#but anyway. i miss being sick like last week. it sucked in general but being able to just take naps like that was amazing.

[widevibratobitch]

yeah sex is cool but have you ever taken a nap in the early afternoon while cuddling with your cat with your favourite true crime podcast playing softly in the background and woken up when its still light outside?

[thegreatbeyondmp3]

bro it sucks so much to have to go to work when you're sick

[mochinomnoms]

Hi, there (Again) 🌼

Second and last order:

Type: Romantic, fluff, hurt/comfort

Reader: Female but neutral it's okay 👍

Promt: "I think the local florist is in love with me. Their shop is making a killing off my Hanahaki. Do you think they'll give me a discount?"

With Sebek

I hope I haven't gone too far with the order request. But in case I exceeded you can discard my order but if not. Take your time and no pressure with My resquest, thank you 🌷💐✨

sebek zigvolt x f!reader [tags] – fluff, hurt/comfort [wc} – 2,820 prompt 5: “I think the local florist is in love with me. Their shop is making a killing off of my Hanahaki. Do you think they'll give me a discount?” note - hi (again)! this one scratched my brain real good and sebek is a fun character to write for. a floral inconvenience

stargazer lily – symbolizes love and passion. They are often given as romantic gestures or used in wedding bouquets to represent the purity and commitment of love.

“Eeugh, dude! Magic sicknesses suck!” You bemoaned, raising your voice to reach the person who stood guard outside the bathroom door. 

“Hurry up! I don’t wish to miss any more of class because of you, human!” Sebek barked, making no effort to hide his annoyance. 

Being the only girl at school had its perks. Most of the men were generally nicer with you, some of the ones raised more old-fashioned, like Riddle, were extra attentive to you and your comfort. Even Floyd handled you with more softness than he’d usually care for, though you think that was Azul’s doing. 

This also meant that you had no locker rooms or restrooms for yourself, which became awkward fast for everyone involved. Soon a system was put in place where your classmates each period would rotate and act as your guard, barring anyone from entering the room, so you could change or use the restroom in peace. 

Some were happy to help. Others…were less so. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming!” Rolling your eyes, you rinsed off your face and hands, grabbing the bunch of lilies. 

Picking at the lily petals, you failed to see Sebek standing firmly guard directly in front of the restroom door. You stumbled into his back, making an ‘oof’ sound as he stumbled forward. 

“Ack! Watch where you’re going human!” He turned to glare at you, eyebrows furrowing as he saw the lilies in your hand. “Did-did you bring those from out of the restroom?”

“Yes, I dragged you out in the middle of class to stand guard, just so I could grab a bunch of lilies from the boy's restroom.” you replied, deadpan. 

You think you liked Sebek. He was abrasive, yes, but also honest and genuine to a fault. In a school full of half-lies and snide remarks, it was refreshing. Plus, Sebek still treated you the same regardless if you were a girl or not. You think he liked you too, since you were his only friend that would listen attentively to his rants about the ‘Young Master’ with little complaints. 

He was passionate, expressive, and very easy on the eyes. What’s not to appreciate? He was also extremely easy to rile up, and admittedly you liked the attention. 

Sebek gave you an unamused look, crossing his arms and huffing, “Do not patronize me! I don’t have to come accompany you! I’m doing this to not bring shame as the Young Master’s ward!”

“Actually, you do have to accompany me, this is your assigned week. Next week is one of the guys from Octavinelle.” 

You shrugged as you walked past him to head back to class, the Sebek following. 

“Anyways, I didn’t find them, I coughed them out.” You continued past him nonchalantly, looking over your shoulder and grinning as he paused. His face shifted from one of confusion to mild horror. 

Cute. 

“Let’s get back to class before Crewel—”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU COUGHED THEM OUT??? HUMAN, YOU NEED TO GO TO THE NURSE!”

Cackling you, started to quicken your pace, speed walking turning to a light jog as Sebek chased after you. 

“Awww, are you worried about me? Hahaha—AH!” 

Suddenly and swiftly, the distance between you and the ground grew as Sebek swiftly, and effortlessly, lifted you up and hoisted you over his shoulder. You choked and felt yourself going warm, feeling his left arm wrap over your waist to steady you as his right arm grabbed your legs. Presumably to keep you from kicking free. 

“I will NOT be held responsible for you getting sick or hurt while on my watch, we are going to the infirmary, now!” 

True to his word, Sebek dropped you off with the nurse and left back to class swiftly, though you weren’t sure why you were so disappointed by that. 

The nurse told you that you had developed hanahaki, a magical flower sickness that developed due to one’s affections for another, usually due to an unawareness or denial of one’s feelings. It seemed that you were the former, as you had no clue who you apparently have a crush on. 

You told the nurse as such, who was puzzled and unamused, calling you ‘emotionally stunted’ and prescribed you some potions to manage the symptoms until they died down or you figured out what your heart already knew. 

Your friends were also unamused as you told them at lunch later that day. They were more than happy to bully you mid-tuna sandwich. 

“How do you not know who you like?” Jack asked, twirling some pasta onto his fork.

“Yeah!” Ace nodded in agreement, pointing his spoon at you. “Are you really that dense to your own emotions?”

Epel piped in, “Yeah! How are you gonna get rid of the hanahaki if you can’t confess?!” 

Deuce gasped, “Are you gonna be sick forever!?” He slammed his hands down on the table, looking distraught. “You’re gonna be sick forever, aren’t you!?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think about that sort of stuff!” You waved your hands in alarm, holding them up defensively. You made eye contact with Sebek, who was eerily quiet, staring at you with an emotion you couldn’t decipher. Maybe wonder at your stupidity. 

“It’s fine, the nurse gave me some potions to help with the symptoms. She put me on a schedule to take them, speaking of that.”

You turned to address Sebek directly, “She told me to tell you that you’re responsible for picking them up and making sure I take the potions.”

“What!” Sebek yelled, drawing the attention of the entire cafeteria. You continued, unbothered. 

“Yeah, she said it’s punishment for leaving me behind.” You imitated the nurse’s complaint from earlier, “she was like ‘just because this is an all-boy school doesn’t mean he can’t be a gentleman! Where are his manners? Boys are animals, not minding a young lady’ etcetera, etcetera.”

“B-but, I can’t! I—”

You interrupted, “I don’t know man, go ask her yourself!”

True to your word, when Sebek rushed over to the nurse to verify, she had given him a schedule. Even when he lamented that this would interfere with his duties as Malleus’s guard, she chastised him. 

“This will teach you to be a nice young man to a nice young woman!”

He’s sure that if she saw the way you fought with some of the more aggressive students, she’d take the ‘nice’ of that. 

Nevertheless, Sebek dutifully checked in every day with you, bringing the potions to you during mealtimes. He was annoyed at first, since you two didn’t share the same schedule being in different homerooms, minus the singular alchemy class you had in the afternoon. He had to go out of his way to check in on you during the day,

Surprisingly though, he didn’t complain nearly as much as you expected. He was quick to mother hen you, though, worried every time you’d cough up another lily. 

When asked, Sebek told you that he was concerned that the flowers would choke you, and that ‘your magicless human body surely can’t handle a magical sickness’ so it would be better for you to get over it faster. For your own sake, of course.

He insisted that the faster you got over your symptoms, then the faster you could get over your “ridiculous affections” for the mystery person. 

You found that, while mildly inconvenient, you could use the lilies to your advantage. Sam heard of your predicament, and eagerly told you that florists paid handsomely for hanahaki blooms, due to their extraordinary beauty compared to natural flora. He offered you free hot meals, groceries, and discounted premium tuna for Grim, if you let him sell the stargazers for a profit. 

It seemed to be an easy enough hustle, and anything you bought was from Sam’s shop anyway, so it wasn’t like he wouldn’t get that money regardless if you sold them on your own. 

You’d gone to Sam after school to give him another batch of the lilies, smiling as you munched on the food he’d given you in exchange. A local florist, who supplied him with rare herbs and potion materials for the shop, told him that they were ecstatic to have a steady supply of full bloom stargazer lilies in November.

“They said that these are some of the most astounding stargazers they’ve gotten in years! You keep them coming, and I might even consider giving my favorite imp a permanent store discount!”

Basking in the glory of saving money, you failed to notice Sebek at your front door, smashing into his back. 

“Oof! What the what—oh hey Sebek, whatchu doin’ here?”

Sebek grabbed you to steady your wobbling, looking at you exasperatedly, though a bit affectionately. “I’m here to deliver your potion for the evening…I also brought you this”

He shoved a paper bag with Octavinelle’s emblem on the front. Peeking inside, you saw a small to-go box with what you think was the smell of salmon. 

“It’s salmon carpaccio, a favorite of mine.” He mumbled, a blush adoring his features. “It’s served chilled, I thought you’d like something different, seeing as you’ve been eating nothing but warm soups and food to soothe your cough.”

You beamed at him, a strange giddiness steeping through your bones like the lemon dressing in the salmon.

“Aw, thanks! That’s so nice of youuuu—ACK!” You started hacking, feeling the tickle of petals and leaves as you choked out another bouquet of brilliant crimson-pink lilies. They seemed to be glowing particularly lovely this time. 

“Y/N!” Sebek called out, eyebrows furrowing. “Here, take the potion now.” 

As he started to uncap the small vial, you waved him off, clearing your throat. 

“No, no, it’s fine!” You sniffled a bit, adjusting the bag into your other hand as you shook the spit off the bouquet. “I think I’m actually gonna try and keep the hanahaki going for as long as possible.”

“W-what?” Sebek replied, almost meekly under his breath. He looked like he was going to throw up the flowers himself.  

“Yeah! I think the local florist is in love with me. Sam says they’re making a killing off my Hanahaki, think they'll give me a discount?”

Sebek looked appalled. “Y-you’re selling the flowers?”

“Weelll, technically no?” You pursed your lips. “I give them to Sam and he sells them, I just get discounts and free food!”

Grinning, you held up the latest bouquet. “These ones are extra pretty, I bet I can get him to get a new uniform—”

The lilies were smacked from your hand, cascading down your legs as they settled between your and Sebek’s feet. You yelped, looking up at Sebek, whose eyes were filled with anger and…jealousy?

“Are you idiotic?! What am I saying, of course you are!” He scoffed, letting out a disbelieving laugh. 

“You’re a stupid, magicless human! You haven’t even considered the long term effects this would have on you? What they’d have on me?!” 

He leaned down to growl, “May I remind you that I am the one stuck trailing after you? Do you think I enjoy this? Because I don't. The sooner you rid yourself of this disease, the sooner I can rid myself of you, and that can't happen soon enough.”

Sebek’s harsh words hurt. Like actually physically hurting you, a sharp pain shooting up your sternum right up to your heart. Wincing, you pressed a hand to your chest and rubbed your burning eyes, which were now tearing up. 

You’d failed to notice that the flowers, which were still scattered around both of your feet, had started to rapidly wilt until they were black and dry. Tears grew into small streams going down your cheeks, until you started to audibly bawl. 

“H-human-Y/N I—” Sebek started to stutter, distraught falling over his features as he took in what he said and your sobbing face. “I didn’t mean it like that—wait!”

You pushed Sebek out of your way, ignoring his pleas for you to hear him out. To take back what he said. Slamming the door in his face, you curled up into a ball, tightening yourself up smaller and smaller, hoping that you could just disappear. This time, the stargazers that bloomed in your hair looked more droopy and lifeless. 

From there you spent the last week avoiding Sebek as much as possible, which proved harder than expected. Like before, Sebek was going out of his way to interact with you, this time with you avoiding him at every turn. 

Eventually though, he’d managed to corner you in the hallway on Sunday, when you went to visit the headmage for your weekly prefect assignments (he made you file his paperwork).  

Currently, you were huffing, turning your cheek at Sebek who was pleading for you to hear him out. As immature as it might be, you were still upset and wanted the satisfaction of seeing him suffer a few more days. 

“Please! Y/N, just listen to me! I beg of you!” Despite your anger, the guilt at seeing the anguish and pleading look in his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t properly slept the last few days. 

“...fine.” You mumbled, leaning against the wall he trapped you against, finding your shoes to be particularly interesting. 

“Say whatever you want to spit out, it doesn’t change the fact that you apparently hate me.” Now you were just being mean.

“But I don’t!” Sebek cried out, making you jump at both the volume and surprisingly whiny tone of his voice. 

“I don���t hate you. I like you, incredibly so!” His shoulders slouched as he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

A single lily, bright and glowing popped out of the top of your head. Your mouth fell open as you stared at Sebek with shock. 

“You’re so frustratingly annoying. And stupid,” You made an offended noise. “I won’t take that back. But…” 

He sighed, wiping his frustrated tears.

“You’re also weirdly kind to me, you listen to every word I say like it should be revered when anyone else would tell me to shut up. You’re not from Twisted Wonderland, yet you’re so determined to flourish here that it’s hard to imagine a world without you.”

Sebek started waving his arms around in exaggerated motions, more focused on his rant rather than the cute flower crown forming on your head. 

“I’ve lived here all my life, but I can’t seem to make friends like you do, you have so many just eating out of your hand! And yet you go out of your way to speak to me. I hate that I look forward to that!”

“Um, Sebek—”

“So seeing you with the flower sickness, knowing that you loved someone that wasn’t me was torture—”

“Sebek—”

“I tried to be nice, to care for you. Hoping that the sickness would leave and you’d fall for me instead.”

“Sebek—”

“Then you mentioned selling the flowers, UGH! It was like you didn’t even notice my attentiveness, my mother did in fact teach me how to properly court like a gentleman, you know!”

“Oh my god! Sebek—”

“And to add insult to injury, you’re spouting my favorite flower! You sprout the favorite flora of your loved one, and the person you love also likes stargazer lilies? How ridic—”

“SEBEK!” 

Your shout startled him mid-rant, as you grabbed the sides of his face, making him behold your cherry red cheeks and the pink speckled stargazers framing your face like the prettiest picture frame he’d ever seen. 

“...Yes?” he squeaked meekly, his voice unusually quiet and soft. 

“God, I’m so stupid, and you’re as dense as me.” You let out an exasperated laugh, leaning your head on his chest. 

“I-I am?”

“Think, stupid—” Sebek yelped as you dragged down his face to yours, inhaling sharply as your lips hovered over his. 

“—who do I know that likes stargazer lilies? Hmm? It’s certainly not Ace, Deuce, Epel or Jack. ” 

You inched closer, delighting in the whine he let out, his own face turning so red it put Riddle to shame. He was so easy to rile up. 

“I-I-I—”

“And none of them are quite like you: honest, genuine, you’ve never treated me any different for being a girl, and you’re sooo easy to stir up it’s cute~”

A shiver went up Sebek’s spine as you pressed your lips to his. You teasingly swiped your tongue over his lips, causing him to whimper. He shakily raised his hands to cradle your face as nervously returned the kiss. 

You giggled as the two of you parted, Sebek flushed and panting as he straightened and covered his mouth with his arm. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots that it was you.”

“A-ah, I suppose we were both a bit foolish, weren’t we?” Sebek looked away, hiding his sheepish smile before deciding to lean back down to share another kiss.

Perhaps Crowley’s paperwork could wait just a bit longer. 

[thedo0zyslider]

I Love You (I'm Not Supposed Too) - Chapter Eleven: Experimentation - 8k Words

Jimmy and Fwhip tip their relationship right on it's head.

A03 Link

The last week of the trip is the most eventful one by far, if you ask Jimmy. Or well, one of the days that week is the most eventful, if you wanted to be specific. So much just…. happens . He doesn’t know any other way to put it, other than things happen , and he almost rather they wouldn’t ever happen. But they had , and they did , and now he had to live with the consequences of them. Even if the consequences suck and make him kinda want to die. But only just for a bit.

It starts out normal. Well, as normal as the two of them can be, all things considered. It’s evening, and dinner has just passed. Jimmy had dragged Fwhip out to the fields with him that day, and the two boys had spent an hour or two cleaning all the mud and grime off them. (Maybe it wouldn’t have taken as long if they weren’t throwing dirt at each other, but the cod doesn’t regret it. Fwhip was being rude and totally deserved soil and seeds in his mouth.)

For the second time in that week, the Count had not shown up for dinner. Gem and her mother weren’t over either. They were supposed to be here two hours ago, since the Head Wizard hadn’t actually done much interaction with their guest like she was supposed to. That was the whole point of today’s dinner, and it seemed the women were, a little unsurprisingly, running late for some reason. It was just going to be Jimmy and Fwhip if they sat at the table, and any other staff member who decided to walk by. So both boys had opted to take their food to go, instead of sitting awkwardly at a table and eating in silence for twenty odd minutes. Jimmy thinks they both prefer to eat away from people anyways. Too many dinner times gone wrong will do that to a person.

The food had sat cold until all the mud was out of their hair, and it tasted like nothing when Jimmy bit into it. The Grimlands cooked with a lot of potatoes and meat, and he was starting to get sick of the taste; missing the meals from back home more than he thought he would. Fwhip says nothing when he leaves the food half finished, and silently takes their plates to the kitchen. The evening is turning out on the more melancholy side, it seems. Fwhip’s father and his frequent absent streak are probably to thank for it.

After the dinner is eaten and all the dishes have long been put away, the two of them end up retreating into Jimmy’s guest bedroom for the night, and that’s when things go from decently normal to changing the whole trajectory of their relationship from this point onward level weird . And it starts very normal! They’re both just sitting on his bed, both of them in sleep clothes far too oversized. Fwhip for his still growing wings and a general sense of comfort, and Jimmy for other reasons. He’d been yelled at by a certain someone to take his binder off, lest he forget and sleep with it on again. So the emergency oversized shirt would have to do for now.

It’s not the first time the two of them are sitting quietly in a room together, and it won’t be the last. This isn’t like when he and Joel are alone together, Jimmy has long since noted. When he’s with his best friend, they’re either being idiots together or sitting in comfortable silence; each Prince doing their own things. But with Fwhip there is none of that familiarity. There is only silence, neither being that close to just…exist around each other without some purpose. There is nothing to do other than talk, if either of them are up for it that day.

And what do the two of them usually do when stuck in a room together? They have surprisingly heartfelt conversations, that’s what.

“What’s, like, the worst part of the arrangement to you?” Jimmy says something he’s been wondering for a bit now, gathering all his limbs onto the bed. His previous position had been giving him pins and needles, and he would even move closer to Fwhip if that meant dispelling them. “Other than the forced marriage part, because that’s kinda obvious.”

“I don’t know….a lot of things, really.” The half dragon mutters, briefly looking over at Jimmy. His goggles have long since been removed from his head, sitting somewhere in this room; or his own bedroom a few doors down the hall. His hair looks like it still has flakes of dirt in it, and Jimmy supposes that they really should’ve showered before changing clothes.

“Yeah…” Jimmy goes to fiddle with his pendant out of habit, then remembers he had to remove it, because he didn’t wanna get dirt on it. Same with his rings. Without his jewelry, he settles for fidgeting with his tail, making sure it won’t hit Fwhip as it moves; or anything else near the bedside, for that matter.

“Can I say everything about it? Because I hate everything about it.” Fwhip huffs, resting his cheek on his hand. His tail flicks idly behind him, uncaring in where it goes. Like a direct contrast of the cod’s. Jimmy watches it for a second before responding, eyes half lidded and tired, before responding. There’s not much else to watch, anyways.

“Nah, I want something specific.” He says, eyes moving from Fwhip’s tail to the side of his face. The half dragon clearly feels his gaze, and whatever is in it studying him, but doesn’t look over; not yet. “You know why I hate it so much, so I get to know why you do too.”

“That’s….fair.” Fwhip says, moving so he can lean back on his hands a bit. He’s starting to sound a little thoughtful now, meaning all the prodding is working better than he thought it would. Plus he’d stopped all that fidgeting he’d been starting to do beforehand. “Lemme think of like, everything that’s pissed me off real quick.”

“M’kay.” Jimmy hums, stifling a laugh. While he waits, he briefly remembers that truce they’d agreed on a while back, and wonders if they’ve both been subconsciously following it this whole time. They’re probably following it now, even if they don’t realize it. Or maybe the truce is just the new normal now, or something stupid like that.

The next thing Fwhip says is the one of the few things they have in common, Jimmy thinks. That small list of things they have in common all happen to be problems, funnily enough, but Jimmy has no time to dwell on that; not after what the half dragon admits too. Because holy moly that is an admission .

"Honestly….I'm not sure I even like boys, and now I'm being forced to marry one!" Fwhip huffed eventually, letting a years old frustration leek into his tone. The cod blinked at that, a little surprised that the half dragon had opened up like that, despite their weird ass relationship. But maybe the ginger had admitted so because he had guessed the cod would empathize. And he was right, the blonde did empathize greatly. That had been one of his top three problems from the very beginning of all this, from the moment the deal had been stuck. Other than the whole transphobia thing of course, but that was to be expected when his mother was involved.

"Yeah.." Jimmy muttered back, the empathy Fwhip had been fishing for leaking into his tone. Though he was a bit more sure on the liking boys part than the half dragon seemed to be. Just a bit though, he was still having a good crisis over it. (The Crisis was now a mix of figuring out if actually liked liked Scott specifically, or if he was just infatuated with the first true friend he really had; even if they hadn’t been friends for very long. And also if he was bisexual and not another label that included liking both boys and girls, but it was kinda hard to research any of that stuff at home. He mostly had to go off what Lizzie and Joel knew and happened to tell him, for the most part. But, for what it was worth, bisexual was feeling right at the moment.)

The cod scrunched up his face after a long moment of silence from the both of them, neither really knowing how to continue after Fwhip’s confession. It was kinda a big confession, and it entered some rather uncharted territory for them. Just like what Jimmy was about to bring up will. He had just had a horrible, terrible, stupid idea, after all. The cod isn't even sure why he thought of it, and he shouldn't even suggest it; he really really shouldn't do that. But against his better judgment Jimmy holds back a sigh, un-scrunches his face, turns to face Fwhip once more and opens his stupid, stupid mouth anyways. He’s definitely gonna be regretting this in a few minutes, that's for certain. But it’s worth a shot, for some reason.

"Do you wanna like….experiment or something?" He asks, and wants to take it back as soon as he finishes speaking. Why would Fwhip want to experiment, whatever that means, with him!? And why would he want to do it with Fwhip!? They weren't getting married for love or anything like that, they barely liked each other in the first place! So why? Why in the world would he think asking that was a good idea?

" What!? " Fwhip exclaimed, wings flaring out behind him and almost hitting the cod in the face when they do. He turns rapidly to face Jimmy, who's flushing with embarrassment before they even make eye contact. The half dragon doesn’t look any better, his cheeks and the tips of his ears already as red as his hair. Jimmy pointedly ignores if that color might look cute on him, and focuses on his own mortifying embarrassment instead.

"Sorry, sorry. Forget I said anything-'' He gets cut off by movement from the half dragon himself, who's suddenly very close and very much in Jimmy’s personal space. They're now sitting face to face on the guest bed, knees touching and faces far too close to be anything friendly. The cod startles at the closeness, blinking down at almost…hopeful blue eyes. The tension is thick enough to cut with a knife, but Jimmy couldn't tell you exactly what kind of tension it even was. Part of him kinda wants to lean into it, if he's being honest.

"It's not exactly a bad idea.." Fwhip mutters softly, catching the others' gaze again. "I don't have anyone else to….try stuff with." His eyes have become a little half lidded, and eventually start to flick over the cod’s face. Jimmy shivers at the way he's studied, and it’s hard not to notice what part of his face the other’s gaze keeps landing on…

"I'm guessing you know what I have in mind." The blonde mutters back, noticing how Fwhip’s blue eyes flick towards his lips for what has to be the fifth time in a minute. His own do the same without his permission, and it feels like gravity is pulling them closer and closer together. Before either of them even know what's happening, Fwhip is closing the now small distance between them, and Jimmy is doing his best to meet him halfway. All of it happens so fast, he can’t really believe what’s happening until their lips briefly meet.

It wasn’t a good kiss by any means. Their teeth clinked together awkwardly, and Fwhip almost kissed the side of Jimmy’s mouth in their haste. The two of them pulled away just as quickly as they had moved together, both properly dissatisfied. What they had done couldn’t even be called a first kiss, more like a bad imitation of one.

“That sucked.” Jimmy stated bluntly, pulling back a bit. He shook his face out, still feeling the unpleasant way their teeth had clinked against one another in his jaw. The ginger just moved him into a more comfortable sitting position in front of him, glaring at the cod slightly. Though there was less, if any at a;;, malice behind it than there normally was.

“Having an arranged marriage doesn’t give you much practice, sorry.” Fwhip huffed, not sounding all too apologetic over it; the arse. He leaned in again after a quick second, and so did Jimmy; who was deciding to give this idea another shot after all. Because Fwhip was right, this wasn’t the worst idea in the world, like he had initially thought it to be. And what followed afterwards was definitely a rather big improvement.

This time, instead of the two clumsily shoving their faces together, a warm hand came to cup Jimmy’s face. It held him steady as they connected their lips again, now a less rushed process than it had been a second ago. Fwhip’s lips felt surprisingly… nice against his, when they actually made contact, and the young cod soon found himself kissing back with a sort of eagerness. The half dragon seemed to be enjoying it as well, considering the way he kissed back. And how he quickly leaned in for another mere seconds after pulling apart. Jimmy let himself be kissed again with a hum and without a second thought about it, surprised at how not horrible this whole thing was turning out to be.

The two kisses weren’t that deep, both of them only lasting for a few seconds. But those few seconds were more than enough to make the cod feel all fuzzy from head to toe. This was…nice, somehow, kissing Fwhip was. A lot better and a lot more gentle than he expected it to be, even if it was something the cod never thought he’d do in a million years.

Not even a minute after they moved away for the second time, both boy’s faces properly flushed, the sound of the bedroom door opening can be heard. Jimmy jumps at the sound, startled out of his mind, but does not turn to face whoever had just opened it. Fwhip, on the other hand, moves till he can catch sight of their new visitor.

“Gem!?” He exclaims, surprised and clearly flustered, Jimmy turned his head back at that, only to see the young wizard standing in the doorway. He didn’t even know that she, and most likely also her mother, had arrived; or that they would be arriving today at all. For all he knew, the dinner had been canceled and they were spending the rest of the night at the Cliffs. Also, they probably should’ve locked that door, but neither of them had really been planning on smacking face, now had they.

