#but never in a million years are you like ah yes my son has been crane wifing it this whole time

[lesbianfakir]

If fakir succeeds in turning duck human what the FUCK does that look like from charon’s perspective like.

Your son brings home a fully naked woman who’s now dripping pond water all over your floor. She has no home no family no possessions she doesn’t even own CLOTHES. You swear you’ve never met this woman before but something about her is vaguely familiar? Your son is talking to her like he’s known her all his life. Cherry on the fucking cake she has the same name as your son’s duck that he adores. You’re never going to see that goddamn duck again.

[imfinereallyy]

Bedside Manner

for @acasualcrossfade request for "the infection has spread"

"Some birdie told me that you have been causing a fuss, Wayne, is that true?"

Wayne huffs from his hospital bed, glasses sliding down his nose. He places the newspaper he was reading on the table beside him. "You tell that Robbie of yours to stop exaggerating. It was only a small request."

Steve raises his eyebrows at his favorite patient (Dustin tells him he isn't supposed to have favorites, but he also used to cry anytime he picked up Max before him when they were younger, so what does he know) and gives him a knowing look. "Robin listens to no man, Wayne, you know this. You're better off sending that message through her wife. Besides, small? She was telling me you refused to have any other nurse help you because I wasn't here last night. Which surprised me since you are always pushing me on about taking a vacation. "

Wayne opens his mouth, but Steve presses on. "And the fact Robin was even in the room means they called a psych consult, so I can only imagine how bad it was."

Wayne grumbles like a little kid being scolded for getting his hands caught in the cookie jar. "Yea, well, it was a bad night, kid."

Steve feels his shoulders sag, he takes off his glasses and rubs a hand down his face before placing them back on. "Sorry, Wayne, I had a bad migraine last night. Nance and Robs wouldn't even let me pass the entrance. Bad news?"

"Kid, don't stress yourself out over me. I'm just your patient, and more so, I am just a cranky old man." Wayne patted Steve's knee as he sat down next to him.

"C'mon, Wayne. You're more than that. I'd like to think seeing you in and out of here the last year has made us friends. Although I gotta say, you're the only friend I have that I'll be glad if I don't get to see again, given the circumstances. So, what's the news?"

"The infection has spread."

Steve takes in a deep breath, he tries not to panic, but any infection in a hospital can be deadly, especially for a cancer patient like Wayne. "Incision site?"

Steve must not be as good at hiding his emotions as he used to be because Wayne jumps to ease his worry. "No, kid, don't worry. The surgery was a success. Just got that hospital fever, the good old bronchitis. But it just means I'm here longer than I have to. It also means my nephew is on edge, and I don't know if I can take a second longer of his hovering."

Steve laughed wetly, thankful for the topic change. "Ah yes, the mysterious nephew of yours that I've never met. The way you talk about him almost tempts me into switching to the day shift, sounds like he might be entertaining. But only almost."

"Always wondered why you were always working the nights, most of the others seem to switch. Not a big fan of the day?"

Steve shakes his head gently, "No, I like the quiet here at night. Like getting to know the patients without having to worry about fixing ten million things. Don't get me wrong, it has its downfalls. Like the doctors can be horrible at night, never tell Dr. Wheeler that or Robbie will kill me, and the food is awful. But there is something special about it here at night. So sorry, your ridiculous nephew isn't enough to tempt me."

Wayne smirked, "What if I told you he was a looker and single?"

Steve blushes slightly. He is used to patients trying to pawn him off to their relatives, it came with being a young male nurse, but typically it didn't phase him. But Steve has become close with Wayne, so hearing him suggest he get together with his nephew has him flustered. "I'm good, Wayne, thanks. Gave up on the dating scene a while ago. Not many people can keep up with a guy who works nights and suffers from severe head trauma."

"Shame, Eddie likes the nights too. I'd reckon yal would get along."

"I'm pretty sure we would need more than that, Wayne."

Wayne smiles fondly at Steve. "You don't need a whole lot to build a connection, son. Me and Linda, god rest her soul, only started dating for our mutual love of mugs. And we may not have had long together, but our love was strong. Besides, there is more yal would have in common than just the night shift."

Steve huffs a laugh, "Oh yea, like what?" The least he can do is humor the man.

"Well, you both care about me deeply."

Steve blushes again, "C'mon, Wayne. I'm your nurse. I'm kinda paid to care."

Wayne won't hear any of it, "No, son, it's more than that. You take your break in here every night. You make sure to record the game at home for me because they only have the news here. And last night, you tried to come in with a migraine, even though we both know I am the only patient you can stand right now."

Steve doesn't know what to say back. Wayne is right, of course. Steve has been spending all of his time with the man, giving him extra care. Steve isn't bad with his other patients, he goes above and beyond most of his coworkers, but there is something special about Wayne.

"You got nothing, kid, you know I'm right. Remind me a lot of my nephew. Before visiting hours ended is when I got the news of having to stay longer. Kid almost threw a fit when they kicked him out. Swore he was gonna break in to stay the night with me. I told him not to worry since you would be there, I brag about you too, ya know. When he found out today you weren't here, that boy threw a fit again. Swear he gets his tantrums from his father. Said he was gonna sneak back in tonight. Make sure I had company. That 'the man' couldn't stop him. That if he ran into you, he was gonna have a word with you."

Steve can't help the snort that shakes his body, "I'd like to see him get passed Hop first."

Wayne starts to chuckle, too, "Eds may have had his fair share of escaping the law, but no man moves as fast as Jim in a security uniform."

Steve is fully laughing now, "I know, right? It's like those pants make him aerodynamic or something. No way your nephew is getting by."

It is almost as if Steve's words summon what happens next. There in the doorway is the most gorgeous man he's ever seen, even though he is bent over and out of breath.

"Eds?" Wayne questions, clearly surprised. Steve has to mask his face and quickly before Wayne catches him ogling his nephew. Steve is finding it difficult, though. The man, Eddie, despite his out-of-breath appearance, is stunning. His long curly hair is thrown up in a bun, showing off the piercings up his ears. His clothes are simple but suiting, ripped jeans and a black band tee. Tattoos cover his entire body, and Steve wants to ask about every single one of them.

The most surprising thing about him isn't that he got by Hop (although he has questions for that later), no the most surprising thing to Steve is that Wayne somehow knew his exact type, which most people assume wrong in that department.

Eddie awakens an old craving inside Steve that he thought he had buried long ago.

"Wayne, you would not believe what I just went to get up here. The story I have for you, oh boy. You're gonna love it. Who knew security guards could move that fast. Anyway, I hope that nurse boy of yours is here tonight because I am ready to—" Eddie stops mid-rant when his eyes land on Steve, a lovely blush blossoming across his pale cheeks.

"I believe what you are trying to say is, what was it, Wayne? Oh yea, 'have a word with me,'" Steve laughs softly.

Eddie sputters, "Wayne!?!" His blushing becomes deeper as the seconds pass by.

Wayne just chuckles as Steve stands. "Don't be mad at your Uncle, I think he was just trying to make me feel better. I am sorry I wasn't here last night for the news. Got my head knocked around too much as a kid—" Steve taps his head with his knuckles, "—so I suffer from migraines sometimes. I really did try to come in, but well—you met Jim. He's pretty fast." Steve worries his lip. Eddie's eyes follow.

"Well, I can't be too mad now, can I?" Eddie swallows nervously before a smirk spreads across his face, switching from shy to confident in two seconds flat. Steve shouldn't be turned on by that. "The pretty face helps too. I'm pretty sure you could convince me to give you my kidney right about now. I'm Eddie, which I know you know by now, and you are...?"

Steve puts his hand out for a shake, "Nurse Harrington. But most people call me Steve."

Eddie grabs his hand gently and brings the back of it to his lips. "Stevie, a pleasure, really." A light kiss is placed on Steve's knuckles. Stevie, he thinks. That's a new one. And he isn't mad about it, at all. In fact, the butterflies in his stomach want him to get Eddie to say it again.

Steve catches Wayne's smug face in the corner of his eye as Steve begins to blush again.

"I'm just gonna—I'll be right back." Steve stutters.

"Leaving so soon?" Eddie says disappointed.

Steve has the sudden urge to fix the frown on his face. "No, no! Just, uh, gonna call Jim and tell him not to send out a search party. That it's okay if you stay. I'll keep an eye on you."

Eddie's face breaks out into a brilliant smile, "Really, Stevie? You gonna keep me around?"

Steve's heart skips a beat, "If I can help it."

***

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Crowley not so subtly begging Papa Asim for donations :3c

Ah, yes 😌 A tale as old as time… Nobody let Jamil overhear this—

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

“Night Raven College is greatly honored by your presence, Mr. Asim!!” Crowley warbled as he flitted around his desk, wine bottle in hand, and right up to his guest. "Please, allow me to pour you a drink!"

Mr. Asim and Kalim were seated in luxurious chairs (something Crowley had specially procured for this occasion), cushions silken and stuffed with the down of baby birds. The businessman was draped in the finest fabrics with expect stitching, brilliant peacock greens, blues, and golds bright against his white hair and rich skin.

He beamed—his smile so much like that of his son—and held up his glass in a hand heavy with sparkling gems. "Most hospitable of you, headmaster. I'll have just a nip, thank you."

"My pleasure!!" Crowley purred, tipping the bottle over. A stream of deep garnet liquid filled Mr. Asim’s glass halfway. The aroma of finely aged grapes and mulled spices filled the headmaster’s office.

“Smells good! Can I have some fruit juice too?” Kalim asked.

“Errr, when you’re older, Asim-kun! For now, you may have sparkling water.”

“Gahahah! Listen to your teacher, Kalim. The man’s job is to keep you safe while you’re at school.”

“Awww… Alright, dad!”

Crowley tended to the boy, then poured himself his own drink. He made himself comfortable back behind his desk. Swirling the wine in his glass, Crowley eyed the (very wealthy) man across the way.

How much cash was stuffed in the inner lining of his suit? How many credit cards could fit in a single wallet? Was one wallet enough to contain all of his financial assets? Surely not.

Family Day was a means of cultivating good will with students’ relatives and netting donations. If he played his cards just right… Crowley licked his chops—he could practically taste the thaumarks now.

Mr. Asim took a healthy swig. “So! Tell me, my good man. How’s my boy been doing this year?”

The headmaster practically jumped to answer the question. He had prepped himself for this, taking care to prune his feedback of any mention of subpar, just-barely-passing grades.

“Ah, yes! Asim-kun is very cheerful and friendly. He’s one of the few in the student body willing to lend an ear and a helping hand to his peers! Truly, a ray of sunshine in the dark, a cool sip of water in the scorching desert!”

“Hmm, that certainly sounds like him.” Mr. Asim thoughtfully stroked his bushy white beard. “Never has been the type to keep to yourself. Gregarious one, he is. At home, Kalim chats up everyone: the locals, the servants, the animals we keep, his siblings. The ability to communicate across different groups is a valuable thing.”

“I wholeheartedly agree!! And Asim-kun is so good at it,” Crowley gushed. “He reaches out to others regardless of their dormitory—why, I’ve seen him inviting staff members and reclusive Ignihyde and Diasomnia students to his get-togethers!” (The headmaster fondly recalled the delicious foods he had stuffed himself with at a recent Scarabian banquet.)

“He’s beloved by members of his dorm. They couldn’t ask for a better person to lead them. His enrollment alone has done so much good for our school!” Crowley paused dramatically, then slyly added, “And, of course, Night Raven College is most gracious for the generous donation received upon your son's transfer. The newly renovated Scarabia dorm is greatly enjoyed by all.

“Alas!! Our school seems to have fallen on hard times as of late. We experienced big commotions on campus between winter break and the cultural festival…” Crowley lamented, holding his head in his hands. Sorrowful sobs punctuated his sentences.

“If only a kind benefactor would spare us a few million thaumarks for repairing and expanding our facilities! F-For the benefit of the children, of course!”

"Mm?" Kalim cocked his head for a moment—then his face lit up with realization. "Oooh, you’re talking about when Jamil—”

“N-Not now, Asim-kun!!” Crowley hastily silenced him. Sweat beaded on his brow. “The adults are talking!”

Mr. Asim set his wine down and leaned forward. His expression became serious as he laced his bejeweled fingers together, eyes narrowing into ruby slivers. At once, his presence was less like that of a jolly neighbor and more like a powerful sultan, ready to command with the wave of his hand.

Crowley gulped. This man was no pushover.

"How is Jamil doing?"

"Viper-kun? " Crowley scrambled for composure. "Th-This meeting is about your son, so I don't see why... I don't know if I can divulge information on other students...!!"

"He is my son's attendant and closest confidant. I should like to know how he fares.” Mr. Asim turned to his son. “Kalim? Your thoughts?”

If he spills the beans, it’s over for me!! Not just no donation, but my reputation—Night Raven College’s reputation—forever tarnished in the eyes of the public!

“N-No,” Crowley said quickly, “I-I can provide a report if that’s what you want!!”

“I want to hear what Kalim has to say first. Go on, my boy.”

The headmaster’s face fell. One testimony from Kalim, and all of his efforts to flatter Mr. Asim would have all been for naught.

“Dad…” Kalim’s face was uncharacteristically flat. “About Jamil, he…”

It’s over.

“Jamil’s been having a hard time at school! But I didn’t know that until really recently. It turns out, he was really upset and hurting, and he couldn’t tell me about it.” Kalim’s eyes drifted shut. “I feel like… I’ve failed him as his friend.

“I want to be the person he can come to if he wants to be heard. I want to support him. Then I thought, ‘maybe the problem is me’. Maybe I’m not that kind of person in Jamil’s eyes. Maybe I’m not good enough yet.

“So… I made a promise to myself, dad! ‘I’ll get better, so one day Jamil can feel good about coming to me’.” Kalim beamed, the sunshine taking up his entire face. “That’s my goal!”

"Hmmm."

Crowley had entirely deflated into his chair. A prayer to the Great Seven was on his lips, begging for mercifulness.

Mr. Asim suddenly smiled, cutting the tension. "That's good to hear."

Crowley bolted up, talons digging into his seat's arms. "I-It is?!"

“There are some things money can’t buy. I could hire the best tutors in Twisted Wonderland—in fact, I did at one point!!—but there are lessons you can only learn through first-hand experience. I wanted Kalim to have those kinds of opportunities, so I sent him to this institution.

“Birds kept in cages never learn to fly on their own." Mr. Asim nodded firmly, placing a hand over his son's. A belly laugh bubbled out. "The world will open up to you if you open your eyes to it and are willing to change with it.

“I'm happy that you were able to come to understand that during your time here. You’ve matured so much, Kalim. You're well on your way to becoming a dignified successor."

"Wow, you really think so, dad?"

"Yes, I see that the future is in good hands."

Mr. Asim stood and reached into his suit. Crowley's heart stood still when he produced a gold-plated fountain pen topped by enormous diamond and… a rectangular pad of papers.

Jackpot: his checkbook.

“I'd like to invest in that future,” Mr. Asim continued with a laugh, “and in this fine, reputable establishment. Name your number, Crowley, and you shall have it.”

“R-Really?! ANY number?!” There were practically thaumarks dancing in the headmaster’s beady little eyes.

Crowley seized Mr. Asim’s free hand and gave it a vigorous shake. “Thank you so very much, sir!! I can guarantee you that these funds will be put to good use!”

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

Mama’s boy chapter 2

Plot summary: Spider works up the courage to ask Quaritch about his mother. He’ll quickly learn that his mama was just as feral as he is.

Relationships: Spider Socorro and Miles Quaritich Paz Socorro/Miles Quaritch

Authors note: first thank you all so much! you have no idea how much all your likes on the first chapter meant to me. I really hope you all enjoy this chapter as well. It has a lot of my own headcanos for what earth is like in the Avatar universe so I’m really curious (and a little nervous) what you all think of this chapter. Enjoy!

______________________________________________________________The whole squad was laughing at him. His son was laughing at him. Even the wind seemed to be howling with laughter at his expense.

“Mama really put you in your place.” Spider managed to get out between breaths.

Quaritch shrugged. “Wasn’t the last time either.” The admission brought a fond little smile to his face. For a moment all the noise around him faded away as he basked in those memories. Then the grief and guilt crept in and the world crashed back into focus.

Spider didn’t miss how the man's eyes lit with his smile. He watched the recom, stare off into the distance, wondering what thoughts the man was wrapped up in, before Spider saw his eyes darken, the smile slip. The change was so small, but it made Spider’s smile slip too, his laughter dying away. “So what happened next?”

“Hmm” Quaritch was snapped from his thoughts. He had registered his son speaking to him but the words hadn’t processed in his head.

“After mama went off on you. What’d you do?”

Quaritch looked at Spider directly now “I went back to my room.” He was extremely blunt with his words, knowing full well that was not the answer his boy was looking for. Spider groaned in that over the top, frustrated way, that teenagers just excel at, rolling his eyes at him. Quaritich chuckled in that way only a devious parent can, after intentionally annoying their child. 

“You know that's not what I meant.” said Spider exasperated.

“Alright, alright.” Quaritch held his hands up in surrender. “I went back to my room..” Spider’s frustrated groan filled the air again and Quaritch had to hold in a laugh “.... and I pulled your mama’s file.” That caught Spider's attention. Was Quaritch about to tell him his mama’s back story?  

“Before I get into that though I need to know. What do you know about Earth son?” 

Quaritche’s question caught Spider a little off guard but he answered “ah its dying?”

The squad snickered a little at that. Quaritch just rolled his eyes. “Yes, it's dying. What else?” Spider answered with a shrug. Quaritch felt a spark of anger, flare up inside of him. “Do you mean to tell me that no one, not Sully, not those traitor lab coats, nobody, ever told you a thing about Earth?” 

Spider just shrugged again “ I never really cared, so I never really asked. Pandora's my home, so I was taught this planet's history.” That  was a bit of an oversimplification if he was being honest. His species were colonizers. He couldn’t allow himself to care about their history.  

 That stung Quaritch. Sure the kid was born here, but his parents were still from earth, his ancestors, his very species was from earth and he didn’t even care. 

“Well let me educate you then boy.” Quaritch had to stop himself from out right hissing these words. He took a breath and continued “ Over the past hundred years now Earth has been on a steep environmental decline but in the last fifty-ish years things have been getting down right apocalyptic. I remember when I was about six, maybe seven, a massive hurricane, the most horrific ever seen in recorded history, completely submerged the entire south- eastern coast of the United States. The water never receded either. An entire landmass gone in less then a day. Millions of people dead.”

    Spider’s blood ran cold. He couldn’t imagine something so horrific. What would  something like that do to the minds of the people who’d lived and witnessed that?

