of knights to search the mountains for Remus.”

In shock Roman looked at the general. The woman didn’t look very happy about the whole situation, but he supposed he couldn’t blame her. Still he couldn’t beat down the pure hope that flared up in his chest. Carefully he placed the books he still carried down on the dining table.

“Really?” Roman walked up to the general. “You’re going to look for my brother?”

General Isolda’s eyes flicked towards the king for the barest second, before looking back to Roman’s hopeful face.

“Of course,” She said, straining a small smile. “I will… Put my best knights on the task.”

Roman couldn’t hold back the beaming grin breaking out on his face even if he tried.

“Thank you!” He said sincerely. “Thank you so much!”

“Don’t thank me just yet…” The general muttered under her breath, but Roman didn’t hear her. Instead he ran to Patton, who eagerly accepted the grandiose embrace Roman swept him in.

“That’s settled then,” The king nodded satisfied. “The knights will leave tomorrow at the first break of dawn. General, dismissed.”

--

That Friday Roman and Patton spend their afternoon once again in the company of the sober librarian and the sarcastic sorcerer. Laughter filled the air, but Roman couldn’t help it; his thoughts kept drifting to the knights that were sent into the mountains. Would they have found anything by now?

He hoped so…

--

A week passed. Roman assured himself that a week was too soon to expect news; he just needed to be more patient.

--

Patton left with the promise of returning soon, he just needed to work things out with the university. Patton blew him kisses out of the carriage window, which Roman pretended to catch out of the air and pressed to his lips. Numbly he watched as the carriage disappeared over the horizon. Not for the first time he wished that he could attend university as well. His parents had unfortunately always been dismissive of that idea.

--

Life went back to its regular schedule. No more Patton meant no more visits to the library to laugh and joke with his newfound friends, and no more lazily spent afternoons. The days ticked away in a haze of lessons, responsibilities and court meetings. On the days he spent with his old friends he was quiet and somber, mostly looking out of the window to see if he spotted anything on the horizon yet.

--

Outside the castle the leafs started turning orange. The farmers started bringing in the crops. The air grew crisp and vagrant.

“Any news?”

“None, your Highness.”

--

“Any news?” Roman asked.

“No, sweetie…” With a mournful smile, his mother rubbed his shoulder.

“Oh… Maybe tomorrow?”

“Roman, maybe you need to prepare yourself for… The worst possible outcome?”

“No! I couldn’t! He’s not-! They’re not-!”

“Roman, please,” His mother grasped both of his shoulders. “You’re not a child anymore. You can’t keep on denying that there might not be a… Happy ending to this.”

“I won’t stop hoping! I won’t!”

--

A month passed before Patton could visit again. His stay was filled with joy, more days spent at the library than Roman had ever done for his studies and lasted way too short for anyone’s liking. Before he knew it, Patton’s carriage disappeared behind the horizon again, leaving Roman alone with the ever-growing void in his chest.

“Any news?”

“No, your Highness.”

--

“Any news?” Roman asked.

“No son,” His father answered. He shook his head with a wistful look. “What a pity… So many young lives, leaving families and promising futures behind…”

Roman swallowed guiltily, and focused on his dinner.

--

“…Any news?” Roman quietly asked. He had asked for almost every single day now for the past weeks.

Perhaps today would be good news.

General Isolda however only shook her head sadly.

--

He stopped asking.

--

Like the falling leafs the days passed. The air quickly grew colder and colder by the day and before Roman knew it, he woke up to find the outside world had turned completely white overnight. He didn’t quite know how long he stared at the snow outside that morning. He only knew that despite his warm bedchamber, his insides felt as frigid as the ice that covered the grounds.

When Roman finally left his chambers, he had a large smile plastered on his face. He greeted everyone jovially, joked and laughed. His parents told him at breakfast that they were glad to see him in good spirits again. Well, how could he not be glad? Patton was a visitor once more, and he was able to stay to celebrate Winter Solstice and the New Year with him! What could possibly be better than that?

In fact, that afternoon he convinced his three friends to take a walk through the snowy gardens.

“Isn’t it great to be outside the library for once?” He merrily sang out. He inhaled deeply. “Aaah, smell that crisply clean air! Oh, and I do believe I smell that the kitchens are making beer stew and glühwein for tonight’s dinner! Aren’t we lucky?”

He turned and threw his arms wide, beaming at his companions. Logan barely heard him over his chattering teeth. He was buried in so many scarfs that you only saw his fogged up glasses. Virgil and Patton however only exchanged an uneasy look.

“W-W-Why did I let you convince me about this again…?” Logan’s muffled voice came from the pile of scarfs.

“Because it is fun! We could build a snowman, or have a snowball fight, or make some snow angels-!” Roman summed up. “We might even go sledding outside the castle walls! How about it, my cold comrades?”

“Roman,” Patton said tenderly, as he grasped Roman’s hands. “Roman, honey. What’s wrong?”

“Wrong?” Roman chuckled. “There’s nothing wrong! In fact, I have a great idea! How about the four of us go ice-skating on the moat, wouldn’t that be-”

“Roman…” Patton folded his hands together under his chin, his wide eyes turning pleading and shining. Roman grimaced.

“Pat, please no- Not the puppy eyes, you know I can’t say no to the puppy eyes!”

“Then please tell me what’s wrong…?”

“Nothing! I promise! I just-” Patton’s lip began to wobble slightly. “Noooooooo, sweetie! Don’t do that to my poor heart!”

“Pat’s right,” Virgil spoke up. “You’ve been acting all… Forced happy-go-lucky and shit today.”

“Language!” Patton said sternly, momentarily dropping the puppy eyes to frown at Virgil. The sorcerer only focused on Roman though.

“Seriously princey,” He said. “We’re all worried here. Spill.”

Roman hesitantly looked between his friends, all three of them showing mirror expressions of concern. Guiltily he glanced down at his feet, his hands nervously rubbing together. The moments ticked by as the three friends patiently waited for their prince to say something.

“…Six months have passed.” Roman finally muttered.

“Yes, that is generally how the passage of time works.” Logan said. Virgil discretely elbowed him in the side. It made Roman snort out a laugh though.

“An astute observation, my clever friend!” Roman said. The amusement faded just as quickly as it came. “But what I meant was… Six months have passed since… Since…”

“…Since Remus disappeared.” Virgil finished for him.

“And four months since a search party was send out…” Roman nodded. His throat squeezed itself shut, making the words come out strangled and shaking. “There’s still no word from them. Nothing! They’re probably… Probably-” He couldn’t say it. The word was stuck in his throat, as if he feared that the second he would say it out loud it would become reality.

“Oh honeybee…” Patton sounded heartbroken. Firmly his fiancé embraced him. Roman hardly noticed, not even when Logan soothingly started rubbing his back or when Virgil grabbed his elbow. Tremors shot through his body and his breathing was shallow.

“Princey,” Virgil said. “You’re panicking.”

“It’s all my fault,” Roman said shakily.

“This is not your fault!” Patton protested.

“I was the one who wanted a search party! What have I done?”

“Roman, listen to me,” Virgil’s gravely voice cut through the rushing in his ears. “Breathe with me. Four seconds in, hold for seven, breathe out for eight. Can you do that? Follow the rhythm.”

Virgil’s fingers gently tapped out the rhythm against his elbow. Roman tried his best to follow the soft beats with his breathing. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, surrounded by people he loved so much it ached sometimes, but eventually his breathing evened out. The silence stretched out for a few more minutes.

“You are not to blame for what happened, Roman,” Logan eventually said. “You could have not predicted that this would happen.”

“But they sacrificed themselves because I-!”

BOOM!!!

Screams of surprise left the four men all at once. The little group jumped even closer together then before. Virgil’s eyes immediately transformed to purple, Logan grabbed Roman’s back in a tight hold, and Patton squeezed Roman’s waist so tightly that Roman could barely breathe. Adrenaline coursed through Roman’s veins and his heart beat painfully fast. What was that? Was it thunder? No, the skies were clear.