“What are you two doing in here?” Gem asks, giving both of them a suspicious look. Oh the position they're in is so so bad right now, Jimmy knows it. She’d walked in on him and Fwhip sitting in front of each other, faces practically touching. She soo knew what they had been doing, or at least had seen enough to make a pretty solid guess.

“Go away, get out!” Fwhip said, almost yelling the words. His face was ten times more red than it had been before, which was impressive. He was already as red as cherry from the kissing. Jimmy just gives Gem an awkward smile, and resists the urge to bury his face in his hands and scream for a thousand years.

"Ok, jeez! Just wanted to say sorry for missing dinner, but nevermind!" Gem huffed, clearly taken aback by the unusual bite in her brother's voice. She shut the door with a slam , but not before one more once over of the both of them. She definitely thought they had been making out, a hundred percent. That knowing twinkle in her eyes said everything Jimmy needed to know about what she was thinking.

Once they were alone again, Fwhip made an embarrassed noise in the back of his throat, and moved his body away from the door once again. He leaned forward, until he could bury his head into the cod’s shoulder and hide away from the world for a little bit. Jimmy just lets him, and wonders what the hell they're gonna say to Gem when they next see her, whenever that may be. Though Jimmy will personally be avoiding that conversation for as long as possible, and Fwhip will most definitely be doing the same.

The brief interruption, rather surprisingly, did not kill the mood at all. Maybe five minutes later, the two of them were facing each other once more; both of them almost….expectant. Jimmy took a small note of how pretty Fwhip looked when flushed, one he had tried not to take a few minutes prior. There seemed to be no point in denying it now, after having kissed twice now. Three times if you counted the failed first attempt.

The blonde was the one to lean forward this time, and he felt Fwhip reluctantly smile against his own lips when they met. The kiss was deeper this time, the cod being more sure of himself now that he was leading it. From what the blonde had heard, and experienced a bit himself, kisses were supposed to taste sweet, and were supposed to be a pleasant experience. This was most definitely the latter, it just tasted like nothingness. It made sense when Jimmy thought about it later, why kissing Fwhip tasted so bland. It was because the action meant nothing to them; they didn’t mean anything to each other in that way. Kissing was just fun, they were figuring themselves out and they had no one else to experiment with but the other. Nothing more, nothing less. It meant nothing, so it tasted like it too.

Jimmy wasn’t really sure how this happened, if he was being completely honest, but he did kinda end up pressing Fwhip back against the bed sheets. Arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to the half dragon. The cod was near straddling him, Fwhip’s back resting against the headboard as they shifted closer. Actually making out with her brother was not going to help Gem’s idea that they had been, but Jimmy would worry about that later; when there weren't arms locking him nicely in place and when he wasn’t kissing a boy near breathless.

They separate more slowly this time, Fwhip going to cup Jimmy’s cheeks in his hands. He hums, content to just be held for a moment; especially when small shapes are being thumbed into his skin almost lovingly. He is very content to just sit there, until they both come to their senses again and realize who they’d just spent the past ten minutes or so kissing. Which happens way too fast, if you ask him. Though the affection was nice while it lasted.

“Mind getting off me?” Fwhip murmured, clearly more flushed than he had been during Gem’s intrusion. Which Jimmy didn’t think was possible, since he’d been so red earlier. But apparently it was, and all you had to do was startle him for it to happen.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to do that..” He muttered apologetically, moving off Fwhip and away from him until he sat cross legged on his bed. Fwhip moved as well, until he awkwardly sat next to Jimmy in the same position, his fingers beginning to drum against his thighs. He did that alot, the cod had noticed, nervous fidgeting that was. And he wasn't any better with that, either. He’d had to stop himself from reaching for his father's pendent a lot during this trip.

“You’re a good kisser.” Fwhip muttered after a moment, his gaze focused on the wall. Though the two of them weren't facing each other anymore, Jimmy could still see how red his face was from here. He thinks the half dragon will be blushing like that all night, and knows he probably doesn’t look any better; with how hot his own face feels.

“Thanks." Jimmy responded just as shyly, moving to fidget with his jewelry once again. But he;’ forgotten about taking them off earlier, unfortunately making the bed sheets themselves the only thing he could now fidget with. Dammit.. "You’re not so bad yourself.” The young half dragon just nodded at the compliment.

Fwhip cleared his throat, spoke again after a few more minutes of awkward sitting. The cod thinks there’s gonna be a lot of awkward sitting between them for the next little bit. The next little bit being anywhere from a few days to the next few times they spoke after the trip. “I’m just curious but….have you had…practice before?”

“Yeah, a little.” Jimmy admitted more stiffly than he wanted to, moving his gaze to the door. He wondered vaguely, almost hoped, that Gem would walk in again, to save him from this moment. It was one of the main moments that made him wanna die a bit, he had to admit. Because thus sucked and was about to make everything a million times worse.

There was a pause before the half dragon responded again. Jimmy doesn’t think there’s ever been a more deafening silence, out of all the silences he’s lived through. An impressive feat, really. “Ah, okay…” (And that is all he says.)

The tone of Fwhip’s voice only confirmed his earlier suspicion, even if the former tries to hide it and bury it like he does everything else. Jimmy was Fwhip’s first kiss, but he wasn’t Jimmy’s. That honor went to someone else, in an empire not very far north from here. The cod hoped that fact wasn’t hurting as much as he imagined it would. As much as he knew it would. He's not entirely sure why it hurts, but correctly guesses it will, with everything going on between them and all. (He’s gonna lose it if it ends up hurting both of them…)

And well, it's not the first or the last time he and Fwhip are going to hurt each other. They have several, several more years left to do that.

He hears shuffling, and Fwhip slowly stands from bed. “I’m going to check on the dogs. Forgot to do that earlier.” The ginger hums, not looking at Jimmy as he makes his way to the door. He moves to the door faster than Jimmy’s ever seen him move before, a clear sign he wants to get out of there as soon as possible. The cod can’t even blame him for it.

“Okay.” He mumbles back, and only watches as the half dragon abruptly leaves his guest room. He doesn’t know what else to do after all of that, except watch the other leave without another word. And after that, Jimmy just sits on his bed for a few minutes, processing. There is nothing else to do other than process, and get his brian back in working order.

After sitting for anywhere from five minutes to an hour, the cod isn’t sure how much time actually passed, Jimmy manages to stand. His legs felt a little shaky, but he did manage to move around. So that was something. He has to find something to occupy his mind; a distraction. Yeah, a distraction. That would make him feel better. Probably….

And before he knows it, Jimmy finds himself at the bedroom’s desk; looking over a letter he’d been drafting to Scott. The two of them had been exchanging letters since the latter's visit to the Palace, the elf being the one to come up with the idea. He said he didn’t want to let this friendship, or whatever else they have, slip away again. And Jimmy agreed, he didn’t want to lose this either. Even if that meant sneaking into the castle mailroom at ungodly hours of the morning, so his mother couldn’t find out he was exchanging letters (something he knew he definitely wasn’t allowed to do without even having to ask ,) then so be it.

He read over that letter, and now has no idea what to put in iy, since he had been kinda courting Scott. And all of that had been going swimmingly, except for today, when he kissed someone else. And now Jimmy had no idea what to write, or if he could continue sending letters like nothing had happened. The other option was to mention it in the letter, which seemed entirely off limits, because how in the hell was he supposed to explain that!? Write something like, “ Hey man, how are you? I kinda kissed another guy, haha sorry!” Like, what was he supposed to say? Did he even need to include that? He probably did, actually, but wasn’t sure how. Because how do you tell the guy you're kinda almost dating that you just kissed another guy! How in the world do you do that!

Jimmy holds back a sigh, and ends up tearing the letter into shreds with his claws. He can rewrite it later, when his thoughts are more in order and he isn’t an emotional wreck. When he has a better grasp on what to be truthful about and what information he should keep close to his chest. The paper’s remains fall into the trashcan next to his room’s desk, left to become cold and forgotten about. He figures they won’t be the last to end up like that.

The cod decides to try and get some sleep after that, even though he knows it will be a hard thing to do that night. It’s pretty late anyways, and sleep always makes you feel better. Or, well, it usually works for him; to a degree. And it sounded more appealing than wallowing in his own misery for hours…

So Jimmy lays down, and stares at the ceiling, willing himself to fall asleep and forget about all of this. Something that is much easier said than done.

It’s two in the morning, and Jimmy can’t sleep. He’s been trying too for hours now, tossing and turning in his guest bed like crazy. His thoughts were very loud that night, and also very mean. He already knew before now that sleep would not be coming to him, and it had been in vain to try. He didn’t know why he tried. It probably would’ve been better to stay up reading or something. Maybe a night time walk would’ve helped. Anything but this .

Jimmy feels like shit from that, from just…. everything that had happened that day. He doesn't know why. Kissing Fwhip shouldn't have hurt him so much. He wasn't dating Scott, he wasn't dating anybody . So why , why did it make his stomach twist into knots and his chest ache with something ugly. Why, why, why ? Why couldn’t his head let him fucking sleep .

He sits up in bed suddenly, knowing he can’t take it anymore. He’s gotta do something about this shitty feeling, or it’s gonna drive him mad. It’s gonna stay there until another, worse, shitter feeling takes it over. And Jimmy, who is swinging his legs over the side of the end, is tired of feeling bad most of the time. He walks over to where his bags are, the ones that are still mostly unpacked, and starts rummaging around for something.

The cod takes a deep breath, and does what he always does when he feels bad and doesn't know why. He hurts himself. Not too badly, just a little bit, but he still goes on and hurts himself. It’s the only thing he can think of that will make him feel better . He believes it’s the only thing that will top the pain anymore, because nothing else ever did.

He fishes a quartz pocket knife out of his bag, one that had been his father's. He takes it with him most everywhere, something to help keep him grounded and comforted. He has long gotten over the guilt of using it for this purpose, and mutters a quiet apology to his father every single time. He thinks the apology very loudly as well, on the days when words won't come to him. Now he is only fighting the guilt of doing this in Fwhip's home.

It's over quickly, and Jimmy barely even feels the pain anymore. Or the blood starting to drip from the wounds. (He didn’t make them too deep, he knows better than that. It’s harder to clean up, anyways, if they bleed like crazy.) The feeling has gotten as familiar to breathing as him, so much so he barely even registers it happening. It’s just another bad sensation to him, in a life that is constantly full of bad and horrible sensations. You get used to it..

He's crying when it starts, and still crying when it ends. His sobs have turned into a small stream of tears though, so at least he’s somewhat better. He lays the pocket knife on the floor next to him, doing so gently. He’s always gentle with it, even in his worst moments. Then, the cod hugs his knees tightly to his chest, and starts to wonder why he even feels like….like all of this in the first place….

Jimmy thinks….he’s hurting because he cares. Because he cares way, way too much about both of them. Because they’re both too important to him. And because he knows Scott would probably be hurt if he ever found out. And he doesn’t want to care about Fwhip, he doesn’t , not like this. He doesn’t want to think about kissing him again, he fucking doesn’t . He just wants to hate him and hate him with all his soul and why is that so goddamn hard. And he doesn’t want to hurt Scott, he really really doesn't; he never ever wanted to. But now he fucking has, because what is the Ocean Prince if not the worlds biggest screw up!

The cod starts sobbing again at the realization, and repeats the process. There is more blood on the floor. It makes him feel less like shit; it makes him feel numb. He would rather feel numb than feel horrible. It doesn’t stop the silent tears, Jimmy doesn’t think anything could ever stop those. He has too much sadness stuffed inside him for that to be possible.

The cod knows he won’t be telling Fwhip about this. He doesn't want anyone else blaming themselves for his habits, not now and not ever. Cutting was his choice and his alone. It was his fault entirely from start to finish. No one else’s. (Besides, he'll be damned if he loses one of the few things he has complete control over in his life…)

Jimmy needs to move soon, to get up; even if it feels like his limbs have turned to lead and his bones are made of cobblestone. He needs to bandage his arms before they bleed too much, he needs to clean the knife and the floor then hide away all the evidence. (Cod, how is he gonna hide the bloody towels in his guest bathroom, how, how, how- )

He needs to tell Joel. He doesn’t know if he has the mental strength too at the moment. But he really, really should, so this doesn’t happen again. Or at least has a lower chance of happening again. He can’t really tell Joel what's bothering him when it comes to Fwhip, not everything, or anything that really matters. (Jimmy almost doesn’t care if it does happen again right now; he just wants to sleep and forget all this. All the pain and whatnot. At least until tomorrow morning.) But he has to get up to do all that, and he doesn’t remember how to do that just yet. His legs still aren’t working properly.

After a little while of more sitting and staring at nothing, Jimmy doesn’t know how long, he’s able to make himself stand. He clutches his arm close to his torso, and shambles into the bathroom as quietly as he can. It’s a little hard to open the door when his hands are shaking so much, but he gets it open eventually. And with minimal noise too, to his own surprise. Which is even better. Now he hasn’t risked waking anyone up.

He washes off in the sink best he can, grabs the first aid kit after a minute of searching through a cabinet, and then slumps against the counter to take care of his wounds. It stings when he disinfects them, but he knows he has to do it. Even if both his forearms are burning with pain. So slowly Jimmy cleans and bandages his wounds, and then stumbles back to his bed afterwards. The sobbing and the bleeding have tired him out, and now he thinks he might finally be able to sleep; even if it’s not very peaceful.

When morning finally comes, Jimmy shambles out of his room; clearly a mess. He's gotten only the smallest amount of sleep, resulting in some pretty good bags under his eyes. He’s wearing longer sleeves than he ever has, and he had grabbed the baggiest clothes he brought with him. Between the slightly oversized shirt and the binder snuggly underneath, you can’t tell he has a chest at all. Which is just how the cod wanted it. He couldn’t deal with any kind of dysphoria today, on top of everything else that had happened.

He makes his way downstairs for breakfast, steeping quietly; as if he were back at his own house. Jimmy doesn’t see Gem on the way to the dinning hall like he normally does, and can barely be bothered to feel disappointed about it. He’s running on autopilot, and doesn’t think he can stomach any kind of human interaction right now.

The cod doesn’t see anyone, until he catches sight of Fwhip standing near the dining room's doors; messaging someone on his communicator. Jimmy feels his body start to go rigid at the sight, but he keeps walking. He has to act normal, even after they…left things on awkward terms last night. So he strides past the best he can, even when the half dragon;s gaze moves off his communicator and lands on the codfather. Even when that gaze becomes worried. Even when he’s stopped from opening the dining hall’s door by a touch on his arm.

“Hey,” Fwhip pulls him aside with a low mumble, right before they walk into the manor’s dining hall for breakfast. “Are you okay?” He asks, brows furrowed and concern evident in his gaze. Jimmy must look worse than he thought then, for the half dragon to be checking on him like this. Which just makes the bad feeling in his gut worse, and his stomach twists in even more knots than it already was. His arms sting with leftover guilt. And all that just made him feel so fucking great, thank you Fwhip for caring so much.

Jimmy blinks, surprised, and panics for a quick second. The lie leaves his mouth before he even knows it has. He had almost forgotten how easy lying comes to him, now that he didn’t need to do it as much in the Grimlands. That would be a nice realization if this were any other moment, under much different conditions. “I’m fine.”

Fwhip frowns, and fixes him with the sternest look Jimmy’s ever seen him give. “Don’t lie to me.” The half dragon places a hand on the cod’s arm, an awkward and half hearted attempt at comfort. Jimmy resists the urge to snatch his arm away. That will only make Fwhip more sure that something is wrong with him.

“I’m fine, really.” He insists, gently moving Fwhip’s hand away with his own. The touch feels like it’s burning him, but not in a good way. He doesn’t want it to burn in a good way, he wants it to burn and hurt like nothing ever has before. He wants it to melt his flesh clean off his limbs. That feeling is a lot easier to deal with than the alternative.

“Whatever you say, codboy..” Fwhip shrugged, and snatched his hand away. Jimmy has never felt so much relief in his life. The half dragon makes his way into the dining hall, and the cod follows after a minute of steadying himself. Gem or the Head Wizard are not there when they walk in; leaving the two boys to eat in silence once more. It is a more awkward silence than dinner the previous night had been. Fwhip’s father stumbles in late, clearly nursing a hangover, or something of the sort. That just makes the breakfast even more awkward, and makes Fwhip leave with his plate half finished. Jimmy is soon to follow behind, and turns in the opposite direction that the half dragon went. All of that was quite enough for today.

He will not be going anywhere near the fields, Jimmy knows he doesn’t have the energy to do it. Instead he will stay in the manor, hurled up in the library with books he’s read far too many times now. Maybe he will even snoop at the books in Gem’s study, if he gets bored. But Jimmy knows, no matter where he is in the manor, he will be dodging Fwhip’s questions like the plague. Just like he does, ten minutes after breakfast ended, when the ginger tried to speak with him. The cod is gone before Fwhip can even open his mouth, ducking into the library without a word. The half dragon follows him for an hour, trying to get Jimmy to say anything. The cod will not speak for anything, and eventually the ginger just leaves him to the quiet of the manor.

The two of them spend the rest of that day in stilted silence, whenever they are around each other. Fwhip knows something’s wrong, and Jimmy isn’t going to tell him. They’re stuck at a stalemate. So the cod makes sure they’re not around each other much, always leaving the room shortly after the half dragon enters. He feels Fwhip watch him leave every time, a frown permanently stuck on his face. Jimmy ignores it for his own piece of mind, and so he can keep avoiding his demons. That is his favorite pastime, after all, avoiding them.

They do not speak again until long after the sun is set, when they are heading off to bed. The cod can’t sleep alone again, he just knows he can’t. It’s going to happen again if he does, and today will repeat. He’s felt so bad today, he doesn’t want it to repeat. He cannot keep repeating horrible days and bad habits like he currently is, he has to change something.

So, before they go to bed that night, Jimmy finds himself trailing Fwhip down the hallway towards their bedrooms. Before the ginger opens his doorway and disappears inside, Jimmy clears his throat. He knows this is his only shot, because he will not have the courage to knock on the door once it’s closed for the night. He knows if he doesn’t say what he wants to now, he will be repeating last night again. He cannot do that anymore.

“Fwhip..?” Jimmy says. His voice sounds small, and he hates that it does and that even the cod himself can hear it. He hopes the half dragon doesn’t comment on it. The ginger just turns to look at him, his wangs flaring up by how startled he was. He takes a moment to flatten them before he answers the cod, and probably realize that he’s actually being spoken to now.

“What?” Fwhip looks over at him, cautious. Under that caution is also worry. Jimmy hates when people worry about him when he doesn’t want them too. Resentment burns in his heart at the concern, but he shoves it down. He can be resentful later, when he’s not five bad things away from having a complete mental breakdown in Fwhip’s hallway.

The cod takes a deep breath, wringing his hands together as he speaks. His fathers rings rub against his fingers near uncomfortably. They weigh heavily on his hands, as well as the pendant around his neck and the dagger tucked away in his pocket. The dagger he never should’ve brought with him. “Can I…stay with you tonight?”

“…Sure.” The half dragon says, and slowly opens the door. He is holding it open for two people, now, and Jimmy does not make him wait long. He slinks forward, slipping inside the future Count’s room without a word. Fwhip doesn’t say anything, either, just shuts the door quietly behind him. He almost turns back around to lock it, but decides against it. Locking the door would probably just make people suspicious about what they were doing. Besides, it’s not like his twin was here to barge into the room anyways.

They end up sitting close on Fwhip’s bed again, just like they had been last night. Jimmy tries not to think about that, or look at the half dragon’s face. Instead, he makes himself comfortable. Even if he is awkward about it. Even if making himself comfortable means sitting in Fwhip’s lap, letting the half dragon hold onto him. He barely registers how he got there, his thoughts elsewhere, but appreciates the touch regardless. Right now, the cod needs to be held more than he would ever admit.

Suddenly, and without warning, a hand snakes under his shirt for a quick second, making Jimmy let out a yelp in surprise. It glides up his torso, feeling around, until the fingers land on the edge of his binder. As quick as it had appeared, Fwhip’s hand leaves his torso, and the cod whips his head around to scold him. “What was that for!?” “Checking if your binder was on,” Fwhip explains, nonchalant, like he hadn’t just done that. Like he hadn’t just made Jimmy’s face look like a tomato. Instead he was fixing him with that stern look from this morning again, and the cod was halfway tempted to smack it off his face. “And it is. Take it off.”

“Fine.” Jimmy grumbles, slowly moving his way off the bed. He hates that Fwhip, and everyone else who hammers safe binding habits into his head, always make sense when they tell him to take it off. He hates how the ache starting to form in his ribs agrees. He hates how he’ll look when the garment comes off. Jimmy hates how he’s just gonna have to deal with it, and hopes that the dysphoria and whatever else decides to rear its ugly head won’t be choking him come morning time.

He slips into the bathroom connected to the bedroom, and gets the binder off as quickly as possible. It’s still a bit of a challenge to take off on the worst of days, with how uncoordinated the cod can be, but he’s gotten steadily better over the years. And today it’s thankfully easy to take off. He ignores the bandages still covering his arm, when he catches a glimpse of them in the mirror, and shoves his shirt on faster than he’d taken it off.

He rejoins Fwhip in the bed, and lets himself run on autopilot as they both lay down. There isn’t much speaking anymore, not even a quiet murmur. The half dragon just yawns, and presses himself closer to the cod; not even caring to stay on his own side of the gigantic bed. He can’t help but wish the other would go away, no matter how comforting the warmth is and despite the fact that the blonde himself had asked for this.

Jimmy feels Fwhip’s head go to rest tiredly against his shoulder, and pointedly ignores how right it feels. The half dragon’s asleep almost instantly, small snores already starting to escape him. The sound is kinda cute, he has to admit, and Jimmy cannot help but listen to them as the minutes tick by; as well as the rhythmic breathing of the boy beside him. And before he knows it, the cod himself has drifted off to sleep.

The cod wakes up to low morning light drifting through the window, the half dragon basically draped over him. Fwhip’s head is still buried in the crook of his neck, face hidden from the morning’s sun. Jimmy feels warm and comfortable like this, a fact that he is slowly growing to resent as the seconds tick by. The half dragon looks comfortable too, even if Jimmy cannot see his face. It’s the way he’s sunk into Jimmy and the mattress that gives it all away. The cod doesn’t know if he wants to throw up or go back to bed.

But, he doesn’t wanna do either of those things, not really. Fwhip just looks so peaceful in his sleep…..and Jimmy kinda wants to k-

No. Nope . Absolutely not. He’s killing that train of thought before it even leaves the station. He does not want to do that. He will not be doing that, not at all. Not ever again in a million years, not if he can help. Not even if he really, really wants too; Jimmy will not be kissing Fwhip ever again. For his own sanity, as he tells himself right then and there; the other boy currently snuggled up to him and fast asleep. His own sanity, yeah….

He is in here because he needed comfort from somebody. He would’ve spent the night with Gem if he had run into her first, and if she had even stayed after that missed dinner in the first place. No other reason, no other reason at all.

His thoughts are interrupted by a stirring next to him, Jimmy jumping in surprise. It seems the half dragon is starting to wake now, though he does bury his face further into the cod’s neck when the light reaches his eyes. He doesn’t move again until Jimmy, who is starting to get impatient and tired of lying around, nudges him gently to wake up.

“G’morning.” Fwhip mumbles, raising his head just slightly. He stares into the cod’s eyes, his blue eyes half lidded and still dropping from sleep. He looks almost ethereal like that, eyes as blue as the ocean back home shining at him and early morning light making his hair look far more fiery than it does normally. The cod thinks the sight of it all might kill him.

“Morning.” Jimmy responds, his voice sounding a lot more stiff than he wants it to. If Fwhip notices, he doesn’t make any sort of comment about it. The half dragon just sits up with a yawn, moving himself away from the cod. Jimmy wonders how he’s so casual about the two of them cuddling. He also tries not to stare when the half dragon stretches the stillness out of his arms, and forces his eyes to stare at the gray bed sheets pooling around his legs instead.

Once they’ve both sat up and blinked the sleep from their eyes, the two Princes just stare at each other. That is, until Fwhip breaks the silence that’s starting to form. “Is it bad that I kinda wanna do it again?” He admits with a mumble, sounding shy. It takes a whole minute of looking puzzled and racking his brain before the cod even realizes what he’s talking about. And when he does, he goes bright red for the first, but not the last, time that day.

“No.” Jimmy responds, feeling his breath hitch as they get even closer. It’s like a magnet is drawing both of them closer together, making them lean in without even knowing it. This idiot is going to be the death of him, he thinks. ‘I do too, just a little bit.”

Upon hearing those words Fwhip wastes no time at all, and kisses him again; something that’s quick and sweet. He barely has the chance to kiss back, or even think about doing so. It's nothing more than a momentary peck on the lips, but it still makes his heart skip a bit and his cheeks turn a little red. He doesn’t want them to turn red because of that anymore. He doesn’t .

It might’ve been just a peck on the lips, but it tastes like nothingness just the same. It tastes like rotting ash as well, and Jimmy thinks that all their kisses after this will have a similar taste. If there are any more after today….

The half dragon is moving away from the bed before Jimmy can even process it, his feet already hitting the floor. He’s getting ready for the day, already reaching for where he had left his coat the night before. Jimmy supposes he should start getting ready too, and similarly hops off the bed. He hopes he never has to sleep in it again, and that he's never in a low enough place where this happens either. He hopes and he prays to the gods of his homeland and the swamp next to it that this never has to happen again.

When the cod bids the half dragon farewell, and goes back to his own guest room, it marks the end of the last evental thing to happen on his trip. The rest of his limited days in the eastern empire are spent awkwardly, he and Fwhip not really knowing how to act around each other anymore. Gem does not visit again. There is nothing else for Jimmy to do but wait and sulk until it is time to go back to his hellhole of a house again.

He leaves the Grimlands about a week later, more bitter than when he had arrived three weeks or so ago. Fwhip escorts him out, just like Jimmy had done so to him back in the Ocean Empire. Though this walk is far less jovial, and much more unpleasant than that one had been. Gem is not here for his departure, something the cod knows she’ll be upset about. He wishes she were here, because then the walk to the carriage would be a lot more pleasant.