“That wasn’t even the first time something like that had happened.” said Z-dog solemnly “loads of coastal land masses were lost long before any of us were born due to the rising oceans.

“But that's nothing compared to the land that's just completely un-livable now because of pollution.” added Mansk equally as solemn. The entire group was now so formal and stiff it was like they were at a funeral, a sharp contrast from how happy and energetic they’d been just moments before.

Quaritch nodded to his comrades “Cities are completely over crowded, but not because of overpopulation. It’s like Z-dog and Mansk said. There’s just not a lot of land that people can safely live on.” 

Wainfleet let out a bitter little laugh “ The land that is livable definitely isn’t much better.” Spider wanted this all to stop, it was all just too horrible, but he couldn’t make his mouth form the words. He kept listening, feeling like he was made of stone, completely incapable of moving.

“So that’s Earth.” Quaritch said “ Most people have just given up. Birth rates have been dropping sharply for decades. At first, it was mainly because all the chemicals in the water, and food, and the air, causing  a lot of people to be infertile. But after a while, when the writing was really on the wall, it just seemed cruel to bring one more person into the world. One more person to go down with the ship.”

“That’s bad for business though,” Quaritch continued. Spider was finally able to manage giving him a questioning look. “Well think about it kid. The R.D.A runs pretty much everything. A business constantly needs more workers and more customers. When the workers you have get too old to work, and you don’t have a young body to replace them with, what do you think happens?”   

Spider couldn’t answer. The question made him sick thinking about human beings being reduced to nothing but cogs in a machine. 

“Children are precious commodities on earth” Quaritch went on not caring for his son's discomfort. The boy needs to know. “If someone is unlucky enough to have one, 99 times out of 100 they can’t afford the kid. But that's okay. The R.D.A group homes are always happy to take in another future factory worker.”

“Or solder.” Said Ja, his voice dripping with bitterness. Spider didn’t miss Z-dog and Mansk’s tensed muscles and angry eyes either.

“There are four types of youth on earth.” Said Quaritch holding up a finger with each type to make his point. “There's the kids born to the ultra rich, spoiled brats who live in a domed bio controlled city, who will one day be handed a cushy well paying management job in the R.D.A.  There's the group home kids who are tested, trained and conditioned for whatever job some computer deems them best suited for. Then there's the rare case where a kid is actually raised by one or both parents but more often than not those kids turn into the fourth type, the disaffected youth, hopeless young thugs who run wild on the streets, without a care in the world, for who they hurt, if they get hurt. And why bother caring. The world's ending.” 

“What does this have to do with my mother!” Spider croaked out. He sounded like he was about to burst into tears. Quaritch looked at him then, seeing that tears were about to start falling from his son's eyes.

“You need to know!” Quaritch hadn’t meant to yell but he couldn’t help it. “You need to know where she came from to understand her.”

______________________________________________________________

  Paz Socorro. Just thinking that cocky bitches name made his blood boil. Quaritch didn’t bother to go back to bed after returning to his room. Why bother? It was 0300. He’d just have to be up in an hour anyway.

So he killed time by pulling her file. 

Name: Socorro, Paz. 

Age: est. 28. Estimated age? That's weird

D.O.B: N/A. Even weirder

 It went on like that. Any information that should have been recorded when she was born was just a big old question mark. So he skipped all that and went straight to her military career. 

He had briefly had the thought of finding a way to make her rotate home but one look at her list of accomplishments knocked that idea out of him. Best in her class by a mile. Became a flying ace in a day. Dozens of dog fight wins. Multiple successful bombing missions. 

She’s the best pilot here. He thought bitterly. Not the best new pilot, no, hands down the best pilot on Pandora. He’d be an idiot to send that away just because she’d wounded his pride. Which seemed to be the general conscience of every commanding officer she had ever had because Socorro’s list of reprimands and disciplinary infractions was just as long as her list of accomplishments. She was disrespectful, disobedient, did whatever she wanted, had even disregarded direct orders more than once. If it wasn’t for the fact that new recruits were hard to come by, she would have been dishonorably discharged years ago. Hell if she wasn’t the best of the best she still might have been kicked out.

Why had a woman like this even enlist in the first place? He scrolled down to the year she enlisted. Immediately everything started to click.

______________________________________________________________

“A couple decades ago” Quaritch explained to Spider “ A bill was passed called The Youth Reformation act. When those young street punks, I mentioned earlier, would eventually get arrested they’d be given a choice- Prison or the Military. Seemed like a win win to the masses. Violent thugs off the street. A boost to the military's ever shrinking number of new recruits….”

“That doesn't seem like much of a choice.” It made Spider angry just thinking about it.

Quaritch huffed, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth “Your mama said the same thing.”

“So mama was a criminal!” That shocked Spider. He couldn’t imagine the woman in the one picture he’d had of her, being capable of anything other than love and kindness. Then again, a picture was just that. Reality was alway harsher.

“Eh, I’d say she was justified for the most part. She probably took things a little too far though. Mama was always a scorched earth type. Especially when she was angry.” That made Spider shiver 

“What’d she do?” Spider didn’t know if he actually wanted the answer but he couldn’t stop himself from asking. 

Quaritch was about to answer (as tactfully as possible) when the wind picked up. The campfire danced, their plates and cutlery from dinner blown away, hair whipping into their faces. The force nearly slapped him sideways. It almost seemed like a warning. That's stupid, Quaritch thought. But he did think better of what he was about to say. 

“She was just trying to survive…”

______________________________________________________________

Quaritch knew that when young punks got arrested the prosecutors would try to throw the book at them. Every minor infraction of the law would be drawn out and made massive. It turned petty crimes into ten year sentences. The powers that be, really wanted to encourage military enrollment. Quaritch got the feeling that wasn’t the case with Socorro though. Grand theft, breaking and entering, aggravated assault with a deadly weapon and..

______________________________________________________________

“Arson!?” Spider emotions had been on such a roller coaster tonight. How much more of this could he take?

“It was just third-degree.” Quaritch said nonchalantly. He decided for tonight at least, not to tell his son the story of one of the most traumatic moments in his mothers life. Paz never talked about it much. Or any of her many tramas for that matter. She had always kept those parts of herself locked away, buried under a hundred layers of snark and a spitfire attitude. She’d scream about it in her sleep sometimes though. The anguished, animalistic noises that would exploud from her lungs would haunt him forever. He didn’t need to burden their son with that pain. 

______________________________________________________________

Socorro’s early years weren't much better. She had been a group home kid. But unlike most kids, who were given up at the hospital, Socorro was brought there when she was approximately three years old.

She’d been found wandering the streets completely abandoned. That explains the age and birthday thing. She’d been too young to know. 

 Her test scores showed that she was crazy smart, practically a genius. Her biggest strengths- logic, reasoning and strategy. Academically there weren't really any subjects Socorro was bad at, in fact she pretty easily excelled at everything. The catch? She had A.D.H.D. And she had it bad. She’d pick up on things so easily that she’d quickly get bored, and start climbing the walls, or run around, or play with things she shouldn’t, just generally being energetic and disruptive. 

Her caretakers forced her into every activity under the sun just to try to wear her out.

Sports? She hated them. She was deemed overly competitive and aggressive. Dance? She loved it but couldn’t pay attention in lessons to save her life. Martial arts? That was a winner. She loved fighting with people. Gymnastics? Another winner. She had been doing cartwheels and somersaults long before she even knew the names to those moves. Art? Not so much. It always turned into a chaotic mess. It was Paz’s idea to try fencing. She’d read a lot of books with sword fighting and thought it’d be cool. It was in fact very cool. 

And then? She ran away. Quaritch had never heard of anyone pulling that off. The R.D.A kept their kids locked up tight. They couldn't risk losing a single future employee. But she had found a way out. At age eleven no less.

______________________________________________________________

“She told me once that that place felt suffocating to her. She was never alone, could never make her own choices, hardly ever aloud outside. Being homeless and running wild just fit her better.”  At least I was free, he could hear her say. 

Spider was taking everything in. Life on Earth sounded so brutal and cruel. How anyone could survive there…. 

And then he realized, they’re not. Earth was filled with nothing but hopeless, angry, people barreling towards their own extinction. You either fight or you die. 

His mama had chosen to fight for her life.

The soldiers surrounding him had chosen to fight.

But Eywa, why did they have to destroy everything in their wake, and call it survival.    

[morulezopelforever]

Some Snippets from my ATWD Khinkali Series

https://archiveofourown.org/series/3240997

If you like Merab, Irakli and their friends from the movie you will luuuuv them in my fics on Archive of our Own. Here are some tasty bits:

Mum walked in scratching and yawning, wearing an old bathrobe over flannel pyjamas and with her hair disheveled.

‘Ah, the dead have risen,’ Grandma sighed. ‘You’re never up this early.’

‘I am now. I woke from the cold. The heating is off. Is there any coffee going?’

‘No. For your information, the electricity was cut off...Again.’

Grandma, a little more visible now in the growing daylight, raised her hands like a priest dispensing a blessing.

‘You should marry your Mr. Lasha, Teona. He’s rich. You’re his cleaning lady, but you like him and he likes you. Have him marry you, then you and I can both finally rest.’

‘I won’t, Mother.’

‘Why not?’

‘His wife wouldn’t like it for one thing.’

‘Ay, ay, ay, what years we’ve lived.’

(From ‘’Another Glorious Day in Tbilisi’)

The Scotsman carefully dissected the construction with his spoon, took a bite and then spat it out.

‘What’s this?’ he roared. ‘You call this cottage pie?’

‘Quite an audacious remark for someone whose home town is famous for its deep-fried Mars bars,’ Ninutsa scoffed.

The other students giggled. ‘Quiet!’ Aleko snapped in Georgian.

The blond man was alternately gagging and drinking water.

‘This was frozen an then reheated, right?’ he asked David. ‘It’s definitely not fresh. It’s hard as a rock.’

‘My father owns a construction company,’ Sopo said calmly. ‘It was the easiest thing for me to scoop up some debris from a demolition site…There’s real cottage in that cottage pie, sir, so it’s as authentic as anything.’

(From ‘Joining Forces’)

Irakli went to the counter and drafted a glass. The pompons of his mariachi hat were dangling in front of his glasses, blocking his view and thus causing him to spill beer onto the floor.

Merab walked past, nearly slipped in the puddle but managed to come to a screeching halt on the heels of his cowboy boots. He smiled and mopped up the mess. ‘Love,’ Irakli whispered, feeling his heart contract at the sight of the beautiful creature who looked so angelic in his embroidered Mexican jacket. Then he took the beer to Ioseb’s table.

‘Have you chosen a dish yet?’ he asked.

Merab’s father nodded, smiling now. ‘Yes. I’d like a Sloppy Ioseb sandwich. Sounds good to me.’

‘Oh yes!’ Irakli confirmed. ‘Sopo created it in your honour.’

‘My future daughter-in-law is a lovely lass,’ Ioseb said. ‘And I am glad that Merab is finally doing something useful with his life under your influence.’

Irakli cast a glance at Merab, who was now clumsily drafting beer and singing Pistolero to amuse the guests at the counter.

‘Useful?’ Irakli said to Joseb. ‘Well, I’m trying my best, and…’

Joseb pointed at the menu. ‘And oh yes, I’d like some Mexikhinkali and eggplant fritters for a main course…Thanks, son.’

(From ‘Not in a Million Years’)

David wound his way through throngs of people down a lane at the Eliava Bazaar until he got to his father’s car part stall.

‘Morning, son,’ Ioseb greeted him. ‘Do sit down. Could you spare your old man a fag? Business has been bad lately.’

David offered him a cigarette, lit up one himself and settled on a crate.

‘What brings you here at such an early hour?’ Dad then asked. ‘Some beef with your girl?’

David shook his head. No, there’s no beef between Sopo and me, he thought, if only it were so because it would mean we were living together at our little flat undisturbed. Everything I wanted from watching football on TV to inviting my mates over for drinks and making love to her has been impossible ever since Aleko moved in, but I won’t tell Dad any of this.

‘It’s something else then,’ Dad tried. ‘Money trouble?’

‘No.’ In fact, he and Sopo were making loads and had no time to spend it.

Now Dad smiled. ‘Ah! So you’ve done what any man should do before he turns twenty-five…By the way, Sopo is older than you, it’s ridiculous…Anyhow, did it finally happen?’

‘I don’t understand, Dad.’

‘Did she have a visit from the Holy Spirit?’

‘What?’

‘She in the family way?’

‘What?’

Dad angrily stubbed out his cigarette. ‘You dumb calf…Did you get her pregnant?’

David felt anger surge within him. He and Sopo had decided not to start a family until she had earned her PhD, which would be some three years down the road.

‘No, nothing of that kind,’ he sighed. ‘I’m just tired. Our tenant is a nuisance.’

(From ‘Expansion’)

Ready for some fun? Read all about the adventures of Merab, Irakli, David, Sopo, Mary, Ninutsa, Luka and...Aleko under this link:

https://archiveofourown.org/series/3240997

[maddiwrites]

Breathe With Me

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: After finding out who hurt you on that horrific night, JJ helps you through another panic attack and makes plans to protect his girl.

Note: This was requested a long time ago after a chapter of my rewrite was posted! Instead of doing JJ x OC, like requested, I changed it to JJ x Reader so that people who don’t read my rewrite can enjoy it too. Hopefully this is okay with ya’ll. 

Word Count: 3.5k

WARNINGS: Sexual Assault!!! This chapter has descriptions of sexual assault. Please do not read if this is TRIGGERING!!!! 

National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673

Masterlist

It was another regular day on the island. Hot and crowded with tourists. With everyone working, you decided to tag along with JJ and Pope to delivery groceries for Heyward’s business. Usually this meant going to Figure Eight, your least favorite place to be. Normally it didn’t creep you out too much, but because of a rather recent incident, you didn’t like being there.

Right after your dad went missing, you spent a lot of time with Kie as she lived out her Kook Year. Avoiding the Pogues and John B and surrounding yourself with stuck up assholes and their expensive drugs and alcohol helped you forget about your own family crisis. You would do anything to take your mind off your dad’s disappearance even if it meant getting high on whatever was offered to you. You didn’t ask twice about what it was. You figured if the rich people we’re doing it, it couldn’t be that bad right?

One night you did a long line surrounded by Rafe and a couple of his buddies. Pretty much everything after that was a blur. Your memories are fuzzy, like a puzzle piece you can’t piece together. The last thing you remember is your black hitting something soft, like a mattress or a pillow. You thought you heard the zipper of your shorts being pulled down but figured it was Kie helping you change into a pair of pajamas. 

The next morning you woke up practically naked with a blanket covering your bottom half and your bra pulled down to your stomach. You began to panic and ran your hands down your side, flinching at the tenderness by your hips. The skin was yellow/green and getting ready to bruise. Your breathing became shallow and your throat tightened up. You fumbled around the room you didn’t recognize for your clothes and slid them on, not caring what was backwards or inside out. You stumbled out the door and tip toed down the long staircase of the large house you were in. Figure Eight, you thought. 

You didn’t go home first. You went to Kie’s house. Because your body ached. Because you wanted to cry but didn’t want John B or the other boys to hear you. Because you were afraid to be naked around anyone but another girl. The second she opened the door, you sobbed into her arms and told her what you think happened to you. Kie tried to get you to go to the police or even the hospital, but you couldn’t fathom the idea of anyone knowing about what happened. Not even a stranger. Because you were embarrassed. You blamed yourself for this happening to you. You were high as fuck, trying to forget about your family troubles. You were the one to make yourself weak and vulnerable. No one else. Someone just took advantage of the position you put yourself in.

Kie didn’t pressure you. She wanted to support you in whatever decision you made, despite wanting justice for you and sending whoever the sleaze bag was to jail. She sat on the toilet and talked to you as you showered slowly. You spent most of the time staring at the wall and feeling ever inch of your body. You felt so dirty and no amount of soap or scrubbing could make you feel any cleaner. 

You stayed at her house for a couple of days until John B eventually texted her because he was worried. You both decided it was time for you to go home, but you never told them what happened. You were afraid of what John B and even JJ would do if they found out. And the last thing you wanted was for either of them to get hurt or in trouble.

John B didn’t notice something was off as much as JJ did. He could tell you were being more quiet and reserved than usual. Your usual style of crop tops and jean shorts changed to sweats and baggy t shirts. You slept with your door locked and didn’t touch a single can of beer since you came home.

Moving on from that night was a slow and gruesome process, one you don’t know if you’ll ever fully recover form. Luckily for you, JJ was a great distracter. He was an amazing story teller, he could make you laugh with a small hand gesture, and his laugh could draw you in for hours. No one was surprised when the two of you eventually started dating. Not even John B, who was a little apprehensive about it at first. 

To JJ, everything came to light when another make out session became heated. Like that morning, it became hard to breathe and your mind wandered off to what could have happened to you that night. In a blink of an eye, you were back in Figure Eight with someone pulling your zipper down. You could physically feel the bruises on your hips again and your skin burning. 

A panic attack emerged and JJ was left confused and lost. Fortunately for you, he was quick to realize something was seriously wrong and helped you through it. He breathed with you and talked you down. When you were calm, you explained what happened. At first he was pissed. Pissed at whoever could have done this to you and even a little bit at you and Kie for keeping this from him. He was ready to charge out of the house, grab John B, and find the sick son of a bitch who would touch an unconscious girl. But your cries stopped him. He’s never heard pain in your voice like he did that night. It physically cracked his heart into a million little pieces and he dropped every instinct he had and stayed with you instead. 

Since then, he’s been the most supportive and protective boyfriend. At every boneyard party, he would keep an eye out for any Kook that decided to show their face on your turf. He took note of anyone looking at you in a weird way. He carried the gun he stole from Scooter in his backpack for protection. He was serious about using it too. No one touches his girl and gets away with it.

Luckily, nothing happened between JJ and any Kook. No one made a move to talk to you or tease you. Kooks kept their usual distance from you, which not only made you feel better for yourself but because you didn’t want something to happen to JJ. You know the rules of the game of this island. Nothing bad ever happens to Kooks. They don’t know consequences. 

When Pope docks his boat, he asks if you would come with him to drop groceries off at the Thorntons. If he did it alone, it would cause two trips and he doesn’t want to waste time. 

As you go to agree, JJ steps in and shakes his head as he looks between you two. “I don’t think thats a good idea.”

“Why not?” Pope asks, completely clueless.

You subtly shake your head, silently begging for JJ not to say anything. Pope and John B still didn’t know and you want to keep it that way. Sure you would feel safer with JJ by your side, but you won’t be alone. You will be with Pope. And who would try to start something in the middle of the day anyway?

“It’s fine, J,” You tell him. You even try to joke. “I’m sure you’ll survive one hour without me.”