“What on earth was that?” Patton squeaked. Roman could only answer with a shake of his head, wildly looking around for the source of the noise. From everywhere people trickled outside, confused and scared sounds filling the air.

“What was that-?”

“-Too loud for thunder-”

“Are we under attack-?”

“Where did it come from-?”

“We should lock up the castle’s gate-!”

Through the growing crowd Roman saw his father hurrying outside, making his way to the front castle’s wall. On a whim Roman freed himself from the impromptu group hug and walked after him.

As the king climbed up the stairs to the ramparts, Roman quickly ran up as well. If he had looked behind him, he would have seen that Patton, Logan and Virgil followed right behind him.

“What happened?” He heard his father ask.

“Not sure, your Majesty,” General Isolda answered while she handed the king a spyglass. “But we know where the explosion came from. Look.”

The general pointed to the distance, and Roman followed everyone’s gaze.

A mushroom cloud had formed, right above a peak of the Desolate Mountains. It looked rather tiny, but Roman knew it had to be enormous to be even seen from this faraway. “What the fuck…?” Virgil said behind him, and Roman couldn’t agree more.

“It must have been something big, seeing as the sound carried all the way to here,” The general continued while the king inspected the cloud through the spyglass. “We can not know for certain what caused it unless we send knights to inspect-”

“No need,” King Augusto lowered the spyglass. “Obviously it was just a minor volcanic explosion,” He said with a light smile. “We’ll send troops to nearby towns to see if the blast caused damage to their homes-”

“Falsehood.” Logan said. The king froze, before he slowly turned to Logan.

“What did you say there, son?” The king asked in a low voice.

“Falsehood,” Logan repeated, master of Not Seeing Big Red Warning Flags. “We don’t have active volcanoes in the area, and even if that was a volcanic explosion, the cloud would be black because of the ashes. Also I’m not your son. Furthermore-”

His explanation was cut short, because Virgil punched Logan hard enough in the stomach to cut him off. As Logan doubled over in pain, Virgil grabbed him in a headlock and covered his mouth.

“Yep! Volcanoes! That’s definitely what’s going on!” Virgil laughed strenuously. “Very good thinking, your Majesty! Don’t mind my friend, he has a bit of a fever!” Virgil began dragging Logan away, who was making protesting noises behind Virgil’s hand. “We will be preparing an anti-volcano protocol now! A good day, my king!”

King Augusto scowled after the pair, before he noticed Roman standing at battlements, still staring at the cloud.

“Roman.” He said.

“Yes…?” Roman answered absent-mindedly.

“Go check to see if your mother is alright. I have to discuss sending out knights to the towns near the mountains.”

Reluctantly Roman tore his gaze away from the mountains to go inside with Patton in tow, leaving king Augusto to calm the large mass of people still at the foot of the castle walls.

--

As the crowd slowly started to trickle down and went back inside, many of them fleeing back to their warm chambers and fireplaces, Virgil lingered behind on the snowy ramparts. He squinted suspiciously at the distant peaks of the Desolate Mountains and the fading mushroom cloud, as if an answer would present itself if he just glared hard enough.

“I don’t know what you’re planning, you snake,” He hissed softly. “But it won’t work. I won’t allow it!”

No answer came but the ice-cold wind picking up, sending shivers down Virgil’s spine.

[goingsllightlymad]

Baby It’s You - Part 2.

Pairing: Roger Taylor x reader, Brian May x reader

Summary: The year is 1981 and Roger Taylor is pretty sure he has made it. With the Game Tour stretching out before him and the band more successful than ever, he doesn’t think that anything can mess up the perfect picture that is his life. That is, until he receives a letter from an astrophysics PhD student studying abroad, and finds himself sucked into her world of secrets and mistaken identities. Roger Taylor is about to find out that his life is a lot more complicated than he ever thought.

Wordcount: 2392 (getting longer!). 

Warnings: I just love Roger Taylor a lot, okay? 

________________________________________________________________

An hour after Brian had left, Roger was still finishing up. Bags all around him on the bottom step of the never-ending flight of stairs that lead down from their apartment, he was making sure he took as much time as he could. He was late already, so he might as well be later. It annoyed Brian and he knew it - all those threats and empty promises of kicking Roger out of the band if he wasn't get to the tour bus on time weren't entirely lost on him, just had the wrong effect.

With that last thought of Brian's agitated face in mind, and the wonderful mental image of him pacing to and fro in front of the bus the way he probably was right now, Roger dropped off the last of his bags by the door, and made his way over to the little metal letter-boxes with the apartment numbers on the front. He had never really done this kind of dull domestic thing before, truth be told, and it took him a moment to pick out their box from the rows and rows stacked on top of each other. Brian was much more domestic than he had ever been, and on a nicer day he might have admitted that he could not live without him. But this was not that kind of day, and Roger Taylor was not in that kind of mood.

There were the usual parcels and notices - a wedding invitation from one of Brian's friends, a just-saying-hi letter from Tim Staffell like there was every week (Roger never read them but he knew that Brian did), a couple of bills and an advertisement for a recording studio nearby. He kept that one, put it in his pocket to show the others if he ever decided to show up at the bus as he knew he had to soon. And then at the bottom another envelope, small and neat. He picked it up, looked a little closer at the name written on the front in neat cursive script. The right house number, absolutely not the right name. Some guy called Ben, probably someone who lived somewhere downstairs. Probably the new guy, but Roger had no idea which number he was. He cast a momentary glance at all the letter-boxes in front of him, wondered whether he had the time or the patience to go through each one and look for names. True to his character and to the extraordinary number he saw, he did not.

There was a moment or two when he had to stand and think things through. The letter had been sent to the wrong address. But what to do when you had nowhere to send it to? Leave it on the side and hope for the best? Probably not a good idea - he had had a suspicion people were stealing Queen's mail for a while now, best not to put the idea to the test when this wasn't even his letter. Find Ben? God knows how many Ben's there must be in this building, and Roger was finally coming around to the idea that sooner or later he really had to get to the bus or else they might send Brian back to drag him there by brute force. What a comically horrifying thought.

So it was without much internal conflict that Roger slipped the letter into the pocket of his coat, with the advert for the studio, and locked up the letter-box once again. He could always open it and find out who had written it, maybe write back to the address it was sent from, just to explain. He figured they ought to know, at least. And it didn't seem like there were a lot of better options opening themselves up before him. Yes, he would read it as soon as they set off, get something back quickly and have no more to do about it. Or at least, so he resolved as he found his bags again, the thought already fading into the chaos of his mind, the prospect of the tour bleeding through in its place until he had almost forgotten about the letter entirely, standing by the worn front door.

With a final sigh and a grunt as he hoisted his bags onto his back once more, Roger left the building through the front door and made his way finally to the tour bus. It had to leave soon, and he was very very late.

________________________________________________________________________________

It was only that night, with the sun long since set and the others recently gone to bed, that Roger remembered the letter. He cursed quietly in the silence of the bed at the back of the tour bus, muttering something about the scrabble they had been playing all afternoon while the bus drove on to god knows where, and tried once more to close his eyes and fall asleep. Once more he was unsuccessful. Eyes closed and breathing slowed, the thought of the address came flooding back into his mind, insidious and unshakeable as a curse. He really had to read it now, because he was getting the idea that he could not sleep if he didn't.

He sat up, pressing his shaking hands against his thighs to steady them as he shivered in the cool night air. For the life of him he could not remember when July had got so cold. Groping around in the moonlight for his coat, he took out the letter from the pocket, straightened it out. Such pretty handwriting for someone who didn't know how a fucking address worked.

Dear Ben...