Fwhip sees him out to the manor’s entrance, pushing the door open. Almost exactly like he had on the cod’s entry day, but now they were just missing a sister and a friend. The manor’s staff bid him farewell and helped him carry his bag’s towards the carriage that had come to collect him. The carriage that is surprisingly on time for once, thank you Lizzie.

It feels like they’re gonna kiss again, or at least try to, for a quick second. They do not. Because there are other people watching. Instead, Fwhip just tells him goodbye, and watches as Jimmy leaves his empire for the first time. The cod does not look longingly back over his shoulder, even if he really wants too. He’s sure he’ll have more opportunities for that as they grow older. Their empires are going to be allies after all, aren’t they? He’s sure he’ll have plenty of more unwanted opportunities to watch the Grimlands slowly fade into the distance, maybe for the rest of his life.

Even if he doesn’t want to have them, he will, and Jimmy will have to deal with it, like his mother had often told him to do as a child. Because that's all he’s ever had to do his whole life, for so many reasons. Deal with it. He almost doesn’t know how to do anything but that. Deal with it. (The thought of Dealing with it shouldn’t comfort him as much as it does…)

[sammy431]

I’m so tired. If my brain could work with what it’s been doing for my whole life, I’d appreciate it. Venty rant.

January of last year, system communication basically shut down. We were having a bad time for a couple of reasons and then therapy, which had deep dived into trauma, just. Stopped for a while because our therapist got sick. Brain responded to this by shoving Kate and I into front together and locking the rest of the system behind a communication barrier.

That sucked, but at least Kate and I had each other and we still got emotional bleedover, and little things that told us that others were around like accent flickers or suddenly being left handed. But over time that started to fade, and as of like. February of this year, I’m alone. I think Kate and I fused, which we definitely didn’t want and seems more hurtful than helpful, but we aren’t against fusion in general so as much as I hate the identity confusion I’m dealing with now 🤷‍♀️

But now I’m alone and I can’t feel anyone else and it makes no sense for the entire system to just go dormant but !!! I’m just continuing to try therapy and such but I don’t have access to things! And I don’t know what my brain needs in order for this to stop. It’s really not helping the constant “you’re faking” feelings despite nearly a decade of proof to look back on, and the logic of “well if I just got ‘tired of pretending’, then I should be able to just pretend again because system friends miss their friends” doesn’t help.

Anyway, just screaming into the void. I hate this and I hate my head being so quiet. I thought someone else was around a couple of weeks ago but I doubting it because I haven’t sensed them since. Wishing my brain came with a guidebook.

[ghostinmybrain]

So I haven’t been on here for a while so I decided to give yall a little life update! So if you’ve been here for a little you know I was trying to reach a goal weight before my trip to Germany last month. I didn’t end up making weight and was really upset over it but Germany was super fun and I wasn’t as concerned with cals over there actually. Probably because I was doing a lot more walking haha. Some of the days I was getting close to 3000 total cals burned which was impressive! I’m really short so normally the cals I end up burning in a normal day are lower so it really showed how doing a bunch more walking really affected it. One of the days I even got 26000+ steps!

I didn’t end up ever finishing a meal at a restaurant there, the portion sizes were fairly large, surprisingly. I felt really bad about it because well, I didn’t finish any of my food and at one place I barely ate anything which looking back now it’s like goals but when it happened I was upset because I knew somebody made this, I paid for the whole thing, but I ate none of it.

After I got back I got sick and ended up missing the first week of marching band which I’m really upset about because we have alternates again this year and I really don’t want to be an alternate. I’ve still have a wicked cough tho so the directors can tell that I was actually sick last week and not just trying to get out of band which will hopefully help.

A perk of being sick though is I’ve just been having a bunch of soup which is generally lower is cals so I haven’t been too focused on them. It’s been nice not focusing on what I’m eating all the time but it’s also nice to get back into all of this and really focusing on keeping my cals low. Because in Germany I didn’t see any cals on menus which was nice, but also kinda sucked haha.

Now that I’m eating more than just soup tho I’ve been a lot more focused on my food and the calories. I’m doing my best to keep to only two meals a day max, and hopefully after band camp next week and drill week after that I can work down to only one because I eat dinner much earlier because of band.

All in all, it kinda feels like my ED kinda went to the back burner for a little, and now it’s moving up again to something I really focus on. This seems to be a little trend with me, every past year it gets way worse during marching band but after band has been over for a few months it kinda backs off a bit and I have a harder time keeping up with my goals. It might be because I have less chances to exercise (goal for this year is to exercise more so we’ll do our best to keep it up) and also less real life inspo because there are a lot of really skinny people in band and it makes me want to eat so much less so that way I can beat them.

Anyway, that’s the life update.not much honestly, gonna definitely get back into tracking my calories better and hopefully losing more weight! Thanks for dealing with my ramblings

[casliveblog]

Custom Toonami Block Week 126 Rundown

Inuyasha: So since things have been kinda heavy lately it’s time for filler again… I mean we had a whole huge stretch of filler right before the Band of Seven arc but we haven’t had Modern World filler so I get the studio’s impulse to go back there now that the group’s finally back in the general area of Kaede’s village. Turns out now that Kagome has some free time her school’s just doing cultural festival shit so she can’t actually get to progressing her studies which sucks because she’s probably got enough absent days to be held back till she’s thirty already. It kinda makes me wonder if her friends are suspicious like ‘Oh you suddenly got better when there’s a party being planned huh?’ like they already know despite being sick she supposedly has a motorcycle gang yakuza possessive boyfriend so I just wonder what kind of life these girls think Kagome has. Anyway Kagome gets roped into doing all the active work since she missed all the prep stuff and all of her understudy positions get called in at the same time so she has to step up and do everything. Also since we can’t just have a filler arc about Kagome doing festival shit there’s a plot point about freeze-dried fungus demons being let loose in the school which nobody told Kagome that if you boil/heat them they fucking pop up in full Foongus form and start murdering so… that’s bad. Also Naraku visits giant ear man from All That to find out where the last jewel shard is. But yeah I remember when Toonami re-aired Inuyasha when it first came back this was actually the last episode their aired before they moved the schedule around, which this is pretty far into the series so it’s not like it was slighted or anything but I just imagine people that haven’t seen the whole thing thinking the series ends with fungus demons destroying Tokyo because someone fucked up.

Yu Yu Hakusho: So with the name reveals last chapter and the group being in a hospital, it’s no surprise that Doctor is the first of Sensui’s henchmen to attack. Apparently Sensui wants Doctor to fight Yusuke to see how he deals with fighting another human to the death which idk I feel like that’s racist. Like I get it’s probably a different matter to kill someone that looks like you but when you think about it and the dozens of sentient beings Yusuke and similar protagonists have killed it never really makes much sense for them to get hung up on killing humans like our lives are somehow worth more than another race that’s basically exactly the same except it has some horns or blue skin or some shit, at least when Bleach redid this whole arc they went out of their way for the first humanoid Ichigo kills to just be a straight up human after all the times of dancing around him not directly killing human-like Hollows. Still, tangent aside, Doctor infects everybody with poison insects that are even more poison and insecty than the ones outside. He also jumps one of the ally Stand Users and plays a pretty tense game of ‘guess the Stand User’ and turns out he has Kabuto’s chakra scalpel from Naruto except his doesn’t suck and can actually cut people and he just murders like five nurses and paralyzes our Shadow Bro Stand User, still with some shadow shenanigans he’s able to tell Yusuke which doctor is Doctor and they have that cool animation scene everyone references when talking about this show and Yusuke fucking blows his arm off with a Spirit Gun, like so much for him not wanting to kill humans, he reattaches the arm but Yusuke didn’t know he could do that and losing an arm’s worth of blood is pretty fatal in the middle of battle even if he does do the ‘I’ve turned off my pain sensors’ thing which I thought we already established in the Dark Tournament arc was not a good thing.

Fate/Apocrypha: It’s the big ‘oh boy here comes the final battle’ episode and Astolfo is all ‘oh yeah I can do a plot thing but I need to prep my anime powerup music’ so they decide to hold off on sieging Semiramis’s fortress and let the protags sulk around for a bit and get their last bits of navelgazing in before all the big fights happen. Caules and Doc OCk girl do the dolphin sex thing Rin and Shirou did in UBW which thankfully they turned down the sexual overtones on given these two are siblings because everyone’s like ‘You’re a girl and don’t like when dogs die and also have no legs so fuck off’ which seems kind of mean, like I know it’s not like this all the time and I don’t mean to sound like an SJW here but I kinda don’t like when they do the ‘you don’t have the heart to be a warrior’ thing to girls, like at least this girl’s still gonna fight but the only time that speech has ever been pulled off without feeling weird is FMA where they made it absolutely clear that Winry murdering Scar for revenge was a bad idea and they were just cockblocking her from plot relevance. Anyway Jeanne sees Astolfo’s Monster Energy Can and answers some questions the internet still hasn’t settled for some reason, and then Astolfo goes on a date with Sieg for no real reason and they run into Mordred and are like ‘hey, humans huh, aren’t they weird?’ and they have a long weird pretentious talk that basically ends up with ‘yeah humans do bad stuff and good stuff’ which ranks up there with KLK’s ‘humans are humans and clothes are clothes’ in terms of dumb morals except KLK was doing it on purpose. Anyway Mordred asserts she still wants to be a good guy at the end of the day and vandalizes their airplane while everybody has their ‘yeah let’s go final battle time’ moments. I mean we are getting close to the end but I’ve learned from FGO that no matter how many times they say ‘this is the final battle’ there may still be like three or four final battles left.

Speed Grapher: We pick up roughly where we left off, Kagura knows she’s dying now and is worried about Saiga’s eyes giving out from the Euphoria Factor and they fight because Saiga wants to go it alone to protect Kagura and Kagura just wants to be with Saiga even if it means dying. Saiga agrees to testify to Parliament about Suitengu on the condition that Kagura doesn’t have to and they get her out of the country. Meanwhile Ginza gets reports about Suitengu’s plan causing everyone in the city to go crazy and causing a massive crime wave but she’s way too deep into her character spiral to care and has more money than she ever needs so cleaning up after the police isn’t high on her priorities so idk if she even works for them anymore. Saiga goes out to think and ends up talking with a guy named Joe who’s drunk and oblivious enough to not recognize him but admits he’s a big fan of Saiga’s because of how he’d be brave enough to run into warzones and stand and fight for what he believes in while the real Saiga tells him that causes aren’t worth dying for since he’s not testifying to bring down Suitengu he’s only doing it to protect Kagura but he and Joe kind of admire each other all the same. Saiga goes to meet up with the Parliament member’s group the White Eagles and they get ready to prep Saiga’s testimony, murmurs in the group reveal Joe really is a member of the White Eagles but there’s a mole in the group and people think it’s him. Still Joe comes in with a full list of Roppongi club members left behind by an assassinated former member and reveals that the Parliament member’s really a member of the club and HE’S the one leaking the White Eagles’ activities to Suitengu and the main government. The politician reveals his true form as a Euphoric and becomes a speaker man that blows everyone’s eardrums and scrambles their brains with sound (this makes sense since he’s one of those rich dudes that listens to classical music on speakers bigger than he is but it wasn’t relevant till now) Saiga survives the sonic blast because he’s a Euphoric but Joe and the rest of the White Eagles die and now Speaker Man has kidnapped Kagura and Saiga’s gotta face him down while Ginza and the newspaper guy are on their way inside. Also they couldn’t resist going with the ‘Good Vibrations’ title for the next episode which is very cheesy but if I’m being honest I’d probably go for it too.

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Finally | Corpse Husband

Requested? For once, yes! LMAO I hope you like it :)

Warnings? Nah

Summary: You and Corpse after being best friend's for years now finally break the distance

Word Count: 1,388

“Come on pick up pick up,” you whisper as you watch your phone ring over and over.

“Hello?” your best friend picks up and you grin widely.

“Corpse!!!” you yell and he flinches but smiles anyway.

“Guess where I am,” you continue.

“I don’t fucking know uh,”

“I’m at the car wash!!” you yell and turn your camera to show him you’re midway through the tunnel that washes your car.

“Okay?” he questions still uncertain as to why you insisted on calling him and telling him you were at the car wash.

“Remember I told you about the last time I was here,” you start, and realization washes over the older boy’s face.

“Oh my fucking god,” he groans and you laugh loudly. “You didn’t know how to put your car in neutral.”

“I figured it out this time!” you cheer loudly.

“I’m proud of you,” he says and you smile.

You realize you’re getting to the end of the tunnel and hold up one finger to Corpse, dropping your phone in the cup holder next to you. You put your car back into drive, cheering as you do so, and pull out of the cave-like building. You grab your phone as you start to exit, propping it up so you can see Corpse once more.

“And you even know how to put it in drive. My best friend is a fucking genius,” he says and you laugh.

“Shut the fuck up,” you joke.

As you drive, you tell Corpse about your day, happy to be seeing and talking to your best friend. You felt like you hadn’t talked to Corpse in ages, but really it had probably been two days since you last facetimed, and an hour since your last text exchange.

You and Corpse had been best friends for ages now, finding each other through the beauty of loving Machine Gun Kelly. You had fallen in love with the older rapper and his music just as Corpse was starting his youtube channel. You had been following numerous fan accounts and found Corpse’s with a decent following and a slowly building YouTube channel.

He had followed you back, and after a few interactions on the timeline and later in direct messages, you two never stopped talking. He trusted you with a face reveal, staking your life on the fact that you would never betray him like that.

Over the years you had only grown closer despite the distance between the two of you. Being across the world from each other sucked but it never really stopped the two of you. You had synced sleep schedules whether it was with you falling into California time or him falling into east coast time. You had tried your best to seem like you were closer than you actually were.

You both for a while were apprehensive to meet, and in general, were a bit too busy. You knew when you met you would want to spend the better part of a week or two together, finally enjoying each other’s company. You both made a million plans whenever you were on the phone, deciding that it was going to take you ages for you to get the things done you wanted to do at either your house or corpse’s.

You lay on the floor of your living room, your class had just ended and you were going to get up and get food but ended up on the carpet, trying to reach something. As you lay there, your phone rings, and you maneuver it out of your back pocket before swiping answer on the call.

Corpse’s face pops up and you smile wide at your best friend, it takes him a second, looking at your background before tilting his head in confusion.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I was trying to grab something on the ground and couldn’t reach it so I gave up,” you explain and you both end up cackling together.

“Anyways,” he says making you giggle. “I found out another thing we have to do together when you come here.”

“Wait let me get the list up,” you say switching apps to the note on your phone of the millions of activities that you and Corpse would complete when you would visit him one day in the future.

“We have to go to LACMA,” he says and you type it in the notes before switching back to facetime and giving your best friend a confused look.

“It’s an art museum I’ve always wanted to see. We can go and take pictures and be dramatic about the art,” he explains and you grin.

“Fuck yeah I love it,” you say.

Silence washes over the two of you, both of you having the exact same thought at the same time, thousands of miles away. Why couldn’t you two just be near each other? Your eyes try not to trail to each other, knowing any words might break the other.

“Hey,” he finally says and you look up at your phone again. “Come visit me.”

“Corpse,” you say and he shakes his head, defiance in his voice.

“Visit me. I’m sick of this distance. I miss you and I wanna meet you and hug you and complete the list we’ve been working on for years. Come on,” he says and every word has you more motivated than the one before.

“Are you serious?”

“Deadly. It’s time. Come visit me.”

You and Corpse had started planning the minute you had hung up the phone that night. How long you would stay, getting your time off work, buying the plane tickets, everything. You grew more and more excited as each part of the plan was solidified.

You had only a few days left till you got to see your best friend and your nerves were now at an all-time high. You sat in your room, double-checking that you packed everything and packed it perfectly. Your phone rings, your set ringtone for Corpse playing and you dive onto your bed as you answer it.

“Please tell me you’re not checking your suitcase again,” he says and you smile.

“I’m nervous okay, don’t tell me you’re not nervous,” you respond.

“I’m terrified. What if you’re secretly a murderer that has lured me into complacency after all these years?”

“Ooh that would be a good story,” you say and you both end up laughing.

“See you tomorrow,” he says after a bit.

“I’ll be there.”

Your excitement courses through you the entire ride to the airport, during the plane ride, and skyrockets when you step foot in LAX. You were a wreck, not being able to stop moving as you grabbed your backpack and carry on and bouncing nervously in the middle of the plane, wanting to run out as soon as possible.

You text Corpse, telling him you made it off the plane and he tells you that he’s at baggage claim. It hits you like a ton of bricks, that your best friend was in the same building as you, and that you’d finally be with him after all this time. You’re practically running through the airport, finding the correct escalator, and making your way down.

As the escalator moves slowly down you look around anxiously and there you spot him. Corpse stands not too far from the escalators, a beautiful bouquet of flowers in hand and a messily written but absolutely adorable sign with your name on it. You’re beaming so hard your face hurts and as if he can feel your gaze his eyes lock with yours.

His smile reflects yours, and without thinking, you book it down the escalator. You drop your things, your brain focused on Corpse and getting to him. Corpse drops his stuff too, running to meet you and a laugh escapes you, just as you crash into each other.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, his grabbing around your waist and you both teeter back and forth in the hug. Part of you wants to pull back, look him in the face and finally see him but nothing, nothing could pull you from his touch. You press your face into his neck, your heart pounding as you breathe in the scent of his cologne, and smile wide.

“Finally,” he whispers into your hair and you giggle.

[navalcriminalimagines]

Birthday girl

I can't believe I did that, but here we are. This fits the "Multiple partners/gangbang" square from the Summer Bingo. With our favorite boys; Mike, Rafael, Sonny & Mike.

Words count: 3,9k

Warnings: Gangbang, p in v, creampie, spanking (slightly)

Sorry if there's any typos...

@thatesqcrush

You had a lot of hopes for your 30th birthday. Not just for the celebration itself but also in general. You thought that by now, you would be in a serious relationship, maybe with a kid or two, or at least planning on having one. You had many things you wanted to do before you were 30, but now that you think about it, you didn’t do much of those things. You’re actually far from it.

It just hurts to see people around you having their life together. Your best friend is married to a lovely man, she has a two year old boy and is pregnant with a second and she owns her business. Your sister - older than you - is traveling all around the world with her husband and their dog. And everytime you meet with your mother, it’s like she has to put pressure where it hurts. Every single time.

The only thing you can’t complain about is your job, and the people you work with. Being a detective at SVU is hard, it’s challenging, but you wouldn’t change it for the world. And you have the most amazing squad with you. Also, the most handsome men you ever met. Seriously. Mike, Sonny, Rafael, Nick. How could you not like your job when you see those faces 24/7?

You had expectations for your celebration party. You invited the squad to a beach house that you rented. They became your family, they are the ones you want to celebrate with. But little by little, it was falling apart. First, Amanda had to cancel since her sister is in town, and everyone knows Kim is a handful. Then, it was Liv turn. The day before, Noah got sick, so she decided to stay at home with him. That’s fair, Noah’s health first. And last but not least, your best friend and her husband canceled too. “No one to take care of the kid,” apparently. Is that what it is to have kids? Not having fun anymore? Cause if that’s it, maybe you don’t want one.

So, in the end, it’s just you and the boys. Not that you mind that thought at all.

You left early in the morning with Sonny. He offered to help you prepare the house, and go grocery shopping. “How’s the birthday girl?” he asked, gently as always.

“Kinda upset that everyone canceled. But I won’t let this ruin my day!”

“You’ll have fun anyway. We planned a few things with the guys,” he teased.

You spent the entire day annoying Sonny so he would talk. But he didn’t say a damn thing. Whatever they have prepared, you have no clue. It does stress you out a little but one thing is sure; you can trust them with your life.

Everything was ready when Mike, Nick and Rafael arrived. When Sonny opened the door to them, their arms were full. You saw booze, food, and gifts. Way too many gifts for one person. “What the hell is all of that?” you exclaimed when they dropped everything on the floor, in the living area.

“Everything we need to celebrate your 30th birthday. You will remember this weekend,” Mike said with a huge grin on his face. He walked up to you and hugged you softly. “Happy birthday Y/N,” he kissed your forehead.

Nick and Rafael did the same as Mike. Then, they quickly put their stuff in the bedrooms, before joining you and Sonny on the terrace, facing the ocean. The weather wasn’t the best, but you couldn’t care less.

“One rule for this weekend; not shop talk,” Nick warned and everyone agreed with it.

The evening started pretty smoothly. You were having drinks, eating the apéritif you and Sonny prepared earlier and chatting about nothing and everything. At some point, Rafael came back with a bottle of champagne and poured everyone a glass. “To our amazing Y/N,” he said, holding his glass in the air. “You probably have no idea what you mean to all of us and that’s actually what makes you even more lovable. We care about you more than you know. Happy birthday, querida,” he smiled and toast with you.

You looked at Rafael with puppy eyes. He and the three others know you’re not used to being praised like this, even though you deserve any less.

“This is nice! Mike, your turn,”

The sergeant obliged. He stood up and cleared his throat, “Everyone knows that me joining SVU was my dad’s idea, but honestly, I can’t thank him enough for making me. Cause now you’re in my life and girl, you won’t get rid of me. I can’t imagine my life without you, Y/N,” he paused, “and without those idiots either, but that’s not their birthdays,”

“You said it anyway,” Nick teased Mike.

“Shut up, Nick! Let him finish,” you elbowed Nick.

“Well, I was done actually. Happy birthday, honey,” he bent over to kiss your cheek and then toasted with you.

“I love you,” you mouthed to him. “Nick, now you can talk,” you were excited about this. The past weeks before your birthday hadn’t been easy, you overthink a lot about your life. You actually cried yourself to sleep the night before, but none of them know. Their words make you feel much better. You’re lucky to have them.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” he said before standing up, “We didn’t start on the right foot, you and me, probably because you never chewed your words with me and I hated it. But you were right on most of the things you ever told me. You’re - without a shadow of a doubt - the best friend I ever had. I can’t wait for us to fight like cats and dogs at the nursery home. Feliz cumpleaños, cariño,” he smiled at you and extended his glass so you could toast together, “Also, you’re hot as hell,”

It was an understatement to be honest, but Nick added this comment because he saw the tears forming in your eyes and he refused to see you cry on your birthday, because of something he said. Fortunately, it worked and you laughed instead of crying. “He’s right,” Rafael added with a wink. Of course, none of them missed how your cheeks turned bright red, even if you tried to play it cool.

“I guess it’s my turn now,” Sonny spoke and stood up. But he stayed silent for a moment, “What they said,” he simply said before sitting again.

Mike, Nick and Rafael immediately started to playfully boo him, “You suck man!” Nick exclaimed.

“You usually can’t shut up and now, that’s all you have to say?” Rafael teased him.

“Y/N should have the right to punish you,” Mike added.

“Oh yes, please! Can I punish you?” you eagerly asked.

“Oh honey,” Rafael grabbed your attention, “you don’t ask someone if you can punish them. You just do it,”

“I know, Rafi. But he’s a good catholic boy, remember? We can’t have him running out of the house, praying for our souls,”

“Y/N. You know Sonny is worse then all of us reunited,” Rafael said this so casually, he didn’t realize how it sounded.

“Dominick Carisi, you’re such a liar!” Mike shouted, “you told me you and Raf didn’t hook up!”

“Yeah well, about that? I lied,”

Sonny and Rafael exchanged sweet looks, while you were silently drinking your glass of champagne.. “Are you two dating or something?” Nick asked.

Rafael was about to say something, but Mike stood up in one quick motion and shouted even louder, “Oh my god!” The four of you looked at him, “I think what you should be asking, Nick, is if the three of them are a thing!”

One thing you hate about Mike is how he can read you like an open book. It was hard to hide from him, the night you had with Sonny and Rafael a few months ago. Now, there was no point to lie.

“I can’t believe you three hook up and didn’t say a damn thing,” Nick said.

“To be honest, I’m more offended about not being invited,” Mike added.

That’s how the night took a very different turn.

*****

“I think all the attention should be on the birthday girl,” Rafael said as he was unbuttoning his shirt. You and Sonny were kissing on one side of the couch while Mike and Nick were making out on the other side.

“Raf is right. To be fair, we have an entire weekend in this house,” Mike added.

In a matter of seconds, you were standing in the middle of the master bedroom, with the four men around you. “Mike and Nick need to know the safe word.” Rafael commented, and Sonny took his tongue out of your month to let you speak.

“Armadillo,” you said.

You can’t even begin to describe how you feel about all of this. Those four men just for you? All of their attention on you? That thought only could make cum on the spot. You had to remember the ground rules you had with Sonny and Rafael a few months ago, and the first one is not to overthink. You all know you can trust one another. You’re more safe with those four guys than with one single random guy.

Once the safe word was known to everyone, Sonny remained kissing you. You immediately granted access to his tongue, it was sloppy but passionate. Meanwhile, you felt a pair of hands taking off your top and another one taking care of your pants. “Matching underwear,” Mike commented, as he was the one staring, “You hoped for this, didn’t you?” You smiled against Sonny. You didn’t hope for a gangbang, but yes, you did hope to get lucky. But this was better than anything you hoped for.

“Of course, she did,” you heard Nick’s voice coming from behind you. He gently unhook your bra, freeing your tits and he didn’t waste a second before playing with them. Your nipples were already hard, craving for attention. “She knew she could have any of us,”

“Oh Nick, that’s worse than that. She knew she could have the four of us,” Rafael added, as one of his hands slided in your panties, feeling how hot and wet you were. “Guys, she is dripping,” he let the others know, and he gently started to tease your clit with his thumb.

As Sonny kept kissing you, Nick kept playing with your tits, and Rafael kept teasing your drenched entrance, Mike got undressed. You saw him from the corner of your eyes, and your attention quickly fell on his rock hard erection. He smiled when he noticed where you were looking and started to stroke himself. You locked eyes with him while tentatively trying to touch one of the guy's cock. Your hand landed on Sonny’s crotch and he groaned at the sensation, even through the fabric of his jeans. But Rafael used his free hand to grab your wrist. “Such a needy cock slut,” he said, right next to your ear.