When you kiss his cheek, JJ turns to look at you with his brows pinched together with worry. “Y/N...”

“Seriously, J...” You say. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” You whisper that last part as Pope turns to get the bags. 

“You have your phone?”

You nod and pull it out of your pocket to show him. “Yes. I’ll call you if anything happens.”

As JJ walks in the opposite direction of you and Pope, you feel the tension in your shoulders get tighter. The sight of these homes gives you flashbacks. The worst part about all of this is you don’t even know who hurt you. It could’ve been anyone - a touron even. It would be easier to know who did it so you know who to avoid. 

Pope notices your change in behavior but doesn’t mention it. Instead he keeps a silent eye on you and studies your every movement. 

As you pass the golf course, you hear a couple cat calls and cheering from a group of teenagers. When you look up, you see Rafe, Topper, and one of their friends making their way over to you. You take a step behind Pope, hiding behind his body and keeping your eyes trained down on your shoes. 

“What do we have here?” Rafe whistles as he comes closer. He looks down at the bags in your arms and the beer in Pope’s hand. “Bring us something?”

“These are already paid for,” Pope glares at them.

“Oh, right, right,” Rafe nods as if he understands. Then he takes is golf club and swings it at the brown paper bag in Pope’s arms, causing everything to spill out of it. 

“Dude!” 

“Sorry, man!” Rafe holds his hands up in fake surrender. He leans down to pick up a beer bottle and tosses it to his tall friend. “Trevor, you feeling thirsty?”

The guy, better known as Trevor, cracks the beer open and takes a long sip. When he looks down, he spots you and eyes your figure up and down. Then he smirks to himself and a shiver runs down your spine. You don’t like the way he’s looking at you. Like a piece of meat or someone he knows too much of. 

Rafe catches his eye and smirks to himself. “Ah, yeah. I forgot. You and Routledge have some history.”

Pope looks over his shoulder at you and sees your chest rising and dropping at a quicker pace. You’re gripping the bags in your hands so tight that he can see your knuckles turning white. You look away from the group of Kooks at the golf course with a frown on your face. Something was wrong, Pope thought. 

“Yeah, you could say that,” Trevor chuckles. He looks at you again and tilts his head. “What? You don’t remember me?”

“Pope...” You feel like you’re choking. How could he know you when you have no idea who he is? You don’t like where this is going.

Trevor continues, “Can’t say I blame you. You were out of your mind wasted that night -”

“What the hell is he talking about?” Pope says, looking between you and Trevor. He wasn’t one to get confrontational or angry, but he didn’t like what he was hearing. He didn’t like how you were acting. Something wasn't adding up. He knew you’ve hooked up with Kooks before, but this one was different. 

“Almost as dead as her daddy,” Rafe chuckles. Something in Pope snaps and he pushes Rafe back by his shoulders. In retaliation, Rafe raises his golf club and smacks it against the middle of Pope’s back, causing him to fall down with a thump. 

“Pope!” You cry and drop the bags you were holding and kneel next to him. 

“Hey,” Trevor touches your shoulder to try and pull you away from the two fighting boys, but you flinch away from him. 

“Don’t touch me! Get away from me!” You cry.

Trevor immediately holds up his hands in surrender and takes a step back. Your outburst causes everyone to freeze in their movements, even Rafe and Pope. The wheels in Topper’s head start to move a little quicker too. He looks between you and Trevor and feels off about your connection. You looked terrified. And Y/N Routledge was almost never terrified. 

Even though you are outside, you feel claustrophobic. Your heart is beating so heavily against your ribcage that you wouldn’t be surprised if it were to break your ribs. Pope notices you’re two shades paler and having a hard time breathing. Tears are silently falling down your face and you continue to crawl away form the group of Kooks backwards. 

“Y/N...” Pope says quietly.

“We should go,” Topper says. He never hated you like some of the other Kooks did. Sure you never got along, but a small part of him thought you were cool. He knew something was extremely wrong and he couldn’t help but think it had to do with their friend, Trevor. He looks at Rafe who continues to stare at you with surprise. “Dude.”

“Yeah...” Rafe says slowly. “Trev, let’s go.”

The three Kooks scatter back to the golf course. You squeeze your eyes tightly and grip the fabric of your shirt, pulling it away from your body because right now it just feels suffocating. 

“Hey.” Pope crouches down near you and lightly touches your shoulder. His touch feels like an electric shock, making you flinch even further away. When you open your eyes, you’re back in some random Kook’s house on a mattress you’re unfamiliar with. “They’re gone. Hey, they’re gone.” Pope tries to be gentle with you, but he also wants to get you out of here and in a more comfortable setting. 

“JJ,” You manage to say. Your throat feels on fire. “I need J-”

Pope immediately starts fumbling for his cell phone and dials his best friend’s number. He bounces on the balls of his feet as he impatiently listens to the ringing. “Come on. Come on.”

JJ answers. “Hey! Sorry I’m on my way back now. You’ll never believe how much this lady tipped me. I swear I’m coming on every -”

“JJ, shut up and listen to me. Y/N...” He glances back at you and sees you’re hunched over with your forehead resting on your knees and your fingers through your hair. “She’s having a panic attack or something. I - I don’t -”

“Where are you?” JJ’s once elated tone has dropped to a more serious one. 

Pope tries explaining what part of the golf course they are near. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in five minutes. Pope, get her under some shade or something. And if you can, try to get her to look at you. She needs to open her eyes to see where she is.” Pope nods, forgetting that JJ can’t see him. “Pope!”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Okay, doing that now.”

JJ hangs up the phone so he can run faster. 

Meanwhile, Pope crouches down in front of you again and says, “Y/N/N, hey. Can you open your eyes?” Pope lightly taps your ankles. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just me.” You slowly blink your eyes open and sniffle back the tears. Pope smiles when he sees he’s made some sort of progress. “Hey. JJ’s on his way. Why don’t we move you under some shade? It’s getting pretty hot out here. Can I help you up?”

You nod and let Pope help you up and bring you a couple feet away under a large tree. Your back rests against the bark and you try taking deep breaths to calm the swirling nausea in your stomach. 

It was Trevor. It had to be Trevor. From the way he looked at you, to the innuendo Rafe made. You knew in your heart that it was Trevor who had hurt you that night. 

A part of you always wanted to know who did this, but another part of you wished you never figured it out. Because now his face will haunt you forever.

About a minute later, you hear another set of footsteps quickly coming your way. You panic, your immediate thought going to Trevor. Would he come back? 

But then you hear your boyfriend’s beautiful voice. “Hey.” His tone is soft and gentle. “Hey, baby. Look at me. It’s JJ.” You open your eyes and meet the lovely blue one’s you fell in love with. He grins at you and takes your hands in his. 

“I’m so - sorry,” You sob, suddenly hating yourself for bringing this back up to your boyfriend and ruining Pope’s work routine. “I - I -”

“Hey,” JJ says and pulls your hands to his chest, palms down. “Remember what we did last time? Match my breathing, okay? Ready? Take a deep breath.”

Pope watches with awe silently from the sidelines. He’s never seen this side of either one of you. You so panic stricken and scared, JJ so intent with concern and intuitive. 

You follow JJ’s breathing until you feel calm enough to breathe on your own. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” JJ shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

You look down at your hands that are folded in your lap. You want to tell him. Of course you want to tell him. But you’re afraid of what happens next. You’re afraid of how JJ will respond.

“Rafe, Topper, and their friend Trevor jumped us,” Pope answers for you. Like JJ, he’s also curious about what happened. Of course he was there for the physical breakdown, but he wants to know more about what you’re going through emotionally. 

“Did they hurt you?” JJ looks back at you and inspects every inch of your open skin for signs of scratches or bruises. 

You shake your head. “No.”

“Then...”

“I know who it was,” You say, your voice as soft as a whisper. 

“What? You mean. -” JJ’s head snaps back and forth between you and Pope. “Who?”

You dip your chin into your chest to hide your tears as they start to flow again. You take a deep breath and look back up at your boyfriend. “Trevor.”

“Who the fuck is Trevor?” JJ looks at Pope. 

Pope shrugs, “I don’t know. He was golfing with the other two Kooks.”

“Where’d they go?” JJ stands up, causing both you and Pope to follow him.

“No, JJ -” You try to pull him back to you but he slips his wrist out of your grip. 

“JJ!” Pope calls out to JJ who walks in the direction the other three disappeared to. 

“JJ, stop!” Your voice cracks which makes JJ turn around to look at you. “Please. I just want to go home.”

JJ freezes and bites down on his bottom lip, feeling conflicted. His head is telling him to run after the Kooks and beat every single one of their faces in until he finds the one named Trevor. But his heart is telling him to walk back to you and take care of you. 

“Okay,” he decides and wraps his arm around your waist. “Let’s get you home.”

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

After you fall asleep later that night, JJ tip toes out of your room and silently shuts your door behind him. You passed out early, exhausted from the panic attacks and crying. In the living room, Pope, Kie, and John B are waiting. You had no other choice but to tell John B what happened. Now that Pope knew, it felt wrong keeping it from your brother as well. Of course it caused an argument, but in the end, John B only wants the best for you and to protect you. Which is why they’re here now.

“Ready to go?” JJ looks directly at your brother.

John B holds up his car keys. “Let’s go.”

“Whoa, where do you think you’re going?” Kie grabs John B by the elbow and glares at both of them.

“Where do you think?” JJ says.

When Pope and Kie stepped out of the room to check on you, JJ and John B both secretly decided that when you fell asleep, the two of them would sneak out and find this Trevor person and give him what he deserves. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Pope says, looking between the two. “You know how this works. The two of you end up getting in trouble and he gets to walk away clean.”

“I don’t care. I’ll kill him -”

“You can’t,” Kie says.

“I’m not asking for your permission, Kie!”

“Where’s the gun?” Kie says. “If you’re going to do this, I’m not letting you bring the gun. Leave it here.”

JJ looks up at John B who reluctantly nods his head for JJ to give it up. The blonde sighs and reaches into the back of his waistband and pulls it out.

“This is a bad idea,” Pope says again even though he knows the other two don’t give a shit. In a way, he kind of respects it. He would go to if he didn’t have a scholarship to worry about.

“Keep an eye on her. We’ll be back in a couple hours,” John B says.

“You better hope you are. Because if you’re not, you’re only going to be making this worse for her,” Kie tells them.

Kie’s words have both John B and JJ rethinking their decision. But only for a split second. 

JJ nods. “Don’t worry. I’d never leave my girl behind.”

[cheesy-cakey]

note this is a hatter au from a wattpad book I wrote.

You Weren't there

Kalim X Reader Angst

We had graduated.

We got married.

He inherited his family's riches.

We had a son.

We were happy...

We WERE.

I gazed out the window of my quarters.

I was no longer a Hatter... I was now an Al-Asim.

The Hatter name had died out the moment I decided to be a part of Kalim's family. I still owned our land and property. But I had no use for it.

I thought that this was going be our happily ever after.

Holding the one I love close. Kalim embracing me and our son.

But I guess reality doesn't have a happy ending... Especially us Hatter's.

As I watched the scene out the window.

In the garden was Kalim... With his 2rd wife and daughter.

Yes, that's right. I may be Kalim's first wife... but that doesn't mean I'm the only one.

I watched as he held her hand while with the other he carried his daughter.

I moved away from the window and sat on the plush bed of my quarters.

"How could I be so stupid. How could I be so blind. why did I think... That out of all the people in the world. I would have a happy ending." I muttered to myself as I leaned back on my arms tears pricking out of my eyes.

I went back to the window watching them hold each other close. I traced my hand on the glass feeling the coolness of the material.

I kneeled on the floor hand on the window sill while the other was on the floor.

"If happy ever after did exist~" I sang as I wrapped my arms around myself.

"I would still be holding you like this~"

"All those fairy tales are full of sh*t"

"One more f*cking love song I'll be sick" I sobbed as I was never meant to have a happy ever after.

3rd POV

Little did Y/N know that someone came to visit.

Watching through the crack from the slightly opened door.

Ali Al-Asim watched as his mother broke down crying.

"Why... why of all people... why does it have to be mother that suffers?"

He walked away knowing that it's better to not disturb her like this... He knew seeing him would just remind her of the happy ending she could've had.

He returned to him quarters and sat in one of the chairs in his room.

"Mother... You shouldn't be suffering like this... You told me father loved you... You said he loved you more than the stars in the sky... then why... why does he treat you this way? why does he neglect you? weren't we happy? weren't you happy?" He leaned his head back as tears pricked out his eyes.

"I never get to see you smile anymore. The smile that could shine brighter than the sun. Your eyes became dull... no longer full of hope and happiness like the stars."

he slammed his first into the table Infront of him as tears fell from his face.

"WHY DON'T YOU HAVE A HAPPY EVER AFTER!?"

The 15 year old couldn't bear to see his mother like this...

He's seen her cry too many times...

-Time Skip-

It was Ali's 16th birthday.

Which means a big celebration...

But his mother as much as she wants to attend she couldn't bring herself to leave her room.

The Hatter that used to be full of life, laughing, singing, dancing. The Hatter that enjoyed parties and seeing her friends smile... lost her spark.

-At the celebration-

"Happy Birthday, Young Master, Ali!" The servants cheered.

"Happy birthday, My son!" Kalim exclaimed as he greeted his first born.

"Thank you, Father!" Ali exclaimed with a smile.

"You're 16 now, which school do you wanna attend, Ali!?" His father asked excitedly.

"I want to go to Night Raven College! That's where you went to right, Father?"

"Yes, I did! Me and your uncle Jamil went there together!"

"Then it's settled, NRC it is!"

"I could have the headmaster make you dorm head as well!"

"No, Father. I wish to become dorm head with my own skills." He stated.

"Haaaah? fine, if that is what my son wants. Now everyone! enjoy the party!"

he walked away as he went to meet other guests.

A lot of people were here. His uncles from NRC. His Friends. even his half sister.

But there was only one person Ali wanted to be here.

Ali stood up from his seat and sneaked away.

He went to the quarters of someone he held dear.

he knocked on the door and heard a come in.

"Good evening, mother" he said with a soft smile.

"Ah! Ali, Happy Birthday" She replied with a tired but loving smile.

she was sitting by the window with it being wide open allowing the wind to enter.

He went closer the his mother and kneeled beside her.

"How are you feeling?" Ali asked.

"I'm feeling very well. So how is your birthday?"

"Nevermind the birthday. I just want to stay here with you" he said as he buried his face into her dress resting his head on her lap.

The lady giggled at her son's statement, watching him with caring eyes.

"I have a present for you" She said as she brought out a box.

Ali raised his head.

"Mother... you didn't have to" he said as he received it.

"Oh, but I do. this is something I've been meaning to give you"

Ali opened the box to see a top hat, a golden silk snake wrapping around the hat with a single Jasmine flower.

"It used to be mine. Sometimes in the Hatter family we give it to the person we marry but sometimes we also keep it. But this time it's time to pass it on to the descendant. I redecorated it for you. do you like it?" The elegant lady smiled as she remembered her memories with the hat and proud to be able to hand it down.

Ali looked as the hat.

"I love it... thank you mother" He thanked as he lied down on her lap once again.

"I'm glad you do, my dear son" She placed a hand on his white hair exactly the same as his father's.

Sher stroked his head gently as the moon shone down on them through the window.

-Timeskip-

It was now time for Ali to go to Night Raven College. He said farewell to everyone and as he was about to get on the Ebony Carriage he looked up to a window to see his mother smiling at him. he smiled back and entered.

-at the dorm sorting-

Ali was up next to be sorted.

"State thy name"

"Ali Al-Asim"

"The shape of thy soul... I see you best improve in Scarabia."

He stepped away from the mirror and joined the other students that were sorted into Scarabia.

He will make his mother proud.

-Time skip-

It had been a week since he had arrived. And just like that he had became a dorm head not from money but from skill.

He was currently in potions taught by Professor Crewel.

His phone then suddenly rang.

"Excuse me, Professor. I need to take this call"

"Of course, pup. but next time I won't be allowing it."

Ali answered his phone and it was one of the servants.

He was analysing his potion while he answered.

"What is it? I told you not to call me around this time because I'm in class."

"Apologies, young master. But it's about Lady Y/N"

"Mother? what about her? does she miss me? tell her I'll visit this weekend."

"It's not that sir"

"what is it then?"

"she umm"

"spit it out"

"The lady has passed away"

Ali suddenly dropped the beaker shattering it to a million pieces.

"Al-Asim! bad pup! what are you doing!?"

Ali stood up knocking his seat over. He slammed his hand on his desk that still had the shattered glass and spilled potion. good thing that the potion doesn't give much effect since it wasn't finished.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN PASSED AWAY!?" He yelled as tears pricked from his eyes.

"Al-Asim?" his professor called out worried.

"I mean what I exactly said, young master. The lady passed away earlier this morning. when the servant went to serve her breakfast she didn't wake up. they tried waking her up then realized she wasn't moving. they called a physician... and he said the lady had passed away"

"no... you're lying"

"Ali Al-Asim, what's wrong? Get your hands off the desk your starting to bleed." Crewel said as he took the boys hand from the broken glass and started cleaning it.

"Mother... is she really dead?"

"yes, sir"

"wait... your mother?" his professor asked

"As in... Y/N? she's... no longer with us?" his eyes wide as saucers.

Ali fell on his knees tears spilling not showing any signs of stopping any time soon.

"Mother... no... no... no no no NO! SHE CAN'T BE GONE!" He sobbed.

"Ashengrotto, take him to the infirmary to clean his wound up. The rest of you dismissed. I need to speak with the head master."

"Yes, professor"

-time Skip-

currently Ali was in the head masters office.

"Al-Asim. I heard what had happened. I'll let you go home for as long as you need. I apologize for your loss. You can use the mirror to go home." Crowley said as he watched the boy sob.

he himself wanted to cry since one of the most lovable students he had, had passed away.

"Your mother... was an incredible woman. Not only as a student but as a friend to the rest. It's a shame she... had to leave us so early. I thought that maybe... I'd be dead by the time she leaves."

"Thank you, headmaster... I'll be... heading out now" Ali exited the room and went to the mirror and went home.

Once he had arrived he was greeted by the servants but he just walked right pass.

His sister also greeted him, but he continued walking.

soon he arrived at his mother's bedroom. He saw her... looking like she's sleeping soundly... knowing she's never waking up again.

He walked to her bed side. held her now cold hand and feel to his knees and sobbed uncontrollably

"Mother!... Why.... WHY DID YOU HAVE TO LEAVE! I WAS GOING TO GIVE YOU THE HAPPY ENDING YOU DESERVE! BUT WHAT!? YOU ENDED YOUR STORY WITH LONGING THAT WAS NEVER FULFILLED!? WHY!?" he cried... not leaving her side for the rest of the day.