The silence in the tour bus lasted an eternity while he read, his lips moving gently as he murmured the words back to himself. From time to time he looked up from the page, lips quirking up into a soft half-smile as the words pulled him into their funny little world that he knew nothing about. And yet he had never felt as though he knew someone so well. It was almost too intimate, for a moment he had to stop and wonder if he was really doing the right thing. This was a moment when the curtain was ripped aside momentarily, and through the gap he caught a glimpse of someone else living a life that was so different to his own. He felt as though he were walking into a cinema halfway through a film, picking up a character from all the scraps of words they let him see. He could not look away if he tried.

When at last the words ran out at the bottom of the page, he blinked slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness that seemed to have wrapped itself around him while he was unaware. How to tell this girl, (Y/N), that he wanted to, needed to, know more. There was something so addictive about this boring little life she lead, where the pigeons outside her window got more action than her. Roger could never understand what that was like.

Making sure not to wake the others as they sprawled out on the beds along the bus, Roger found the little scrabble table, the pencils and paper they used to score. He took a clean sheet and tried to write.

Dear (Y/N) (Y/L/N),

I must preface this letter with the sincere apology that I am not, in fact, Ben. Not through some lack of effort of yours, I am sure, this letter was addressed to entirely the wrong person, and has reached myself instead of whoever it was intended to go to. Which is fine - I certainly enjoyed reading your letter, and in fact I should hate to leave this here. You seem to lead such a more exciting life than I do!

I wish I could understand your PhD woes, really, but it is my primary flaw that I was never the most academic of all my friends. If I could do what you are doing, I would, but the problem is I just can't. I fear I would die of boredom and stress from the very get-go, and that would be a rather unfortunate situation for everyone involved, I fear. Still, I have no doubt that, whatever it is you are studying, you are coping brilliantly (albeit complainingly!). It seems I must rely upon you to live out vicariously my dreams of doing anything vaguely intellectual successfully; I hope you do not mind!

You've made me quite frantic just reading about your late night habits, my love! He's probably right, you know - you really ought to get some sleep. One of my mates keeps going on about something like that ("self care" apparently, which sounds a lot like bullshit but it seems I'll be preaching it now like the utter hypocrite that I am) to me, which of course I have never listened to because I have a horrible habit of never actually listening to my mates, but I think you need some of that. Not that you're going to listen to me. Not that you should listen to me. My advice is terrible. Just ignore me, I'm having an internal crisis here.

New York is indeed very... different to what we are used to. I used to hate it there because all I could associate it with was travelling and being away from home, but now I suppose I don't mind as much. I'm more used to travelling now. Not that that's an especially bad thing. New York does have nicer diners, and the accent makes me laugh more than I really ought to. I lose my shit every time someone orders a coffee like that. Good on your pigeons though - maybe not so good on you but good on them all the same. At least they're having a nice time. Well, at least the male pigeon is. And they say romance is dead.

How must you live without a radio? I think I would keel over and die immediately without my music. I wouldn't tell it to my friends (they'd call me a right wuss and I fear I haven't the stability of ego to withstand such a low blow) but I sometimes think my soul is made of music. That band thing sounds interesting! Maybe you should go along just in case - see if you like them. I hear they're fantastic.

Roger didn't comment on the last half of that paragraph. Something in it made him feel like he was standing in someone else's place, reading something he was never meant to see. Something he would never share, because no one had ever said those kind of things to him before. He wondered if that was love, and hoped it wasn't. He'd like to think that he had been loved before, and he knew that he had never been loved quite like this.

You know I have to ask - who on earth are Lennon and McCartney? Please god don't tell me you have half of the Beatles living in your apartment or else I really must find out who you might possibly be. Princess Bride with the Beatles... what a thought. I've never seen it - I think I should have but I haven't. Nothing personal, not really, I've just never been the sort for sappy romance films. All that nonsense about "true love" and "happily ever after", I'd feel like a 9-year-old girl with a crush. It's all just a scam, really. No way that kind of thing isn't all made up. No way at all.

A wedding? Wow, sounds nice. Sorry, I'm just not used to that kind of thing. What do you even say to it? Congratulations on not having broken up by now? Good luck doing the same things you were doing before you got married but with extra legal bindings? I can't wait until you have kids and our friendship becomes second to them? Not for me, no sir. Not for anyone like me either. Just not ideal exactly in this line of work. Think I'll have to stick with being forever alone, eh? But congratulations (or something like that) to your brother and his... spouse.

Thank you again for brightening up my boring little day, and I hope you write again "as you wish",

Anon.

He didn't sign his name at the bottom - he thought perhaps it might be better to let her form her own opinions of him in her own time, instead of telling her straight away. It wouldn't let out his address, he promised himself as he slumped forwards against the table, head in his hands. Now that that was done, he suddenly felt so dreadfully tired, and he knew his sleep would only be plagued by thoughts of this mystery girl. For there was that smaller part of him, deep down in the pit of his chest where he thought his heart must be, that whispered to him that he did not want her to know who he was because for the first time in his life he had found someone who might like him for something other than that name. He found something that might stick around.

There were no envelopes in the van, and he made a quick promise to find one at the hotel the next morning, and send it out straight away, so she got the letter as quickly as possible. To send something to her boyfriend, he thought. And then, to send something to me. With a sigh and a shake of his head, he tucked the letter away in the pocket of his jeans, sleeping in his clothes as he had taken to doing on tour, and picked his way silently back to his bed. 

________________________________________________________________

It was not hard to see that Roger Taylor had something to hide. Not when he broke away from the rest of the band the minute they had arrived at the hotel, not when he begged for half an hour in his room before they went out to check out the venue, and definitely not when out of the window John caught a glimpse of their drummer rushing off to the letter-box on the corner of the street, in his hand an envelope and in the envelope god knows what. 

Taglist:

@rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives

[moondustis]

heaven all around me (m)

pairing: mark lee + reader genre: smut word count: 5,1k summary: when you’re eight mark lee pushes you inside a lake. at nineteen you fall a little in love with him. (church camp!au) warnings: loss of virginity a/n: this is somewhat the sequel to innocence, you don’t have to read it to understand this one but it would be nice since there are a few mentions of what happened in the other story.

living in a small town meant a lot of things. it meant that there was no such a thing as keeping a secret because everyone knew everything about anyone that dared to breath. it meant everyone was raised inside a church and couldn’t miss the sunday mass for anything in this world. it also meant that every year, since you were seven, when the july heat finally came, you’d have to pack your things and spend four days away at the middle of nowhere at church camp. because apparently jesus wanted you to or whatever, it was a nightmare. summer was an awful season to be out and about like this and having to share a room with 20 other girls just made it all worst.

you hated the silly group dynamics and that every morning you would have to wake up early to help get the breakfast ready. but what you hated the most was that this year the only person that you cared about in this hell of a city wouldn’t be there. jung jaehyun had not only left you one year ago with the pieces of your broken heart in his hand, but he also left you alone to endure church camp all by yourself.

all the dramatics aside, it really sucked that you wouldn’t have his company during the four days there were about to follow, but thankfully, at 19, you would not only be attending the camp for your last time but you would only be there to monitor the children while staying in a cabin by yourself.

it couldn’t be that bad.

✱

(day one)

once upon a time, when you were just an innocent girl, at the sweet age of eight, you met mark lee. you probably had seen him before at church or at camp, but no interaction had been as memorable as this one.

mark, slightly taller than you even then, pushes your small body inside the lake. it was an accident of course but your eight year old mind couldn’t process that. so you scream and cry, trying your best to remember how exactly to swim even if the lake is not that deep, until jaehyun jumps in and saves you. always the good guy.

after you’re not almost drowning you proceed to call mark every bad word you know, which are not many since you have been raised inside a church. but still, he looks hurt when you call him ugly and mean.

you’re not upset about that anymore, of course. it’s been years and even if you haven’t really had a conversation with mark since then, you don’t hold any grudges. but still, as you walk inside what was supposed to be your private cabin and see him standing there, that’s the first thing that pops in your mind.