“Maybe Sonny should replace his tongue with his cock,” Nick offered and he felt you nodding. So Sonny stopped kissing you, he briefly took a look at your swollen lips, and your naked body being taken care of by Rafael and Nick.

“Well, Mike, get closer,” Sonny said as he undressed himself, “She loves having two cocks in her mouth. Am I right, Y/N?”

Everything that was happening was too much, you struggled to find your words, so you nodded. But it wasn’t enough for them. “You want to hear you say it,” Mike said after he finally got closer to you.

“I--I want your cocks--” you moaned as Rafael finally entered your core with one finger, “in my month,” you moaned even more when Nick pinched both of your nipples, just enough to make it hurt, “All of them,” you finally added.

To make sure Rafael and Nick could still work on your body, Mike and Sonny stood up on the edge of the bed. Your face was right at their crotch. You took one cock in each hand, gently stroking them, “I think Mike should be first. I already know how your mouth feels,” you agreed and focused on Mike’s cock, but with your other hand still stroking Sonny’s. You softly licked the head, tasting the precum coming out, before taking him in your mouth. Mike let out a huge groan at the feeling, “Man, when was the last time you had a blowjob?” Nick joked.

“Way too long,” he managed to say.

You have to admit, it’s hard to give a good blowjob to a man, while two others are worshipping your body. But Rafael decided to withdraw his hand from your panties and quickly after, you felt a cold breeze as Nick’s hands and body drift away from you. “Don’t forget about Sonny, babygirl,” you heard from the other side of the room.

Your jaw is going to be sore as fuck in the morning as you opened your mouth as much as you could, to take both Sonny’s and Mike’s cocks in. Obviously, they can’t both fit in but it is mostly about playing with the heads and your tongue.

You jolted when you felt a very warm body against your back. You recognized Rafael’s smell. He was fully naked. He held your hips strongly, sliding his hard cock in your panties and stroking it against your ass. You felt his hot breath in your neck before he planted a few wet kisses there.

Your face was a mess. It was a mix of saliva and precum from both men. Your pussy was a mess too. You were so wet, you could feel it on your thighs. You kept sucking Sonny and Mike for a short moment before they made you stop. Mike got down from the bed and kissed you deeply, enjoying the mixture that was there.

Someone finally took your panties off, you don’t know who and you couldn’t care less. You were desperate to be fucked.

*****

The first to get inside you was Nick. You were lying on the bed, a complete mess already, and Nick got on top of you. He gently kissed you, teased your entrance for a short moment before sinking inside your pussy in a slow motion. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned as he bottomed out. He started to thrust you, slow and deep at first.

The sounds you were making were such a turn on to the four men. As Nick was fucking you good, you had no idea where Mike, Sonny and Rafael were, until you felt someone climbing on the bed. When you opened your eyes, you saw Rafael’s face above you and his cock was a few inches from your mouth. “Open that pretty mouth for me,” he said and you obliged. As Nick was fucking your pussy, Rafael was facefucking you. And this was a lot to handle. It didn’t take long for you to feel your orgasm coming up. Your cries were muffled by Rafael’s thick cock as you came, and it brought him an overwhelming sensation that made him groan hard. “Such a good girl, creaming my cock like this,” Nick said. He wasn’t far from coming either. He buried his face in your neck, and he felt your nails crashing on his skull. It took a few more thrusts before he loaded his hot cum inside you, crying out your name.

He stayed on top of you for a moment before pulling out, at the same time Rafael stopped facefucking you and you cried at the emptiness.

“Someone doesn’t like to feel empty?” It was Sonny who talked. He was sitting next to you and he pushed two fingers inside your pussy, taking Nick’s cum back where it belonged. Your body arched at the feeling and you moaned deeply. “So worked up already. But we’re not done with you,”

“You better not,” you laughed.

“Oh, she’s teasing!” Mike exclaimed. “Babygirl, when we're done with you, you won’t be able to sit for weeks. Everyone at the precinct will wonder what happened during the weekend,” he kissed you while Sonny added a third finger inside your core. You felt a second orgams building inside your belly.

“You better not come on Sonny’s fingers,” Rafael warned you, “You’re only allowed to come on our cocks,” you found him in the room and locked eyes with him.

You knew from his expression what he was waiting for, “Yes, sir,” you agreed.

“That’s our good girl,”

Then it was Sonny’s. The man has a soft spot for a good doggy style, so he ordered you to get on all fours and you obeyed. He stroked his cock between your ass cheeks for a moment before sliding inside you so easily. “God, you take us so well, baby,” he said as he started to thrust. He was faster than Nick, and you know from experience that Sonny has incredible stamina. He can rock inside you hard and fast for a long moment.

“You feel so good inside me,” you moaned, “Fuck, Sonny! Yes!”

“That’s right, take that cock, doll,” he said, slamming harder.

As you grabbed the sheets into your fists, you felt someone crawling under you. It was Nick. He laid down and brought your mouth to his in an eager kiss. Sonny kept fucking you, his hands were strongly holding your hips, so you understood it was someone else that spank you. Mike or Rafael, you didn’t know - although, you had an idea; Rafael does love to spank you - and you cried inside Nick’s mouth. Then you felt someone grabbing your arms to lock them in your back. Nick held you close against him, stroking your hair as your second orgasm hit you hard.

Feeling your pussy clenching around his cock, and hearing you cursing non sense, sent Sonny over the edge. He almost collapsed on you as he came deep inside you.

You felt the emptiness when Sonny took his cock out of you but it was quickly filled by someone’s fingers. You were just a pile of lambs on Nick, but you jolted when one of them curled two fingers inside your pussy. “You love that, don’t you? Nick’s and Sonny’s cum mixing inside you,” You don’t know if that’s Rafael that is fingering you but he’s the one talking. You were still catching your breath when the fingers were replaced by a cock teasing your entrance.

“Do you want to keep going, babygirl? We can st--”

“I didn’t say the word, did I, Mike?” you shot.

“Right. Then it’s my turn to fill that pussy,” he didn’t give you the time to answer, he shoved his cock inside your cunt.

“Oh fuck! Mike, yes!”” you cried.

Nick stayed under you as Mike fucked you hard. Mike’s short nails scratched your back as he went in and out of you. He withdrew completely before sinking back and bottoming down. He did that a few times, enjoying your noises every time he hit your sweet spot. “Damn, that pussy is so perfect,” he growled.

“It was made for us,” Sonny said.

On your left, you saw Rafael standing there, stroking his cock as he watched Mike fucking you. You extended your hand to replace his and he let you. “You can’t get enough,” he teased you.

“Never,” you grinned.

Mike grabbed your hair in his fist, bringing your back to his chest. That new angle almost sent you over the edge again. “Holy shit, this feels amazing,” you breathed out. You didn’t notice the look Rafael and Sonny exchanged. You sloppily kept stroking Rafael, while Sonny’s hand found its way to your clit. Mike had to hold you close to him as a third orgasm arrived.

Nick was still laying on the bed, an arm under his head. “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s like my very own porn movie,”

“Get ready to take a new part in it,” Sonny winked at him.

“Working on it,” he said, stroking his semi hard cock.

Sonny chuckled before burying his face in your chest. He sucked on your nipples, and kept playing with your clit. “Jesus, fuck! I--I’m--coming,” you managed to say as your third orgasm hit. You held onto Sonny’s shoulder for dear life, Mike was slamming so hard and fast inside you, chasing his own orgasm. He bit your shoulder as he emptied himself deep inside you, adding his semence to Sonny’s and Nick’s.

You collapsed in Sonny’s arms and he gently laid you on the bed, next to Nick. Mike was catching his breath on the edge of the bed. “Water,” you managed to say.

Not that it mattered, but Nick seems to be the best for the aftercare. He gently stroked your hair, and planted sweet kisses all over your face. Sonny came back with water for everyone. All of this is more than amazing, this can’t be compared to anything you ever experienced before but you gladly enjoyed the water break.

As you were sitting on the bed, Rafael grabbed your face to kiss you. It was soft, almost loving. Your hands traveled his hairy chest as you granted access to his tongue. You fell on your back, taking him with you. “You okay?” he whispered.

“Never better. Fuck me, Raf,”

On the other side of the bed, Nick chuckled. “Three cocks, three orgasms and she is still asking for it. You’re such a pretty slut, Y/N, aren't you?”

“I’m your slut. To the four of you,” you smiled at him.

Rafael teased your entrance with his cock as he was kissing and nipping your neck. Your pussy was a wet and sticky mess. The other men fucked you open, Rafael slided inside you so easily. To be honest, he wasn’t far from coming already after everything he witnessed and you wrapped him so perfectly, it was overwhelming.

You moaned loudly in his ear, your nails digging in his skull. As he thrusted into you, he couldn’t help but to slap your thigh, since he can’t reach your ass for a proper spank. But you could reach his, so you returned the favor. It took him by surprise, so did the growl he let out. “Someone likes to be spank,” Sonny commented, before duplicating your action on Rafael’s ass.

Another spank, but this time from Mike. And one from Nick. You loved having all the attention from the guys, but you have to admit that this brings something else to you. Hopefully this will be repeated before you go back to New York, but this time, this will be an orgy, instead of a gangbang.

You bit Rafael’s bottom lip, as he thrusted fast and hard inside you. “Give it to me, Raf. I need you to cum inside me, just like them,” he crashed his lips on yours, as a hand traveled between the two of you to play with your clit. You were oversensitive, and exhausted, you weren’t sure you could have a fourth orgasm before it hit you. You wrapped your arms around Rafael’s neck, “That’s right, babygirl, let it go. Cum on my cock,” he said in your ear, huskily.

That was exactly what you needed to cum one more time. Rafael’s thrusts became sloppy as he chased his relief. Finally, he added his liquid to the mixture and collapsed on you.

*****

“I have to admit, I’m so glad everyone else canceled,” you confessed, laying like a sea star on the bed. Obviously, the four men agreed with you.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” they all said at the same time.

Best fucking birthday ever.

[foli-vora]

more than words, pt.3

A/N: Thank you for all the love! 🥺🥰 overwhelmed by the reaction I’ve had to this story! Super excited that so many of you are coming along for the ride! There is a tag list for this—let me know if you’d like to be added! (I apologise if I’ve missed anyone!) I hope you enjoy! ❤️

Pairing: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x f!reader, best friend!Benny Miller x f!reader

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, general first date nerves that trigger my anxiety x10

pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.4 / pt.5 / pt.6

+

He was trying to listen. He really was, but God, how many times can you hear the same thing over and over and over again before you start to drift away from the conversation? He knew the answer. He had a very short attention span when it came to certain subjects – he’ll admit that freely – so when you continued to gush about his best friend, his main man, naturally his attention fell to the couple seemingly having an argument by their truck in the parking lot. Hmm… wonder what they’re fighting about? He purses his lips, watching the girl deliver one hell of a slap across her boyfriend’s face and strut away, tears streaking mascara down her face. Cheater. Definitely a cheater.

“Benny? Are you even listening to me?”

His eyes roll back to you, taking in your narrowed eyes and angry chewing as a slice of pizza dangles from your hand. Was he listening? Well, he did for the first few minutes… does that still count?

He finally answers, tone flat and uninterested. “No.”

“Ben.”

He shrugs, gesturing to the scene outside the window with a flick of his head. “Malibu barbie just smacked the shit out of her beau.”

Your head snaps to where he was looking, shamelessly curious. “Cheater?”

“That’s my bet.”

You both fall quiet, watching the strangers play out a scene that really should belong in a cringe-worthy daytime reality show while you chew. It’s almost depressing, how eagerly you both watch someone else’s life seemingly crumble in public. But the longer they scream and cry, the longer they yell and fight, the harder it is to tear your eyes away.

“Shit.” Benny sighs, reclining in the booth and stretching his arms up and behind him once the couple in conflict goes their separate ways. “That was the most interesting thing that happened to me all week.”

“Not me,” you sing with a smile, fondly remembering the phone calls and texts you had been sharing with Frankie the past few days. Benny sighs in irritation, neck cracking as he rolls his head on his shoulders.

“I swear, if you talk any more about Fish, I’m gonna throw myself out of this fuckin’ window.” He levels you with a challenging stare, lips twitching as you eye the glass critically. “I’ll do it, too. Try me.”

Deflating, you sag in your seat and fiddle with the peeling label on your beer bottle, realising with a wave of slight shame that you had been talking about Frankie ever since you sat down at the table. “I’m sorry, Benny. I’m just excited. He seems really cool, and nice, and –”

“Alright then.” He stands abruptly, kneeling on the worn leather to brace a shoulder against the glass panel with a look of severe concentration.

“Okay! I’m sorry, I’m sorry – sit down, you idiot!” Laughing loudly, you tug at his shirt until he sits with a lazy grin and you shake your head. “God, you are such a child, Benjamin.”

He snorts, pinching a cold fry from the basket in the middle of the table and waving it at you. “You love me.”

Grinning, you snatch it from his fingers, and chew it loudly, grinning at his pout. “I sure do, especially when you set me up with your gorgeous fri–”

He groans loudly, “Enough, woman. I’ll throw you out of this fuckin’ window in a minute. Get me another beer.”

-

“You’re callin’ the wrong friend, angel.” Benny drawls lazily, “I’m no good with these kinds of pep talks.”

“Benny, I’m freaking out, please –”

The car feels small, cramped. The open windows letting in the cool evening air does nothing for you trying to suck in a lungful of oxygen as you pull nervously at your jacket. Have you overdressed? Underdressed? What would he be wearing? You hadn’t been on a first date in months.

“Look, I can almost guarantee you he’s somewhere having this exact conversation with another friend of mine. You’re both stress heads. Just relax – he’s gonna love you.”

You stare vacantly at your steering wheel, swallowing around the lump of anxiety stuck in your throat. “I think I’m gonna puke.”

He snorts in amusement, “Well, if you’re gonna do it, do it now – puking on the poor guy isn’t a first date thing. And don’t forget to rinse your mouth out.”

Leave it to the younger Miller to make you feel ten times worse. “Oh God. Ben –”

“You’ll be fine. Now get out of your car.”

“But –”

“Get. Out. of your car.” He waits, listening intently to the mechanical whirr of your windows as they close, smiling when he hears the loud thump of your car door shutting. “There we go. Now breathe, and get marchin’ – you got this. And don’t call me again – I’m watching a fight. Pay per view isn’t cheap.”

“Right. Sorry. Thanks Benny.”

“Anytime, angel. Have fun.”

You ring your hands as you start walking the short distance to the bar, running through a last-minute check of your appearance. Nothing in your teeth. No stains on your clothes. You fidget with the hem of your skirt, brushing the non-existent dirt from the fabric and making sure it’s not horrifically tucked in to your underwear at the back.

Oh God, your palms are so sweaty. What if he shakes your hand? His hand will slide right off. He’d be mortified. Who even goes for a handshake on a first date anyways? You’re being silly. Everything’s fine. You look great. Did you put deodorant on?

The twisting of your stomach and panicked rush of thoughts thankfully pause when your eyes catch Frankie standing outside the bar, hands buried deep in his pockets and dark eyes flickering around at the passers-by somewhat nervously. When they land on you, the apprehension seems to melt from his shoulders and he grins. Unable to stop the smile creeping on your face in response, you now walk without the sick feeling of anxiety creeping up your throat.

He strides forward to greet you, and for a brief second, you wonder how you should greet him. It’s not like you were strangers, per se, you had been talking on the phone all week, but where did you stand in the physical sense? Certainly not a handshake.

Throwing caution to the wind, you bounce forward and greet him with a hug, hoping to high heaven he doesn’t push you away and call the whole thing off.

He doesn’t.

Inwardly screaming, you melt at the feeling of a pair of strong arms winding around your waist, a small quiet chuckle brushing past your ear. Oh shit, oh fuck… he smells divine.

“Hi,” you mutter shyly when you pull away, a flush of warmth flooding through you from top to toe when he smiles kindly and hovers only a step away.

“Hi,”

You can’t help but admire his features up close; the ones that were lost on the photo Ben had shown you when first trying to convince you into this arrangement. His eyes were a lot darker, tousled curls longer than they had looked when they were hidden under a well-loved hat. A light flush of pink sweeps up his neck and along his cheeks, and you watch it fondly with a wild flutter of your heart.

Okay, you could just stand here all night and stare at him, but that might freak him out a little… maybe try speaking. Talk. Just talk. Say something smart – something stimulating. First date impressions and all that.

“It’s fucking freezing.”

What? No. You did not just say that. Seriously? That’s what had to bubble from your mouth? Are you kidding?

You want to face palm, want to just turn around and march right back to your car with a text to Benny saying ‘thanks, but we can’t be friends anymore’ and just disappear from the face of the Earth. God, he’s going to give you so much shit for this.

Thankfully though, Frankie doesn’t seem bothered by your blurted out statement in the slightest, and even grins, nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, it is.” He watches you shift on your feet, smile widening just a little more at the look of complete horror that had just washed your features before he had spoken, and then half turns, “Shall we?” Oh God, what was that? Pope’s gonna kill him. You’ve got his head in a complete spin and now he’s forgotten Pope’s whole pep talk. Shit. Shit. Be cool. Be cool... what the fuck does ‘be cool’ even mean?

The bar’s warm when you both walk in side by side, Frankie’s hand placed softly on your lower back as he leads you to the bar, and then through to a spare table, nestled out of the way and tucked into the farthest corner after he buys your drinks. He lets you sit first, and you’re pleasantly surprised when he stays close and, instead of sitting opposite you, he sits to your right, knees bumping yours softly under the table.

It’s not until you both sit, quiet and fiddling with your beers while sharing nervous smiles, that you remember something you had been meaning to ask all day.

“Oh. How did Mena’s appointment go?” You ask immediately, recalling his slight worry the day before over her slightly warmer than normal forehead and uncharacteristic crankiness. Your stomach plummets when he shoots you a startled look.

Oh no… have you blown it? Were you not meant to ask about kids on the first date or something? What were the rules for this kind of thing? You’d never dated someone with a baby, you had no idea what was okay to ask and what wasn’t. You guys had literally only just sat down, and here you were, ruining it already. That’s got to be the quickest end to a date, well… ever.

Panic creases your features and you frown in worry, “Sorry, should I – should I not have said anything? I’m sorry, I’ve never –”

“No, no – you’re fine! I just… I didn’t expect you to remember.” And then he smiles. Blindingly. The dread crushing your chest quickly morphs into something sweeter, something that has your heart quickening. “She’s okay – she’s getting her molars. Thank you for asking.”

You smile, turning bashful under the pure admiration shining in his eyes, and shrug lightly.

“It’s alright. I was worried for you.” You’re quiet when you admit it, unsure if that’s something you should be upfront about with only knowing him for such a short period, but he seems to take it in stride, smiling fondly at you and reaching a hand to cover yours softly. The immediate heat from his skin encompasses yours, shooting wave after wave of electric tingles up your arm and straight to your chest.

If your pulse was racing before, it’s downright wild now.

He flushes when your fingers part ever so slightly, letting his nestle in between yours, and then you’re smiling at each other, laughing quietly as the awkwardness all but evaporates.

You talk about everything. Growing up, moving around, Frankie’s time in the military being a pilot. You have so many questions, but pick up on the wave of tension that rolls through him at the mention of flying. For a short moment, you wonder why he didn’t want to talk about such an achievement – being a pilot was incredible, but not wanting to ruin the easy-going atmosphere that had fallen over you both, you leave the topic of flying instantly, and switch for talking about Mena, thankful to see the light return immediately to his eyes as he gushes about his little girl.

“Can I ask a question?” You ask sometime later in the evening, now comfortably closer to Frankie as your legs tangle under the table.

He hums, sipping on his third beer and nodding, “Of course.”

You watch your fingers play with his on the table, before grinning up at him slyly, “Why ‘Catfish’?”

He groans, throwing his head back with a chuckle, and wipes a hand across his face.

“My whiskers.” He finally admits with a playfully defeated sigh. When you frown in confusion, his grin widens, and he scratches his fingers along his jaw and through the patch of facial hair. “The guys used to give me shit because I can’t grow much more than this.” He gestures to his face, rolling his eyes. “Used to say I had whiskers – like a catfish, apparently.” He chuckles, shrugging light heartedly. “It just seemed to stick after a while.”

You’re laughing, and it keeps the smile planted firmly on his face. What a sound.

“Well, it’s an interesting nickname, but I think I prefer Frankie.”

He softens, unable to resist melting closer to you, and nods, “Me too.”

He likes the way you say it… sweetly, softly. He’s desperate to hear it fall from your lips more, in all sorts of ways.

Disappointment floods you both when you notice the late hour, Frankie explaining dejectedly that he should probably go and relieve his babysitter before said babysitter gets too comfortable with his refrigerator and the beer in there. You can hear the fondness in his voice when he tells you about his sitter for the evening, Mena’s tío – another close friend of Benny’s apparently – as you leave the bar, his hand automatically falling to tangle with yours.

“I’m this way,” you point a thumb over your shoulder, fully expecting to say your goodbyes outside the brightly lit bar, but frowning in slight confusion when he merely nods and starts to walk the way to your car.

“Oh – are you parked over here, too?”

He shakes his head, pointing to the complete opposite direction. “No, I’m over there. I don’t want you to walk to your car alone.”

Your insides turn to jelly, smiling to yourself as you grip his hand a little tighter. Thoughtful. He returns your smile, but hates that you seem so surprised by the notion of being walked to your car in the dark. What kind of losers had you dated previously that either didn’t walk you safely to your car?

“Thank you for tonight, Frankie.”

He grins, thumb rubbing soft circles over your knuckles. “Thank you – I had a great time.”

“Next time, it’s my treat.” You say, hoping you weren’t thinking too much of something that wasn’t there. Would he even want a second date? Was he just being polite saying he had a good time? Is that what people said before never calling them again?

Unbeknownst to you, Frankie was having a hard time reigning in the enthusiastic excitement that had flooded through him the second you had spoken. You wanted another date? With him? He had to mash his teeth together to stop the eager grin threatening to break his face completely in half. Thank God he hadn’t blown it. You were… God. You were fucking incredible. He owed Benny – big time.

“I can deal with that,” he eventually agrees, face warm and giddy at the prospect of taking you out again.

You turn and envelope him in a hug when you reach your car, breathing in one final lungful of whatever delicious aftershave he had used, and smile to yourself against his shirt when he folds his arms around you, a hand cupping the back of your head to keep you pressed tightly against him.

Pulling back to say one final goodbye, you’re struck by how close his face seems, eyes flicking across his face before meeting his dark ones.

Suddenly trapped in a gaze that had a fire licking up your spine, your breath goes in a stuttered exhale. Rough fingertips trace your jaw, and then you’re holding your breath entirely as he leans in closer. Anticipation kicks in, heart thumping through your chest as he closes the distance much slower than you would like, and you fight away the wave of impatience that screams at you to just push forward and kiss him.

You don’t expect him to stop however, only a breath away from your lips, and you panic for a small second, wondering if you’re doing something wrong, but when he murmurs a quiet question, it takes all the strength in your legs to not fall to the fucking ground in a lump of melted goo.

“Can I kiss you?”

God yes. Please.

Unable to stop the shy smile that tugs at your lips, you try not to nod too eagerly and definitely fail miserably. You want this, more than what you’ve ever felt with anyone else. Frankie had you feeling like a giddy teenager with a huge crush and you were desperate to feel more of it, to see where it goes and what it could develop into.

At your nod of approval, he moves in the rest of the way, hand moving to cup the side of your neck below your ear, and he sighs lightly when your soft lips finally meet his. The kiss is tender, warm, and does nothing to soothe your raging pulse. He can’t hear your heartbeat, can he? God, can you hear his? He briefly worries, but when your lips move against his, his mind blanks.

His moustache tickles your lip, nose bumps gently with yours. Your hands find his chest, fingers gripping at the soft material, and for a moment it feels like you two are the only ones in existence, floating in a hazy whirl of space.

You take a minute to open your eyes when he eventually pulls away, and when you do, you find him gazing at you with a shy smile and a rosy flush across his cheeks. Lashes fluttering as you blink, you try to get a hold of your heart beating heavily against your ribs while your lips tingle from the aftershocks of his kiss.

Holy shit.

Before you can even think it through, his shirt tangles in your scrunched fist and you pull him back to you, replanting your lips against his with a desperate urgency he meets head on and returns eagerly. His hands, previously gentle, now grip at your waist, squeezing the flesh greedily as you let him walk you back into the side of your car. The metal is cold, even through your jacket, and you arch into him, moaning softly when his tongue traces your lip.

Your knees buckle when his tongue tangles with yours, and he presses you harder into the car to stop you dropping.

“Holy shit.” He breathes huskily after separating, lips widening into a grin when he sees you mirroring his breathlessness. You giggle softly, the fire roaring in your stomach turning into an affectionate warmth that floods your system when he brushes his nose along yours tenderly. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Stop.” Your smile turns shy, teeth digging into your lips as he chuckles again, dark eyes shining. He watches you wrangle your breathing into something semi normal, glad he wasn’t the only one that got swept up and carried away with the moment. 

He traces your cheek, planting one more, less hungry and more affectionate, kiss to your lips.

“Goodnight, mystery girl.”

“Goodnight, Frankie.”

He backs away, face split as he smiles, eyes admiring you before he turns and starts to meander away to wherever he was parked, turning to look at you over his shoulder every few steps. You climb into your car, grinning at the final wave he sends you before disappearing around the corner.

Finally alone in your car, you let out the disbelieving chuckle you’ve been keeping in all night, face feeling hot as the aftereffects of such a great date rests pleasantly in your stomach, mind running through every little moment of the night. Starting your car, you start the drive home, unable to stop touching your lips every so often, insides clenching at the memory of his lips moving against yours.

+

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed @emilykjh @peterhollandkait @sara-alonso @starlightsearches @bookishofalder @empress-palpat1ne @shadowolf993 @rosiefridayrogersunday @canyonmirrors​ @eoz-stuff @blackonemasie​ @layniapetrovnaaa @alberta-sunrise @goldielocks2004 @betterthanbucky​ @linkpk88​ @afootnoteofhappiness​ @livilottie​

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

late night calls

Summary: It all started with a phone call to the DEA office to tell Javier about the surgery of his father. You had insisted to take care of him after Chucho told you about the surgery. That you would fall in love with his son you had never met before? Just as surprising to you as it was to Javier.