During her funeral, all her friends from NRC came. Tears spilled everywhere as they found their dear friend no longer with them.

they approached Ali who just stood by her coffin.

"Sorry... for your loss... Ali"

He just kept silent.

For the long duration of her funeral... Not once did his father... the man his dear mother loved and longed for, show up.

This had made the boy even more upset. but that did not overpower the sorrow he had.

-Time Skip-

The funeral had long ended...

His mother was buried...

he returned to school but barely spoke.

"Al-Asim... pup. I suggest you go meet with Professor Yuu. You need it"

Ali merely nodded as he went to his magicless professor who taught about monsters and health.

"Ali... take a seat"

Ali sat down across him.

"You haven't been sleeping have you... you have bags under your eyes. You look pale. Ali"

He just sat there.

"I know... I know you're depressed... Your mother was my vice prefect back in our school days. she was a wonderful woman to be with... she laughed... she sang... she smiled... but you know what I love most about her?"

Ali looked up and looked at Yuu.

"She makes people around her smile as well. She wouldn't want you to act like this. Y/N, She too lost a parent in her younger days. But that didn't stop her from being happy... She always had joy in her eyes... and you know you have her E/C eyes as well"

"So please... Don't let this bring you down. Your mother... Be like her. someone who smiles, laughed and most of all makes others do the same. sure reality doesn't have a happy ending. But you're writing your own story so make sure it leads to one."

Ali thought about it. looks back down... looks at the mirror in the room and looked straight into his E/N coloured eyes.

"You're right, Professor. Even if mother is gone... I should make her proud" Ali stood up with smile.

Ali bowed.

"Thank you, Professor Yuu!"

"Just call me, Yuu."

Ali smiled and ran off back to his dorm and to his room.

Yuu on the other hand stood up and went to the window and looked at the sky.

"I wish... I could've held you one last time... Y/N... I loved you so much" Yuu said as he let the tears fall.

Ali pulled a box from under his bed and opened it...

It may not fit his outfit but it doesn't matter.

he stood up holding the object and went to a mirror.

He looked straight at it and placed the hat he was given on his head.

"I'll prove... that I can give us a happy ending, Mother"

and with that Ali changed... He changed for the better. all the old staff watched him... and it reminded them of someone who they once cherished in this school.

-Time Skip-

it's been 2 years since Y/N's passing. Ali Al-Asim was now 18 years old. A third year.

But what's interesting is. when his 1st year ended the mirror had announced something... He was transferred to a different dorm.

-Flashback-

Just as they were all about to leave.

"Wait... It seems someone's soul had reshaped into something new." the mirror had stated.

"What? but that's not possible" Crowley said in surprise.

"Ali Al-Asim... Step forward"

Ali hesitantly stepped up.

"Yes... it seems your soul had reshaped... though you are still suited to be a part of Scarabia... Your heart... Is perfect for the Ramshackle Dorm"

"Isn't that"

"Your mother's old dorm... well it seems like you're becoming just like your mother" Crowley smiled as he placed a hand on the boys shoulder.

-end of flashback-

And since then he became the dorm head of the Ramshackle. His hat suited his outfit. he was happy.

And right now the 18 year old was going to make a decision that'll change his life.

Currently standing Infront of his father, Kalim Al-Asim. wearing a somewhat butler outfit somewhat similar to that of what his mother wore back in her younger days as a Hatter.

"Father... I don't wish to be an Al-Asim anymore."

"What? could you repeat that?"

"I don't want to be an Asim."

"But son! you're my eldest! you're my successor!"

"And I don't want to be your successor!"

"why!?"

"I want to continue mother's legacy!" Ali yelled as he gripped his wrist behind his back while looking down.

"what?"

"I want to be a Hatter! I want to carry on the Hatter name! I want to do this for mother! it the least you could let me do"

"the least I could let you do?"

"Yes! The most you could do was probably be there for her!"

"Ali"

"You left her all alone! making her cry every night! every night for you!"

"She didn't get her happily ever after! Cause you weren't there there for her! you weren't there for us!HECK She would've been contented with just you being there even if you didn't love her anymore!"

"YOU DIDN'T EVEN COME TO HER FUNERAL!" Ali snapped.

"I know you are aware that You're naive, gullible, oblivious and all that. but please... just see it... the least you could do" Ali looked up and looked Kalim straight in the eyes.

Kalim staring back into E/C colored orbs that was exactly the same as his wife that had recently passed away.

He looked down and took a deep breathe

"Alright"

"Huh?"

"I'll... let you go..."

"Really?"

"yes... as you said... it's the least I could do for not even attending the funeral."

"Thank you... father" Ali smiled as he walked away.

this was a new start for Ali... Becoming just like his mother. Writing a happily ever after for them.

We can't say the same for Kalim though.

He sat at his chair.

His 2rd wife entered the room and sat beside him.

"What did he want?" she asked.

"To leave the family"

"what?"

"He... wanted to become a Hatter to continue Y/N's legacy."

"I see... don't worry I'm here... and besides I'm sure we can make a new heir."

"I'm not in the mood"

"But, dear~"

right then and there Kalim snapped.

"I SAID IM NOT IN THE MOOD!" He yelled.

"BECAUSE OF YOUR DAMN FAMILY THREATENING TO HURT MY SON AND MY BELOVED WIFE I WAS FORCED TO NEGLECT HER!"

"IF IT WASN'T FOR YOUR DAMN FAMILY I WOULD PROBABLY BE HOLDING HER RIGHT NOW WITH ANOTHER CHILD!"

"ALL BECAUSE YOU WANTED ME TO LOVE YOU! YOU'RE DELUSIONAL IF YOU THINK I WOULD!"

"What is it... WHAT IS IT DOES SHE HAVE THAT I DON'T!?"

"My heart... that's what it is... SHE WAS MY EVERYTHING! HER SMILE THAT WAS PRACTICALLY MY SUN! HER EYES THAT SHIMMERED LIKE THE STARS!"

"SHE DESERVES TO BE DEAD! SHE'S NOT FIT TO BE YOUR WIFE! SHE'S NOT FIT TO HAVE YOU! ME, ME, ME! IT WAS ME WHO SHOULD HAVE YOU! SHE'S HIDEOUS! SHE'S DUMB! SHE'S NAIVE! SO WHY WON'T YOU LOOK AT ME!"

"DON'T YOU DARE THAT ABOUT HER! FIRST OF ALL SHE'S THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN TO HAVE EVER EXISTED THAT EVEN VIL SAID SO! YOU WOULD NEVER BE AS BEAUTIFUL AS HER! SECOND SHE GRADUATED FROM NRC WITH TOP GRADES FITTING INTO THE TOP 50! SHE KNOWS MORE THAN YOU EVER WILL! AND THIRD OF ALL SHE'S NOT AS NAIVE AS YOU THINK! SHE EXPERIENCED THE CRUELTY OF THE WORLD TO THE POINT SHE WAS ALMOST BROKEN! BUT SHE JUST SMILED AND SAID THAT EVERYTHING WOULD BE JUST FINE! I BET YOU WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO HANDLE IT IF IT HAD HAPPENED TO YOU! FACE IT I'LL NEVER LOOK AT YOU THE SAME I DO WITH HER!"

"THAT'S WHY I KILLED HER SO YOU WOULD ONLY LOOK AT ME- MPH!" she clasped her mouth shut trembling from what came out.

"what? WHAT did you just say?"

"n-nothing!"

"WE HAD A DEAL! YOU WOULD LEAVE THEM ALONE IN EXCHANGE FOR ALL OF THIS!"

"I-I didn't mean to!"

"DIDN'T MEAN TO MY *SS! AS IF I'D BELIEVE THAT! JAMIL!"

Soon Jamil entered the room. in truth he was about to enter till he heard screaming and heard the entire thing.

"Yes, Kalim"

"Take her away. make her confess EVERYTHING that she had done. After that could you call Azul? I want to have a talk with him to deal with something."

"Yes, of course" Jamil left with the 2nd wife being taken away by guards.

"WAIT! KALIM PLEASE! I LOVE YOU! DON'T DO THIS TO ME!"

As they all left the room Kalim sat down and tears started running down his face.

"Why was I so stupid? thinking I could protect you without having to hurt anyone but as a result I ended up hurting you... then lost you. I should've dealt with them from the start. I should've just been there for you... now I not only lost you... but I lost our son too... haha! why am I so stupid?"

For the rest of the night Kalim just cried. knowing can never bring you back.

-END-

"isn't that an interesting timeline."

"Didn't know that there would be a bad ending to their story. I hope this timeline won't stick it would be so sad~" a voice said as she closed a book that's titled 'You Weren't there'

soon the book started to become grains of sand.

"oh? what is this?"

"The timeline is disintegrating"

"I guess that means that story won't be sticking around."She then pushed up her glasses as she looked back at the millions of books being written each having a pen that glows with inspiration and life."I wonder who's story would be finished next~ would the story disappear? or will it be part of the official collection?"

"Let's see what endings are in-store~ After all"

"I am the story keeper~"

[tojitiddies]

✰ TEACH

pairing ⋆ toji fushiguro x fem!reader

synopsis ⋆ in all your years of teaching you’ve never encountered a parent like toji.

warnings ⋆ vaginal sex, oral sex, creampie, dacryphilia if you squint, dumbification

ꔵ the first time you ever saw toji fushiguro was around second month of school, when megumi had began acting up in class. you knew megumi to be a spoiled rich kid, as he was always being dropped off and picked up in sleek black cars with tinted windows, along with his older sister tsumiki. sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of the driver if megumi ever needed assistance getting his bag out the car, but that was the only semblance of adult supervision you’d seen megumi receive outside of school faculty.

megumi was always dressed crisply and his meals efficiently packed. he really didn’t seem to understand the concept of sharing or caring and relied on his tiny fists to solve conflicts. this was all a stark contrast to his sister tsumiki, seeing as his older sister’s teachers only sang her praises. truly you had tried to get through to the seven year old, but out of all the trouble makers you’d ever taught, megumi really liked to work your nerves.

which brought you here, at a parent-teacher conference with megumi’s father, toji fushiguro. his large figure looked comical as he sat in one of the small plastic, colored chairs, usually inhabited by first graders of course. he wore a plain black t-shirt and white slacks. he also had a black blazer that he he had draped over the side of his chair. the side of his lips was decorated with a menacingly large scar that twitched occasionally as he listened to you speak.

“... all i want is for megumi to have a good time here in first grade. i know he and his sister are new so making an adjustment may be difficult, but i’d like to make the transition for young megumi as smooth as possible.” you finished as you fiddled with your fingers.

toji shifted in his chair with a slight grunt. “mrs. ____ is it?” he asked. you shook your head.

“just miss actually.” you corrected him shyly. his entire demeanor was so intimidating you didn’t want to insult him. you almost miss the mischievous glint in his eye as you lift your eyes to face him again.

“i understand your concerns with my son. i had no idea what a little shit he was being. especially to such a beautiful young woman as yourself.” his tone is suggestive, contradicting the polite smile adorning his lips.

you smiled uncomfortably. “thank you, but i would never think of your son as...a little shit. i’m sure he has a sweet side somewhere. which is why, i thought maybe megumi could benefit from some sort of counseling?” you suggested, pushing forward a slip of paper. toji leaned forward taking the document from the desk and began to read over it, his brow quirking up in interest. “alongside being a first grade teacher i also serve as a counselor here at the elementary school.” you began to explain. “although i’ve never counseled a student of my own in fear of bias, i think it would be wise if megumi had someone whom he was acquainted with.”

toji set the slip back down and set his gaze on you. you squeezed your thighs together as he fixed you with his stare. he really was intensely attractive. “hm, how unfair is it that my son gets more alone time with you than i do?” this time he smirked. so it wasn’t your imagination, he was flirting with you.

“mr. fushiguro?”

“i’m only teasing teach.” he chuckled. “i agree. i think we could all benefit from megumi’s counseling,” he folded his arms over his broad chest, his muscles flexing beneath his shirt. “so when does he start?” your eyes zoned in on toji’s biceps before blinking back up at him he pretended not notice you ogling him. “ah well...next wednesday perhaps? all i need is for you to sign the slip.” you said sliding him a pen from your desk.

your fingers brushed against his as he took the pen. you tried to ignore it, knowing he was probably only try to get a rise out of you. he began to scribble his signature, once he finished he stood up from his seat and you followed suit. “thank you mrs. ____ for contacting me.” he said, holding out his hand for you to shake.

you took it, letting his large hands envelope yours. “ah...again it’s just ms. ____. i’m not married.” you corrected him again with a lighthearted laugh. toji smirked at that before he leant in towards you. startled, you froze, afraid he might kiss you, until you realized he was only leaning towards your ear. “we’ll be in touch then, ms. ____.” he spoke in a lower tone. you were left standing there completely dumbstruck as he retrieved his blazer and threw it over his shoulder.

“yes...” you murmured quietly in response as he left you alone in the classroom.

ꔵ three months into counseling with megumi you had begun to see progress. his angered outbursts only came in waves and he had stopped using his hands and started using his words. his attitude toward you had also warmed up and he had even began giving you hugs. you were happy all the exercises you’d been working on with him were finally starting to pay off.

the only big issue? his father.

every time you spoke to him there was always a flirty or suggestive undertone. he never crossed the line but he would constantly get close to doing so. there was one counseling session a couple weeks ago when he came to pick up megumi (something he had suspiciously started doing ever since your counseling had started). you were both standing outside the door of the classroom, with megumi inside coloring, as you briefed toji on his counseling session.

“so he’s doing well then, i’m glad. but how are you doing teach? i know dealing with these little brats all day can’t be good on your stress.” he said, resting his hand on your forearm. you glanced down at his thumb caressing your skin before laughing nervously, brushing his hand down. “ah...really i’m alright mr. fushi - “

“i’ve told you to call me toji.” he interrupted, his voice dropping to that low tone once again.

you cleared your throat, trying to settle the butterflies that formed in your stomach. “thank you toji. but really i don’t mind it. i’ve been doing this for almost eight years now..” you tried your best not to let your voice waver under this suggestive tension.

toji stepped forward, the space between the both of you becoming almost non existent as your breasts came in contact with his chest. “well just know teach...” he murmured, lifting his fingers to your chin, “if you ever need any stress relief - “

“papa!”

you jumped back from toji like a frightened feline, while toji stood in place clearly unfazed by his child’s sudden presence. you’d been so focused on trying not to jump toji’s bones right then and there, you hadn’t even noticed megumi open the classroom door. “can we go home now? i’m hungry.” he whined, brandishing a cute pout on his face.

you couldn’t help but smile at the cute kid. toji bent down and picked him up, resting him on his hip. “hungry huh? well you can eat this knuckle sandwich for interrupting ms. ____ and i.” he teased, playfully twisting his fist into megumi’s face. megumi giggled slapping away his large hand before turning to look at you. “sorry ms. ____.” he apologized sweetly. yet another skill he’d learned from his counseling sessions.

you grinned and leaned forward to pinch his cheek. “don’t worry about it lovebug! it wasn’t that important anyway.” you chirped, glancing over at toji to see his lips twitch into a frown. you held back a giggle at how identical his pout was to little megumi’s. you leaned into the classroom to take megumi’s backpack off the hook, which toji took and swung over his free arm.

“say goodbye to ms. ____, megumi.” toji instructed. megumi raise his arm to wave, which you met with a small high five instead. “i’ll see you in the morning megumi!” you cheered. toji glanced back at you briefly. “don’t forget about my offer ms. ___.” he said with a wink, before turning back around and walking off with his son.

once he and megumi were out if sight you fell back against the classroom door with a whine. toji fushiguro would truly be the end of you.

ꔵ the afternoon sun shone through your window as you finished up the last of your student reports. as you began to pack up, you heard a knock at your classroom door. “come in!” you called out, not bothering to look up from your work.

you sighed as you gave up on organization and just began to sweep the papers into a folder, but before you could finish, a large hand fell on top of yours. you let out a yelp, looking up to find toji fushiguro smirking down at you. he looked as though he’d come straight from work, blessing you with a tight button down shirt and black slacks. god, he was a work of art.

“afternoon teach.” he greeted you.

“mr. fushiguro what a surprise. what are you doing here? megumi’s gone home already hasn’t he?” you asked, trying to keep calm as a million more thoughts raced through your mind.

“ah, that’s right. he’s long gone. ‘s just you and me.” he said as he fixed you with his strong gaze, his hand closing around yours. “i came because i wanted to thank you. i haven’t seen megumi like this in awhile. i know this was mostly a school thing, but he’s been less of a little shit at home too,” he informed you, his thumb slowly caressing your hand.

you were becoming putty under his touch. “yes...i’m glad gumi’s doing do well at home too. all i want is the best for him.” you answered, stumbling over your words a bit. toji brought your hand up to his lips kissing your knuckles. “mhm...so i was wondering if you’d thought about my offer?” he asked, looking back at you through those lustful eyes.

“mr. fushiguro - “

“toji.”

“t-toji...i’m delighted you would pay me a visit simply to thank me, but it really isn’t necessary.” you could feel his aura start to envelope you, the tension between you two thickening with lust. the most he’d done was kiss your knuckles and already you were trying to keep from rubbing your thighs together.

still holding firmly onto your hand, toji began to walk around your desk. “ms. ____, i insist you let me properly thank you because i feel you’re deserving of it. do you not?” he murmured, gingerly pulling you up out of your seat, guiding your hand towards his chest. your fingers instinctively hooked around the fabric where he’d left his shirt unbuttoned. his other arm snaked its way around your waist.

“toji...we shouldn’t. this is highly unprofessional, i could get fired. and what about megumi?” you rambled, trying to keep your composure. toji leaned down and began to press sweet wet kisses down your neck. you sighed out, letting your hand fan out across his chest.

“megumi will be fine teach. no one has to know anything as long as you can keep a secret. now let me take care of you.” he whispered, licking a stripe up your neck. his knee came to situate between your thighs, you wasted no time grinding against him. a soft moan escaped your lips as you let your head fall back against your shoulders.

“kiss me...please?” you mumured, hooking your arm around his neck. toji’s scar twitched as his lips formed a smirk. he lifted his head, grazing your lips against his before pressing forward. the kiss was rough and sensual, both of you devouring each other in a clash of lips and tongue. you moaned into his mouth, continuing to grind against his thigh. when your lips finally separated, a string of saliva connected you before dripping down onto your blouse.