“oh, hello.” it’s what he says when he notices you. his baggage is up on one of the two single beds in the room, clothes folded neatly inside of it. on the bedside a bottle of water, earphones and a burt’s bees lip balm. he looks as surprised as you are.

“uhm, hi.” you say, pushing your own luggage inside and plopping down on the other bed. the cabin is small but cozy enough, there’s a fan in the ceiling that you’ll probably be thankful for very soon. “i thought i would be at the cabin by myself.”

“yeah, they said there weren’t enough cabins this year for that.” he scratches the back of his head like he feels awkward. “i actually thought i would be sharing it with another dude”

you raise one eyebrow at him. “do you have a problem sharing it with a girl?”

he lets out a nervous laugh. “what? no, of course not. it’s just that well, you know, it’s church camp.” he says and you can’t help but laugh for real.

there’s a pause where he eyes you for an uncomfortable moment and in a blink he’s looking away. you can already feel a drop of sweat going down your neck from the heat. you hate summer. “i’m mark, by the way.”

you scoff at that. “come on, you don’t have to introduce yourself. i know who you are, you dumped me in a lake remember?”

the look of terror in his face is comical and you can’t help but let out a laugh. everything about mark so far has screamed shy boy, even if you know he can be quite the opposite around his friends. “oh my god? you remember that?” he asks, voice sounding funny.

“of course, pretty hard to forget the first time someone pushed me in a lake.” you indulge him, moving to open your backpack and place your own things at the bedside table. “only time actually.”

“look i’m so sorry, i swear it was accident.” it’s cute how he starts babbling like you would actually still be upset about the whole thing. you turn to throw a smile his away.

“relax, mark. i know. i didn’t mean it when i called you mean.” he looks almost relieved.

“what about me being ugly?” it’s weird how your heart warms up a bit at the fact he remembers exactly what you said back then. you stare a bit at the bedside table before replying. your orange water bottle and carmex lip balm standing next to his own things.

“maybe i didn’t mean that too.” you tease, looking at him again with a smirk on your face that he returns with a laugh.

he has finished setting his things up, now sitting on his bed like you were moments ago. you finally take in how he looks, jeans and a t-shirt that has the drake praying hands on the right. his face still resembles his eight year old self but he definitely has grown into a handsome man, round eyes and all.

“still, it was pretty low of you to say that back then.” his words get you out of your mini daze.

you finish up your things too, not bothering to do much because you know everything will be a mess in a couple of hours. “i’ll admit i was pretty savage at eight.” you reply back and enjoy the sound of the laugh he lets out. you’re glad it’s not weird with him, it would be awful to share a room for four days with someone you didn’t really get along with.

it’s silence for a couple minutes after that, only the sound of people moving around outside. you notice he avoids your eyes a bit but it’s not at all uncomfortable.

you break the silence by asking if he knew what you two would have to do for the rest of the day and you don’t even mind when he proceeds to tell there will be a fire pit and marshmallows at night.

✱

(day two)

one thing you can say for sure is that summer is the worst of all seasons. you think about that as you wake up with a layer of sweat covering your body. your leg starts itching, probably because of a bug bite and you groan trying to scratch it with your left foot. you have no success.

last night fire pit had been fun, the kids behaved and you probably ate more s’mores than you should, your tummy hurting a little bit after. the bug bites you got from it though, not so funny.

you remember mark playing that church song on his acoustic guitar and a silly smile finds its way to your lips. you never really noticed mark much before, but yesterday as you spent more time with him you couldn’t help but get acquainted with some of his habits.

the way his nose scrunches sometimes, how he does his best to guide and help when a kid comes asking for help, how he hums pop songs when he’s bored. you pay attention when he jokes around his friends and can’t help but laugh at how silly he is. he insisted that you sat with all of them during meals since jaehyun was well, your only friend and now you didn’t have anyone to sit with.

at night you notice how he applies the burt’s bees chapstick like his life depends on it, and after you question it he explains that his lips get chapped during summer.

you find it cute how he prays before sleeping and when he mutters good night you say it back while your stomach goes a little wild with butterflies. and too many s’mores.

you get up from the bed quietly, doing your best not to wake him up and try not to curse out loud when you can’t pick short shorts and a tank top for your daily outfit because it just wouldn’t be appropriate for the ambient.

you meet up with mark and his friends for breakfast an hour late, wearing adequate length shorts and a snoopy blue t-shirt that is a little too big for you. your monitor bottom stuck on it.

“do you already know what college you’re going to, ______?” renjun asks, cereal still in his mouth and you find it a little gross. you’re sitting on a table with him and three of mark friends that you’re familiar with, but not friends with. until now that is.

“oh, i think i’ll be going to snu.” you say, rolling around the spoon on your own bowl of cereal.

“mark is going there too!” jeno, another one of mark friends, says excitedly just as mark arrives at the table with a tray of food in his hands.

“i’m going where?” he asks, sitting right next to you and you can’t help but feel like a silly teenager when your heart flutters at how your knees touch.

“to snu! _____ is going there too.” jeno replies and mark’s eyes widen as he looks at you.

“well, i’m not really su-“ you start saying but mark cuts you off by saying a little too cheerful.

“that’s so cool!” he exclaims, grinning around the food he is putting in his mouth.

you nod, smiling back at him.

the rest of the day goes by smoothly, you lead a group of sweet girls on the track and they don’t give you much trouble beside one that falls down and starts crying. you manage to calm her down pretty fast though, and soon she’s moving around like nothing happened.

during the afternoon you and mark watch as the kids have fun at the lake. you and him stay by the border, legs swirling around the water as you talk about things that don’t really matter but still make you feel nice. he tells you about the songs he likes and promises to make you a playlist when he has access to spotify again. you both exclaim in join as you find out about your mutual enjoyment of bittersweet foods and you tell him he definitely needs to try the dark chocolate ice cream at the place just across church. he tells you you’ll have to take him there someday and you agree.

you spend more time talking to mark than watching the kids and when he asks if you want to just say fuck it and swim too you say yes. the water is slightly cold and your t-shirt clings to your skin in an unpleasant way but you have fun as mark chases you to try and splash water on your face.

when the night comes you realize you have talked to mark so much that you feel like you have been friends for ages. it feels so comfortable and familiar that when you both lay down to sleep you’re still chatting, only stopping when he realizes it’s midnight and you’ll both wake up early tomorrow.

you dream of the sun and of his smile.

✱

(day three)

if someone asked mark what could go wrong at church camp a few years ago he would say that probably not much. maybe there could be a problem with the children or the lake but besides that everything stayed peaceful like it should be.

but right now, as he wakes up to your sleeping body on the bed next to him, he thinks that there are a number of things that could go wrong. you sleeping is not the problem here, of course not, it has been three days now since you’ve been sharing a room and he’s more than used to your little snores. the problem is the way your blanket had moved a lot during the night because you couldn’t keep still. the problem is how the single t-shirt you wear to sleep has ridden up quite a bit and the first thing his eyes are met with when he gets up is your ass, clad in baby pink panties.

it’s a lot, it really is. he’s sure he’s about to get a whiplash or something like that because for one he has never seen a girl wearing less than a short skirt outside the porn he sometimes watches. two, he shouldn’t be staring at you like this, wishing he could touch and wondering how soft it would feel. three, he definitely shouldn’t rush to the bathroom to jerk off in the shower while thoughts of you underneath him fill his mind. on church camp of all places.

still, he strokes his dick as images of you doing filthy things fill his mind in an intoxicating way. he wonders what jaehyun made you do to him, wonders if you gave him head.

wonders if he gave you head and as the thoughts of his head between your legs hit him he comes with a quiet moan.

he feels guilty as he watches his come mix with the water and fall down the drain. he thinks about how he is going to confess to the priest about doing this, thinks that there’s no way he can do it.

he goes back to the cabin to find you already awake, shorts on this time as you down what he thinks is your birth control pills. your hands bring your orange water bottle to your lips and he can feel his cheeks heat.