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Plus size reader

Wordcount: 4.1k+

Warnings: fluff, phone sex, mentions of bomb attacks, sexism, self doubt, yearning?

A/N: I know that probably more time passed between the bombing and Javier being send back to the states but I chose to ignore it. For the plot. Hope you enjoy it :)

Masterlist

*taglist in reblog

You still weren’t used to the heat. Yes, you did move to Texas because you wanted a fresh start. But the fucking heat would take some time to get used to. Nothing was holding you back in Maine. You had spent the last years taking care of your sick mother. She had died just before Christmas and with her all the family you had left. 

So coming with the new year you took a leap of faith, packed your things, and moved to a little town close to the Mexican border. You got a job at the local police station as a secretary that made a decent sum of money each month. Life was good. At least you told yourself so. 

You had made a couple of friends. Mostly the older generation of the town. You weren’t big on going out, nor had the town a big nightlife in the first place. That’s why you insisted on taking care of Chucho after he told you one day at the diner that he had to get a hip replacement. His wife had died a long time ago and his son wasn’t able to leave work.

“Don’t you have some better stuff to do cariño?” He had asked.

“What better way to start your day than on your Farm, Senior Peña.” You had winked at him.

Chucho might have been a stubborn old man, but once he got out of surgery and was in pain he was thankful that he accepted your help. That was also the first time you heard him talk about his son. Javier.

“Be a dear and call him to tell him I’m okay?” He had mumbled before he dozed off again. You had chuckled, kissed his cheek before you left him for the day to went over to his farm. Once you had taken care of everything for the day you sat down on his kitchen island and grabbed the phone, dialing the first number he had written down.

You had suggested moving into his place in his recovery time. It was a beautiful place. Mexico was just on the other side of the river down the property. But the best part about this place was the air conditioning. Okay… You really loved this place and it definitely was an upgrade to the small apartment you were renting in the city. 

Waiting for his son to pick up the phone you wondered what kind of job he would have that he wasn’t able to take care of his father. You didn’t judge him, okay maybe a little, you were more curious. You had seen some pictures of him spread through the house. But you had never asked about him.

“DEA Office, how may I help you?” A woman answered your call.

“Uhm… Is Javier Peña available? It’s about his father,” you tried.

“Oh of course. Agent Peña just got in. Please hold.”

Agent Peña? DEA? You had so many questions but they died on your tongue when the call connected again.

“This is Peña.” A deep voice said. He reminded you of his father.

“Hello Mr. Peña. I’m only calling to let you know that your father’s surgery went fine. He wanted me to forward this to you.”

“Javier, please. Not even my father likes to be called Mr. Peña.” 

“Oh I noticed that,” you chuckled.

“He’s fine yeah?” You heard something shuffle on the other end of the line. 

“Yeah. Already made some jokes and told me to make sure I feed the horses in the right order.”

“You’re taking care of the horses?”

“Yeah. I’m temporarily moving in to help your father.”

“That’s very nice of you. He never told me about you.”

“There’s not much to tell.” You got up and took out a bottle of water from the fridge. “I’m only here for the air conditioning.” You joked. He laughed.

“Fuck I miss air conditioning. Hold on.” You sat down again, hearing only damp voices.

“Fuck. I need to go. Please call me if something comes up. Dad has my home number too, right?” He was speaking quickly and you wondered what was happening. 

“Yes, he wrote it down for me. Everything okay?”

“Yeah hopefully. Just some work stuff. Keep in touch, yeah?”

“Will do Javier.”

Chucho got home a week later and he was the worst at listening to doctors’ orders. You still had to go into the station to work, but you spend your whole time worrying about him. It was funny to you how he seemingly had become a father figure to you in less than a couple of weeks. 

Of course you found him standing at the kitchen counter when you got to the ranch, the phone tugged between his shoulder and his ear, making himself a sandwich.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” You asked, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“I was. Then Javi called and I got hungry.” 

“Stubborn old man,” you grumbled and he rolled his eyes.

“Come on, I brought dinner.”

“Fine. Here. Javi wants to say Hello,” he handed you the phone before he slowly trotted towards the couch. Shaking your head you put the phone to your ear.

“You are really strict with him,” Javier said.

“Someone has to. Are all you Peña men this stubborn?” 

He chuckled. “You have no idea. How is he doing?”

“Overall good. Not complaining as much as in the beginning but then again I am bribing him with my delicious cooking.”

Javier and you had spoken to each other at least two times per week since the first time you called to tell him about his father’s surgery. You learned that he was a DEA agent on the hunt for Pablo Escobar. You learned that he was feeling guilty about not being there for his father and to take care of the ranch. You learned lots of things about Javier Peña. 

“Ah... Delicious cooking. Maybe one day you get to cook for me?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You teased, hearing him take a sip of his drink. Whiskey probably. 

“Just that my father is praising your cooking so much I wonder if it really is that good.”

“Oh, it is, Peña.” You found yourself smiling. You heard him sigh.

“Everything’s okay over there?” You asked.

“Yeah,” he said too quickly. Definitely a lie. You nodded.

“You wanna stay on the phone while I prepare dinner?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he whispered.

The better Chucho got, the longer the phone calls between Javier and you seem to get. It was mostly at night after he got home from whatever he had been doing at work that day intending to check in on his father. But after a few sentences, he asked about your day. About how you felt. What your plans for the coming weekend were. 

“You sound exhausted Hermosa,” he sighed. It had been a long day at work and all you wanted was to grab a pint of ice cream and drown your sorrows.

“Just the usual sexist bullshit at the PD,” you groaned.

“Want me to kill them?” Javier joked.

“You take care of your nemesis, I take care of mine. But I appreciate the help.” You sat down on your bed, knowing that this was usually the room he occupied when he was here to visit his father. 

“Noted. But if it’s any help, I had a shit day too. They seem to get more frequent the longer I stay in this shithole.”

“Maybe you have to focus on the good things of being in this country. There have to be some. The food probably. I always enjoy new food. Maybe go to a museum? I don’t want to intrude but you don’t seem like you do anything besides work and well…”

It was pure accident that you had heard the voice of a woman one night when you had called him for a change. You knew that he looked good, you had seen the pictures, so it shouldn’t be a surprise to you, that he did have a girlfriend. He clarified that he didn’t, that this was just a woman he got intel from. You didn’t ask any more questions, it wasn’t your right. That it hurt to think of him and another woman was something you chose to ignore.

“I never thanked you,” Javier said. You let yourself fall back into bed, staring at the stars outside the window.

“What for?” you asked quietly.

“Thanking care of Dad and the ranch. Listening to my drunken ramblings. You’re a good friend,” he said. You smiled, a warm feeling spreading in your chest.

“You’re a good friend too, Javi.”

Chucho didn’t need anyone to take care of him. Not when he was back to his old health after a couple of months. But he had asked you to move in with him anyway. And you loved to live with the old man. Enjoying not being on your own all the time. And you loved helping him out at the ranch. The PD was still getting on your nerves and you were seriously considering just quitting.

“I hate it. I fucking hate it. I get one dumb line after another, just because I’m a woman. That I helped to get together the evidence to put that fucker away that killed all those women last year is not even of interest. FUCK!” you complained to Chucho. He knew about all of this already. Yet he jumped from his seat when he saw that you did cut yourself while making dinner.

“Careful.” He took your hand in his, leading you over to the sink to look at your wound. It didn’t hurt that much. 

“What about if I take care of dinner today, and you go and take a bath? Javier is probably gonna call in a bit…” Chucho winked, putting a bandaid on your finger.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you frowned.

“Just that I see the way you smile every time my son calls.”

“Two whole days off? What are you gonna do with yourself?” You joked. You were laying in the bathtub, the phone in your hand as you talked to Javier.

“Don’t know. I feel like I need a home-cooked meal so I’m gonna nag Connie to cook one.”

You chuckled, crossing your legs.

“Is that water I hear?” he asked and you blushed. Why? You didn’t know. You had undressed numerous times while on the phone with him, but being completely naked and him knowing about it…

“I’m in the bathtub. Chucho’s orders. He’s making dinner before I kill myself doing it.”

You were met with silence.

“You okay, Javi?” You sucked your bottom lip in. “I did only cut my finger,” you joked.

“Just trying to get the picture of you naked in the bathtub out of my head.”

“You don’t even know what I look like.”

“Doesn’t matter. All I need is to hear your voice and I’m hard…”

“Javi…” you whispered, feeling hot all of the sudden.

“Will you tell me?” he asked.

“Tell you what?”

“If you think about me? Because you are on my mind all the time. I keep picturing how you look. If you have long hair or short hair. What color your eyes have. If your smile is only half as beautiful as your laugh. Fuck… I just wanna see you. I wanna feel you. I wanna taste you Hermosa.” 

Unintentionally your unoccupied hand had made its way down your body, your breath coming in short pants.

“Keep talking Javier…” you whispered, your hand slipping in between your legs.

“I want to touch you. Fuck I bet your skin is so soft. I’d worship you. I stay up at night wondering if I could fit your boobs in my hands. What sound you would make when I close my mouth around your nipple…”

“Shit Javi…” You moaned.

“I wonder how you taste. Are you wet for me baby?” he asked and you heard a zipper being undone on his end of the line.

“So wet. You always make me wet. I touch myself when we get off the phone, wondering how it would feel to have you here…” you whimpered.

“I would have fucked you on every flat surface in the house if I was there. The thought of you sleeping in my bed is making me lose my mind.”

You circled your clit with your fingers, a low moan coming from your lips.

“I wonder how you feel wrapped around my cock. I wonder how you sound when I make you cum. I want to hear it so badly…” You were sure he was fucking his hand and you whimpered at the thought.

“I wish it was my hand wrapped around your big cock right now. God, I wish it was your hand between my legs and not mine…” You bit your lips, keeping yourself quiet.

“Put two fingers into that cunt and make yourself cum. I wanna hear you…” he groaned on the phone. 

“Fuck Javi…” you cried quietly, two fingers inside your cunt. “I wish it was your cock and not my fingers.”

“Me too… Me too babe.” he moaned. “Circle that clit for me. Cum for me.”

Circling your clit you almost let the phone fall into the tub when you came with a low moan. You heard him cry out your name on the other end of the line before all that was heard was both of your heavy breathing. 

“Javi…?” you asked after a while, still high from one of the best orgasms you ever had. You heard the familiar sound of him lighting a cigarette.

“I meant every single word Hermosa. I want you.” You never thought you would hear these words from him or any man for that matter. You weren’t a typical beauty. You weren’t skinny, you loved food and your curves showed it. On most days you were happy with the way you looked. But you also knew how Javier looked. He was an attractive man and you knew he did indeed have a new woman every other night if he felt like it. He might be interested now, but once he would meet you, there was no way he would make true to all the things he said.

“You’re quiet.” he noticed.

“Yeah. Just coming down from the best orgasm I’ve had in a while,” you joked and he sighed.

“I might not see you, but I know that you’re lying.”

“Okay, it was the best orgasm I ever had.”

“Hermosa…”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Just let me enjoy the illusion of a handsome DEA Agent being interested in little ol’ me.”

“I’ll make sure you believe that it isn’t an illusion until we do see each other.”

Months went by and by now you were pretty sure you were in love with Javier Peña. The phone bill was taking dimensions you were almost guilty about, but Chucho only smiled not taking your money, telling you to make his boy happy. Safe to say he approved.

You had told him about your insecurities and Javier made sure to tell you every time you talked to each other that it didn’t matter how you looked. He told you that you could be green and he’d still go down on you the first time he would meet you.

And you wanted to believe him, you really did. You had told him how you looked after he tried to talk you into sending pictures of yourself “with or without clothes, I don’t care. Though you can guess what I prefer.” he had teased. Javier never made a secret about how much he liked you. Enjoyed talking to you. He told you he had stopped sleeping around for god’s sake. 

He was supposed to visit his father in a couple of weeks and the more time passed, the more nervous you became. You didn’t doubt that he meant every single word he said to you. It was years of being on the receiving end of jokes and being the ugly friend that automatically let you feel like you weren’t good enough.

The worst part was that you knew, deep down, that you were beautiful. You loved how you looked. But there still was this voice inside your head, telling you that you would never be good enough for anyone. That there was no way someone would ever fall in love with you.

It was a typical morning at work. You had your coffee and all the files you had to update. Javier had talked to you until you fell asleep, telling you that he felt like he was failing in taking Escobar down. He didn’t tell you much, not wanting you to worry or to risk someone listening, but you could tell that he was exhausted. “I fucked up, Hermosa. I really fucked up and I have no idea how to fix this,” were the words that he had whispered to you in the middle of the night. 

You didn’t ask what he meant, just telling him that you’d be there for him, no matter what.

Typing as usual you stopped as the song on the radio was, interrupted by a news report of a bombing in Bogota, Colombia. You knew that there were bombings all the time over there, and Javier always assured you that he was perfectly fine. But with how he was last night, you had a bad feeling.

“Fuck. When are they going to stop that shit over there? If I was there I’d caught Escobar years ago,” one of the officers said. You closed your eyes, breathing in deeply.

“Isn’t Chucho’s son over there pretty face?” The officer stopped in front of your desk and you opened your eyes.

“Yeah he is,” you said.

“Maybe if he would know how to do his job, shit like that wouldn’t go down like that,” he grinned and you wanted to stop, but your hand was faster. Slapping his cheek you got off your seat.

“And maybe if you would know how to use your dick your wife wouldn’t fuck your colleague over there, but you’ll never know, right?” You grinned, picking your purse and walking out.

“I’m taking today off.” You yelled over your shoulder as you walked to your car.

Javier didn’t pick up the phone. Which wasn’t what concerned you on the first day. He would have to deal with the shit that had happened over there. But when three days passed and you could see Chucho getting nervous as well you became restless. The ranch had never been so spotless. The horses had been fed in record time, and you took long rides along the river. If something had happened to him someone would have called, right? You couldn’t even reach his partner Murphy who you had talked to occasionally when Javier wasn’t at his desk. 

When a week passed and you hadn’t heard anything you were close to making your way to the airport to just fly down there. What if he died? What if he was gone and you hadn’t told him that you loved him? That you fell in love with a man you had never met before? Getting off the horse you sat down at the tree closest to the river. It was quiet here. This was the outer area of Chucho’s ranch, your favorite spot. You had joked about building a house here once when you were out with the old man and he had agreed that it would be the perfect spot. Sighing you drank from the bottle of water you brought.

Where the fuck are you Javier?

Another week went by without any sign of life from him. You had called the DEA office again but no one seemed to be able to give you an answer. You were growing restless. Working seemed to be the only thing that could get you off the spiraling thoughts of what if? You really had it bad for the man. Shaking your head to yourself you sighed as you parked your car on the usual spot in front of the ranch. Chucho’s truck was gone, he had a doctor's appointment to check on his hip and would meet his lady friend for dinner afterward. You had met her, Estella, once. She was a beautiful woman and Chucho seemed very happy with her. With a sad smile you killed the engine, getting out of the car. On your way to the house you groaned, turning around because you forgot your take out. You weren’t in the mood to cook and the pizza from that place that Javier had told you about was the best you had ever had. While you opened the passenger door of your car you heard the front door of the house open.

Shit. Burglars? You didn’t have anything on you, you could use as a gun. You knew you could probably make it to the horse stable to find something, but not in these fucking heels. Why did you wear these fucking heels? Maybe you could make them choke on the pizza? But then again you were looking forward to eating it. 

“Just take what you want, I won’t look.” You called over your shoulder, hoping to just be spared for the day. Closing your eyes you sighed when you were met with no reaction. You heard footsteps on the porch that stopped.

“Look, I’m really not in the mood for this bullshit today. So either take whatever the fuck you want or kill me….” you turned around and all the words died on your lips.

Standing there, leaning against the porch was no other than Javier fucking Peña. Alive. And looking even better than on the various pictures hanging in the house. He was bare feet, wearing tight jeans and a green shirt that was half undone. Opening your mouth to talk, all that came out was a gasp. He looked at you, his eyes mirroring the million emotions inside of you. Looking down at yourself you felt shy all of the sudden. This isn’t how you imagined meeting him for the first time. You wanted to be pretty. To wear some spanx. To have some make-up on. Closing your eyes you breathed in deep. You were happy to see him, you really were. But the ride of emotions you had gone through in the last couple of days took hold of you. Walking quickly towards him, you pushed against his chest, the air leaving his lungs in a puff.

“You fucking idiot. I thought you died.” You pushed him again.

“Do you have any idea how awful I felt since I heard the news of the bombing? You…” You pushed against his chest again, but this time he was faster, grabbing your wrists as he looked down at you. You felt the tears in your eyes as you finally looked up at him. Almost a year of phone calls and now he was standing here in front of you. Alive and warm. And smelling so fucking good.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, holding both of your wrists against his chest as he looked at you. 

“I should have called but I told you I fucked up. Badly. And I had to fix it and…” he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now. I’m here and fuck… you’re even more beautiful than I pictured you,” he smiled a little.

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” You huffed, still annoyed.

“No?” he asked teasingly, smirking at you as he leaned down. You shook your head, biting your lip. God, you wanted to kiss him. 

“Can I at least try?” he asked, his lips brushing over your temple. You swallowed, shivering when you felt his cheek against yours. Fuck. Why did he smell so good?

“You may try, but I’m really, really mad at you Javier.”

You closed your eyes when he released your wrists and put one of his hands on your back to push you closer against him. He kissed your cheek before he straightened to his full height and looked down at you, his other hand coming to rest on your cheek.

“You’re really sexy when you’re angry,” he teased before he leaned down to kiss you. You melted against him, your hands running up his chest, holding on to the back of his neck as one hand ran through his hair, to pull him down. Kissing him didn’t come close to anything you could have imagined, his tongue parting your lips and you couldn’t help the moan against his lips. 

“Still angry?” he whispered out of breath against your lips.

“Slightly less angry,” you whispered back before you found yourself in his arms as he carried you into the house.

[astaroth1357]

Long Distance Longing with the Brothers

Want a little angst and sweetness? I love how this turned out and I think it’s a new favorite for me. I honestly should wait to post it... But I have no patience, I love it too much. Weirdly enough, thank Taylor Swift’s new album for giving me this idea. Go figure. 🤷‍♀️

Warnings: Angst, implied starvation

Intro:

The brothers knew it was going to happen eventually. The year can't last forever, and at some point they were going to have to say goodbye to their human for the break… But that didn't make the situation any easier. Nobody likes being so far from the one they love. It was only a matter of time before our boys are reaching a breaking point...

Lucifer

Lucifer has never really had a reason to not to work before… Like, yeah there are those days where things get stressful and he takes a step back, but actually taking an extended period of time to just... not work? A "vacation" if you will? He’s never had the desire. What would he even do with himself?

Well, for the first time in literal God knows how many centuries, he had an answer for that question. He was going to be with MC.

And that's exactly what he told Diavolo when he finally accepted that missing the MC was negatively affecting his work. 

He wanted a… "vacation."

Diavolo had never once thought Lucifer would ever ask, and to be fair the man never thought he would either, but he's more than happy to give his friend a few days off to visit his dear human.

Whatever brief hit that his pride took by having to admit that he needed a break was more than made up for by finally seeing the MC again. He knew he missed them, painfully aware of that fact, but just the sight of them waiting to meet him outside the portal was enough to nearly take his breath away…

His first vacation was sure to be paradise. 

Mammon 

Oh, the distance was killing this poor boy. Any day where he can’t have the MC on his arm feels worse than when he's on a losing streak…

Speaking of a losing streak, he's been stuck in one for a whole month without his beloved partner in crime with him. Did he lose his lucky charm or was he just too down in the dumps to gamble well? Anyone's guess.

Well he got fucking sick of it. He wanted to see the MC, ASAP. But how would he get to the human world…?

It takes a week but he gets an idea. It took another for it to actually trigger.

Like clockwork one of the witches he's regularly in debt to, one that just happens to be a bad gambler herself, summoned him out to give her a little extra luck. Usually, he'd just kick whatever slot machine she’s parked herself at and be done with it but this time he's got to ask… How long does that summon spell last, eh?

He made a new sort of bargain. She gets to take Goldie out for a spin if she gave him some time in exchange… 24 hours to be exact.

He didn't waste a second after striking the deal because he had a lot of flying to do.

The MC probably didn't expect to hear frantic knocking on their door at the break of dawn, nor to find a beat tired and disheveled Mammon leaning outside it….

But he embraced them for all it's worth anyway. If it meant feeling them in his arms again, he'd trade away the whole world if he had to...

Leviathan 

He… didn’t do so well with the distance. Like at all. He'd mope around the house, constantly bemoaning how unfair things were. Not even his favorite games can give him any joy because those were the games he used to play with MC…

Sneaking in the occasional video call was pretty much the only thing that could make him smile anymore. Just seeing their face felt like getting a cold drink in the middle of a scorching desert… But he wanted more.

Thankfully, the MC themselves gave him a really, really good idea…

For two weeks straight, Levi seemed to get out of whatever funk he was in to help out around the House… Like, really help out. Suck-up levels of help out. It creeped everybody out...

After a time he finally approached Lucifer and made a simple request. There was an anime convention going on in the human world soon and he'd like to attend…

The ulterior motive for this little visit is practically written on the wall, but he'd been acting so damn unnerving for the past two weeks Lucifer just gave him permission to make him stop.

When the MC agreed to meet him on the opening day, they said they'd be dressed up as someone he'd recognize. Frankly, he was expecting Henry or maybe Ruri-chan but he was completely floored to see them waiting for him dressed in a familiar black hoodie with coral-like horns on their head and a carefully crafted serpent's tail behind them.

To this day he still can't decide what made him happier: seeing the love of his life so adoringly dressed as him or finally feeling their body collide with his after they came running to each other outside the convention hall...

In the end it probably doesn't matter because for that whole day alone, he finally felt like he had everything he could of ever wanted right there with him.

Satan 

Satan's not one for idle moping so when he felt that yearning in his chest finally hit a tipping point, he didn't whine. He didn't complain. He got up and did something about it.

Teleportation magic is tricky to master and dangerous to perform even with sufficient skill. One wrong move and you could end up smearing yourself across three different continents…

But like that would stop him.

He pulled out every book he could find on the subject, researched for days, then practiced for weeks. First on books and apples, then on some of Lucifer’s belongings.

He had to keep making new excuses to throw Lucifer off the scent (especially after he started sending some of his shirts away to different parts of the house) but after some time, it finally paid off.

Satan was probably the last person the MC would have expected to see show up in their room randomly one night, sitting casually by a lamp and reading a book like he didn't just master time and space just to come say hi.

But who was going to be all that picky when they could finally shower their nerdy cat-lover in all the love and kisses they've both been missing for months now?

Asmodeus 

If you took Asmo at his word, then the sheer depths of longing and despair he was experiencing while the MC was away could far outweigh that of anyone else to ever have existed in the history of all time.

He was the Avatar of Lust, desire was in his nature. Couple that with a burning need to have his lover as close to him as he possibly could and it was safe to say he was losing his mind!

This might have been the reason Solomon finally gave in after his 16th-ish time trying to beg the sorcerer to help him. He really was quite pitiful in this state...

When Solomon told Asmo that he could smuggle him out of the teleportation gate between the Devildom and human world ONLY if he could magically disguised his appearance, he was kind of expecting Asmo to refuse. This was Asmo he was talking about. He honestly thought that he'd rather die than deprive the world of his beauty so selfishly…

The world is full of surprises, ain't it?

No matter where they were, no matter what they were doing, the MC was suddenly mowed over by a "stranger" running at them at top speed like an Olympic sprinter. It’d probably have been pretty scary before Solomon lifted the enchantment shortly after to reveal their demon’s gorgeously familiar face.

Solomon wasn't going to let him stay too long, lest he incur the wrath of Lucifer, but Asmo couldn't care less. Be it a thousand hours or a few short seconds, he could always find a way to make his time with the MC last a lifetime...

Beelzebub

Fun fact, Hell freezes over a little every time Beel says "I'm not hungry…" No. Seriously. A freezing wind blasts across the entire Devildom like the realm itself gets a sudden chill...

So imagine the levels of panic that went through pretty much everyone there when his appetite started to fail him.

It's not like the poor baby could help it, food just tasted so much better when the MC was there that eating without them was like trying to digest actual disappointment… He got tired of trying after a while.

A few days of this behavior were worrying, but when he started to get a little thinner the family went into an uproar, starting with Belphie but soon spreading to the rest of the House as well.

Lucifer's soft spot for the twins may have influenced his decision. I mean, it was awfully generous of him to get Diavolo to approve of an fully sanctioned, planned meeting between Beel and the MC. He probably wouldn’t have offered that to anyone else...

Not that Beel cared about all that background favoritism anyway. Hell, on the day that he was finally allowed to see them, he couldn't be bothered by anything other than holding the MC close and hoping they'd never let him go again.

His appetite did return to him eventually, of course, but as long as he had his human with him even the cheapest street taco tasted like a fine five star-meal.

Belphegor 

Frankly, Belphegor was sick and tired of missing people.

Ever since the Celestial War he missed Lilith. When he was stuck in the attic, he missed Beel. And now that the MC was away he was supposed to just sit patiently and miss them too? No way. Not happening. Something about that had to change.

It wasn’t the first time he'd gone to Lucifer in an angry huff, but admittedly he had more ammo than usual...

There was a… discussion between the two. It went on for a couple hours… There may have been some words to the effect of, "Don't you think you owe me?" exchanged… 

Honestly, it was kind of amazing Belphie didn't end up in another attic "timeout" by the end of it. But he got what he wanted, so what's to complain about?

With a little persuasion on his part, Lucifer managed to get Diavolo to approve of a weekly visit for the two, SO LONG as Belphie stayed on his best behavior in the human world.

There wasn’t really much worry about him acting up, though, since he'd have his nap buddy back. It would be pretty hard to be a threat to humanity when he was too busy staying snuggled up to his favorite person until well past noon...