“enjoying my thigh teach?” he taunted, flexing his thigh muscles and causing you to let out a breathy moan again. “y-you’re teasing me.” you whined desperately trying to grind your clothed clit against his thigh muscles. the hand on your waist slid down taking your thigh and pinning it to his waist, granting you better access. “so needy for me hm?” he murmured into your ear, taking your lobe between his teeth. “tell me what you want baby.”

your hand fisted his collar as you desperately ground yourself against him. “please fuck me toji. i can’t take your constant teasing anymore.” you whimpered, nuzzling into his shoulder. toji chuckled at that before reaching behind you, clearing your desk in one fell swoop. papers and files fluttered to the ground as he lifted you up on top of your desk, spreading your legs.

you both hastily begin unbuttoning your shirts, one of your buttons popping off in the frenzy. toji chuckles as he lowers himself to his knees, his chest muscles rippling as he moves. “i can’t believe you have the nerve to walk around in a tight little skirt like this.” he laughs wickedly, sliding up your pencil skirt until it bunches up at your waist. you feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment as the wet spot in your panties becomes noticeable. toji slides his finger up your covered folds, the slick coating his finger prints. “how lovely.” he purrs to himself.

“please...” you whine breathily, scooting forward hoping he’d take the hint. he chuckles darkly blowing against your clothed clit before pulling aside your underwear to marvel at your dripping cunt. “look at that.” he marvels before letting his tongue dip between your folds. you let out a choked moan. it had been so long since you’d been touched this way by someone other than yourself, it felt like heaven. he paused only to hook his fingers around your panties and discard them who knows where.

just as quick as he was gone, he’s back to hungrily bury his tongue in your cunt, switching between prodding your hole with his tongue and sucking your clit. your fingers fisted his raven hair, as you loudly praised his skill through moans and chants. the wet sounds of him slurping and licking up your arousal egged you on to grind against his mouth. waves of arousal just keep coming, whatever his tongue couldn’t catch dripping onto the desk.

your thighs threatened to close around his head as you felt yourself coming close to climaxing. “fuck stop! toji i’m gonna cum,” you whine out, weakly trying to push his head away. you hear him hum in amusement as he instead, moves his hands up to spread your thighs back further. his tongue works your hole, slowly spreading it wider before he’s able to curl his tongue inside. you let out a loud cry, your hips jerking and bucking as you’re overwhelmed with pleasure. your vision spots as you cum all over his tongue, your thighs threatening to snap around his head but his hands keep you in place.

toji finishes licking up the rest of your arousal before rising up from between your legs, towering over your trembling figure. one hand comes up to your chin, roughly tilting your head up to look directly at him. “open,” he commands, to which you obey immediately. your tongue rolls out lewdly as he spits your arousal down your throat. “good girl,” he purrs. “now turn around, i’m about to fuck the living daylights out of you.”

eagerly you turn around on your stomach, thankful for the desk supporting your torso as your sure your wobbly legs would not be able to. you hear toji unbuckling behind you as your spread your legs slightly, swaying your hips hoping to entice him to move a bit faster. toji’s hands come to spread over the globe of your ass cheeks, kneading them in his palms.

“you’re so fucking sexy. i’m sure you already know ever since we’ve met this ass has been all i ever think about.” he chuckled, letting his hardened cock slide back and forth between your folds. you let out a whine moving your hips back against him. “i want you to fill me up so badly, please hurry.” your croak out, your voice hoarse from your previous climax. toji brings down his hand against your ass harshly, receiving a yelp in response. “and who you do you think you are ordering me, huh teach? i’m not one of your little first graders baby,” he grunts, spreading your ass cheeks again, letting the tip of his cock tease your aching hole.

“beg for it.” he taunts in a sing-song tone, sliding his cock up and down and against your cunt. your let out a small puff of air as you turn your head back to look at him with your pleading eyes. “please toji...please stuff me full. i haven’t been fucked in so long i wanna be filled up please.” you whimpered, your hips stuttering against his cock, now lubed up with all the juices he’d collected. your begging seemed to please toji, his scar twitching as his lips formed a smug smirk. “good girl.”

toji slammed his cock inside you, no regard for easing you on to his length whatsoever. tears pricked your eyes at the sharp pain, your insides spasming around him. “shit, you feel like a fucking virgin squeezing me so tight. you weren’t kidding about not being fucked in so long, hm?” he chuckled. you didn’t get the chance to respond as he was already pulling out to slam back in. it hurt so good, the pain and the pleasure of being stretched around his girth. he continued to thrust harshly inside your cunt only receiving broken moans and strings of curses from your lips.

his hand came to your hair, his fingers roughly grabbing your head back. your arousal began to return once more, dripping down his cock and making the most obscene squelching and sucking noises. “such a naughty teacher, letting a parent fuck her right in the classroom, huh?” toji’s gruff voice came from behind you. you whined, one of your hands reaching behind you to spread your ass cheeks to grabt him more access. “feels so fucking good, fuck me harder, please.” you manage to say through clenched teeth. “harder baby? you got it.”

before you can even think to react, his arms come to circle around your thighs, lifting you up against his chest. you let out a small cry, your arm instinctively circling around his neck for upper support. toji holds you up, legs spread over his cock. the cool air of the classroom hits your clit causing you whine out in frustration. toji chuckles. “impatient, are we teach?” he murmurs before ramming his hips up into you, his cock sliding back in immediately. “fuck!” you blurt out in surprise.

this new position had him hitting you in places no one had ever discovered and your tits bouncing up and down with fervor. your cunt fluttered, hearing his grunts so much closer to your ear. your lips fall slack, your tongue rolling out ever so slightly as he fucks you dumb. everything just feels so fucking good. “fuck keep squeezing around me just like that teach, i’m gonna cum.” he growls into your ear “fuck...stuff me full of your cum t-toji,” you sob, feeling yourself come closer to your second climax as well.

you bring your free hand down to your clit, rubbing it slow in contrast his quick thrusting. you wanted to savor this feeling. “god, keep touching yourself just like that baby,” he moans, swiveling his head to sink his teeth into to your shoulder. everything seems to slow, the pleasurable drag of his hardened cock against your walls, him hitting your spot just right, the way you sucked him back in as he pulled out...

“toji i’m - “ you can’t even finish before a wave of pleasure knocks over you, your vision spotting once again as he brings you to your climax for a second time. toji continues to fuck into you faster chasing his own high before you feel the spurts of thick cum filling your insides. you’re barely able to think, your fucked out daze taking over. you barely notice him move you off his softening length to set you down. you immediately grab ahold of him, your legs unable to support you at the time. you can feel his cum and your arousal begin to trickle out from your cunt, earning a satisfied whine from your lips. toji laughs softly, leaning down to press a kiss against your forehead. “i haven’t had a good fuck like that in awhile. you were better than i imagined, taking me like that.” he spoke, his voice sounding muffled to you as your daze still hadn’t worn off. you hum softly nuzzling into his warm chest.

toji bites his lip as he looks down at you, you’re just so fucking cute clinging to him that way. he lifts you up on to the desk, carefully dressing you back up. he can’t find your panties so he just pulls you skirt back down from where it had gathered at your waist. he tucks your breasts back into your bra and picks up your blouse from the floor. he smirks at the missing button, doing what he can to close your blouse back up.

you smile gently, watching toji perform his aftercare. this must be the fatherly side of him you rarely get to see. after he’s finished dressing you both back up, he sets his gaze back on you. “so, i’ll see you next wednesday ms. ____?” he asks, settling back into his usual smug demeanor. you scoff before muttering out a small confirmation. he grins that smug toji grin. “perfect then. i’ll be sure to tell megumi you said hello.” he walks out shutting the door behind him, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hall.

authors note ⋆ hi! this is my first time ever writing and posting something here on tumblr <3 i really hope this wasn’t too bad this took me like three days to write and i deleted and added a bunch of stuff so i hope it isn’t too wacky. thank you for reading!

[themuseandantarctica]

* 𝒒𝒖𝒐𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒑𝒕. 23

change however necessary.

“There are three principal ways to lose money: wine, women, and engineers. While the first two are more pleasant, the third is by far the more certain.”

“I cannot afford to waste my time making money.”

“Money never made a man happy yet, nor will it.  The more a man has, the more he wants.  Instead of filling a vacuum, it makes one.”

“All I ask is a chance to prove that money can’t make me happy.”

“There’s no more morality in world affairs, fundamentally, than there was at the time of Genghis Khan.”

“The moral high ground is wreathed in fog.”

“The ethical view of the universe involves us in so many cruel and absurd contradictions, that I have come to suspect that the aim of creation cannot be ethical at all.”

“Do not be too moral.  You may cheat yourself out of much life.  So aim above morality.  Be not simply good; be good for something.”

“She who forms the souls of the young is greater than any painter or sculptor.”

“Every beetle is a gazelle in the eyes of its mother.”

“My mother never saw the irony in calling me a son-of-a-bitch.”

“If evolution really works, how come mothers only have two hands?”

“What one owes to one’s mother is never repaid.”

“When your mother asks, ‘Do you want a piece of advice?’ it is a mere formality.  It doesn’t matter if you answer yes or no.  You’re going to get it anyway.”

“If a writer has to rob his mother he will not hesitate; the ‘Ode on a Grecian Urn’ is worth any number of old ladies.”

“The remarkable thing about my mother is that for thirty years she served us nothing but leftovers.  The original meal has never been found.”

“My father considered a walk among the mountains as the equivalent of church-going.”

“I can’t do with mountains at close quarters—they are always in the way, and they are so stupid, never moving and never doing anything but obtrude themselves.”

“Mountains are not fair or unfair, they are just dangerous.”

“You climb for the hell of it.”

“They say that if the Swiss had designed these mountains they’d be rather flatter.”

“There are three secrets to the success of a film: casting, casting, and casting.”

“Film is one of the three universal languages, the other two: mathematics and music.”

“Pictures are for entertainment, messages should be delivered by Western Union.”

“The moves were custard compared to politics.”

“The length of a film should be directly related to the endurance of the human bladder.”

“Having your book turned into a movie is like seeing your oxen turned into bouillon cubes.”

“When the script is finished, then we add the dialogue.”

“The only really good thing about acting in movies is that there’s no heavy lifting.”

“I am a filmmaker, not a director.  I like the physical process of making movies.  I might be a toymaker if I wasn’t a filmmaker.”

“This film cost $31 million.  With that kind of money I could have invaded some country.”

“My favorite line about Hollywood is, ‘Nobody wants to be first.  But everyone wants to be the first to be second.’”

“In Hollywood a marriage is a success if it outlasts milk.”

“Gandhi was everything the voting members of the Academy would like to have been: moral, tan, and thin.”

“I’m not going to go to any more dinner parties.  They’re so badly directed.”

“You can take all the sincerity in Hollywood, place it in the navel of a fruit fly, an still have room for three caraway seeks and a producer’s heart.”

“Of all noises, I think music is the least disagreeable.”

“Music, which can be made anywhere, is invisible and does not smell.”

“Music is the only cheap unpunished rapture on earth.”

“Music is no different from opium.”

“Don’t play what’s there, play what’s not there.”

“The notes I handle no better than many pianists.  But the pauses between the notes—ah, that is where the art resides.”

“Music has many resemblances to algebra.”

“Music is the arithmetic of sounds as optics is the geometry of light.”

“Music is the language spoken by angels.”

“It may be that when the angels go about their task praising God, they play only Bach.  I am sure, however, that when they are together en famille they play Mozart.”

“Music is powerless to express anything.”

“Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent.”

“My music is best understood by children and animals.”

“Nothing separates the generations more than music.  By the time a child is eight or nine, he has developed a passion for his own music that is even stranger than his passions for procrastination and weird clothes.”

“Every kind of music is good, except the boring kind.”

“The British like any kind of music so long as it is loud.”

“All the good music has already been written by people with wigs and stuff.”

“There is two kinds of music, the good and bad.  I play the good kind.”

“No culture so far discovered lacks music.”

“It seems obvious that painting, sculpture, or drama imitated nature. But what does music imitate?  The measurements suggest that music is imitating the characteristic way our world changes with time.”

“Music is the effort we make to explain to ourselves how our brains work. We listen to Bach transfixed because this is listening to a human mind.”

“There is no feeling, except the extremes of fear and grief, that does not find relief in music.”

“I know only two tunes: one of them is ‘Yankee Doodle’ and the other one isn’t.”

“Classical music is the kind we keep thinking will turn into a tune.”

“All music is folk music.  I ain’t never heard no horse sing a song.”

“What do you get when you play country music backward?  You get your girl back, your dog back, your pick-up back, and you stop drinking.”

“Country music is three chords and the truth.”

“If it has more than three chords, it’s jazz.”

“Jazz is not dead… it just smells funny.”

“There are some experiences in life which should not be demanded twice from any man, and one of them is listening to the Brahm’s Requiem.”

“People usually complain that music is so ambiguous, that it leaves them in such doubt as to what to think, whereas words can be understood by everyone.  But to me it seems exactly the opposite.”

“Remember: information is not knowledge; knowledge is not wisdom; wisdom is not truth; truth is not beauty; beauty is not love; love is not music; music is the best.”

“Without music, life would be a mistake.”

“My idea is that there is music in the air, music all around us; the world is full of it, and you simply take as much as you require.”

“Music is the best means we have of digesting time.”

“I like Wagner’s music better than any other music.  It is so loud that one can talk the whole time without people hearing what one says.  That is a great advantage.”

“A painter paints his pictures on canvas.  But musicians paint their pictures on silence.  We provide the music, and you provide the silence.”

“If the King loves music, it is well with the land.”

“Music is essentially useless, as is life.”

“It’s easy to play any musical instrument: all you have to do is touch the right key at the right time and the instrument will play itself.”

“Any space is as much a part of the instrument as the instrument itself.”

“There are two instruments worse than a clarinet—two clarinets.”

“The flute is not an instrument which has a good moral effect—it is too exciting.”

“A flute with no holes is not a flute, and a doughnut with no hole is a Danish.”

“What is a harp but an oversized cheese slicer with cultural pretensions?”

“Harpists spend 90 percent of their lives tuning their harps and 10 percent playing out of tune.”

“The sound of a harpsichord—two skeletons copulating on a tin roof in a thunderstorm.”

“When she started to play, Steinway himself came down personally and rubbed his name off the piano.”

“[name] did not like the saxophone; he said it sounds like the word reckankreuzungsklankewerkzeuge.”

“Never look at the trombones, it only encourages them.”

“The tuba is certainly the most intestinal of instruments, the very lower bowel of music.”

“The difference between a violin and viola is that a viola burns longer.”

“Ah, music!  What a beautiful art!  But what a wretched profession!”

“Did Beethoven look like a musician?  No, of course she didn’t.”

“A jazz musician is a juggler who uses harmonies instead of oranges.”

“A typical day in the life of a heavy metal musician consists of a round of golf and an AA meeting.”

“I’ve never known a musician who regretted being one.  Whatever deceptions life may have in store for you, music itself is not going to let you down.”

[sweetchup]

Bi•valve

Noun

an aquatic mollusk that has a compressed body enclosed within a hinged shell, such as oysters, clams, mussels, and scallops.

AKA

The Most Common Seashell in the Ocean

————————

Vol. 1: Just Keep Swimming // Ch.1

Type: Poseidon x reader

Word Count: 1,800+

Masterlist

————————

“Ok… ok… is there anyway you could—… no? Wait please don’t—…” You let out a sigh as the other side of the phone line goes dead. “Another miss…”

You crumple to the floor of your bedroom in a heap. The storm was still in full swing outside even though hours had gone by and it was now dark. It seemed the storm had caused quite the ruckus in Athens—the capital where you were staying at—and most emergency services were busy.

They even ignored you at the police station you went to earlier, though it likely didn’t help your situation that you couldn’t even speak their native language of Greek…

—.—.—

“No, no. Lost. Child. Not mine.” You explained once more to the officer in front of you, the only one in this place that knew of the slightest hint of english.

The officer only shakes his head once more at you before walking away, turning his attention to the other patrons here that needed help. You wished it was just that they didn’t understand you—that they didn’t understand that you had found a lost boy struggling at sea—but it was slowly becoming clear that they just didn’t believe you.

Tan skin. Brown hair. Brown or green eyes. That was what the average greek boy here looked like. A big contrast from Triton, the pale skinned blonde haired blue eyed boy who you were currently holding in your arms. They just simply didn’t believe that he was a Greek child that had gotten washed away at sea during the storm.

It also didn’t help that no one had called in a lost child that had a similar description to Triton. And, with no other option and too much to do, the police just chose to ignore the glaring problem right in front of them.

“Miss (Y-y/n)?”

At Triton’s call, you looked down at the boy and realize that the more that you look at him, the stranger he gets. Soaked from the rain and sea, you would have expected him to be shivering like a leaf but he was as still as stone. As if he couldn’t even feel how cold his skin was right now. As if he was used to being soaked with the coldest depths of the ocean.

“Miss (Y/n)?” Triton calls again, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Ah, sorry, I spaced out. Yes?”

“I-I…” You watch patiently as the boy begins twiddling with his thumbs. As if he wanted to tell you something but was quite embarrassed to be so.

“Is something wrong, Triton?”

“N-no!” The boy shouts out, the loudest you’ve heard him speak so far, before instantly realizing his tone and caving in on himself. His shoulder and back slumping forward as if to hide himself from your sight.

“It’s alright. You can tell me, I don’t mind.” You reassure the boy. You can’t help but sincerely wonder what happened to him. What happened to the little boy, who looked no older than 10, that made him so scared and skittish? And you doubted that getting lost at sea is what caused it.

“I…”

A loud growl cuts off Triton and not the animal kind either.

“Oh… are you perhaps hungry, Triton?” You ask the boy as he bashfully ducks his head into your shoulder out of embarrassment.

“Y-yes.”

You can’t help but let out a small chuckle at Triton’s antics. Even though he was quite strange, he was still a cute child at heart.

“Well let’s go grab something to eat. It seems there’s no one to help us here anyway.”

—.—.—

As you reminisce about Triton—who you soon find out after that is a lover of raw fish, extremely strange if you had to say so for yourself—you can’t help but wonder where he went.

After you took him back to your place, a small, only two rooms, one bath apartment you rent near campus, you allowed him to take a shower and borrow some of your clothes. He should still be sitting in the living room watching some cartoons and eating after you left him to take a shower and make a couple of phone calls, all unsuccessful by the way, but it had been well over an hour. You wonder if he could have perhaps gotten bored by now.

Deciding it wouldn’t hurt to check up on the boy, you sit up from your spot on the floor and make your way out of your bedroom.

“Triton, is every—“

You stop mid sentence as you take in the scene in front of you. Water…. Water was floating. Triton was floating as well.

It was hard for your brain to rack around what you were seeing. Triton, the strange boy that you had saved from the sea, was floating in your living room on top of a bubble of water. He didn’t seem surprised in any way either as he was in the middle of playing with some tiny bubbles of water himself. Separating and un-separating them at will.