“why did you wake up so early, dude?” you ask, after swallowing down the water. if you notice the way he’s acting you don’t mention.

he sits down on his bed, grabbing his phone so he can distract himself with something, anything. a puppy shows up in his instagram feed, he thinks you’d like it. damn. “don’t know. it was too hot to sleep

maybe.” he says, looking up from his phone.

you have your back to him, rummaging through your luggage for clothes to wear for the day. he stares at your ass, the shorts you’re wearing not doing much for you, while you say something he doesn’t quite catch.

you try your best not to laugh when you turn around and he fails very miserably at trying to look away quickly. “i’m off for a shower. do you want to meet up at the cafeteria for breakfast after?” you ask.

“sure.” is his reply as he watches you nod and then leave the room. when the door closes behind you he lets out a groan against his pillow.

✱

(day four)

people ask you about jaehyun all the time. they ask if you have heard of him (yes, you have), if he’s enjoying college (yes, he is), if you miss him (yes, you do). they ask about him so much that it’s not a surprise when marks does it too.

“are you still friends with jaehyun?” he asks knees nudging yours. you’re both sitting on his bed, backs pressed against his wall and fan making your hair wave a little.

“yes.” you say without hesitation “i don’t think we will ever stop being friends, i’ve known him for my entire life.”

mark hums and you know he understands. he mentioned a boy named donghyuck and how they have been for friends for so long that they can always tell what the other is thinking sometimes. “do you talk often?” he asks.

“sometimes.” it’s true, you used to text a lot more but after the last time you thought he was avoiding it. he had texted you at two am, probably drunk for a party and talking about how much he missed you. you had given in, saying the things he wanted to hear and even after he apologized the morning after a lump still formed on your throat when you thought about it. you missed him, there was no denying that.

mark seems to notice the sudden change in your mood because he doesn’t press on the subject anymore.

“what about you and yeri?” you decide to ask to break the silence. yeri was the girl mark dated for about 3 months, she was cute and petite and everyone including found that they made a cute pair together.

you find the awkward laugh he lets out cute. “uhm, we don’t talk anymore.” he says, picking at his nails. “we were never really friends to begin with.”

“oh.” is you smart reply and then you’re saying something that is probably slightly dumb and offensive. “i was pretty shocked when i find out you two were dating, i can’t really imagine cute little yeri having sex.”

you laugh as he blushes and starts shaking his head. “no, oh my god.” he stutters, avoiding your eyes. “we never did anything more than kiss, she...i...well, we both wanted to wait.”

you realize then that it was a silly thing to say, not every relationship had to revolve around sex. you apologize and he just shakes his head saying it’s okay. “uhm... what about you?” he asks, risking a look your way. “and jaehyun.”

you shift a little on the bed. “we did.” you say lowly. “it’s kind of stupid really. see, i thought we were getting married so there was no point in waiting.”

his mouth forms a little o and he nods, his eyes are a little glazed you notice and there’s a want in the back of your head that wants to kiss him.

“i don’t really care about that anymore.” he mutters, his legs move and you feel it touch yours. “waiting i mean. i still respect what it means, of course, but i’m not like living by it anymore.”

you nod, eyes staring at him until he looks back at you. it feels like a lot of time passes and it’s just silence and the sound of the fan. you are suddenly hyper aware of the fact he has pretty lashes and that his cheeks are slightly pink. you notice the few acne scars and the fairest trace of an stubble on his chin. he looks handsome and his eyes are staring at your lips.

you move in first, lips touching his with care and at first he stays still. a second passes and he’s kissing you back, hand moving to your neck as he moves closer to you. he’s a good kisser for someone who’s probably not very experienced, you ponder that you probably aren’t either since the only person you’ve ever kissed was jaehyun.

he tastes like the burt's bees chapstick when you lick his lips to deepen the kiss. he whines at the way your tongue moves against his, quick to follow and your hands go to his shoulders. you kiss for what feels like hours until you start to get uncomfortable by the position and move to place yourself on his lap, lips not leaving his.

in a very quick second you sit down on his lap, maybe a bit too roughly and you feel his hard on press against you. it shouldn’t be a surprise, you’re a little affected yourself even more when moans against your mouth because of the small friction.

you stare at him, his lips swollen and pupils blown out. there’s a blush definitely painting his cheeks now. “sorry.” he whispers, avoiding your eyes.

“it’s okay.” you say voice soft and you take a moment to think about it, think if you should say what you want to. “mark, look at me please.”

you run a finger through his hair and his eyes finally meet yours. his hands stay at your hips while you move to press a peck on his lips and then another. “please, don’t think you are obligated to accept this.” you start, biting the lips in the process. “but would you like to fuck me?”

his eyes widen before his mouth is forming an o. “yes, please.” is what you say and you feel you your inside tingle at it.

“do... do you want me to?” he asks and you’re nodding enthusiastically in a second.

“i really want you to.” and then you’re kissing him again. it’s still slow and gentle but messy in a way the you like. your hands find their way underneath his t-shirt and you bask in the way he’s so sensitive about everything you do. just the brush of your finger against his nipple has him whining against your tongue.

you grab the hem of his t-shirt, signaling for him to help you remove it and he does. when he finally throws it across the room you start pressing kisses all over him, on his neck, his chest. his hard on presses against the inside of your thigh and you feel yourself clench at the thought of having him inside of you.

you remove your top as well, leaving your bralette on for the time being. when you look at mark he’s staring right at you, the look in his eyes so sinful that you are sure you’re going to hell. it’s sin how good you’re feeling and it’s a sin that you’re about to take his virginity here of all places on earth.

“don’t you want to touch me, mark?” you ask, and he blinks at you.

✱

mark feels on heaven. he feels warm all over, so hard in his pants that he’s afraid that tiniest action from you will make him come. he watches as you remove your top, eyes almost black from lust.

he can feel your eyes on his face but he can’t look at way from the way your lacy bra looks against your breasts. they’re not doing a very good job at covering because he can see your erect nipples peeking through it. he wonders what it feels like.

there’s a necklace on the valley between your breasts, a cross to be more specific, and it raises a little with every breath you take. it looks sinful.

he blinks when you ask if he wants to touch. he does, so desperately that in a second his hand is moving against your boob, feeling how soft it is against his palm. you moan when he teases your nipple and he swears no other sound is ever going to top this.

you look beautiful, breathtaking, even more so when you reach for your back to remove the bra completely. you’re left with your chest bare against him, moaning again when he can’t help but buckle his hips up against you. your hands go to his shoulders for leverage, your lips meeting his again and it feels like bliss.

he lets his hands wander on your chest and it seems to please you if the way you start rolling your hips slowly is any indication. it’s so good that he can’t focus on anything besides it, can’t even keep kissing you, mouth falling open just as his eyes. “fuck.” he mutters as an electrifying wave of arousal runs through his body and he grips your hips tighter, urging your movements on.

“feeling good?” your voice is dripping honey, whispered right at his ear and he feels like he could come right now. just let it go but he doesn’t want it to end, wants to feel you around him.