[rynnaaurelius]

Titan’s Curse But Make It Time Loop: Nico di Angelo Edition

-Okay so I’m at work and not doing much and who wants to actually edit your shit drafts for your actual WIPs so that they’re less bad? No one, that’s who

-So I had an idea: The Titan’s Curse. Also known as the book where people start to die. It sucks to be a demigod in this book--for the first time in the original series, it really does.

-Not everything is fixed, not everyone is saved, and people start to have to make really tough decisions.

-So we fix it. Not by throwing Percy, or Annabeth, or Thalia, or, hell, even Bianca or Grover into the mix.

-Throwing the marginally more grown-up, more trained, and more knowledgeable demigods into the fire, who’d get everyone alive and safe by the third time ‘round? Nah.

-We’re making Nico fix this.

-Because here’s the thing about Nico di Angelo: Sure, he grows up to become a major badass, the Ghost King, so on and so forth. But not yet.

-For now, Nico is baby, a ten-year-old whose experience with any kind of fighting consists of one (1) Capture The Flag game and who’s still half-reliant on Mythomagic to explain what the fuck is happening.

-He’s also got the worst knowledge makeup possible! He knows he’s a son of Hades, which is bad, he knows to stick monsters with the pointy end of swords but nothing else, he knows that Percy Jackson and Thalia Grace are Very Big Deals (But also doesn’t know why beyond parents), and he’s, at best, vaguely aware that there’s some kind of bad prophecy hanging around.

-Also by the end of the book, he’s just been told his last immediate family who isn’t Hades is dead in one of the worst ways possible, and he--pretty irrationally IMO, but Nico’s a kid who has been through a lot recently, so we’re not holding that against him--blames Percy Jackson.

-Literally, you probably can’t pick an angstier or worse choice to run through the time travel trope. I love it.

-We’re making this kid save Bianca’s life via time loop, which happens due to. . .hmm, we’ll say the Fates did it.

-So, Loop 0 = Canon, only at the end of the day on December 21st, after the conversation with Percy, Nico falls asleep only gods know where only to wake up the day he meets Percy Jackson:

Loop 1:

-Nico doesn’t actually change anything meaningful at first.

-Spends most of it shellshocked and not unconvinced the last week (For him, anyway) wasn’t a horrible nightmare; shellshocked and staring at Percy Jackson, anyway.

-(Percy’s wondering what’s up with the silent kid his sister had talked up as a cheerful chatterbox)

-It’s only when Bianca agrees to join the quest for Artemis that he starts kicking up a fuss; demanding to go, screaming that she can’t leave him even more, not again.

-(Bianca hesitates; briefly, enough to remind Nico that she loves him. But she’s not their mother, and she needs this)

-Bianca still dies. Percy comes back pale and guilty. Nico doesn’t yell at him when he returns--he already knows. He accepts the Hades figurine so that he can throw it into the lake.

-He slinks off back into Cabin Eleven and falls asleep, hoping desperately that he gets a third chance.

Loop 2:

-He does.

Loop 3:

-After a very painful death at the hands of Dr. Thorn, Nico, generally being a straightforward person at this stage of life, takes the obvious path this time around: He tries to tell Bianca--who brushes it off as a dream.

-Annabeth still goes over the cliff when Nico takes the initiative of attaching himself and his sister to Percy Jackson and Thalia Grace at the dance. He tries to tell Percy and Thalia when Bianca still joins the Hunt, promising Nico that whatever he saw, she’ll be extra careful.

-(Bianca’s fearful of what Nico's saying, and thinks that if these sworn sisters can’t keep her safe, who can?)

-Artemis gives Nico a speculative look but agrees when he begs her to protect Bianca at all costs.

-He doesn’t get on the quest. Being a reasonable demigod of questionable parentage, he sneaks out of camp.

-He gets caught, because despite being aware of his awesome new powers, he doesn’t know how to use them, and is still a ten-year-old who can barely hold a sword the right way.

-He gives Percy the puppy dog eyes and shows off said awesome new powers. Percy forces him back.

-Nico follows him.

-Repeat until Percy dies saving Nico from the Nemean Lion in Washington, DC.

-Nico can’t find it in himself to be terribly sad--especially when he doesn’t make it much longer.

Loop 4:

-He’s really stuck like this, huh?

-Oh, Di Immortales.

-(Before Percy gets his chest ripped to shreds by a lion and Nico meets skeleton cats, he learned how to hold a sword properly and curse fluently in Greek. Percy probably only meant to teach him one of those things)

-In unrelated news: Having a big crush on a guy who thinks he’s only known you for a couple hours? Terrible.

-Trying to hate the guy who let your sister die when he’s that stupid and nice? Even worse.

-That stupid lion.

Loop 5, 6, 7, 8, 9:

-Nico repeats: That stupid lion.

-Somewhere in Loop 7 he starts to steal supplies out of the camp store when he follows Percy following the quest.

-They forcefeed the lion enough trail mix and frozen ice cream in Loop 9 that they don’t die this time.

-At least until someone called the General shows up and Nico’s dead before he can raise his sword.

Loop 10:

-Nico wakes up in his and Bianca’s room in Westover and starts crying. Bianca tells the headmaster they’re both sick and Nico lets her hold him all day.

-They fall asleep and Nico swears he won’t let her die again.

Loop 11, 12, 13:

-He wakes up and he still can’t get out of bed without feeling that blade cutting between his ribs, burning like it’s on fire.

-Gods, he’s so sorry, Bianca. Dispiace tanto.

Loop 14:

-He can get up without feeling like he’s about to die again. Bianca fusses but assumes it was just a bad dream.

-Nico is caught stealing and can’t follow Percy until it’s too late.

-Everyone assumes this means he’s a son of Hermes, however, and Nico can’t correct them without opening his mouth and letting the sobbing laughter out.

-Figuring he’s about to get another chance next round anyway, he takes Travis and Connor Stoll up on their offer to learn a thing or two so that he doesn’t get Cabin Eleven slapped with kitchen duty from now until Doomsday.

-He likes the Stolls. He spent most of the time, pre-looping, actively avoiding everyone at camp as he waited for Bianca and Percy to come back, but they’re not that bad.

-Percy comes back with the figurine and no sister and Nico remembers why he’s stuck.

Loop 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23:

-After Loop 12 and being killed in Washington DC again, Nico realizes: He needs to learn how to fight.

-Unless he gets killed early or refuses to leave Westover, the loop resets after seven days. So, he has seven days to train each time.

-He gets to camp, finds the arena, and meets Clarisse La Rue. He demands she teach him how to kill monsters.

-She laughs, and tells him that attitude in his size will make monsters easy to kill, they’ll laugh so hard.

-Clarisse teaches him how to swing a sword each time--but only after mocking his unamused face.

-Somehow, Percy coming back with news of Bianca’s death only hurts more each time.

Loop 24:

-Nico wakes up before Bianca this time. He looks over at her bed and knows. He’s got to try this time.

-It’s disturbingly easy making friends with Percy Jackson after the last loops.

-Bessie’s new. Cute, but new.

-Nico wonders just how much he’s missed in the past--he thinks of Annabeth Chase, and hopes she hasn’t been dying each time.

-Percy doesn’t even argue when Nico shows up in the stables with a bag slung over his shoulder, and the sword he’s been stealing out of the shed strapped to his hip.

-Nico suggests the ice cream--again--to Percy in DC before

-Nico might be getting the hang of this.

Loop 25:

-Nico is not getting the hang of this.

-Zoë Nightshade’s refusal to accept Percy and Nico on the quest--violating a prophecy, and gods, Nico’s curious if that prophecy ever mentioned this--has so far gotten them attacked and killed by spartoi once.

-And again. As Nico bleeds out on the floor, he watches a panicked blond man--a demigod--plead for mercy.

-Isn’t he on the other side?

Loop 26:

-His name is Luke Castellan and he apparently wants the gods dead.

-Nico can relate at this point.

-The General is Atlas, and Nico knows enough about Greek mythology, real and wrong, at this point to know that is bad.

Loop 27:

-Twenty-six tries, but they finally make it out of DC. Threatening the questers with Atlas killing them all is more than enough.

-For the first time, Nico doesn’t know what happens next. He glues himself to Bianca’s side and glares at anything suspicious.

-With help that Percy refuses to name, even when Nico tries his hardest, they go to New Mexico.

-There’s a boar and it’s so close, they make it to what the others are calling “the junkyard of the gods”.

-Nico sees the Hades figurine on the ground.

-Bianca grins in delight and picks it up, calling for him.

-He can’t help it.

-Nico starts screaming.

Loop 28:

-His sister’s murderer was never Percy Jackson.

-His sister’s murderer was a force of mechanics that makes Nico fully understand, for the first time, what the gods are, beyond stats on a card.

-Talos.

-Nico is going to destroy him.

Loop 29:

-She dies.

Loop 30:

-Again.

Loop 31:

-Again.

-Loop 32, 33, 34, 3536373839FortyFo r t y O n  e--:

-Again. Again. Again. Again again againagainagainagainAGAIN--

Loop 42:

-Nico gets out of bed. He finds Percy Jackson at the dance, hugs him, and tells him he’s sorry.

-Nico walks outside and waits for Dr. Thorn in the snow. He can feel the shadows curling at the edge of the wood like a sixth sense, now. Waiting for him to summon the restless dead out of them.

-So many attempts to save his sister, ranging from sacrificing himself to sacrificing Percy--not that Percy needs the push, Nico has found--to any and all members of the quest.

-She dies. Always, always dies. Whatever Nico does, that junkyard is full of the death of Bianca di Angelo.

-He tried avoiding it. Once. Loop 33. Nico threw such a fit he’s surprised he wasn’t sent back to Camp Half-Blood by the Hunters, but it kept them out of the junkyard.

-He tries not to remember how little was left of his sister’s body by the monsters that time.

-Son of Hades. After all this time, Nico’s beginning to wonder if this is what it means. Death and death and death.

-Dr. Thorn walks outside, and Nico can feel a ghoulish grin crossing his face that has no place on a ten-year-old.

-One of them is going to die, this loop. And Nico will not go to New Mexico.

Loop 43:

-Nico wonders if there was a past life of his he needs to remember. Who could he have made this angry?

-He lies to Bianca and they stay in Westover again this time. Better than death, anyway.

Loop 44:

-Nico tries a different tack this time. A more roundabout way of things.

-He takes Bianca and throws the two of them in the way of the battle with the manticore.

-After all this time, he still doesn’t know much about Annabeth Chase. She gets kidnapped and returned safely to Percy every time, to the best of his knowledge.

-Nico dies holding up the sky, but at least Bianca lives, under the protection of Artemis.

Loop 45:

-Nico looks in the mirror and studies the new grey streak with fascination. And, maybe, some hope.

-Things can change.

Loop 46, 47, 48, 49, 50:

-Nico gets kidnapped a few times. Once, he’s killed in a rage by a Titan with horns, but it’s quick. Mostly, he holds up the sky to get Artemis out.

-She looks at him strangely each time and Nico wonders if she can see what he’s done.

Loop 51:

-They figure out he’s a son of Hades. They offer him Olympus. Olympus and Bessie--the Ophiotaurus, rather.

-Nico says no.

Loop 52:

-Nico says yes.

Loop 53:

-Being on the verge of overthrowing the gods and keeping everyone he’s grown to care for--in the case of several Hunters, against his will; in Percy Jackson’s case, Nico loves him as much as he hates him at this point--doesn’t do much, apparently.

-Nico stays in Westover again. He resists the urge to tell Bianca that would-be destroyers of Olympus don’t need to brush their hair, whatever she says.

Loop 54:

-Nico goes over the edge of the cliff again, but with Percy Jackson.

-This isn’t the first time; in Loop 46, Percy had taken the sky for both the sake of Artemis and Nico until it killed him.

-What’s different, is Nico’s in the middle of what’s become the usual panic attack when he’s about to die for the hundredth time, and his powers react.

-Percy holds him close and calls him cousin. Tells him he’ll never leave Nico.

-You have no idea, Nico whispers. You can’t leave me.

-You think I want to? Percy whispers back. You’re not alone, Nico.

-Nico’s sobbing sounds like laughter.

Loop 55:

-Nico tells Percy the truth for the third time. This is the first time he hasn’t told Bianca first.

-They’ve just found the Erymanthian Boar, Thalia’s told Nico his goth needs work--whatever that means--and Nico’s bracing himself for the junkyard again.

-Getting kidnapped by the Titans really gets old after a while.

-He still has the grey streak, and no number of excuses will fully soothe his sister, but the Hunt’s a good distraction from it.

-Nico doesn’t blame Bianca anymore for it. He thinks.

-Nearly a year into this loop and Nico’s finding it hard to blame anyone for much of anything, anymore. Especially when he sees what she’s faced. Again. And again.

-For now, this time, Percy Jackson is staring at Nico with wide eyes at what Nico’s told him--through these loops, Nico’s starting to wonder if he now knows more about Percy than Percy’s own best friends--and says he believes him.

-Once, Nico would’ve exploded from joy. Now, he just sighs and nods.

-Percy tells him how to condense the conversation for the next loop. He advises Nico to research Talos, “like Annabeth would.”

-He advises Nico to warn Percy’s next loop self about Annabeth’s kidnapping. Nico wonders if he’s gone insane that he’s considering it.

-Bianca dies.

Loop 56:

-Nico makes the executive decision this time to try and befriend Annabeth Chase. As such, he takes Percy’s advice.

Loop 57:

-It takes him two tries to befriend Annabeth Chase and learn about Talos.

Loop 58:

-Three times.

-But the nail. The nail in the ankle of Talos.

Loop 59:

-He hangs back at camp again this time and meets Charles Beckendorf, head of Cabin Nine, and son of Hephaestus.

-Nico figures that short of finding the god himself and committing temporary suicide--not that it hasn’t crossed Nico’s mind--his son will have to do.

-(He’s tried his hand at summoning ghosts, but Daedalus refuses to show, for some reason)

-Beckendorf frowns and tells Nico he would have to see Talos himself.

-Nico hadn’t realized just how much cursing he had picked up off of Percy and Thalia until that moment.

Loop 60:

-Nico knows what the prophecy says. One shall be lost in the land without rain.

-He knows it’s why he’s been failing so much.

-The trouble is, he no longer cares.

Loop 61:

-It took him a try, but he gets Beckendorf on the quest, prepared to defeat the Talos prototype.

Loop 62:

-Strike that, two tries.

-Nico really hates the Nemean Lion.

Loop 63, 64:

-Nico has solved half a problem: How to defeat Talos without putting someone inside the robot.

-The other half of the problem is now that they are all electrocuted by a dying automaton for their efforts.

Loop 65:

-Beckendorf’s crush--girlfriend? crush, they’re both insisting--Silena Beauregard comes along this time. Nico won’t complain over the extra manpower, even if he’s positive that eight campers and Hunters are patent overkill for one quest.

-Silena pulls Bianca out of the wreckage. Nico’s heart stops.

-Silena’s crying when she mentions that if they had been a bit earlier, she could have been revived.

-Nico wonders if Thalia’s going to stab him as he starts whooping. And takes notes about where Talos falls.

Loop 66:

-Nico swears, if Percy Jackson tries to sacrifice himself for Annabeth Chase one more time--

Loop 67:

-Bianca.

-I found you, he sobs. I found you.

-Gods damn the Hoover Dam.

Loop 68:

-And again.

-Despite having the distinct inkling at this point that he doesn’t much like like girls, Nico could kiss Silena Beauregard and Thalia Grace when they manage to revive his sister each time.

-She’s shaky and leaning on him and was dead, he could see her soul floating away--

-But she’s there.

-Nico refuses to let his sister out of the sight at the Hoover Dam and Percy befriends the Naiads this time.

-At least, until the Titans--who Nico made the very big mistake of taunting at DC--sends monsters he can’t control.

Loop 69, 70, 71, 72, 73:

-They keep dying in various combinations at the Hoover Dam now that Nico’s figured out how to save Bianca.

-At least, until he gets separated from Percy in Loop 73 and he meets a redheaded girl with a penchant for calling Nico pint-size.

-Athena dislikes Percy, Nico, Bianca, and Thalia in equal measure. Having learned of the Great Prophecy in Loop 16 and Percy’s mooning over Annabeth in. . .well, every loop, Nico can’t quite blame her.

Loop 74:

-Her name is Rachel Elizabeth Dare and Nico likes her. She takes none of their shit and if it weren’t for the fact that they already have eight people on the quest, he’d want to take her along.

-Bianca gets in a fight with the Old Man of the Sea. Thalia electrocutes him when he throws Bianca in the bay.

Loop 75:

-Nico wakes up in Westover with the distinct feeling that he was drowned on dry land.

-He stays in bed shivering, that day.

Loop 76:

-Atlas is the father of Zoë Nightshade. Nico learned this around Loop 50. He had realized around five loops ago that this probably meant she was going to die “by a parent’s hand.”

-He hadn’t realized that it was going to hurt to watch.

Loop 77, 78, 79, 80, 81:

-Now that he’s figured things out to about San Francisco, it seems the world is out to get him. The number of fights or mistakes that he either makes himself or has to head off are ridiculous.

Loop 82:

-Nico is so very tired. And wishes he felt ten years old again.

Loop 83:

-If Thalia gets in one more fight with Nereus, Nico's going to walk into the sea.

Loop 84:

-He wanders off, in this one. Grover had been killed in Hoover Dam, so Nico’s waiting for the reset at this point.

-In the meantime, Nico figures there are worse things to do than enjoy a good afternoon in San Francisco. He even meets a boy in a purple shirt.

-His name is Jason and he has hair like the sun.

-If he ever fixes this, Nico wants to find him.

Loop 85:

-Nico’s not fast enough in the junkyard.

-In San Francisco, he tries to find the ugliest, biggest trouble he can find.

-He finds a pair of teenagers in armor who yell Latin at him instead.

Loop 86:

-There’s a dragon that will attack them in the Garden of the Hesperides if they make it angry enough and Nico is so tired.

Loop 87:

- Zoë Nightshade is dead. They’ve won.

-Funny definition of “win”, considering they’ve all almost died this loop about a dozen times each, and Nico can’t explain why he’s crying on the body of a Hunter he only met a week ago, in their eyes.

-She hates him, some loops. More loops, she looks at him with ghosts of old grief in her eyes and hands him a knife.

-The gods execute Bessie, and then, Nico watches as his father turns to him and Bianca with sorrowful eyes.

-Nico should’ve figured, after almost ninety loops.

Loop 88:

-Luke offers one of them the entrails of Bessie again.

-Nico takes them.

Loop 89:

-For all the good it does. Nico wakes up as he does every time now: Powerless, in bed, and with only a grey streak to show for his efforts.

Loop 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98:

-Nico doesn’t know how to save Zoë Nightshade. Bianca, he could trick and fight his way into it. Beckendorf and Silena and Percy and a loophole in lost could save his sister.

-Her, she just. . .dies. Sometimes in DC, sometimes in San Francisco, sometimes on the hills of Mt. Tamalpais. Always at the hands of Atlas.

-Always, being murdered by her father.

-It’s not as gutting as watching his sister die, but it aches more in his chest, somehow.

Loop 99:

-He sticks close to Zoë this time. Same as he’s done with Percy, Annabeth, his sister, Thalia, and Grover, time and time again. But not her, Nico is realizing. Not the clinging he’s achieving now.

-Hoping for. . .something.

-He knows better than to tell the immortal Lieutenant of Artemis the whole truth. The loneliness is enough.

-She’s less frosty to him from the start than to, say, Grover or Percy, after Annabeth goes over the cliff again. When he shows up in DC, she’s much less angry than he’s seen her.

-Along the way to New Mexico and then San Francisco, he listens. He’s grown better at it, this far in. When the others are asleep, when Bianca is being fussed over after Talos, when everyone but them is asleep by the fire, he listens.

-And she tells him about her sisters. About her father, when the world was young and Atlas had looked on every daughter of his with pride. She tells him, pride glistening in her eyes, of the battles she has seen, the hunts she has overseen at the command of a goddess, the monsters she has killed, and the epithets she has been given.

-He doesn’t ask anything of her. Not until they’re in the house of Annabeth’s father, drinking lemonade the night before the battle, and Nico knows she is about to die again.

-What do you want, he asks. You’ve done everything. What’s left?

-She stopped, ice seems to creep over her again, and Nico wondered if he’d hit some sore spot.

-He’s opened his mouth to make his apologies when she answers, so quiet and quick he thinks he’s imagined it.

-To be remembered. When my lady has taken another lieutenant, as she must, and I have gone to where all gods go when they die, I wish for my memory to remain. And. . .

-Nico waits, and ignores the sudden, terrifying thought that he no longer knows what he wants.

-I wish to see the stars again. I was born a nymph of the sunset; starlight is precious to me. I want to see it again.

-Nico dies to preserve the memory of Zoë Nightshade.

100:

-Nico di Angelo wakes up in Westover Hall. He hopes for the last time.

-He does everything right: Annabeth goes over the cliff, his sister joins the Hunt, Percy is soon his friend, and he convinces Silena and Beckendorf to join the quest.

-The Nemean Lion never stands a chance, and Nico is glad to be rid of it.

-His sister lives.

-Nico watches Percy watch Rachel Elizabeth Dare go, looking like he’s just taken a frying pan to the face, and fights the urge to snicker.

-Thalia doesn’t start a fight with Nereus, but Percy certainly does. Nico could’ve sworn he saw the boy with sun-hair again, watching with curiosity.

- Zoë Nightshade dies in the arms of Artemis and is made into the stars she loves so dearly. Nico promises her soul that he will remember.

-For, he has found, the dead have a tendency of remembering things they shouldn’t.

-Annabeth and Percy now have grey streaks to match Nico’s, and Nico can’t wait to spend the rest of his life trying to explain that.

-It’s closer than he would like, but much less close than other lives with Olympus. The Ophiotaurus is alive and safe, and they are all alive.

-As Nico walks out of the council, he looks off to the side. By the fire is the familiar girl with red eyes--the Lady Hestia, looking much closer to Nico’s age than that of the Olympian she is.

-Besides her are three old ladies. Nico’s heard about them from Percy, in Loops 26, 53, 61, and 62.

-One lady holds a ball of string that is the color of a warm umber. The other is knitting what looked suspicious like socks. The last. . .

-Scissors, in one hand. Just as expected. Nico swallowed.

-In the other, was a knot of burnt string, tied to the socks. Behind her, Nico could see discarded string of all colors: an electric blue, a stormy grey, a black that seems to glisten with the promise of a storm, string the soft, hopeful pink of love, yarn run through with bright copper.

-Glowing threads that Nico could only describe as the color of starlight.

-As he walked out, firmly between Percy Jackson and Thalia Grace, the Hunt of Artemis behind him, Nico hears one last promise:

It is done, Nico di Angelo.

[5lazarus]

The Old Gods of Serault

Wanderingly aimlessly through life after death, Felassan is offered a series of bad choices. Imshael guides his way through. A @black-emporium-exchange gift for RosellaWrites. Read the other works in the AO3 Collection here! Read the story on Archive of Our Own here.

Death, Fen’Harel has always said, is but the next adventure, which is the wonderful sort of thing immortals say but do not truly mean. Felassan, being dead, is mostly bored. There is not much to do when you are sundered from your body. Felassan drifts across Thedas and wonders: why the fuck did the Forbidden Ones lose a whole war for this. He sorely misses his physical form.

In the Crossroads he attempts to get Briala’s attention from his place stuck between Fade and Waking Plain, but alas! The People are sundered from their own senses since Fen’Harel raised the Veil. She does not notice him. He amuses himself for about a week, following her around. Then she picks up a new lover, this time thank Mythal not a human, and he decides it’s time to leave her alone.

In the Dales he runs into Mihris. She spits on him and shoots him with lightning, which hurts, and laughs when he screams. He can taste the ozone in the air as she readies another thunderbolt, which would surely shatter the last remnants of his spirit-consciousness. For all that he misses his body, he likes being around to watch things happening.

Felassan thinks fast, and then moans loudly. “Oh!” he cries. “Do that again.”

Mihris lowers her staff. “By the Dread Wolf, you like that?”

Felassan moans to hide the laugh building in his throat. “I just want to feel alive again!” It comes out more plaintive than pleading, but it does its job. In disgust Mihris leaves him, and prays that the Dread Wolf takes him.

“Been there, done that,” Felassan says to her back. “Nothing to write home about.” That is, of course, a lie, but a dead man has his pride. Besides, having no flesh, he is no longer concerned with the demands of the flesh. He sighs, considering what joys he has lost, and moves on.

In Serault he has more fun. The Veil is thin there, so it is easier to interfere with daily life, and Felassan has always enjoyed being a public menace. He whispers revolution in the very exciting dreams of the Well-Read Pig-Farmer. He makes the shadows dance in the Serault glass the Scornful Sorceress attempts to unlock. She has the taint of Mythal in her, he notices: poor soul. However much she plays at making eluvians, she will never have control over where they take her.

In the workshop, Felassan remarks, “Don’t worry, da’len. The Dread Wolf will set you free, and you’ll live to complain about it.” She does not even look up. Mortals are so very dull sometimes. The interest lies, of course, in how they grow and change, over countless generations. Felassan hadn’t been as interested in the petty wars of the dwarves and men as Fen’Harel had been, and it is funny in a deadly sort of way that this is the hill he chose to die on. He looks at the Scornful Sorceress and murmurs, “Come on. Be a little more fun.”

She gets herself banished from Serault but runs off with the glassworks anyway, and Felassan laughs the whole while, following her trail into the Applewood. The Tirashan has always been weird. The apples guarding the outskirts are new, and not nearly as intoxicating as the ones Sylaise’s people cultivated, but still Felassan trails a hand through the leaves and the giddy red fruit. He can almost taste them. He cannot, of course, so he sits down next to Mythal’s odd daughter and watches her chomp down on apple after apple with vicarious enjoyment.

“Oh, you’re going to make yourself so sick,” he says, amused. “Too much knowledge, da’len. You can’t binge it like that.”

The Fade-memories of the Applewood take her at once, and she shrieks as she begins to hallucinate through all the different hunts. Felassan watches for a bit. The memories leave her sensible enough to drink and shit, and once she begins to recover, he wanders deeper into the woods. Fade-touched fruit has always been used for initiates; the Scornful Sorceress seems to be tripping over rituals that will always overwhelm her. It is a shame that the preparation has been lost. It means the knowledge is gone, too.