“T-Triton?” You call out again, this time catching the boy’s attention. His face turned to one of surprise and shock as he released the bubbles of water allowing it and him to crash to the floor. Even though your living room floor was now soaking wet, that was the least of your worries.

“M-Miss (Y-y/n), how long were you…?” Triton’s voice trails off as he realizes the question was not needed, you had already seen enough. He begins to pale at all the possibilities. Even though he was in fact a god and could not be hurt by human weapons, there were still many things that could happen to him. He was still a child after all, no were near his mother’s and father’s level of strength.

“Triton…” Your voice calls out again causing Triton to flinch as you draw closer to him, “Are…are you okay?”

Triton, whose gaze was locked at the floor, turned his head upwards in surprise to look at you. Your gaze was not one of disgust or anger. No. Nor was it cold, a gaze he had come to know that his father often wore, or of disappointment, a look his mother often glared at him with. No. Your gaze was kind. Sure, it looked confused but it was also filled with warmth out of concern for him.

Triton felt the hot bubbling feeling of tears in his eyes. He would normally try to hold it in, forcibly stop himself from crying as he knew if his mother found out she would surely beat him. But, he didn’t.

He let the tears spill out. Tears that felt hot against his cold marble skin. Marble skin that was an aching reminder that he was a god, a perfect being. That he shouldn’t be feebly crying in front of a human like this.

Yet, as you wrap your warm arms around his shaking form, he finds himself not minding his warm tears. Warmth reminds him of you, the only one who dared to comfort him. Not his father, nor his uncles and cousins, or the servants, and never, never, his mother.

Triton finds himself crying again. Instead of out of fear, it is out of misery this time. He wished he wasn’t a god, he wished he didn’t eventually have to go back to his terrible mother, he wished that his father would pay more attention to him and show him something… anything. He wished he could just stay like this in your arms. A stranger that was more of a mother to him in less than a few hours, than his own mother was in his hundreds of years of existence.

“It’s okay, Triton. Everything will be okay. I’m not angry.”

Triton couldn’t help but think how he never doubted you in the first place.

—.—.—

As you run your hands through the Triton's hair, who was curled up on your lap, you think about what he had told you.

“So you’re a god…The son of Poseidon and Amphitrite…”

“Yeah…” Triton whispers out, his voice slightly strained from all the crying he had done.

A god. Triton was a mighty Greek god. Even though you couldn’t wrap your head around the situation, you knew you had to. Especially after all that has happened up til now and if you were—

“Are…are you angry?”

You pause for a second, shocked slightly at what Triton had muttered out, before finally answering, “I’m not. Not at all. I just…”

You wondered how you should phrase it.

“… I don’t know how to get you home, Triton.”

The silence is overwhelming after. You didn’t know if you should have told the young boy that but it also wasn’t right to lie to him. You feel Triton shift under your arms and you loosen your grip as he slowly sits up.

“I…” Triton starts before pausing. His gaze shifts from his hands to your eyes, the first time the boy had ever locked eyes with you since you saved him. It reminded you how icy blue his eyes were, a blue that you now realize is not possible for a human to obtain. At least not naturally. A firm reminder that Triton wasn’t one, he was a god. “I… I don’t want to return home.”

“What…” You say startled, “Ok, then how about one of your uncles or—“

“No. I…I want to stay here. With you Miss (y/n).”

Stay here… with you. You didn’t know what to think. You were a struggling college student who spent hours upon hours studying every day. Could you even take care of a child, nevertheless a god? What about his mother, who Triton explained was a horrible being? Or his father, the king of the sea? Could you protect Triton from them? From a god, a being so much stronger and powerful than you?

“I…” You started before abruptly stopping. You wanted to protect Triton, help him. You had to find a way. You couldn’t abandon the child before you like this. Not after hearing his anguished cries for the last hour. As you held him, you felt as if he was made of glass. Like if you even squeezed him too tightly he would shatter into a million pieces in your arms.

“I…I can’t assure anything, I am just a human after all. But you can stay here for as long as you want Triton.”

As you watch the young boy before you smile and collapse in your arms, it was then that your mind had decided. You would protect Triton for as long as you could,

…no matter the cost.

Author Note: Oooo things are heating up. It seems Triton and Zeus have opposite plans for the reader and that could spell trouble. Hehehe. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, I am immensely thankful for all the support that got shown on my prologue chapter of this series. Please contunie to give your support and tell me your opinions about my work. It really does help as it shows what I can improve on in future chapters and works. Till next time 💕💕

Taglist: @angeli-fucking-cat @marixxhq

[raineydays411]

Fly me to the moon

Dick Grayson x Reader

Summary: After a mission goes wrong, you and the Guardians are left with no other choice but to land on Earth. The only problem is that you haven’t been there in about three years and you kind of left on bad terms.

Fear gripped your heart as you held on to the arm rests of your seat. You never will get used to being jerked around as Peter navigated through asteroids.

While trying to escape from whatever being, gang, or government the team has angered that day.

This time, you’re running because the king of some planet wanted you to marry his son. Then Rocket threatened to castrate him, all 

What can you say? You wanted adventure.

*BANG* 

“THEY SHOT OFF THE DAMN BOOSTER”

Oh shit.

Lights keep flashing as the ship started shaking. Peter and Rocket were arguing as Drax was laughing. You and Groot look at each other in concern and Gamora just looks like she wants to kill everyone. 

“um guys...”

“WE NEED TO LAND SOMEWHERE!”

“OH WHY DIDN’T I THINK OF THAT! LET ME LAND ON THE MILLIONS OF PLANETS, OH WAIT THERE AREN’T ANY!!”

“I DON’T APPRECIATE YOUR TONE”

“Peter..Rocket...”

“I’m sorry, I’m just a little concerned with the FLEET OF SHIPS CHASING US RIGHT NOW”

“PETER!”

“WHAT Y/N??!”

“They’re surrounding us..”

Peter and Rockett’s eyes widen as they actually pay attention, seeing that you pursuers are indeed forming a large circle. 

“Shit.”

Rocket turns to Peter, “Make a jump.”

“What?! Are you crazy?!” “YES but we don’t have any other better ideas!!” 

“Just do it!” Gamora yells, fed up with the arguing.

 And after a beat of hesitation, Peter faced forward and shouted a quick,“HOLD ON TIGHT”

Then made the jump. 

After a flash of light, you feel the ship enter the atmosphere of a planet. It shakes as Peter tries to gain control but is failing.

“Someone need’s to go out there and fix the booster!” Peter yells looking at Rocket.

“Don’t look at me. I went last time.”

“As did I.”

“Me too.”

“I am groot.”

You sigh, knowing that it was your turn, “ Alright I’ll go.”

You unbuckle your seat belt and grumble to Peter,” You know, you’re not a responsible guardian.” 

He scoffs and says, “I’m teaching you life skills kid. Now go with Rocket.”

You and Rocket roll your eyes as you head towards the back of the ship. He helps you get tied up as the ship shakes around you. He reminds you how to fix the broken part and then mutters a gruff, “You sure you’re gonna be okay?”

To which you smirk and reply with a, “Sure old man, why you worried?”

He rolls his eye and immediately take back what he said, opening the hatch allowing you to step out and crawl out on the side of the ship. Simple, you’ve done this before.

But this time it was different. It seemed that Peter was having trouble steering. You’re jostled around and you scowl. You speak into the little ear com

“Ay Quill, you mind flying better?!”

“SOrry kid. There's some flying dude in spandex trying to hit us!!”

What? There's no way.

“What? Is he in blue and has a red “s” on his chest?” 

There’s no way. Your luck is not this shitty.

“Um..yeah how did you know that?”

Crap. 

“Uh I-AH” You’re cut off, a red laser shooting the rope that had you harnessed to the ship, and helped you keep balance. Thus making you cling onto the side of the ship with your best abliltiy.

“PETER THE HARNESS!”

“HOLD ON KID!”

The ship swerves more, trying to avoid the flying man.

“Where are these guys coming from?!”

That’s the last thing you hear when you’re knocked off the ship, you look up to see a bat shaped object where you were holding on. Everything goes in slow motion as you fall. The last thing you hear is Peter yelling in your ear as you hit the ground and everything goes black.

“Y/N!!!”

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

You groan as you shift on the ground. A sharp pain running up your leg as you sit up. You see a few cuts and you know at least your ankle is sprained.

Your vision clears as you look at your surroundings. You see forrest. That’s all, just forrest. You hear the calls of birds and chattering of woodland creatures.but then you hear footsteps. The crunching of twigs as someone creeps your way. 

You leap to your feet, crying out as the weight on your ankle sends more pain shooting up your side. But you don’t let that deter you. You keep the small mask Rocket made for you on, hiding your identity. That’s when you see him

“You’re not from here are you?” 

You stay silent, observing his moves. Not wanting to get ambushed.

“Do you know what I’m even saying?”

There's a beat of silence then you lowly say “ My..My family?”

“Oh they’re fine. It seems that the ship you were on crashed but everyone's okay! Don’t worry. They’re worried about you though. So, um, you wanna come with me.”

Relieved you relax your stance. A familiar feeling coming over you as you cock your hip, “ I don’t know, Rocket always said not to speak to strangers.”

He blushes, not expecting your shift in tone, “ Well, I’m Robin.”

You smirk, “ I know.” 

He looks confused, but that morphs into shock as you click a button, allowing the mask to retract and reveal your face. 

“Hey Grayson.”

“Y/n?!”

[one-more-offbeat-anthem]

after the credits

to thirteen years of cas and of the greatest love story ever told...an empty rescue fic for y’all :) 2.3k,  read on ao3 here

--------------

After a while, Castiel gets tired of watching. He’s practically dreaming all the time, but he’s so tired.

Eternal sleep is not restful.

He can’t leave the Empty, but he manages to mold it, with his mind, into a theater. He went to one once, with Dean, and there are probably nicer theaters, like those for plays and operas, but this movie theater is right for him. If he concentrates, he can almost smell burnt, buttery popcorn and spilled soda and old carpet, and Dean right next to him, aftershave and car oil and whiskey.

Almost.

The scenes unfold in a memorable order, because they’re Cas’s own memories. At first, he tried to jump in, alter the scene, but he’s powerless. So, like clockwork, he watches. He’s saving Dean in hell. He’s being stabbed in the chest by the same man he raised. He’s asking Dean to get answers from Alastair and then almost getting the grace pressed out of him. He’s slamming his palm onto a bloody sigil. He’s--

Everything, all of his twelve years on earth, pass by, over and over and over again.

Right now, it’s an early scene, not far into the cycle. It’s not one of his favorites, because he can see the expression on his face, remembers exactly how he felt. Remembers that he he was feeling at all.

“That was a pretty awkward kiss, huh?”

Cas turns sharply at the sound of Dean’s voice. Of course, Dean does talk in this scene, before he kisses Anna. But this Dean is sitting next to him, frowning at the screen.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Cas says.

“I know.”

Chances are this is just the Empty trying to mess with him. Last week a random trashcan showed up in his theater. Or maybe it was last year, or a millenia ago, or five minutes from now. Time is weird.

They keep watching in silence. On the screen, in the memory, Cas’s head jerks away from the sight of Dean and Anna kissing. The scene flips then, to a park at night, Anna right in front of Cas, no Dean in sight.

“For the first time, I feel...” Memory-Cas says.

“It gets worse,” Anna warns.

“So your first feeling….” Dean starts.

“It was something.” Cas can’t look at him. The scene on-screen changes.

Dean, to his merit, doesn’t press.

The memories progress through the year they spent trying to stop the apocalypse, the year that ended with Sam diving into the pit and Dean going off to Lisa’s. Then through Cas starting to work with Crowley, a conversation that happened right behind Dean without his knowledge.

On-screen, Cas is watching Dean rake leaves. The expression on his face is nearly mournful. After a moment, Crowley steps into view.

“Ah, Castiel. Angel of Thursday. Just not your day, is it?” Crowley says.

“What are you doing here?” Memory-Cas asks.

“I want you to help me help ourselves.”

“Speak plain.”

Crowley smirks. “I want to discuss a simple business transaction. That’s all.”

“You want to make a deal? With me? I’m an Angel, you ass. ”

The scene flips again.

“Is there a way to pause this?” Dean asks.

Cas shakes his head. “It just does this, on a loop. I can’t sleep. The Empty won’t let me.” He puts a hand on the armrest between them. “I forced the theater up, to make it better.”

“It looks a lot like that theater we went to once.”

“I know.” Cas stares at Dean for a moment, looks away.

Many of these scenes are things Dean knows of. Cas works with Crowley, gets locked in a ring of fire, feels his chest seize up as Dean looks back for a moment. Watches the Leviathans lead him to a lake. They meet again on porch steps, Cas unable to remember who he is but still able to figure out that Dean is important. Cas gets his memories back, takes on Sam’s hell trauma. They go to Purgatory, Cas stays behind. It’s like clockwork.

Until.

“I don’t remember that,” Dean says slowly, watching himself die on the screen. “You never--you’ve never killed me.”

“Yes and no.” Cas knows what’s coming next--he’s going to kill Dean thousands of times. Each one is the same, with Cas in tears as these copies, mock-ups of Dean struggle, beg and plead, tell him not to. Each time, Naomi makes him do it again.

Until, finally, he doesn’t hesitate.

And she says he’s ready.

As they watch that scene in the crypt unfold, with the real Dean at Cas’s mercy, Dean leans forward, putting his elbows on his thighs and propping his chin in his hands. “You lied.”

“Hm?”

“You said you didn’t know what broke the connection.” Dean twists his head to look at Cas. “But you did.”

“I did,” Cas assents.

They watch Cas ride cross-country on a bus, pulling out his phone and almost calling Dean over and over again.

“Is there a way that we can see some of my memories?” Dean asks.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”.

Dean shrugs. “Well, I am here, and you figured out how to make a friggin movie theater, so I think I can do it.”

The image on the screen shudders, coalesces, breaks into a million pieces and then reforms. Dean is standing on the edge of a lake, picking up Cas’s coat, still covered in Leviathan goo. “You dumb son of a bitch,” Memory-Dean mutters, wrapping up the coat in his arms.

The scene flickers again--the coat in those same hands, moving from car to car to car, and then being passed to Cas. “I always knew you’d come back ,” Memory-Dean says. It’s a soft scene, almost, but then it flips to Dean seizing a monster’s collar in purgatory. He’s covered in blood and grime as he shoves the monster up against a tree, practically growling, “Where’s the angel?”

Even after the monster answers, Dean guts him.

It’s a cycle. The memory blurs through sleepless nights, through Dean stepping into streams to pray, prayers Cas knows well. It pushes past Cas letting go of Dean’s arm in the portal, and here’s something else new: Dean sees Cas on the side of the road, sees him outside the window while it pours down rain, sitting bolt upright at the phantom sight of Cas’s face.

“Why are you here?” Cas finally asks. This must really be Dean, after all. The Empty wouldn’t know these things, wouldn’t be able to dream them up. They’re too good, too honest.

“To bring you home.” Dean kicks the back of the seat in front of him, leans back in his own chair.

“I can’t go home.”

“You should.” The scene on screen rapidly changes--it’s Dean as he looks now, carrying a little boy on his back. The little boy is blonde, round-faced, holding onto Dean’s neck for dear life, laughing as Dean swings around.

“Is that--” No, it can’t be.

“Yep. He’s four, you know.” Dean clears his throat. “He misses you.”

“I wish I could have gotten to say good-bye.” Cas trails off.

“Come home. Then you never have to say it.”

Cas shakes his head. On the screen, Dean is reading to Jack, Jack following the words with a chubby finger. “It would be...awkward.”

“How?” Dean raises an eyebrow. “We’re family, dude. Jack misses you, Sam misses you, and Eileen’s been hanging around, and me…” Dean clamps his mouth shut.

That’s why.

“Things aren’t going to be the same. Not after…” Cas takes a deep breath. “What I said. We won’t be able to ignore it.”

“Then we won’t.”

“Dean--”

“You don’t know?” Dean’s eyebrows furrow. “You don’t know. Okay. I, uh…” The screen turns black.

“You what?” Cas is almost afraid to know.

“I didn’t want you to see this.”

The blackness unfurls into Billie’s library, Dean standing in front of her. They’re clearly in the middle of a conversation.

“What do you want me to say?” Memory-Dean asks. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t matter. ”

“Don’t you?” Billie replies.

“I couldn’t save Mom. I couldn’t save Cas. I can’t even save a scared little kid. Sam keeps trying to fix it, but I just keep dragging him down. So I’m not going to beg. Okay, if it’s my time, it’s my time.”

“Dean--” Cas starts, but Dean just looks at the floor, like he’s trying to avoid this.

“You really believe that,” Billie says. “You wanna die.”

“When was this?” Cas asks, speaking over the rest of Billie’s statement.

“It was...right before we, uh, got the call from you. That you were back.” Dean leans his head all the way up, looks at what would be the movie theater’s ceiling, if it wasn’t in the void. “I had a bad time. I…I would show it to you. But I don’t want you to see me like that. I held it together enough to wrap your body and burn it…”

“Hunter’s funeral.”

“Only kind I know how to do.” Dean swallows, audibly. “I’m doing what I can now. Having Jack to take care of, and Eileen around, too, helps. But it’s…” He finally looks at Cas again. “Please let me take you home. Please come home with me.”

Cas would do anything for Dean Winchester. He has done anything for him before. So he will grant him this, at least the illusion, because Cas knows he can’t leave the Empty. He’s trapped here for eternity.

He takes Dean’s hand.

-----------------------------------------

There is a little boy crawling on him.

“Daddy,” the boy says, poking his face, “I know you’re awake.”

“Jack,” Dean says, from somewhere up above, “Cas is still sleeping.”

Cas blinks rapidly. “‘M not.”

“Shouldn’t’ve said that.” Dean releases Jack, and Jack fully clambers onto Cas.

“I missed you,” Jack says.

“I missed you too.” Cas holds onto him, tight. He’s so small, like he’s supposed to be. A kid. Safe.

Cas thinks he might be in Dean’s bed.

The bunker, he discovers, looks much the same. He was gone for four months, in which time Dean and Sam took care of Chuck, Jack became a kid, and Eileen became a permanent fixture. When Dean and Sam aren’t looking, she signs to Cas, “He already looks better.”

“Who, Dean?” Cas signs back.

Eileen nods. “He had a pretty bad time.”

Dean turns around then, and Eileen presses a finger to her lips.

There’s not a quiet moment for the rest of the day. Sam explains what happened--”You might be human now,” he says, and Cas replies, “I’m not tired yet.”--and Jack wants Cas to read to him and play Barbies and racecars and puppets (apparently Dean built Jack’s little puppet theater, which--).