“yeah.” his voice is raspy and when you smile at him he swears he falls a little in love “really want to fuck you.”

you move up from the bed, his eyes watch as you take off your shorts and panties in one swift motion. his mind feels dizzy and he swears he’s about to have a whiplash at the sight of you naked in front of him. for him. “you have to prepare me a little before we can do it because it has been a while.” you say as you climb up his lap again, he notices there’s a blush on your cheeks probably shy from being naked around him. “can you do that?”

he nods, moving to kiss you again. “how?” he has an idea, has seen how they do it on porn but he doesn’t want to do anything you don’t like so he waits for your guidance.

you take his hand in yours, the size difference making his heart do something weird, and guide it to your bare pussy. you press two of his fingers on top of what he assumes is your clitoris, and with yours on top you start drawing little circles on it. your eyes flutter close. “just like this.” you sound a little breathless. “then you can put your finger inside me.”

he nods again, moving his fingers like you guided him when you move your hands away to grip at his shoulders again. after a while he moves his finger down, feeling around until he finds your entrance. you’re really wet is the first thing his mind registers, so wet that when he presses his finger inside of you it slides in easily. it’s warm and spongy and he wonders how the hell he’s going to fit inside of you when he barely manage to accommodate his second finger when he presses it in.

you put on a show of whining and moaning, head pressed against his neck as you try to ride his fingers. it’s a sight to see, a sight he’ll probably never forget. he can picture himself in 5 years still jerking off to this, the way your breasts felt against his chest and how you moved up and down his fingers, making them wet.

he takes a deep breath when you say you’re ready. takes another one as you help him get rid of his shorts and boxers. another as you eye the way his dick stands against his stomach, eyes hungry. he takes the last deep breath when you move on top of him again, calming his worries about a condom by saying it’s okay, you’re clean and on the pill and all he can do it let his eyes fall close as you sink down on him slowly.

he tries to keep his eyes open, wants to see this moment so he can remember it too but it’s too much. to warm and too tight and he has to grip your hips tight to prevent himself from buckling his hips up and sliding all the way inside of you in one go.

you sigh when you finally bottom up and he opens his eyes, immediately staring at his cock buried inside your cunt and when you clench around him, probably just to tease, he has to count to ten so he doesn’t come right there. “oh my fucking god.” he breathes.

“you feel so good, mark.” you don’t sound like one of the porn stars he watches. it’s much better and he wants to stay like this forever, feeling you warm and flush against him. wants to taste your lips on his forever.

“you too.” he replies, hissing when you suddenly start moving. “i feel like i’m gonna come at any moment.”

you laugh a little at that, moving a little faster. “i’m pretty close too.” he can see the way your cross necklace jumps at little with your breasts and the way you’re bouncing up and it’s a little too much for him. he lets self control aside as he starts moving with you, hips bucking up upwards in quick motions and he thinks he’s doing the right thing by the way you moan his name.

he comes suddenly, not because of anything in particular, just a stroke that felt too good and he’s filling you up, trying to press as deep as he can. his visions going black for a little and he can only make the outlines of you rubbing your clit in fast motions before you’re coming too, clenching around him and making him shiver from oversensitivity.

your body falls putty against him and neither of you make any signs to move.

✱

you feel exhausted as you let yourself fall into mark’s arms. his breath is a little ragged like yours and he keeps his eyes shut close, and head on the wall as he runs his hands mindlessly through your back.

“we should move and get cleaned.” you say as quietly as possible. as if anything louder than that would disturb the moment. it’s hot and clammy in mark’s lap but warm and nice at the same time, the room smells so much like sex and like him that it makes everything more real.

you move from his lap with a sigh and plop down on his bed with your head following on his pillow. he gets up to look for something, clothes maybe and you close your eyes and hold back the want to cry. you have no idea why you are getting so emotional, maybe because this is the first time you had sex after the breakup, maybe because this is the first time you kissed someone after jaehyun.

as you feel the mixture of your cum and mark’s running down your thighs you realize it’s because it felt right to do it with mark and now you have to let go of the thought you were holding so tightly to, the thought that jaehyun was the only one that would ever make you feel like this. that you were meant to be.

mark comes back, a baby wipe in his hand and he offers it to you. you blink away the tears that were trying to form and start cleaning yourself. “are you okay?” he asks, throwing on boxers and a t-shirt.

“yeah.” you reply, throwing the baby wipe away and putting on the t-shirt he offers you. it smells like him and it feels right against your skin. “i think i got the sheets dirty.”

he shrugs, saying it’s okay since you’re leaving tomorrow morning anyway. when he lays down on the bed next to you it dips and you let him throw his hands around your waist, bringing you closer to his chest.

when you close your eyes you remember when you thought for a brief moment in the past that jaehyun was your soulmate. now your mind laughs at the thought because how would jaehyun be your soulmate if mark is making you feel the same way he did.

you let yourself fall asleep. tomorrow is a new a day.

[chikkachu]

Hungry Days AU

Prompt: A breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond.

-x-

Zorona (Zoro x Perona) make-out scene incoming. I couldn’t resist. What can I say?  I do love writing steamy situations. I don’t know why I’m so captivated by this pairing at the moment. This will also be available to read on my ff.net/A03 account.

Not sure what couple I’ll write for next (my last one was ZoLu, I guess I love writing about my favourite marimo lol). So let me know what you think and what ships you like. Headcanons are always welcome.

-x-

Whipping the bamboo sword so hard the material creaked, frustration etched each movement the green-haired boy made.  Zoro had experienced utter defeat at the hands of Hawkeye and today’s training session was his outlet. Perspiration dotted his forehead as he pushed his body to the limit – if not further. Knowing the young swordsman Perona would say the latter because she had witnessed his foolish fits of anger before.

He didn’t know when to stop.

Addicted to the feeling of hard work and adrenaline she supposed, not being a fitness freak herself. She’d prefer to put her feet up and drown her sorrows with a bowl of strawberry shortcake ice-cream. That was cuter than the smell of sweat and oxidising metal that accompanied the weight training Zoro chose.

Yet she still spent time in the kendo hall watching Hawkeye and Zoro when she wasn’t at the spooks club with Moria and Absalom. She felt strangely at home exchanging insults and chagrin. The brooding swordsman seemed to accept her regular visits as a norm. Her relationship with Zoro was peculiar. Sometimes they were at each other’s throats, his brutish attitude and ability to get lost in a one-way street tried her patience.

“Hah!” Startled Perona’s gaze jumped to the person occupying her thoughts. Tension making the harsh lines of his shoulders hunched forward, his perfect form wavering due to fatigue. It had been three hours of rigorous kata exorcises. Typical Zoro not acknowledging his limits - but this time was different. The injury had the potential to impact on his performance for months. She wasn’t an expert, but she knew that.

“Zoro.” She said, firm and non-compromising. Perona had never been a girl who settled for being ignored.

“It’s none of your business.” Biting and brutal to the point she could sense his teeth grinding as his jaw clenched.  Heart pounding in response to the blatant dismissal, her own temper flared. No one spoke to her like shit.

“Excuse me?” It wasn’t said as a question. It was a declaration of impending war. If he wanted to throw down, then she wouldn’t disappoint. Springing forward from her perch on the bench, she marched toward the glowering idiot.

“You are a rude obnoxious jerk Roronoa!” Stopping only when she made sure to purposefully invade his space. Toe to toe and her finger jabbed firmly in his thorax. She wanted her entire body to scream ‘fuck you’.

“Tch,” Upper lip pulling upwards into a snarl, he avoided her glare by staring to the side. The bastard was still trying to ignore her. Not happening. Shuffling sideways she stood on her tiptoes to stare him dead in the eye. “…annoying woman.”

Brow furrowing, she leaned further into his space so her nose almost touched his chin. Why did he have to be so tall? It ruined the effect.

“Me? Annoying?” Perona spat, noticing how he visibly winced at the high octaves, “That’s rich coming from ‘Mr. I’d be late to my own funeral’”.

“At least my laugh doesn’t sound like a dying cat.” Zoro shot back quick as usual. He didn’t usually resort to such childish arguments with anyone - the perverted cook didn't count. That dickhead disserved every slur apparently. Perona knew how to push his buttons as well as the blond. His attack didn’t put her off, in fact, excitement pulsed beneath her diaphragm. Not thinking she lunged placing both hands on his chest and used her body weight to push. Chuckling she watched the muscle head stumble as he lost his footing for a moment.

She couldn’t help but feel accomplishment in catching him off-guard even if it didn’t push him back. Zoro trained daily in martial arts and toned his core strength to the point she had seen him doing one-arm handstands. Honestly, the impact of her palms on his chest felt solid - a living bronze statue.