Deeper in the woods the Veil thins, and Felassan begins to feel skin again. The leaf litter of the forest is springy under his feet. He draws in an impossible breath. The air tastes hungry, sucking greedily at his lungs. He flickers, aching, and then shakes his hands out. There is another person’s will at work here, threatening his thoughtform.

“Hey,” he calls into the deepening woods. “Who’s there?”

Imshael comes sauntering out of the twilight. He wears the body of the Seneschal of Serault: hair close-shaven, face unremarkably middle-aged, the frame fleshy but not in the way. Felassan groans. He likes Imshael, he really does, he’s always enjoyed partying with the Forbidden Ones—but it’s better when sacrifice is codified. This age ignores all their laws, and Imshael is happy to exploit those loopholes.

Imshael cocks the body’s eyebrow and says, “Dread Wolf got your tongue?”

Felassan says gloomily, “A fucking lightning strike.” He does not tell him that Fen’Harel is still too weak to banish and disintegrate spirits in the Fade. He likes Imshael, he really does. He’s always enjoyed how the disembodied spirit manages to claw his way through history, better than the rest of them from Arlathan, really. He respects the impulse for chaos—but the wanton destruction, the entrain-arrangement, and general lack of empathy? If Fen’Harel deems it necessary to disintegrate the will that is Imshael, Felassan will not complain.

Imshael says, “Tut, tut. Serves you right for believing the Old Wolf’s lies. This age is so much meaner than when we were young.” He stretches the body’s grin a little too wide for its face, pulling the edges of its mouth back as if he had stuck fishhooks in the corners. “I love it. People are so much more desperate than they were under Mythal’s justice. And there are so many new ways to entice them—not just the old ‘power, riches, virgins’ trick, I can offer them ‘lost knowledge.’ Like crop rotation.”

Felassan says, “You know about crop rotation?”

Imshael shrugs.

Felassan begins to laugh. Of course Imshael doesn’t know about crop rotation. Felassan doesn’t know anything about crop rotation. They’re spirits now, why the fuck would they know about crop rotation? He says, admiringly, “By the Dread Wolf, you are such a dick.”

Imshael says, “I don’t even need to try anymore. With your old master breaking out of the Fade, I just get to kick back, relax, and let the choosers come to me.” He forces the left eyelid of the corpse he inhabits to twitch a wink; the muscles pull at the distorted smile. Imshael lets the face relax. “Bodies—so many choices, so many little muscles to twitch! How did you handle it, having one all the time?”

Felassan says truthfully, “I didn’t think about it much.” He misses the choices he could make, to stretch his legs by the fire in the heady woods at night, to stick his fingers into loamy soil and smell the hungry earth, to edge his teeth along another person’s bottom lip. He places a finger where his lips once were, but of course he has no fingers anymore, just his own thoughtform.

“Careful,” Imshael says, dead eyes glinting. “Too much thought and you’ll break.”

Anxiety laces through him, because thought is all he has and thought keeps him whole, and in the worry he feels himself disintegrating in the old wood of the Tirashan. The scent of apples grows stronger, alcoholic, sick fermentation in blood that he no longer has—and then he remembers: Imshael is fucking with me. He wants to strike a deal. All that I have are my choices; Imshael shall not take those away. Flurrying into himself, Felassan stretches out his edges and feels the forest shift around him. The Tirashan is older than he is. The wood whispers: mine.

Felassan says, “Is that why you stuck yourself in that body? To keep the Tirashan from taking you? I quite like the Applewood, actually. Feels a bit like home.”

Imshael says, “Home that eats us alive, yes. Some of the old gods still linger, my friend.” There is a smile in his voice but he leaves the body alone. “Fen’Harel isn’t the only big thing coming. You can feel it, can’t you. That’s what drew you to the Applewood. What was once lost is no longer Forgotten.”

Felassan really has had enough of egregious poeticisms. He says, a bit testily, “What do you want, Imshael? Why are you here? Are you saying I was drawn here? Nothing compells me.”

Lacing roots ground him and the woods expand with one earthy exhale, and even Imshael’s body react electrically as the leaf litter wraps around its ankles. The Horned Knight eases out of the old tree.

Felassan breathes, “Daern’thal.”

The Horned Knight inclines his head and says, “One aspect.” The Forgotten Ones were driven to the edges of the map long before Fen’Harel raised the Veil and threw the world into catastrophe. This aspect of the old god, Daern’thal, has found refuge in the Applewood. Felassan is afraid. He would have been afraid even if he had a body, even if the Veil had not been raised. He never met the gods without Fen’Harel to protect him. Imshael is an interesting substitute.

Daern’thal has chosen the shape of a wooden man, echoing the humans who have driven his worshippers into the shadows of the glens. Halla horn bursts from his forehead. Rather than deal with the issue of mortal mucosity, the Forgotten One has placed eyes of fish scale and snakeskin into the indentation of his sockets. Thin bands of fungal mycelium bind his limbs together. Lust stirs in Felassan’s heart. He can make himself a body like that, if only he could learn how.

Imshael smiles.

One does not refuse an invitation from a god, even a Forgotten One. Felassan pushes against Imshael’s receptical’s shoulders, testing the electric nervous system of the dead flesh, but Imshael pushes against him.

“Only room for one,” he says flatly. “Unless?”

“Nah,” Felassan says. “I’m good here, thanks.” He follows the shambling corpse to the hall of the Horned Knight, a round tower in a narrow glen, dark and wet with green.

“Heartwood Court,” the Knight says, and bids them enter. The upper floors have partially collapsed into each other like dominos after they have been flicked, and Felassan stares nervously at stars glimmering between the leaves of the flowering roof. Of course, these mortal worries are beyond him. Wood and stone can do him no harm. At the center, indeed of the heart of the hall, grows a great tree, whose autumn-colored canopy provides some cover. Felassan sees a star twinkle, and then burn out: not enough.

The grass shines, dusted with shards of an old mirror. The Horned Knight has laid blankets of moss over toppled pillars, a facsimile of a great table. His servants gather, enthralled to his Will. Moss grows within their eyes and flowers bloom from their skin, patterned in the same tattooed ropes of the vallaslin.

Felassan touches the plush moss and is surprised when the moss pushes back. The Veil is thin here. He sits, suddenly ravenous. Daern’thal has hacked his way from the Void and back into the Waking World and made himself a body of earth and scale. If he can learn, he can stretch again. He can taste. He can bite. Imshael settles next to him, monstrously smug.

Felassan says, “You did this on purpose.”

“You’re welcome,” Imshael says. “Consider it a thank-you gift, for making sure I didn’t waste my time tormenting little Mihris. Here, it’s so much more fun. Subtler choices to make, with a much longer reach.” Their arms brush. Felassan starts at the touch.

He says, desire in his voice, “The Veil is very thin here.”

At the center of the great table the Horned Knight arranges himself, in a throne hewn of apple-wood. Glorious smells intoxicate the air: meat fresh-roasted over a well-loved fired, basted in its own blood. Saliva comes to Felassan’s mouth, and he swallows and licks his lips. Silent servants shuffle woodenly by the table, bearing a grotesque boar with its death scream still echoing in its mouth. Imshael reaches for the apple in its mouth and plucks it out. He offers it to Felassan.

Felassan says, “No. Not yet. No.”

Imshael smiles. “Not yet. But soon.” He lays it between Felassan’s hands, slowly gaining solidity. Felassan clenches his fists. Imshael is looking at him up from through his eyelashes. It would have a more charming effect if the body he occupies weren’t clearly dead.

There are rules of hospitality that must be followed. One does not eat before one’s host. Imshael wants him to; Imshael enjoys violation, the breaching of taboo. Felassan likes the bend and breach too, but it is easier to navigate in the Fade, where everything is up for debate. He watches his host. The Horned Knight burns with the old fire of the Forgotten Gods. The Veil warps around him, and the discordance of the waking and the dreaming syncopates into the beat of a living, muscled heart. Daern’thal figured it out. He lives, without a body, a thing of muscles and spells. He does not need to will every pump of blood. Imshael and Felassan gaze upon him with mutual lust.

“My guests,” he says. “Old countrymen from a country that exists only in our worst dream-rambles. Imshael Choice-Bringer I know has poached in my wood these two season. Small prey I grant him.”

Felassan sneaks a glance at Imshael. The corpse looks sour.

“Small prey,” Imshael rumbles. “Oh, we’ll see about that.”

If Felassan had a consistent face, he would grin at that. He does like Imshael, after all. Who else would think to take on a remnant of a Forgotten One, in his own hall? What is he going to do, offer him a choice?

“And you, Slow Arrow, dropped from the Dread Wolf’s quiver, broken but undecayed. Piecemeal but awaiting restoration. Unbodied the both of you. Living not-death, I welcome you the same.”

Talk why do you do like that, Felassan thinks. Not even Solas got that bad. A flash of anger runs through him, and he is surprised to see his hands clench, and then they are gone. The moss lays undisturbed on the ruined pillar that is the table. He smells the dinner, he does not smell it. One does not need sensation for an appetite. He hungers. Imshael smiles.

Out of the corpse’s mouth Imshael says, “You’ve guarded the Tirashan well against the Evanuris and their lapdog. A shame this hall’s in ruins. What happened? Don’t you miss your temples?”

“The People worship us enough,” the Horned Knight says calmly. He carves a slice from the spit and places it on a golden plate. “Those the Evanuris would have seen erased have writ themselves large on the landscape. I am, in eternity, lord of these woods.” He has started speaking subject-verb-object again, Felassan notes. He is irritated. The Forgotten Ones were always easy to wind up. Then he realizes—

“What meat is that?” Felassan asks faintly. “Boar?” He hopes it is not halla; even the most degraded of their descendants still hold their kin sacred.

The Horned Knight’s fish scale eyes gleam in their own dark fire. He repeats, “The People worship us enough. They understand sacrifice, how to wear and tear ’til blood seeps into the Dreaming and yanks it awake.”

The Horned Knight passes the plate to Imshael, who passes it stiffly to Felassan. He catches it, flesh rapidly outlined, and places it onto the moss-tablecloth. A servant across the room smiles vacantly; the same moss that adorns the table covers her eyes. Onion flowers dot down her face in the slash of an X. Her skin is coated in red ochre. She does not taste of the Tirashan. She stinks, but not terribly, of Mythal. It is the Scornful Sorceress, Mythal’s troublesome little daughter. That means there is a limit to the Horned Knight’s reach; while he can eat and he can drink, he cannot smell. He does not know the presence of other gods.

Imshael and Felassan look at each other for a long moment. Wordlessly they agree, and let the girl be.

The Horned Knight cuts himself a prime slice and takes a bite. His teeth are the spiraling arms of living crinoids, tearing at the cooked flesh. His tongue is a flash of autumn leaf.

Imshael whispers, “Well? Aren’t you going to eat?”

Felassan whispers, “Aren’t you?”

“I don’t have a digestive system anymore.”

“Well, I’m dead. I don’t either.”

Imshael says, “Do you really think Daern’thal is living? Death eating death. How much of him is simply the Tirashan’s mycelium? Sacrifice won’t keep you whole for long.”

The dryad servants sway in time with the rustle of the leaf-wind. A woman with willow for hair pulls out a bone flute and begins to play. Richly the notes come like a sunset, winding around him like a drink. He is hungry for a body. Daern’thal has one. Perhaps he can share. It is about time he begins killing gods, rather than letting them kill him.

Imshael says, “Good choice.”

Felassan says fondly, “Get the fuck out of my thoughtform.”

The Forbidden One laughs, a rictus of death. The sacrifice steams on the plate over the altar. Neither of them eat. The servants are singing now, in the tree’s breath. First a rumble comes deep from their throats, then the rising chorus of sun and sugar, salt and carbon, bark and heart’s wood. They sway like young birches in the bite of winter’s breeze. He knows the steps and would dance it, if he had feet.

“Dead man’s shuffle?” Imshael offers.

Felassan says, “No.” He can do better than piggybacking off a decaying corpse, tricking mortals into giving up their form and discarding them as soon as they begin to rot. He watches the Horned Knight eat. It’s horrible, but it is living. He says, “I want that body.”

Imshael says, “Good choice.”

The Scornful Sorceress is not quite swaying in time with the others. The moss covering her eyes is thinner. A flower has fallen from the X-shaped vallaslin. Quick, Felassan thinks. Quick. Make your choice before it’s made for you. Don’t be like me.

The Horned Knight says, “My horn. Let us drink, and trade a story for a story, a boon for a boon.” The living wood comes forth bearing a lyrium-laced drinking horn in the shape of a silver halla, legs folded. Around the rim a scene is wrought, of a dying god clawing his way out of the Void to return to the Tirashan. The god becomes the wood, his body woven by the network of fungal decay that keeps the hivemind of the trees living and speaking. He says, “I was a spirit and I was a god and once I was a mere elf, running to the shelter of a Tirashan. The woods took me into their heart. Daern’thal made this horn, to safeguard against the Old Wolf’s tricks. I drank from it. We persist. What are your stories, my countrymen?”

Imshael says, “I refused to be limited by the boundaries of a body. A singular outline defers choice. I am Opportunity and I am Envy. Without a body, I can be both. The choice is yours.”

Felassan says, “Yes. I was the Dread Wolf’s Slow Arrow, the last-ditch plan he broke. I lost my body, but where there is thought, there is form. I am still living. I will persist. What do I need to do, to drink from that horn?”

Imshael smiles. The ochre woman is not even swaying at all.

The Horned Knight says, “You may drink of it only if you stay to the truth of your name. The Veil is breaking. Old magic returns, beyond what we have hidden in the Applewood. I grant you both this life if you stay true to it. Remain Imshael, the impossible choice. Stay the Slow Arrow, which flies the course.” The bark-cut mouth twists into a smile, fossil-teeth bared. “But know this. Once you drink of it, you are of it. The Tirashan has its due. You may remain distinct, but the mycelium persists. You are Felassan, but you will become the Tirashan too.”

Felassan pushes away the plate of flesh. He says, “Would I be able to leave the woods?

The Horned Knight smiles again. He says, “We know what is to come. What is to say that in the end, there will be anything but the woods?”

Fen’Harel is coming to break every chain. Fen’Harel is taking down the Veil and restoring Arlathan and its dark woods. The time of the quicklings is coming to an end. Slow magic, eating away at life, survives, neither flora or fauna.

Felassan says, “No,” and the ochre-servant snatches the horn from the Horned Knight’s wooden hands and sprints out of the hall, shifting into a massive bear. Imshael cackles with laughter. He says, “That’s no choice at all. Careful, there. You’ll put out Imshael out of a job.”

Imshael smiles. “And that’s no choice at all.”

[buckysgoldenheart]

Late

Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: Henry has a reputation that makes you cautious and it’s caused some disagreements. Everyone thinks you hate each other, but maybe you don’t as much as you let on. (fluffy ending, and idk, maybe angst depending on your definition).

Words: 2880

Notes/Warnings: I made this like mid-20s Henry during the Tudors filming, season 1. If I messed up with tenses somewhere, I’d like it of you let me know. I started this story out in the past-tense then changed it to present so I might have missed some stuff when editing, even after reading it 100 times over.

At the sound of the doorbell, you hop up from your sunken spot on the couch. After the day you had, the Chinese food on the other side of that wood slab is the only thing with the ability to help you recover before you must face a fresh 5 a.m. morning with Henry tomorrow.

God, you want that man to fall off the face of the earth. You don’t care if his disappearance meant you would temporarily be out of a job. Being an assistant on the set of The Tudors was something you had strongly considered sacrificing in the past if it meant never having to work with one very particular, blue-eyed, temperamental actor ever again.

You almost quit weeks ago but told yourself to suck it up. You can’t afford to unintentionally cause drama at your workplace, not after your last job; and getting that kind of reputation is not what you are going for. Besides, filming for the first season is almost over, and you will gladly welcome the long break before everyone needs to report back for season two.

The smile you were fully prepared to give the delivery man falls entirely at the sight on the other side of the door.

“What the hell are you doing here,” You huff out.

Henry crosses his thick arms over his even thicker chest and frowns back at you. “I didn’t get my script.”

A headache is already forming just from his proximity and you don’t bother resisting the urge to rub at your temple. “Well, I sent it to your house a week ago.”

“And I didn’t get it, so clearly you didn’t do a very good job.”

With an eye-roll, you say, “Is there some reason you had to come all the way to my apartment and bug me for the script when I will see you first thing in the morning?”

“Everyone else will have had theirs longer, and I wanted to get a good start on learning my lines, so yes, I have a good reason for ‘bugging’ you, Y/N.”

You hate the way he says your name. It passes his lips so softly every time and makes your heart speed faster than your liking. If another man said your name like that, you’d fall for him in an instant, but no, Henry seemed to be the only man possessing that thick, honey-sweet voice.

“Whatever,” You groan and turn on your heel. In your office desk are two extra copies of each actors’ script for emergencies, but a simple text from Henry would’ve sufficed; this is hardly life or death.

‘Hey, never got my script. Can you bring a copy in the morning?’ So damn easy.

You turn your head back when Henry’s heavy footsteps hit your hardwood floors. “Hey, I didn’t say you could come in,” You snap, eyebrows drawn together.

“What kind of person would leave their guest outside?”

The sass in his tone makes you want to pull your hair right out of your scalp. “You’re not my guest,” You say, but your blatant aggravation does nothing to hinder him and his body is a foot away from yours before you know it. Inches he has on you forces you to look up just to meet the smirk on his face.

“Stop acting like you hate me,” He says as he reaches a hand to grab yours.

“Excuse me?!” You quickly swat that hand away. “I am not acting like anything! Any negative feelings you are sensing from me are one hundred percent genuine.”

Henry scoffs and crosses his arms once again. “Oh, please.”

Your jaw drops in disbelief. He is unbelievable. Everything he does, everything he says, everything he is has had the power to make your whole body shake since the day you met him. “God, I can’t stand you!”

Walking away from him for the office, he follows close behind. “You know what, you’re not all that great either!” He yells at your back as you open the drawer of your desk to shuffle through the scripts. “You yap all damn day, talking to everyone else on set and making them laugh! You shoot that pretty smile in any direction and people flock to you like deranged birds!”

“So!” You pull out the script and hand it to Henry. Without giving it a glance, he snatches it from you and tosses it back on the oak wood surface of the desk.

“So? You’re distracting them from their jobs! We could probably get things done twice as fast if you weren’t around!”

“That’s—”

“And you are annoyingly beautiful!” He harshly interrupts. “Annoyingly! The men we work with will not shut up about it and I’m sick of listening to them talk about you the way they do! I end up hearing your name more times in a day than I hear my own, and I get called upon every five seconds! I’m practically forced to think about you!”

You blink at the increase in volume that makes the thin walls of your home quiver.

“I don’t know how many times your face manages to flash in my mind in the course of a week, but it’s starting to get to me!”

Your hands rise in disbelief before they slap back down to your sides. “That’s not my fault! But you’re one to talk! You’re well aware you’re ridiculously, unnaturally hot, and I fucking hate it! The women we work with won’t shut up about you. And you think I’m annoying? Imagine being surrounded by a pack of idiots that go on and on about how amazing you are, when the truth is, you’re so arrogant I can’t stand to be within two feet of you!”

When you try to walk past him, his hand wraps tightly around your upper arm. “Hey!”

“Leave me alone! I hate you!” You snarl at the rage in his eyes and try to shake him off you.

“You don’t hate me.”

You glare up at him. “Oh no?”

He gapes at you, seemingly stunned you have the gall to challenge him. The grip on your arm loosens until you are free. Winding his fingers through his chocolate locks, Henry shakes his head and clenches his jaw. “You are so...”

“So what? So irritating? So infuriating?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“If I’m such a problem, then go.” Ignoring his words, you point a finger in the general direction of the nearest exit.

“You want me to leave?”

“Yes! Of course, I do!”

He quirks an eyebrow and cocks his head. “So you’re going to grab me with your tiny hands and throw me through the front door, is that right?”

“I can’t fucking lift you!” You yell.

“Then I’m staying!”

“I think you’re really not! You can’t just demand to stay here! That’s not how this works!”

“Why can’t you just—God damn it!” He stomps his way back into the living room, script forgotten, and reaches for the doorknob. You follow him and let out an exhausted breath of relief, but Henry whips around to you again before you have time to revel in the feeling. “You know what, no. I’m not going anywhere until we settle this bullshit between us. I’m not going to argue with you anymore. I’m not going to act like I dislike you. I’m not going to keep playing this game, because it’s clearly not getting me anywhere; in fact, it’s doing the opposite.”

“Getting you anywhere?” You mumble.

“This whole thing is fucking bullshit and I’m over it.” He swallows. “Tell me what I did.”

“What?”

“You keep saying you hate me but have never given me a reason, so what did I do?”

Your jaw drops. “Are you kidding? You were just telling me I suck at my job, yet at the same time you don’t think I have a reason to be mad. You glare at me during work, you act like I’m an inconvenience, you—”

“That’s not what I mean.” Henry grabs your hand, and for a reason you couldn’t place, you allow it this time. “At the beginning, when we met, what was it that caused a problem between us? I’ve gone over our first meeting in my head about a thousand times and cannot figure out how I upset you so much that you’re still mad after months.”

You slip your fingers out of his palm, looking to the floor.

“Please just tell me,” He begs. “Please, I--”

“You sleep with the women you work with.” You spit out.

When he stares at you in confusion, you wince and say, “I have this friend…kinda. She was an extra on Hellraiser and claimed that you slept with nearly every woman on set, herself included. When I told her I got this job she said you’d probably try to get in my pants if I wasn’t careful, and I’m not cautious enough about men as it is, so—”

“You were mad at me before we met for something I didn’t even do?” He isn’t angry or looking at you like you’ve lost your mind; more like he can’t believe that was all it was. As if he had a simple solution to the problem that planted its roots deep into the both of you months prior.

“Whether or not you did, it’s not like you’ve been an angel to me anyway,” You say.

“Because I fucking panic when someone I want doesn’t want me! And you’ve made it very clear that you do not want me! You always seem so angry and…and I’m not very smooth, ok!? I say shit I don’t mean!”

“So you do want to get in my pants?”

“No!” He says quickly, then after a beat, sighs. “Yes.”

You give no response, so he continues.

“I swear, despite how idiotic I have acted, I really like you, and I don’t know who your friend is or why she would tell you I slept with a bunch of women on set, but I didn’t.”

You have to look away from him. His eyes hold too much sincerity and all it does is confuse you. You have spent too much time pissed to feel comfortable with the idea that it was potentially all for no reason, so you hug your arms across your middle and take a step back from him.

“Y/N, we need to talk about this.”

You shake your head. “I can’t right now.”

“Y/N—”

“It’s late, Henry. I’ll see you in the morning.”

You won’t meet his stare but can see from your peripherals his head slowly nod. You don’t look up until your front door closes softly behind him.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You spend the earliest hours of the next morning sipping coffee before everyone else arrives for work, wondering if the night before actually happened or if it had just been a very realistic messy mix of a dream and a nightmare.

The sun rises and you watch as it ascends each inch until it’s planted high enough in the sky to warm your skin. He’d be here soon, looking for you, wanting answers for any questions you hadn’t given him the chance to ask.

So, what, he likes me now? He wants me? You can’t wrap your head around it. But you suppose it makes as much sense as you saying you hate him when really what you’ve been is nervous. You don’t want to be used again by some man with more power than you. Pulling yourself out of that hole was hard enough and you have no desire to trip and fall right back in.

“Y/N. You’re here early.”

You jump at the first voice to interrupt the peaceful silence. It was the last moment you’ll have to yourself for the next fifteen hours at least.

Turning your head, you smile at your boss. “Morning, Em.”

“Henry’s here early, too,” She says. “He asked me to let him know when you came in, but seeing as you’re already here, you think you could just head to his trailer now?”

No, you want to say. I’m not ready. “Sure.” You half-heartedly smile, dumping the last of your coffee in the nearest trash can.

Each crunchy step along the gravel to Henry’s trailer feels less sturdy than the one before. Though, he isn’t in his trailer when you find him, but standing out in a grassy patch, throwing a ball to Em’s dog, Leo. It makes your heart pump hard to see him so casually soft. It’s the first time you are looking at him when his eyes aren’t already on you.

Leo loyally returns the ball to Henry three more times before you gather the nerve to step up to his side.

“Em said you wanted to see me.”

You notice him hold in a breath when he registers your voice, then tossing the ball once more, he says, “I’d have gone looking for you myself if I knew you were here.”

You nod, but you’ve yet to look at one another.

“The makeup artists are gonna have a blast today trying to make me look decent,” He says.

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t sleep all night. I spent it trying to figure out what to say to you but came up short.”

You scratch behind Leo’s large ears when he nudges your legs with his head. Henry gently grins, though you don’t see it. You shrug. “At least you don’t have as many scenes today.”

Henry chuckles. “That’s true.”

“I couldn’t think of anything to say to you either,” You say.

A moment passes as he blows out a deep sigh.

“Y/N…I don’t want to act like it didn’t happen. I know that’s what is easiest, but I meant what I said. The good parts, not the shit about you sucking at your job. You’re the best at your job.”

Finally meeting his eyes, the corners of your lips curve up just a bit.

“But I don’t expect you to feel the same about me.”

“Henry…”

He shakes his head and throws the ball for Leo after the pups persistent whimpering. “I’m not going to make things hard for you. Filming is almost over anyway and if you want, I’ll try to bother you as little as I can. I’m sorry I’ve been an ass, it’s just…you like everyone around here except me, but I’ve liked you more than anyone else since the moment we met. It’s no excuse--”

“It’s ok.”

He looks at you. “It’s not.”

“It is.” Without thinking, you place a hand on his arm. He stares at the touch you give him as you continue. “I didn’t have a good reason for treating you like I hate you, not really.”

“So, you don’t…hate me?”

“…No.” You look away in shame. “And I have a better explanation for that.”

He blinks, clearly relieved that every horrible thing he figured you felt for him was not, in your heart, the truth. “You don’t owe me one.”