After dinner (spaghetti and meatballs, and Dean has a Coke instead of beer, Cas notices), everyone goes off to bed, and Cas realizes he is tired, which is something to think about.

He starts to head to the room he typically stays in, but Dean seizes the top of his arm. “Nope, you’re coming with me.” Dean drags Cas down the hall towards his room.

Cas hadn’t gotten a good luck at it earlier, what with Jack climbing all over him, but he sees it now. Dean’s bed unmade, scraps of random paper littered across the dresser, a picture Cas recognizes because he and Dean are wearing cowboy hats, and now he knows how Dean was really doing right before that case in Dodge City--

There’s also a dent in the wall. That’s new.

Dean follows Cas’s gaze. “I chucked a whiskey bottle at it. Sam took the rest of my stash the next day.” Dean steps over, brushing the drywall’s cracks with his fingers. “I didn’t fix it up so I wouldn’t forget.”

I couldn’t save Cas. I can’t even save a scared little kid. Sam keeps trying to fix it, but I just keep dragging him down. So I’m not going to beg. Okay, if it’s my time, it’s my time.

“Dean,” Cas says, “Tell me in words.”

“What?” Dean turns away from the wall. “Tell you what?”

“You know.”

Dean swallows, licks his lips. “I’d say don’t ever do that again on the whole dying thing, but I said that to you once and you didn’t listen. And maybe if I say it the right way now, you’ll stay, but…” Dean slumps, sits on the bed. “You can’t leave again.”

Cas touches the wall himself before sitting next to Dean on the bed. “I’m not going to.” He isn’t sure if he’s allowed to touch Dean.

Dean touches him instead, leaning into Cas, finding one of Cas’s hands, holding it tight. He’s crying, Cas realizes. “I love you,” Dean says into their joined hands, then his chest wracks with a sob. “I was always so sure that if--” another sob, “If I said it, you’d leave. Get taken away from me.”

“I’m not going to leave,” Cas repeats.

He isn’t sure how long they sit like that, but Dean finally straightens up, lets go of Cas’s hand, wipes his eyes with the back of his own. “Pajamas,” Dean says, standing and crossing to the dresser. “We gotta get you some of your own, but…” He digs a pair of sweats out of the drawer and tosses them to Cas. “These’ll do for tonight.”

Cas doesn’t ask if he can stay. Dean doesn’t ask him to leave.

With the lights out, it’s pitch black, almost as inky as the Empty, but Cas can hear Dean breathing, so close to him. The bed is almost too small for both of them, so they’re nearly chest-to-chest. Hardly ever have they been this close. Never did Cas dare to dream it.

In the dark, under the covers, the world outside of this room, Dean kisses him. It’s flat, soft, a brush of lips, the barest ghost, but it’s enough. More than enough.

Cas is home.

[ddosie]

# 2 and soobin for the prompt please!

you wouldn't say you were the sentimental type.

things came and went. kids grew into adults. that was just how life was. people grew apart, sometimes closer, and it was all expected.

you just never thought you would have to face it yourself.

it was a problem that you had only read about in story books. the handmaiden watches the price she fell in love with get married. she moves on. the king lets go of the memories of his favorite knight. he moves on. the queen loses her son, her only son. she moved on.

they all moved on. so why couldn't you?

"class! class! let's start this school year by introducing ourselves! i'll go first. my name is ms. hilton, and i'm your english teacher for this year! i've worked at this school for a long time now, and i can't wait to teach all of you kids!

okay, now that i've done my introduction, shall we go along the classroom and introduce ourselves? starting from you sir, yes you with the white and black sneakers. please start by telling us your name and a fun fact about yourself."

you watched as the said boy stood up, pushing his hair back with his hand.

"uh... hi everyone, i'm soobin, and one fun fact about me is i went to Europe this year."

as the next person got up to introduce themselves, you found yourself staring at him.

jeez, he was tall for a middle schooler.

the sun is filtering through the blinds in your room, and rays of light are being painted across the walls. everything is a golden color, from the desk to the bedside.

"so... what topic are we choosing for this project?" you watched through the lens of your glasses as soobin furrowed his brow.

"do you think, maybe aristotle?" you nodded your head eagerly, so soobin stood up and walked over to the teachers desk. a second later he sent you a thumbs up.

"aristotle it is."

you twirled your pen in your fingers as soobin took a seat. "hey do you want to work on the project with me over the weekend? i know a really good café...?"

there was a small smile on your face, and you nodded.

"yeah sure, what time?"

you got up from your chair, grabbing a camera. in this lighting, the room was just too pretty to not take a picture of.

"y/n, for someone of that height, there is no reason you should be walking that fast."

you sent a small smile to the long-legged boy trying to catch up with you in the hallway.

"if you don't want to be late to class bin, you're going to have to put those legs to work."

you let soobin catch up with you, and you slowed down your pace from thereon so the two of you could walk side by side. soobin pointed at the trophy shelf.

"do you think we'll win this year too? i hope we do, yeonjun promised a party at his house if we get placed first."

you gave soobin a reassuring pat on his arm.

"you'll be finneee... if you win, i'll take you out to icecream after."

the boy turned to look at you, a smile creeping into his eyes.

"really?"

"really."

fiddling around with the camera, you brushed the light dust that had collected on the top off. you watched as the particles were swept away, dancing in the dying sunlight.

"we should do this every year."

you turned to look at soobin lying next to you, ice-cream sandwhich in one hand, while the other was tucked behind him, supporting his head. he was looking above, admiring the night sky.

"you mean climb some random apartment stairs to get to rooftops? and risk our lives every season game to see a different view of the city at night?"

soobin let out a small laugh. "yeah, well when you put it that way, it does sound bad." you smiled, lying down with your own ice-cream sandwich, propping an arm under your head.

"...i meant the icecream tradition. you'll be there for my next season game, right?"

now it was your turn to admire the night sky.

"of course. i wouldn't miss it for the world"

grabbing a tissue, you went to work at the camera, cleaning dust from all crevices and corners of the lenses. you were surprised. when was the last time you had even taken a photo on this thing?

"hey bin, what's up?"

grabbing your phone and placing it on your desk, you made yourself comfortable, ready for any facetime tea he would spill.

"ah, y/n..." you watched as he ran a hand through his hair from the other side of the screen. "i don't think... i don't think i'll be able to make it to your birthday this year."

there was a quiet silence. you felt like you'd been punched in the gut.

"if i can ask, um, why?" you fiddled with the hem of your hoodie, waiting for an answer.

"the schedules for the basketball game lineups just came out, and the final season game is happening on your birthday. i just wanted to tell you in case we do win that far and i won't be able to come."

you decided to smile at the way soobin had said just in case they win. the two of you were in your sophomore year, and he hadn't lost a game since middle school.

"yeah, don't worry about it soob. we can still get icecream after."

you felt a turn in your stomach when the boy gave you a relived smile, running a hand through his hair again.

"that's all i wanted to say, i've got to go now"

"hm? why?"

"chem tutoring. these freshman are horrible at science."

adjusting the camera, you zoomed in on random objects in your room. the bookshelf. your water bottle. the lamp. click. click. click.

“did you hear? that senior yeonjun will be throwing a bigger party than last year! are you going y/n?”

you shrugged. “when is it?”

“I think it‘ll be this saturday.”

"can’t. I’ll be out of town”

"for what?

“college. I sent an early application, and one of them reached out and wants me to tour the campus. if i go, I’ll have a guaranteed spot next year, and I probably won’t have to apply to any others.”

your friend let out a low whistle and patted your head.

"well when you put it like that, I guess you really can’t go… but maybe we could get something after the game? i heard the ice cream place was still open”

just like that, a mere sentence felt like a silent punch to the gut.

you looked away from your friends face, scanning the cafeteria unknowingly. you were met with the view of a senior tussling soobin's hair, an arm slung across his neck. you could hear their loud conversation even from where you were sitting.

"you coming to my house after the game? me and the guys we're planning to get some icecream and stay over at my house for the night."

you thought you saw something flash in soobins eye's before he smiled, nodding in agreement.

abruptly standing up, you tossed an apology to your friend about how you wouldn't be able to make it and you had just remembered you had some important emails to send. you didn't want to be around when the words of confirmation came out of his mouth itself.

so much for a flash. the last time you had icecream with him was two years ago.

adjusting the lens once more, you caught your eye on a ticket stuck between two books on your desk. you slowly pulled it out. it was blue and grey, your school colors. there was a hole punched on the bottom, indicating it was used.

"and it's the last two minutes of the game, and hybe high is in the lead! if they can make this basket, it will guarantee a regional win for the school. oh! there goes hyunjin... passing to donghyuck who... also just passed to eric who, jeez, passed to soobin...! look at that! look at that!! we are in the last minute everyone, and if captain of hybe high makes this basket, like i said they will be the regional winners!!"

you let the sound of the announcer wash over you, leaning forward in your seat to watch the game.

for some reason you kept coming back. to this gym. to the basketball games.

to soobin.

it had been over a year since the two of you had really talked, the last icecream run being well over three years ago (a promise to go before your birthday was conveniently broken), and the last facetime was to ask for calculus answers.

you knew that you had faded out of the life of the star basketball player.

you just couldn't accept it.

"and soobin gets closer to the rim... oh! it looks like taehyun from bighit acadmy is a pretty good blocker... anyways look at him go! we have twenty second left, and even if he doesn't score hybe is still in for a win... okay, okAY?? WAIT WHAT!! WHAT!!"

there's a loud screech of the intercom that mixes with the cheers of the crowd. you found yourself on your feet, fists pumping in the air in celebration alongside the students in the bleachers despite yourself.

"AND CHOI SOOBIN SECURES THE PLACE OF HYBE HIGH IN DISTRICT REGIONALS!! ONCE AGAIN THE ACE HAS TOPPED EVERYONE AND BRANG HIS TEAM TO VICTORY!!"

you held the ticket tenderly. on the backside was stamped senior, a marker that counted as a discount for the upperclassmen that wanted to watch the game. flipping it over again, you felt a wave of something hit your stomach as you took in the grey and blue.

"hey y/n, wait up!"

you whipped around at the sound of an all too familiar voice.

there, stood soobin, in all his six foot and one inch glory.

"you.." he panted, hands on his knees as if he had run a million miles. "you walk too fast. what's the rush? you were cheering for me so loudly."

there was that feeling again. of being punched in the gut. by that invisible hand that seemed to favor your stomach whenever soobin was around.

"ah, you know... just getting home."

you tried not to stare too long. soobin had grown, matured. the baby face he donned as a middle schooler was gone, only his dimples a reminder of the childhood smiles you shared together.

"you're not... going anywhere? going straight home?"

you gave him a small smile. "...yeah. i'm going soon, so i really need to pack. good game though! you really did good this time around."

"going soon... to where y/n? are you taking a road trip without me?" you sensed a wary tone under his teasing words. three years apart, and this was the news you would have to tell him. curse the fates.

"yup! im, ah... moving cross country. i got accepted a while back."

you could already see the question in his eyes. how far? which major? on campus or near?

why didn't you tell me?

there was a moment of silence while you rocked back and forth on your heels. soobin pushed his hair back, looking into your eyes.

the heaviness of a thousand unanswered questions weighed in the air.

"so... want to catch up over icecream?"

as you held the basketball ticket from senior year, you realized three things.

one: you were the sentimental type. you clung onto old memories and good times like they were life jackets, keeping you afloat in the mundanity of your new life.

two: you didn't really like the idea of always moving on. it seemed so easy in the story books, that after a couple years the queen goes back to her ordinary life, the king appoints a new knight, and the princess finds someone she truly loved. but was there a time where you would just stop caring? was there a day you would wake up and didn’t think about what could have happened, the if only’s and what if’s?

three: you couldn't move on. you prided yourself on being able to move faster, walking a pace before everyone else. life was a journey, and you were going places. quite literally. you were floating when everyone was sinking.

but you were only floating because you had your life jacket.

...

things came and went. kids grew into adults. that was just how life was. people grew apart, sometimes closer, and it was all expected.

you clutched the ticket in your hand, the end slightly wrinkled by your fingers.

you just never thought you would have to face it yourself.

[thetravelerwrites]

Alexei (Satyr) Part 1

Rating: Mature Relationships: Female Human/Male Satyr Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Satyr, Arranged Marriage, Fake Marriage, Strangers to Lovers, Reader Insert Words: 5834

A commission for @thebimess​! A woman escaping an arranged marriage proposes an unusual agreement with a man she just met: marry her for six months to get out of the marriage contract. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

Being on the road was rather terrifying for a woman traveling on her own, but you weren’t wavering in your intent. You had to get to Dunmountain and disappear. You didn’t care if you lived in a hovel shoveling shit for a living, you weren’t marrying that man. Not in a million years.

A few days on the road sleeping rough hadn’t done much to deter you, though it was cold and uncomfortable. You managed to get to Chesterfield long enough to buy road provisions and get rid of your old clothes, but you didn’t want to stay there too long. You didn’t know if they’d have people out looking for you.

You ached for a bath and a bed. You didn’t realize how much you’d taken being clean and comfortable for granted. And it looked like rain tonight. You figured the horses wouldn’t mind a bunk mate.

As you were coming around to go into the stables, it began to rain rather hard. As you ducked in, the stablehand shouted at you.

“Oy! Get out of here! No homeless wenches sleeping in here for free. Go get a room or sleep in a gutter!”

“Oh, but sir--”

“No buts! Out with you!”

You had no choice but to duck back out of the stable and into the pouring rain. You went around the back, praying that there was a cart you could sleep under.

Instead of a cart, there was a lovely lavender vardo parked there. The front and rear doors were locked, but there was a window. It was small, but you thought you could squeeze through. And if you got stuck, at least half of you would be dry.

The shutters had a latch on the inside, but it was easy enough to open with a hair stick. Using the wheel as a boost, you threw your bag inside and jumped up. Getting your shoulders through was the hardest part, and your hips were a bit of a struggle, but finally you fell to the floor of the vardo like a spilled sack of potatoes. Slightly bruised, you re-latched the shutter windows and looked around.

It was fairly neat and tidy, looking a bit larger on the inside that it did on the outside, with things secured safely to the walls and inside trunks. The walls had beautiful filigree scrolling all the way up and the roof had a lovely fresco of a countryside near a body of water, the field full of flowers. There were things that hung along the ceiling, making gentle jingling noises as the vardo moved.

There was a small cot latched up against the wall that would fold down. Wearily, you folded it down, pulled out your cloak, which was still dry in your bag, and laid it over the cot to prevent the wet from your clothes from seeping through, and settled down on it. You’d deal with the owner in the morning. If you weren’t arrested for trespassing, that is.

Once you were horizontal, you fell asleep immediately.

You were awakened rudely when you felt water being poured on your face. You sputtered and shielded your face, sitting up abruptly.

“Ah, the stowaway is awake at last,” You heard a masculine voice say. “Since you seem to have had a nice rest, you can get out now.”

You wiped the water out of your eyes and looked up. Standing there was a satyr with deep brown fur on his legs and tan skin. With his short, black horns jutting up just behind his hairline, you thought he might be only slightly shorter than you. He had hair the same dark color as his fur and bright blue eyes, a closely trimmed beard and mustache, and dimples you could see even with the beard. He wore no trousers, covered by his fur, but had on an off-white tunic and a buttoned-up brick red vest with gold embroidery. His cloven hooves were shiny black and dainty.

“I’m sorry,” You said, coughing and sniff the water out of your nose. “I’m sorry, I just needed a dry place to sleep.”

“And so you did,” He said, putting his water skin aside and folding his arms. “I’ve been on the road for hours now, and I didn’t know you were back here until I stopped for lunch. So, you’ve had your sleep. Get out.”

“Which way have you traveled?”

“I’m halfway to Red Landing,” He said.

“No!” You moaned, your head in your hands. “It took me so long to get to Chesterfield from Red Landing. That’s almost a full day backwards!”

“That’s not my problem,” He huffed. “You’re the one who trespassed in what is ostensibly my home.”

“Can I pay you to take me back to Chesterfield? I’ll give you ten gold. That has to be enough to ferry me for a few hours.”

He sighed sharply. “I mean… I guess? I don’t owe you any favors, you know.”

“No, I know,” You replied, fishing around in your bag. “Here,” You pressed ten coins into his hand. “It’s not much for inconveniencing you, I know, but I don’t have much as it is.”

He bounced the coins in his hand, frowning down at them.

“What’s so important in Chesterfield?” He asked.

“I’m not going to Chesterfield, I’m going to Dunmountain,” You replied. “Do you really care why?”

He snorted. “I guess not. Fine, fine. You’ve already taken up too much of my time, I might as well get paid for it.” He snatched up your bag and began looking through it.

“Hey!” You said, grabbing the bag back. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making sure you didn’t steal anything of mine while you were in here,” He retorted. “Let me see or I’ll dump you off right here.”

You scoffed, but held open your bag so that he could see inside, refusing to let it go. He shuffled things around and you waited anxiously until he was satisfied and straightened up.

“You’re not riding in here,” He said. “Get up in the driver’s box. I want to be able to watch you.”

“Alright,” You said, standing and following him out of the back of the vardo and led you to the front. “What’s your name?”

“You don’t need to know my name and I don’t need to know yours,” He said, vaulting up and not offering his hand. You were forced to clamor up the opposite side. “Once we get to Chesterfield, I expect to never see you again.”

“Fair enough,” You said, hunkering down in the driver’s box, sitting as far away from him as you could, and fell silent as the carriage lurched forward.

He pulled out a small bag of puffed grains and dried fruits and began to munch on them as the vardo trundled on, the lone mule’s head bobbing up and down as it took each step. You took out a small amount of hard cheese and nibbled on it.

“I’ll trade you a bite of cheese for a handful of your trail snacks,” You told him.

He shrugged. “Sure,” He replied, taking the morsel of cheese you offered him and pouring some of the grains and fruits in your palm.

“What were you going to Red Landing for?” You asked him.

He looked at you sidelong before answering. “I was going to buy some shells to make paint.”

“Are you a painter?” You asked.

“Yes,” He replied.

“Did you do the scrollwork and the fresco in the vardo?”

“I did.”

“Wow,” You replied, impressed. “It’s really good work. I mean, I’m not an expert, but I enjoyed it very much.”

“I don’t know what weight the praise of a trespasser might carry, but thank you all the same.”

You bristled. “I said I was sorry. And I’ve paid you. There’s no reason to be rude.”

That effectively killed conversation and your appetite. You put your food back in your bag and sat still and quiet, staring at the trees as they passed.

After an hour, the vardo stopped, and you looked at the satyr for the first time since his quip.