Calloused fingers formed a vice grip on her dainty hand, the pressure enough to hold her in place.

Perona hyper-aware of her throbbing pulse, her wrist gripped by his strong fingers, a large knot settled in her throat. A dangerous glint glazed Zoro’s eyes but she didn’t fear him. Perusing the features of her long-time friend she noticed his full bottom lip twitching. He tended to chew his bottom lip when hassled and the action diverted her attention.

It’s no secret Zoro is a good-looking boy – now a young man. Classically attractive features combined with the exotic allure of seafoam green hair made him a heartthrob. But most of the time people admired him from afar, a treasure you could see but not touch. The man had a demeanour that demanded respect and a not so subtle ‘fuck outta here’ vibe if you managed to piss him off.

Perona and the select few allowed into his inner circle knew another side. A kind and honourable man. And the biggest dork she’d ever met.

“Oi, stop staring.” Damn. She’d spaced out again…whilst eye fucking. Zoro didn’t need to know that.

“I would if you stopped being so cute.” Unless she opened her own stupid mouth. She had meant to say UN-cute. N-O-T cute.

Because he wasn’t.  At all.

“Cute?” He tried the word as if sucking on a sour treat. If she wasn’t so mortified the comical look that emerged - a cross between emotional constipation and disgust - would have triggered laughter.

The silence made her want to die or drop through the floor. Whatever happened quicker.

“I knew that’d pull out the stick that’s currently lodged up your ass.” She said, smiling sweetly. Tone sweet as honeycomb, dripping with the challenge. Time to save face.

Zoro leaned forward taking back the space she’d managed to steal. Squinting in thought his usual persona returned, it wasn’t the tense energy from before. Instead, it was a captivating focus that drew her in closer. He’d always had an ability to control the mood. It seriously rubbed her the wrong way. Perona would spend an hour iterating how she felt on a topic and he’d manage with a single sentence. Sometimes a grunt, yet she’d understand.  

Right now, she understood the atmosphere around them. Intense, sexy and one hundred percent Zoro.  Subconsciously placing a hand on his chest, she traced the seam of his keikogi. Keeping eye contact as she travelled to his neck, fingers brushing the soft skin in the conjunction of his neck. Zoro swallowed and once again she found herself admiring his lips. His nose brushed hers as he exhaled the brief contact titillating her nerve endings. Perona wanted more from him.

“Kiss me.” She sighed, her own lips brushing against his chin. Once again it wasn’t a question but a breathy demand. Her breath jittered as she felt his thumb stroke over her lips as if silencing the gibberish likely to explode from her mouth if he didn’t hurry up. True to form he read her well and the cocky smirk told her he hadn’t bought her excuse from the beginning.

“You always have to make things personal,” Zoro said, voice gravelly and taking her mind to a place that wasn’t appropriate for a gym hall. Head dipping, he hovered for a second, mirth dancing in his eyes. Fed up with his teasing she shifted to aim a well-deserved kick in the shin when he nipped at the corner of her mouth. Perona felt her mouth pop with an embarrassing gush that resulted from the attention.

He moved in quick precision, making her feel like the hunter became the hunted, enveloping her bottom lip into his mouth. Still holding her hand, he tugged sharply, and she found herself being melded into the masculine presence that was Roronoa Zoro. She felt a large hand splay across the small of her back, pushing her flush to his torso. Clearly, he didn’t want any space between them.

Peppering wet kisses over her top lip she felt him raise their joined hands. Pushing her palm flat against his jawline he broke away to lay a kiss on her palm. Aegean blue eyes gazed at her under a thick hood of gorgeous eyelashes. Honestly, Perona hated the fact that he was such a pretty boy and she had a weakness for anything cute.  

Impatient she used the hand to forcefully turn his head, whilst the other slid into his green strands gripping what she could. Lips now a supple pink she nuzzled his nose before capturing his lips in an audacious move. Eyes closing, she took in the sensations of his tongue sliding over the seam of her lips, the warmth of his breath on her cheek and how soft his hair felt.

“AH-em.” Freezing at the deliberate interruption, Zoro’s arms locked around her waist in surprise. Her eyes shot open to see her partners face resembling the tragedy mask they often see in her drama study classes.  Rose started to bleed onto his cheeks and coat the tips of his ears. It was too cute to stop an awkward giggle escaping.

“Tch.” Zoro and his typical sulk sound. He refused to look at her or his intruding teacher in the eye. Looking over his shoulder she spotted Mihawk standing in the doorframe across the room. Arms folded and his expression screaming annoyance. A slight twitch at the corner of his mouth said he had expected this.

“Roronoa, this is not your bedroom. Take it elsewhere.”

Tinkling laughter filled the hall as Perona grabbed Zoro’s hand. It’d be her pleasure to whisk the wayward swordsman somewhere private.  

[tabletibbletobobble]

Throwing Shade

“Wait so you’ve never even read a comic book?” Snow pressed her interrogation more intensely than she mean to.

Erica shook her head. “No,” she said softly, her eyes darting around at the trees around them. Snow didn’t know what to make of her. She seemed nice and responsible at school, but never interested in most subjects. And never with any friends.

“Well,” Snow paused, trying to find some middle ground with the girl she had met earlier this year, and was now somehow mystically destined to save the world with. “Movies! You like movies, right?”

“I guess,” Erica said with the least enthusiasm Snow had ever heard. “There was a really great documentary on The Amazon Rainforest I found online.” Erica uncomfortably rubbed her neck. “That was pretty great.” Erica’s gaze wandered away once more, before she shook her head and looked back at Snow, who was sitting on a stump near the creek. She was swirling the water with a long narrow stick, watching the wake of the current as it was broken by her movement of the branch. “What about you?” Erica finally asked.

“What about me what?” Snow looked back at Erica, who at this point had maybe twelve leaves in her hand.

“What’s your favorite movie? Or comic book? Or flower?”

Snow didn’t think she had ever been asked her favorite flower before. Sure, she liked flowers and aromatics, but a favorite? Snow thought long about it. But her mind quickly wandered to the last three weeks. That fox with the missing leg and eyes like an eclipse. The beautiful woman made of starlight and shadow. The magic stone that sat waiting in her backpack. The cool energy that she could feel on her fingertips. It was like she was a superhero, and this was her origin story. Except she’s spent most of it waiting for something to happen. Snow’s eyes met Erica’s for a brief moment, as if they were both just thinking about the same thing. About how things had changed, what had happened over the last few weeks, and what was about to. “Chrysanthemums,” Snow finally said. “My moms have them all over the house, and they’re really neat looking.”

Erica smiled wide. “I have a ton of Chrysanthemums, but I’m running out of space in my room, and the kitchen, and the dining room.”

“You really have a lot of flowers, huh?” Snow chuckled.

“Not just flowers,” Erica interjected. Her eyes lit up as she went on. “Tons of herbs, like rosemary and dill, a few cacti, a spider plant, some small palms, an aloe vera, and even a venus flytrap!”

“Wait, really?” Snow’s eyebrow cocked.

“Yeah!” Erica put her handful of leaves in her backpack and zipped it up. “My dad went to South Carolina on a business trip and came back with it. They’re supposed to be in warmer climates than this, but I have a heat lamp, so it doesn’t get cold.” Snow smiled, it was nice to see this girl come out of her shell, even if it’s only about plants. “Did you know that flytraps are actually a misnomer. They actually eat more ants than anything, but they’ll eat whatever they can. Even frogs!”

“Are you serious?” Snow had only seen them on tv, but apparently left out a pretty awesome fact.

“Well, small frogs, but still.” Erica laughed. It might’ve been the first time Snow had seen Erica laugh. She was always so distant. Even when meeting Sahiress, the Guardian of Earth, she was skeptical of her intentions. Maybe she saw something Snow didn’t. But for now, Snow was content with fighting bad guys and saving the world, so how sinister could this Guardian be?