“I slept with my boss once,” You rush out. “And, um…got the same warning as I did with you: sleeps with the other women he works with, will try to do the same with me. He did and I let him because I thought he liked me, but…no. All it did was make me feel like an idiot in the end.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I made a mistake.” You shrug. And suddenly, admitting that out loud, confiding in someone, knocks some of the painful gears in your head loose. You’d never told anyone the truth about your past. “Look, this is going to sound really odd but,” You swallow. “…Don’t stop bothering me.”

“Wait,” He turns his body fully to you. “What?”

Your lips thin, but then you smile, inch up on your toes, and go to kiss his cheek. All you wanted to do was provide a little reassurance, to let him know that you now forgive every misunderstanding between you, but the kiss lands a little too far to the right and covers the end of his mouth.

Immediately, you pull back a few centimeters and feel heat flushing your cheeks, but Henry tilts his head the slightest. He takes a breath, giving you a chance to pull back further, but when you make no move to abandon him, he connects your lips again.

It feels good. He feels good. So good it shocks you how much you don’t want it to end. And when you part your lips and his tongue touches yours, you can’t stop your hands from sliding up his chest before roping around his neck and tugging him closer. Only then does he greedily grab at your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh through the fabric of your t-shirt.  

Leo’s bark separates you minutes later, though you’re reluctant to allow it. You glance at the dog, chuckling at his rapidly wagging tail as he watches the scene before him. But when you look back to Henry, his eyes are already glued to you, their hue a little brighter and a small smile on his face.

“I’ll bother you as much as you like,” He says and tucks a wayward strand of hair behind your ear.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*reposted for tag testing reasons. 

[dp-marvel94]

Fractured

For the Phic Phight 2021.

Prompt by @blueoatmeal. Fracture: At his creation, he was a fusion of two mismatched halves. Now, the Dark Phantom is split into two pieces again.

Word Count: 4828

Also on A03 and Fanfiction.net

Warnings for suicide mention, mention of blood, general TUE timeline awefullness

This took me so long to finish but I'm done. I've actually really wanted to write something like this for a while. It's also inspired this post, a conversation with @all-out-disney based on a prompt by @danphanwritingprompts.

When he had first been created, it was painful. The combination of two mismatched parts, two fractured pieces that never should have come together to form a whole. In the beginning, Phantom and Plasmius had fought against each other. Everything had been confusion and pain. So much information, so many memories and sensations clashing together. The two had nearly fallen apart at the start. But the thing holding them together? Anger.

Kill it! Kill the brat!

No! No! The new being’s hands held their head while it screamed.

Weak! It was his fault! In his head, one voice screamed. His fault they’re gone.

His fault? The other voice asked, the words echoing in their head.

An enraged hiss. His fault! His fault! 

They’re gone.

Gone! He threw us away! 

A fresh memory. Being ripped out of his body, his souls being pulled apart. Oozing, bleeding. A pain in his inmost being.

He threw us away...But...

In front of the lanky, blue skinned ghost, a blue-eyed boy trembled. Danny’s human half whimpered. “Please! Stay away!”

Quick! Do it now! In the air, the new ghost twitched, hunched over in pain.

But...I don’t want to-

He didn’t want us. Didn’t want us. Pain. Pain. His fault.

That licked at their anger. He didn’t want me. A growl. This was supposed to fix things, supposed to make the pain go away.

It’s his fault.

The human pressed up against the wall, his breath quickening. “No. This is wrong. This is wrong.”

“This is your fault.” The new being hissed, his voice a sick, twisted echo of the human’s.

Danny shook, eyes widening. “No. I didn’t...I didn’t want this.”

I didn’t want this. One voice echoed the human’s words.

Kill him! Before he destroys us!

Shakily, one hand lit with an ectoblast. Their eyes widened with terror even as a wicked grin stretched across their face.

No! I don’t-

The being shot the blast anyway. Danny screamed as the energy burned him. He scrambled to get away, his hands reaching for something to protect himself with. He grabbed a green and silver device and jabbed it at the ghost.

The flaming-haired figure growled in pain. It hurt. Everything hurt. It wasn’t supposed to hurt anymore.

Make the pain go away. Destroy the weakness.

Weakness. The part of them that was, that had been Phantom, remembered. Pain. Too weak, too slow, too stupid to save them. Curled on his bed, crying until he couldn’t breath. Wishing he could just die. There’ll be no pain if he’s dead.

Die then. The part that was Plasmuis, remembered. His phone dropped out of his numb gripp. He never got his revenge, never got Maddie as his bride. Listening to Daniel weep, the boy broken, withering away. Pathetic, weak.

Anger surged at the sight in front of them, worsened by the pain of the attack. The new ghost lunged, red hot rage coalescing the battling thoughts into a single line, a single drive.

Make the pain go away.

The human Danny never had a chance.

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

The new ghost settled, smoothing out into something like one being. He grew in power and ability. He didn’t worry about things like names. Everyone who really knew where he’d come from was dead. As was his past. His past didn’t matter. (But it did. It did. It still hurt so much. He still missed his parents. His dear Maddie, the oaf Jack. Sam and Tucker. Daniel’s little friends. His sister. Jasmine.)

No, that didn’t matter. None of it mattered. None. All there was, all that matter was his work. He had important work to do. He needed to amass more power so he could take what he wanted, do what he wanted. And what he wanted? For the pain to go away, at a global, no, a universal scale. No one would hurt if they all were dead.

He was never supposed to exist. Really all things considered, he shouldn’t. He was two fragments clinging to each other. (But...that gap, that hole it was still there. It was still there. He shouldn’t have killed Danny Fenton. He missed...he missed Danny. He missed being Danny). He was better without those weak human halves (Lie.) He was never supposed to exist  and yet...here he was. And he would do what he needed to.

Years passed. The new ghost, called The Dark Phantom or just Phantom by his enemies and victims, (The name sickened him.) raged. He killed and maimed and destroyed. Ghosts were warped by his hand. Blood was spilled. The world was ravaged. He tried to destroy humanity but they were resilient. (He should stop. He needed to stop. He didn’t want this.)

He started collecting objects of power. The crown of fire. The ring of rage. He destroyed the Ghost King. The Infinite Realms were under his thumb. 

And then...he discovered the Reality Gauntlet.

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

The Dark Phantom floated over the ravaged battlefield. Builds crumbled around him, the smell of smoke and fresh spilled blood filling his nose. He grinned wickedly, clutching his prize in his hands. The humans had fought to keep it from them, they really had. Those idiotic GIW had hid it deep underground years before, their only intelligent action before he’d overpowered them. They’d destroyed all physical and digital records of it.

But he’d found it. He’d found the Reality Gauntlet anyway, killing and destroying anyone and anything in his path. Even now, his greatest human enemy, Valerie Gray the Ghost Slayer, laid dead at his feet. Even she’d fallen in the futile attempt to keep ultimate power out of his hands.But she’d failed. They all had failed. And now he held the glove in his gasp.

The ghost laughed evilly. And now he could have anything, anything at all he wanted. He floated higher, looking towards something at the horizon at the green glow of a ghost shield. Within that barrier laid Amity Park, the last resistance, humanities’ last stronghold. And now he could destroy it. One thought and he could destroy everything.

The ghost flew closer, coming to stop at a hill overlooking the city. It was a rare bare area, free of the usual twisted metal and broken concrete of apocalyptic landscape. Instead, there was just knee length grass. He landed and slid the glove onto his right hand.

Now, how did he want to do this? How did he want to destroy this thorn in his side? Fire? Nuclear explosion? Maybe he should freeze it solid? Not that was stupid. Asteroid impact? Suck it into a black hole? Maybe he should just suck the whole planet into a black hole. The ghost tapped his chin. He had always wondered what that would be like. What did a black hole actually look like in person? What would it be like to fall into one? What would it feel like? Would you really sit at the event horizon and watch all of time for the rest of the universe pass in the eternal moment before you were ripped apart?

The Dark Phantom shivered. There was the space nerdiness again. It did love to rear its head at the strangest moments. He shook his head. He needed to focus on how he would destroy his hometown. The place where he’d grown up, where he’d learned to ride a bike and meet his friends. Where he’d watched the stars and gone to high school and where he’d died the first time. Where his friends and family had died. 

The images flashed in his mind and the ghost pinched his eyes closed. A fiery explosion, concrete and metal, his pounding heart as he stood intangible in the middle of the wreckage. (He should have died with them.) Numb, sitting with the paramedics. Shock, they said. It was weeks before he spoke again. Standing in the rain, the two half ghosts together. Danny hadn’t even had the energy to flinch away when Vlad had put his hand on his shoulder, smuggly smiling down at the boy. Staring at the grave. Graves that were on the other side of the shield.

The ghost shivered, pushing the images away. No, stop that. Stop that. He would destroy them. He’d destroy the graves and the city. The plants that Sam loved so much, all the technology that Tucker tinkered with. Every single last book that his sister, Jasmine, studied. Every, single damn blasted ghost that his parents, his dear friends, were obsessed with. He’d destroy all of it, all of it damn it. He pressed the Gaunlet’s gems in sequence. He’d never have to look at their graves, remember any painful memory ever again.

The Dark Phantom pressed his will into the gems. With his eyes closed, his fractured soul poured its deepest desire into the glove. Power surged out of the Gauntlet, the smell of ozone burning the air. The ghost braced himself. It would happen any second now, the one thing he wanted. It would be his and all of this would be over. But...there was nothing. No heat, no cold, no explosion, no screaming, no crying. Nothing.

Instead, there were five soft thumps in front of him and one behind him. The ghost didn’t dare look yet. Then finally, after what felt like forever, there was a gasp. The ghost opened his eyes and his jaw dropped. There in front of him were five people. Each was sitting on the ground, rubbing their heads. None were looking at him yet. But his eyes flickered between the figures.

This couldn’t….this couldn’t be. It couldn’t...He knew...No...He didn’t….he didn’t. They couldn’t be...these weren’t….but….

Sam? Tucker? He wanted to ask, but the words choked him. He glanced between the two. Sam, who was staring angrily at the ruined environment. Tucker, who was taking his glasses on and off, as if that would change what he was seeing. 

But the image didn’t change, no matter how many times the ghost blinked. Here they were. They were really here, right in front of him. His (Daniel’s little) best friends. These two who’d been with him through it all. Through tests and projects and long days at the arcade and the waterpark. Through the accident. Through the power malfunctions and the late night ghost fighting. (No, he’s been alone. His friends had left him in that hospital to rot.)  Through injuries and secrets and- 

“Madds? Where are we?” Dad’s (Jack’s) cut through. 

The ghost’s eyes widened. It was his Dad. His Dad! The man who read him bedtime stories and chased away the ‘ghosts’ in the closet and hugged him close when he was scared. (That oaf always ate all the food he’d bought from himself! He made a mess of the dormroom.) 

The ghost whined, clenching his head. It ached with the contradictions. Happiness, relief, pure joy, the love of a child for their parents. Dad had taught him how to tie a tie and had driven him to the movies and took him stargazing. Anger, Hatred, The Longing for vengeance. (He stole the love of his life! He couldn’t obey the most basic laboratory safety!)

“I don’t know.” Mom’s (Maddie’s) voice cut through. She rapidly looked side to side, eyes widening with fear. “How did we get here?”

His Mom, his core sang. His mom. The woman who’d kissed his bo-bos and made him cookies and taught him self defense and took him out for milkshakes. (The most beautiful woman he’d ever laid his eyes on.)

Head throbbing, the ghost doubled over, feeling sick. No. NO! That was wrong. This was wrong. No.

“Ghost!” Dad (the oaf) suddenly yelled.

The sound of feet stomping towards him. “You! Do you bring us here, ghost?”

The ghost looked up, shakingly meeting the woman’s (beautiful) purple eyes. “Yes...no...I..I..” His insides churned, painfully as he shrunk back from her angry glare. This was his mom. She was supposed to be happy to see him. He’d brought her back. Now he could finally steal her from Jack. The ghost growled. “Shut up.”

“What did you say to me?!” Mom glared, pulling an ectogun from her holster.

“Mo-addie.” The ghost cried, his quickly fragmenting mind switching between the two names. He stumbled backwards as Sam and Tucker finally seemed to notice the adults. 

“Mrs. F!” Tucker exclaimed. 

“Mr. Fenton!” Sam shakily stood up, rushing to the man.

“Sam. Tuck.” The ghost whispered. He was shaking, his knees knocking together. It hurt. His insides hurt. This was...he was wrong. This wasn’t...he wasn’t...this didn’t….

Mom...Maddie...Mom continued pointing the gun at him. “Where are we?”

He groaned, falling to his knees. The flame of his hair flickered erratically.

In front of him, Jack...Dad...Jack...had run to the still unconscious Jazz. He shook her roughly and the girl groaned. Sam and Tucker found the pair, helping the older teen sit up. 

“Who are you?” Mom spat out.

Who? Who...he didn’t….

Jazz blinked, taking in her surroundings. She then turned to the side, her eyes falling on his. Her gaze flickered to the emblem on his chest. Her mouth feels open. “Danny?” She whispered.

His mind stopped. Danny? That was (not) his name. Or it had been. (No it wasn’t). It had been his name. No. He...he missed...he missed that name. (That brat, that fool, pathetic). The ghost whined, his insides revolting. His eyes flickered. Red. Green. Red. Green. The black and white on his suit swirled, shifted.

“Danny.” Jazz repeated, more certain.

The ghost nodded. Then he shook his head. Yes. No. Both. Neither. Both….Yes...No...

“What...what’s happening to him?” Tucker asked fearfully.

What was happening?! What was happening?! He wrapped his arms around his middle as if that could hold him together. Maybe….no…

“Never mind that!” Sam hissed. “What happened to us? How did we get here?”

“The last thing I remember is….” Jazz’s eyes widened with shock and pain. “We...we..all of us, we….”

“You all died.” A voice, a new voice behind him, whispered. 

The ghost tensed, stiffening. He shook torn between wanting desperately to look and being terrified (disgusted) with what he’d see because-

“You all...you all died.” The young male voice choked out again.

That voice, it was so familiar. It was...it was...Rapidly, Jazz, Sam, and Tucker looked between the ghost and the figure standing behind him.

Shakily, Jazz stood, her eyes focusing on the speaker behind the ghost. "Danny?" Her eyes flickered to Dark Phantom (?) again. "You're both…. How are you…?" She stuttered, unable to ask the vital question.

But the ghost knew what she was asking. He knew who was behind him but-

"Jazz." Feet shuffled towards him. "You're...you're alive. You're all alive." A whisper. "I'm...I'm alive."

The ghost felt a sensation, so similar, almost like a heart skipping a beat. Shakily, he started to turn. 

It made sense, in a strange way, for him to have brought back his friends and family (but why would he care about Daniel's little friends or that oaf?) A shake of the head. No, stop that. It did make sense. It did. But bringing HIM back?

Another foot step sounded behind, to his left. The ghost's eyes finally met the speaker's eyes, familiar blue eyes.

Danny, Danny Fenton, identical to the the day he died, stood in front of him. The boy stared at him with a complicated expression. Fear, shock, confusion, awe. It was all there. He blinked, lip twitching. "You….you brought me back." 

His core squeezed and pulsed, his form rippling as pain shot through him. Danny Fenton. He'd brought Danny Fenton (himself, his human half; the insolent brat) back to life. Back to life. Because he never should have killed him in the first place. (Why shouldn't he have?) No! He shouldn't have! That was a mistake! A mistake! The pain was supposed to go away when he destroyed his humanity but it did, it didn't! 

His whole body was smoking, cracks forming along his skin. The ache had just grown, gap yawning wider. Instead of being whole, complete, he...they...were two fragments clinging together for stability, for survival. He wasn't supposed to exist like this.

Questions, demands were buzzing around him but there was no registering the words. In front of him, Danny was rapidly backing away, eyes widening with fear.

Danny. Daniel. An arrogant hiss. He missed Danny, he missed being Danny. He missed being alive. No he didn't, that was ridiculous.

"No!" A roar, two voices screaming at once.

The being writhed, hastily made connection tearing. They weren't supposed to exist like this. So they didn't.

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

Phantom and Plasmius broke apart, flying in opposite directions. The younger ghost skidded across the grass before careening to a stop. He curled in on himself, shaking and whining. 

Around him, alarmed and confused questions rose in volume but he couldn't hear over the brief sound of someone cackling and the sound of his sobs.

Wait, sobs? When had he started crying? He sniffled, a tear falling down his face. Yep, crying. He was crying. He shook, great emotion overcoming him. Horror, sorrow, grief, guilt. He...he remembered everything, all the horrible things he'd done with Plasmius.

"Danny! Danny! Get away from the ghost!" Mom was yelling.

Sneakered feet approached, a lithe figure falling to his knees in front of Phantom. Warm, peach colored hands reached out, grabbing his arms and pulling him into a seated position. 

The emotions intensified, hitting the ghost like a brick wall. A double memory. Killing his human half. Being killed by his ghost half. The first murder of his reign of terror. His botched yet successful suicide. It was excruciating, tearing his soul from both sides.

"I..I…" Phantom gasped, finally meeting the blue eyes through the tears. 

"You and Plasmius...you killed me." Fenton said without accusation.

"I...I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Phantom begged. The words didn't cover it at all, the width and depth of his iniquity, of the travesties he'd committed in his insanity.

"I asked you to." Fenton whispered, looking down guiltily. "I wanted to die." He shifted, pulling Phantom towards him. "Oh god. I shouldn't have split us. I shouldn't have done that."

The ghost didn't resist as Fenton wrapped his arms around him. Instead, he clung to the human as if he would disappear. "I shouldn't...I shouldn't have joined Plasmius. I shouldn't have killed you." His core spasmed, again threatening to fracture under the strain. "I shouldn't...oh god I...I destroyed everything." 

He could barely comprehend what he and Plasmius had done, all he'd been through. And the guilt wared with other feelings at the edge of his perception. Part of him wanted to be hopeful, happy even if it was so abominably selfish. He'd missed being human, being alive. He missed being Danny Fenton. But…. Danny Fenton was in front of him, his still living soul and body pressed up against his chest. He'd brought himself back to life.

And his friends and family. They were behind him. Sam, Tucker, and Jazz were holding his parents back and offering them cursory explanations. For a brief moment, Phantom wondered; how did Jazz know his secret? 

But then the greater issue reared its head. His loved ones didn't know what was going on here. They didn't know the world he'd dragged them into. And now, they didn't need two broken, inconsolable pieces. They needed all of him. They needed Danny.

Phantom breathed, pulling this human self closer as he felt Fenton's agreement. He relaxed, feeling his body become tingling and numb. He let go of tangibly, becoming nothing more than a cloud. He was fog being burned away by the morning light. No, he was a cup of water poured back into the lake he'd come from. He was liquid, spreading out, diffusing into a larger body of water, the newly added molecules indistinguishable from the old. Phantom dissolved.

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

There was a flash of light. Danny Fenton-Phantom remained frozen on his knees. His arms wrapped around himself as he cried. 

This didn't feel like the last time, with the ghost catcher. Then, when he'd finally come back to himself, there had been relief, the feeling of coming home after a long, tiring day. But now, it still hurt. He was home but he didn't belong here, didn't deserve this. He looked up, heart throbbing with love for his family and friends. He didn't deserve them but they needed him.

Shakily, with great effort, Danny pushed himself to his feet. He met his sister's eyes and she ran to him. Finally the two hugged.

"Jazz." He sniffed.

"Little brother." The girl squeezed him.

"I love you so much." He vowed.

The rest approached, his eyes flickering among each person one at a time. "Sam. Tucker." A pause. Finally. "Mom. Dad."

"Danny." Mom's voice rang with a dozen emotions as she joined the hug. "My baby boy."

"I love you. I love you so much. " Danny repeated as his loved ones surrounded him in an embrace. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I love you. I love you guys. I'm sorry. "

The others muttered much the same, assurances of love and apologies. Danny never wanted it to end but it did as the group pulled apart.

His loved ones looked around, faces pale with worry. Finally Tucker asked. "Dude, what happened here?" 

"Was it the ghosts?" Dad asked, alarmed.

Danny flinched at the words. Guilty, he looked down.

Sam bit her lip. "Was it Plasmius?"

Somehow, the boy curled in on himself even more. "It was me." He muttered.

Danny paled, bracing himself. He expected horror and disgust. Accusation. Hateful sneers. And he would deserve it, all of it. But instead, the group stared at him in disbelief.

"Dude, there's no way." Tucker started.

"You couldn't have done this." Sam denied, perfectly confident.

"I did. It was me." Danny whined. "You all were gone and I was all alone. And I just...I was so angry." He gnawed on his lip. "And I just wanted to stop hurting but it didn't work and I thought…." He trailed off. 

Thinking back, the rationale didn't make sense. He couldn't grasp it, couldn't understand what his, his and Plasmius' motivation had been. The thoughts  seemed to slip through his fingers, refusing to stay in his brain. Danny wasn't sure whether or not that was a good thing.

"It couldn't have been just you." Jazz softly said, drawing him out of his thoughts. Her hand gently wrapped around his arm. "We saw what happened with that blue skinned ghost." She whispered, as if this was a tightly kept secret.

Nervously, Danny’s eyes flickered to his parents who looked confused and deeply troubled. It was actually surprising that they hadn’t pointed the ectogun at him again, not after they apparently saw his ghost and human halves fuse back together. Obviously, his sister or friends explained that to them and they somehow believed it, or were too overwhelmed to really process. But the bigger problem? Everyone saw the fusion of Phantom and Plasmius fall apart. Again, he shivered at the memory of being even a part of that monster.

“So you and Plasmius….” Sam trailed off, nose wrinkling in disgust.

That disgust was justified, the very idea repulsive. But he’d been angry and desperate after the split. He, the Phantom part, had wanted to be stronger. Because if he had been, then maybe everyone wouldn’t have died. He’d been so angry at the older half ghost, for all the shit Vlad had put him through. And he’d been in so much pain. Vlad was so cold, so unfeeling. If he could be like that, if he could just be numb and selfish for once-

Danny couldn’t bear to say any of that, instead changing the subject. “Plasmius, where did he go?” He looked around, seeing no trace of the other ghost. His brow wrinkled in sudden alarm. “And where’s the Gauntlet?”

“Gauntlet?” His mom blinked, brow furrowing at the question.

Jazz frowned. “That glove thing? Plasmius took it, when he flew off.”

Danny’s heart skipped a beat. He flew off. With the Gauntlet. And he hadn’t noticed until now. No one had said anything either. And….the other ghost could do anything with the reality altering item.

Shakily, the half ghost pulled away from his loved ones. “I need to go after him.” With a thought, he summoned the rings around his waist. His parents’ eyes both widened in alarm while the others looked concerned. He ignored the looks, transforming and floating off the ground.

Danny took an unneeded breath, looking around for any sign of Plasmius in the distance. Which direction would he have gone? The boy frowned, considering. But he didn’t know. He’d just have to set off in one direction and hope he could find him and get the Gauntlet back. He looked around, flinching at the destruction. He’d used it to bring his loved ones back but he still needed it to-

Something blue and white appeared on the horizon, rapidly approaching. The half ghost flinched, recognizing the figure. He shifted in the air, floating to stand between his friends and family and the approaching ghost. Taking a fighting stance, Danny balled his fists and lit them with ectoenergy.

Moments later, Plasmius materialized in front of him. “Daniel.” He looked down at the boy distastefully. “I see you’ve managed to pull yourself back together.”

The boy frowned. “Yes.” He warily eyed the Gauntlet clenched in the other ghost’s hands. “What are you gonna do with that?”

The vampiric ghost scowled. He silently floated for a moment, before his form seemed to glitch, flickering like a broken TV.  His face briefly scrunched up in pain, nose wrinkling. Then his expression smoothed out, turning into something forcefully neutral. He heavily dropped the glove at Danny’s feet. “Fix this.”

The boy stared down at the Gauntlet, blinking in confusion. He bent down and grabbed it, tightly holding the object in his hand.

Behind him, Tucker asked. “Why didn’t he just use it? Ow! Sam!” Obviously, the girl had elbowed him.

Plasmius said nothing, still scowling while Danny considered. Why didn’t the man use it himself? The other ghost’s image flickered again, causing him to let out a low hiss of pain.

“You can’t.” Danny finally said, realization hitting him. “You’re too unstable.” 

It was the other reason their dark version stayed together. Both halves would have faded away, destabilizing into ectoplasm within minutes. And there would have been no solution. Phantom had killed his other half. And Plasmius’ was somewhere in Wisconsin, too far away to be of any help now.

“Fix this.” The other ghost growled again, looking at something in the distance.

This time, there was a greater weight to the words. It wasn’t just a request to be stabilized. It was a demand for more. To clean up the rest of the mess they’d made together.

Danny slipped on the glove. Looking down, he pressed the gems in sequence. Fix this. He needed to fix this. He could fix the damage, heal the people he’d hurt, bring back those who were gone. But…. he remembered his loved ones’ haunted expressions. The horror with which they looked around the destitute environment. 

The halfa closed his eyes, knowing what he needed to do. He took a breath and pushed his desire into gems. The world went white.

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

Danny Fenton woke up in his bed, the remnants of a long nightmare in his mind. The boy groaned, burying his face in his pillow. 

“Danny!” His mom called through the door. “Get up.”

The boy didn’t respond, groaning again. 

At that, the woman opened the door. “Danny. You have to get up. You’re taking the CAT today.”

CAT? His brow furrowed at the information. He was taking the CAT. Slowly, the half ghost sat up. 

“Good.” His mother nodded. “Breakfast is ready downstairs. Go ahead and get dressed.”

After she closed the door, Danny stood. He started getting dressed as she said. His brow still furrowed with confusion. His dream. He’d been dreaming about? He couldn’t quite remember, except it had been horrible. A sense of dread overcame him. And...he needed to fix something. He had to fix something.

Danny pulled on his shirt. He then turned, grabbing his bookbag. It fell open, revealing a manila envelope. Guilt squeezed his heart. The CAT test answers. He picked up the sheet, stuffing it back inside his bag. 

Dread passed through him again, his stomach flopping. He still needed to fix something. But it couldn’t just be about his cheating, right? There was something else.

“Danny! Your father’s going to eat all the bacon if you don’t hurry up.” Mom called.

Danny frowned. Whatever it was, he would figure it out and everything would be okay. Right?