“Do you think I could watch you feed it sometime?” Snow said, both curious and excited at the thought.

Erica nodded. “Yeah, definitely! But it ate like a week ago, and it hasn’t opened back up yet. It takes a while for them to digest fully.”

Snow looked at her phone, was it already six o clock? “Well let me know when it gets hungry. I should probably be getting home for dinner. Don’t you?”

Erica shrugged. “Dad’s in meetings all day and Mom’s working on a case late, so they won’t be home for a while.”

“Do you want to come over for dinner?” Snow asked.

“Oh,” Erica paused. “You sure your family wouldn’t mind?”

“My moms are cool, and they always make way too much,” Snow smiled, as she pulled her backpack on. “Besides-“

Her thought was interrupted by a fox sitting on the grass staring at them, maybe twenty feet away. The creature’s coat was a pale pink, from a distance it might be mistaken for a soft orange or red dirt. She was missing her front left paw, but there wasn’t an obvious wound. Almost like it has been surgically amputated. The fox’s eyes were a shimmering black, with white, glowing irises that spiked on the outside like a solar eclipse.

“Hi!” the fox greeted excitably without moving it’s mouth. “Is this a bad time?”

“Is something wrong, Mera?” Erica asked, her face curled into a frown of concern.

“Sahiress sent me. One of the shards showed up!” Mera jumped up and paced as she explained, seemingly through some sort of telepathy. “Are you guys ready to go?”

Erica nodded.

“Ready as we’ll ever be,” said Snow, as soft features formed a wall of determination.

“Alright,” Mera said with relief. “Right this way!” As the sound of her voice entered Snow’s mind, a blue flash of light reflected on Mera’s eyes and a column of blue energy formed from the direction Mera was looking. Not an unfamiliar sight for Snow and Erica.

The two ran into the portal.

The other side was quiet. It looked like they were on the outskirts of a city and surrounded by construction equipment, unoccupied trucks and cranes, and the metal beam skeleton of a large building. The air around them felt filthy, like dirt had been kicked up around the site all day, and everything had just been put to rest. The early stages of sunset were becoming visible, and the smell of the polluted air contrasted heavily with the fresh breeze of the small town they had just come from.

But where was that shard? The two glanced around hurriedly when they both heard the footsteps coming from above them. A dark figure walked across the constructed steel beams, silhouetted against the blue and orange sky. Her long black boots echoing against the steel with each step. Her dark eyes looked down at Snow and Erica as she scoffed in disgust.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to come,” she said, her voice sounded tired and emotionless.

“Dris!” Snow exclaimed, as she and Erica pulled their Essence Crystals from their backpacks.

“I grow tired of these childish games we play,” Dris explained, sighing. “My king wants the rest of the shards.” Dris jumped forward, her slender form doing a forward flip before landing on one knee.

Superhero landing, Snow thought to herself.

“I’ll find out where you’re hiding the others, even if I have to beat it out of you.” Dris stared at them with expressionless gray eyes. A white bellowing cape flowed from her shoulders, held by a golden clasp at her chest. Her top was as black with a white belt above a black skirt. Her white gloves nearly reached her elbows, and a rusty metal bracelet hung loose on her left wrist. The symbol of the King of Rust.

Snow gripped her pale blue Essence Crystal tightly, as she felt the familiar cold breeze swirl around her. A layer of frost began to grip itself to her, covering her legs, arms, then her torso. It grew thicker and more opaque, before finally shattering. The dust of crystalline ice suspended in air, shimmering like starlight around her. Snow’s outfit was no longer the skinny jeans and blue denim jacket she was wearing, but a long blue cloak covering a frost patterned dress and matching boots. Wisps of frosty mist licked her shoulders and hands as she took a defensive stance against this enemy. From where her crystal was in her hand, a long staff appeared, with a blue stone weaved into the design of the head.

She looked over to see a shower of pink and green petals burst off Erica as her outfit also transformed. Where there was once a pair of yellow overalls, there was a forest green blouse and skirt with matching gloves. The collar was a waterfall of pink and yellow petals, with a pink lace seemingly holding it all together. The bottom of her skirt looked like a garden in bloom, with pink and yellow petals lining the skirt. She was holding a large wooden club, artfully crafted with a mossy handle.

The two looked at Dris with a heart full of vigor. But Dris simply looked up at them and smirked.

“What are you smiling at?” Demanded Erica, as she readied her weapon for battle.

“Yeah, we kicked your butt last time we met,” Snow added.

“Perhaps,” Dris said flatly. “But last time, I was outnumbered.” Before Snow could think what that meant, she felt a blast of force take her off her feet. She looked up to see what looked like a bear, but made of a featureless black, shadow-like material. It roared at Snow, only to see it joined by a slightly smaller, wolf-like shadow monster. She looked over to see Erica, also surrounded. To her left was a squatter animal, more reptilian with a massive jaw. Either a crocodile or alligator. Behind her was what looked like a gorilla. The reptile snapped at Erica as she dodged a blow from gorilla.

Snow looked over at Dris. She had a jet-black hawk on her arm. With two heavy flaps of its wings, the bird took off. Snow could only guess it was looking for the shard. She dodged the bear as it took another swing with its massive claws. Instinctually, a burst of freezing air shot from her staff. The bear recoiled in pain, as the wolf tried to bite at her feet. Snow jumped back, tripping on her own feet. She landed bottom first with a painful thud. From between the monsters, she could see Erica having troubles of her own. The crocodile was wrapped in a thick layer of vines, growling in pain as the plants grew thorns, but the gorilla was too big and too fast. As Erica swung her weapon, the creature batted it away like a fly, putting Erica too on the defensive.

“This isn’t working!” Erica shouted over the roars and shrieks of the shadow creatures.

“No kidding,” Snow answered back. “We need a plan. Form up!” Without a word, Erica sidestepped the gorilla and joined Snow’s side. The three remaining creatures closed in on the two of them; the crocodile continued to gnash and growl as the vines barely held together.

A large wingspan spread above them as the hawk returned, clenched in its talons was a large silver-gray rock, shimmering in the remains of daylight. Its shape was similar to the other hedron shards they had recovered so far, this one slightly thinner. “We can’t let it get to Dris!” Snow yelled. “After it, I’ll keep these guys busy.” As the words left her lips, the crocodile broke free, snapping its massive jaws in their direction. Snow instantly regretted her plan. She concentrated hard, her eyes closed and blue light emanated from her palms. Five crystals of white ice appeared between her and the beasts. She could feel the brisk air coming from them as intense as a heat from a flame. Mist surrounded Snow as the crystals began spinning around Snow. She felt like an atom, as electrons circled her, gaining speed. She gripped her staff tight and took a step forward. The bear was the first to swipe, but spinning ice slammed into its claw. The bear recoiled. In turn each monster attacked and was rebuffed by the crystals and cold.

She could hear Dris’s cries above the whirling and roars. She could see the bird had fallen to the ground between Erica and Dris, the shard still in its claws. Erica and Dris’s eyes met for a brief moment before they both took off running, Erica gripping her weapon tight. Snow noticed a green light coming from the spaces between Erica’s hand and the club as Dris suddenly fell forward. She looked behind herself to see a small vine wrapped around her ankle. Dris yelled in frustration as a shiny black sword materialized in her hand, as she cut the vine in a single motion.

But it was too late. Erica held the shard triumphantly as Snow ran to cover her with her icy shield. “We’ve got it,” Erica whispered into her Essence Crystal. The shadow creatures and their master all charged at them as they were engulfed in a brilliant blue light.

“Next time you won’t be so-“ Dris’s threat was cut off by their transportation. When the light faded, they found themselves in front of a familiar cave, as a creature made entirely out of the night sky smiled at them warmly.

“Welcome back,” she said quietly.