“Why have we stopped?” You asked.

“Shh,” He replied. “Listen. Do you hear that?”

You strained your hearing. “I just hear birds and the trees rustling.”

“Stay here,” He said, throwing down the reins and jumping down. “If you run off with my stuff, I’ll hunt you down.”

“I’m not going to run off, relax,” You said in annoyance.

He sniffed and walked into the trees and out of sight. You waited nervously for him to return, clutching your bag against your body, until eventually you heard a sniffling and whimpering. The satyr emerged from the trees carrying what you thought was a dog at first, but on closer inspection, it was wearing a shirt and pants.

“Oh, my goodness!” You cried, putting down your bag and hopping down. “Are you alright, little one!”

He whined much like a puppy. You reached from him, and he crawled into your arms, hiding his snout in your hair.

“I haven’t been able to get much out of him,” The satyr said. “But I remember the sheriff in Willowridge is a gnoll and has a couple of young sons. The crossroads to Willowridge is nearby. We may be making a detour.”

“That’s just fine, isn’t it?” You cooed to the little gnoll boy. “That’s no problem, eh? Let’s get you home, sweet pea. I’ve got some jerky in my bag. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah,” The boy said watery.

“Alright, sweetie pie, let’s get you some food, then.” You popped back up into the driver’s box with the boy clinging to you like a baby possum. The satyr got back up and snapped the reins, pushing the mule to movement.

After he ate, he seemed a bit more calm, and you were able to get him to talk to you. You learned that his name was Declan and he was indeed the youngest son of Willowridge’s sheriff, Feera. He was three years old and apparently a sleepwalker, having woken up in the forest a little while before the satyr heard him crying. How he managed to cross so much land in his sleep was unimaginable, but at least he was heading home now.

It didn’t take long for him to become rambunctious, and the satyr pulled Declan into his lap and let him take the reins. Declan squealed happily as he wiggled the reins back and forth. The mule was patient and didn’t take off when he felt the slapping on his back.

After a while, he fell asleep in the satyr’s arms. The satyr cradled him while still keeping a firm hand on the reins.

“You’re good with kids,” You remarked.

He shrugged. “I grew up around a bunch of kids, so I’m used to handling them.”

“Do you have a lot of younger siblings?”

“Something like that,” He replied.

As you rounded the bend, Willowridge came into view. You’d only been there once when you were ten when your father was still a builder. He’d retired from construction just afterward.

“Hey, Declan!” You said, tickling him awake. “Look, you’re home!”

Declan woke up in the satyr’s arms and looked around, his ears perking up. He yipped excitedly.

“Oy!” The satyr called out. “Anyone missing a kid?”

“Oh, thank goodness!” An older woman said, running out from a nearby trail. She was wearing trousers and had long brown hair with wisps of white in it. “Where have you been, you naughty thing! We’ve been looking for you everywhere! You come to Gramma right this instant!” She took the little boy from the satyr’s arms and hugged him tight. She turned and called to a large centaur that was next to her. “Can you go and fetch Eris and Feera?”

“Yes, Mama,” He said, and he dashed off with a flick of his tail.

“Thank you two so much,” She said, reaching up to shake your hand.

“Oh, it was all him,” You said. “He heard Declan crying in the forest.”

“Keen hearing,” The satyr said, flicking his long ears. “Alexei, pleasure to meet you, madam.” You introduced yourself as well.

“My name is Ryel. Let me buy you folks dinner and a bed for the evening. It’s the least I can do. Who knows what might have happened to Declan if you two hadn’t found him.

As you were about to answer, a large gnoll and a woman with a river of golden hair flying behind her sprinted toward you. The gnoll was on all fours and much faster than the woman, who was clutching her skirts in her fists so she didn’t trip on them as she ran. Running at her side was another gnoll child, slightly bigger than Declan.

“Declan!” The gnoll cried out, and Ryel handed the boy off to his father as soon as he skidded to a stop and reared up on his hind legs. “By the gods, son, you scared the life out of me!”

The woman, Eris, stopped next to her husband, her face wet with tears, and she took the boy without a word, squeezing him tight and crying silently. Feera encircled both of them in his arms and held them for a moment. The other gnoll boy stood with his grandmother, holding her hand and biting at one of his claws in wide-eyed confusion.

After a moment, Feera let go of his wife and approached you.

“Thank you, strangers,” He said, reaching up to shake your hands like his mother had.

“It’s my pleasure, sir,” Alexei replied, shaking firmly.

“Please, let me buy the two of you a drink,” Feera said, waving over a stable boy from the nearby tavern. “We’ll take your mule and cart and make sure they’re both taken care of. Are you folks hungry?”

The family ushered you and Alexei into the inn and sat you down at a table, ordering ale and a meal for everyone. Eris had a firm grip on her youngest son and an arm around her oldest. Declan now seemed to be completely over his sojourn into the woods by himself, though his parents still seemed slightly traumatized by it.

“That’s the farthest he’s ever gone,” Eris said. She was a taciturn woman who didn’t smile much, which made her appear rather stern. “We’re usually good about keeping everything locked up tight. I still don’t know how he got out. We’ve even nailed the windows closed.”

“Who knows?” Feera said, rubbing his wife’s back soothingly. “He could have shimmied out of the slats in the attic. Looks like I’ll have to nail that shut too.”

“Here you go, dearies,” The innkeeper said, laying a key on the table. “Here’s your room for the night. The bed is nice and big, so you’ll both be comfortable.”

“Oh,” Alexei said. “No, we’re not together. I was giving her a ride. I hadn’t met her before today.”

“Oh,” The innkeeper said, dismayed. “I’m afraid I only have the one room available right now.”

“That’s alright, we’ll take it. Thank you for your generosity,” You said, taking the key and smiling. In an undertone, you said to Alexei, “It’s fine, I’ll sleep on the floor, it’s no big deal.”

He grimaced but said nothing.

That night, you unrolled your bedroll and got ready to lay down. He had taken the bed, since you offered it, and was already half asleep. He had taken off his vest but left his tunic on. You stared at him thoughtfully, debating with yourself.

“Alexei,” You called.

He snorted and opened his eyes, looking over at you blearily. “What?”

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“What is it? I’m trying to sleep.”

“Would you marry me?”

His eyes shot open and he stared at the ceiling for a full minute before sitting up to glare at you.

“What?”

“Look, I know it’s a weird thing to ask--”

“It’s a crazy thing to ask!”

“Can I just explain myself before you think I’m crazy?”

“It’s too late for that, but please, go ahead.” He sat with his legs dangling over the edge of the bed and his hands clasped in his lap, looking at you expectantly.

“I’m escaping an arranged marriage,” You began bluntly. “I was only told of the engagement three days prior to leaving home. I met him at a dinner the night before what was to be our wedding day for the first time. You could not imagine a more boorish, rude, inept man.”

“I bet I could.”

You snorted. “He did nothing but drink wine during the dinner, leering at both me and the serving staff and making rather unseemly comments about my face and body, considering he’d only just met me. His parents just shushed him, but in a dismissive, boys-will-be-boys kind of way that made me want to tear my hair out.”

“When was this whole thing set up?”

“I’d apparently been promised to him since I was five years old. His family is rich from textile money, but they have a less that immaculate reputation. His parents need the respectability that my family’s name offers in order to regain many of their clients and trade routes.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s the son’s, my so-called husband-to-be’s, fault. I learned through conversation with his parents that he didn’t work in his family business at all and traveled quite often on his parent’s dime. After they had gotten rather drunk, his parents admitted that he had already fathered two children out of wedlock that they knew of.”

His head rocked back. “That’s concerning. Are your parents still on board with the wedding?”

“Yes. Part of the deal is a large investment from my fiance’s parents; my parents need the money to retire.”

“So you decided to escape in the middle of the night, is that it?”

You nodded. “Thankfully, my parents hadn’t paid the officiant yet, and therefore the wedding hadn’t been formally recorded with the county as a done-deal, so I decided to leave until the contract ran its course. I knew where my parents kept their money and only took what I thought I would need to get to Dunmountain. They aren’t exactly rich, after all, just well-respected. I plan to pay them back at some point. I just pray they understand.”

“So, you’re asking me to marry you to get out of the engagement?”

“Yes,” You said. “The contract is void if I turn twenty five before the wedding or if I have been married to someone else for a minimum of six months with verifiable proof. Meaning I have to have both my husband and the marriage certificate in hand and meet with a mediator to authenticate it. And since twenty five is three years away, the only hope I have of freedom is to marry someone else.”

He folded his arms. “And exactly what do I get out of this? Six months is a long time to be stuck with a stranger, you know.”

“I know. I’ll give you every penny I have. Wherever we end up, I’ll pick up jobs. I’ll pay for everything. I’ll cook and clean. You won’t have to lift a finger. I’ll do whatever I can to make this as painless for you as possible, and then when it’s over, we can have the marriage annulled and you never have to see me again.”

He considered you for a long moment, chewing his lip.

“I know it’s sudden and out of the blue,” You continued. “But I’m desperate and willing to put my trust, and money, in a stranger.”

He sighed and raked his fingers through his beard. “Look, give me a day to consider it. This is a lot for me to process.”

“Alright,” You said. “Thank you for even entertaining the idea. I haven’t done much to endear myself to you, so I appreciate that you didn’t turn me down outright.”

He flopped back down on the bed. “Go to sleep.”

“You still don’t know my name,” You said, lying down.

“If I accept, you can tell me. Just go to sleep. Or don’t, I don’t care.” He rolled over toward the wall, facing away from you, clearly indicating the conversation was over. You covered yourself with your cloak, your thoughts in a roil, and eventually fell into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning, Alexei was gone. After a moment of panic, you packed up your things and rushed downstairs, hoping to ask after him, only to find him sitting and eating breakfast. He looked up when you came stumbling down, but made no gesture of greeting, simply continued to eat. You almost went to go sit with him, but thought, why? You don’t know him, after all. Instead, you went to sit at the bar.

“Getcha anythin’, darlin’?” The barmaid asked. She had a friendly north-eastern Scottish accent.

“You folks offer a breakfast plate or something like that?” You asked.

“Sure do. Mulled cider to go with?”

“Sounds great, thank you.”

She went off to get your food and drink and you sat there, feeling anxious.

“Pardon me,” A voice said to your right. It was Eris, the young mother of the gnoll child. Despite her somber face, she was actually rather lovely when she wasn’t crying.

“Oh, yes, ma’am, what can I do for you?”

“Take this, please,” She said, holding out a small drawstring sack. “It’s not much, but I wouldn’t feel right if you walked away with no reward for what you did for my family.”

“Oh, ma’am, no, you don’t have to do this,” You protested, but she held up a hand to stop you.

“Please, it would mean a lot to me. I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to him,” She said. She scratched her neck self-consciously. Though she wore a high collared dress, you could see a scar peeking out of the neckline.

“Really, Alexei should get this, he’s the one who found him,” You told her.

“He’s already been given his share,” She said. “Take it, please.”

You smiled and sighed. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Thank you,” Her normally reserved, neutral expression lightened into a smile. “I hope we meet again.” And she took her leave.

The barmaid laid a plate of scrambled eggs and a fried potato hash in front of you along with a large tankard of cider.

You’d eaten half of it when Alexei sidled up and sat on the stool next to you. He didn’t look at you, but set his tankard in front of him and flagged down the barmaid, who refilled it.

“Do you get on with your folks? Are they good parents?”

“Yeah,” You replied, stunned by the sudden question. “They’re nice parents, they’ve never been cruel to me. I supposed I’m closer to my mother than my father, but we all get along well. I’ve never had to doubt if they loved me, if that’s what you mean.”

“But they’re okay with you marrying this pissant, though?”

You sighed. “Their marriage was arranged, and they were fine with it. I suppose they think that my fiance, Gregory, will settle down when we marry, but I doubt it. I don’t see how being married to a stranger is supposed to make someone like him straighten up.” You set down your fork and leaned your elbows on the bar. “Besides, even good parents may not always do what’s best for their kids. Sometimes they do what’s best for themselves. They’re just as capable of being selfish at the expense of others as any other person can be.” You took a gulp of cider and blew out a breath of frustration.

“Do you hate them?”

“No,” You said slowly. “I’m angry at them, but that doesn’t mean I hate them.”

He took a drink and huffed. “It’s all so confusing.”

“How do you mean?” You asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing. What were you going to do once you got to Dunmountain?”

“Hide. Get a job somewhere, anywhere. Sleep in a shed, if I have to. Lie low until I turned twenty five. Maybe go back when the contract runs out. Maybe.”

“You don’t want to see your parents again?”

“It’s not that,” You said, poking at your food. “I didn’t want to leave in the first place. If it wasn’t for the engagement, I wouldn’t have had to. I don’t know what they’ll do if I ever go back. Maybe they’ll disown me. Maybe they’ll force me to work or write up another marriage contract with Gregory or someone else to get the money they need. I don’t know.”

“Don’t you have a say?”

You scoffed. “Of course not. Women are the property of their fathers until they get married, and then they’re the property of their husbands. Property doesn’t get a say.”

He was silent for a long time, every so often reaching over to pick an onion off of your plate.

“I guess I just have one thing left to ask you, then,” He said.

“Which is?”

He turned to you and clicked his tongue. “What’s your name, pet?”

The two of you left Willowridge heading for Dunmountain, stopping for a few days in Chesterfield to have a quick courthouse wedding. He managed to find a simple iron ring in his belongings to use as a wedding band. After the wedding, you gave him half of your money, telling him he’d get the other half after the annulment.

Once in Dunmountain, you left Alexei to handle the mule and vardo, and immediately began to look for work. The bathhouses were your best bet; there was always laundry that needed doing.

You also found a small apartment at an inn made up of a single room with a fireplace one could cook over. It wasn’t furnished with anything, not even a bed, but you figured you could make do with a bedroll and a simple table and chairs. You paid the rent for the next month and got the keys, rushing back to Alexei to tell him where you’d be living.

He drove you back to the apartment on his carriage, and the two of you began hauling your belongings up the stairs to your room.

“I’ll buy furnishings tomorrow,” You told him. “We’re not staying here long, so we won’t need much.”

“Didn’t you say you’d see to my every comfort?” He teased. “I want a canopy bed with feather down and a lounging sofa and--”

You shushed him. “I said I’d cook and clean and pay the necessary expenses. You want anything else, you can pay for it yourself.”

He chuckled. “Did you find a job?”

“I start at the bathhouse adjacent to the inn in two days. I’ll leave you food for the day and cook when I get home. That’ll have to do.” You opened the door to the room and stepped inside. “I have enough provisions to make a simple stew, unless you’d like something else.”

“Stew sounds fine,” He said, setting down a small trunk. “I think I’ll go out tomorrow and look for paint supplies. I sold all of my paintings on my trip and I need to create some new ones. If I go too long without painting, I get irritable.”

“I’d hate to see what that looks like,” You said snidely. The only thing in the room provided by the inn was a bucket for drawing water from the nearby fountain. “I’ll fetch some water for dinner.”

A few months passed awkwardly but uneventfully. Alexei was companionable enough, but the two of you hadn’t made any attempts to bond or become close. You exchanged passing pleasantries, but the two of you didn’t converse much. He sometimes teased you by asking if your “wifely duties” extended to sharing the marital bed, seeing as how your bedrolls had been placed on opposite sides of the room. You merely smacked his backside with a hand towel and told him to get back to his paintings.

“Would you ever consider sitting for a painting, pet?” He asked you once as you were cleaning dishes.

You snorted. “I expected you’d want me to model nude for you or some nonsense.”

He laughed. “Only if that’s what you’d like, dear wife of mine.”

“Don’t call me that,” You said, lobbing a crumb of bread at his head. He didn’t duck, just let it hit him and caught it, popping it in his mouth. “And I will do no such thing.”

“Offer is open, if you ever change your mind.”

“If the earth opened and the devil himself ordered me to do it, I’d still refuse.”

Alexei laughed full-throated. “That’d be a sight worth seeing.”

As annoying as he could be, he wasn’t an unpleasant man to live with. He didn’t do any of the washing or cooking, but you didn’t care since you promised to do it yourself. Even still, he was fairly tidy and didn’t make much of a mess. He liked to joke and tease, but he was mostly harmless. For all his teasing, he never once made a move on you or gave you any reason to fear he might take advantage of you.

You also had to admit, he was very talented. He sold his paintings just as fast as he made them, which was a little bit of a shame, you thought: your room was a little plain and dour, and you’d have liked one or two of them to hang on the wall to brighten the place up. You never asked, though. You couldn’t go asking for favors from the man who’d already promised six months of his life to you.

On your birthday, you got permission to finish work early and decided to go and buy the ingredients to make an apple and honey pot pie to go with dinner that night. Since you didn’t have a stove, you’d have to bake it in a pan over the fire, but you knew how to do it. It was one of the first treats your mother had ever taught you to make.

Apples were in season and would be cheap enough--the cheapest of the fruits available anyway--but honey would be quite expensive. A single spoonful cost several days worth of work. But you figured, you’d been working hard. You’d earned it.

When you arrived back at the apartment, he stood up from his painting stool to take your shopping basket.

“Is that honey I smell?” He said, sniffing. “That’s pricey. What’s the occasion, pet?”

“It’s my birthday,” You told him. “I was going to make a pie.”

“Is it!” He said, smiling. “That certainly is reason for celebration. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It’s not like we have regular conversations, you know,” You said, unpacking the shopping. “Besides, I didn’t think it would matter to you.”

“Well, that’s a bit unfair,” He said, frowning. “Are we not friends?”

“Are we?” You asked, stopping to quirk an eyebrow at him. “Out of the way, please. I need to start the crust now or I’ll be cooking all night.”

He frowned at you still but said nothing, taking two steps back so you could bustle about making dinner.

“What would you want as a gift?” He asked, leaning against the wall and watching you work.

“I don’t want anything,” You replied, not looking up. “If I did, I’d get it myself.”  

“Oh, come now,” He said, tsking. “You may not think of us as friends, but after four months, I would assume we’d have developed some kind of rapport. What would you ask of a friend?”

“I wouldn’t ask anything of a friend,” You said. “I’m not the type of person who expects gifts.”

“Didn’t your parents ever give you gifts?”

“That’s different, they’re my parents.”

“Family, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m family now, aren’t I?” He asked.

“I will throw a plate at you.”

“Just tell me,” He said, his voice a little wheedling. “There must be one thing I can get you that you’d allow.”

You sighed forcefully and stopped kneading the dough, turning to him and looking him up and down. “Are you serious about this?”

“Have you ever known me not to be serious?” He asked, grinning.

You rolled your eyes and when back to work, and he stuttered a retraction.

“No, no, I am, I’m serious. Please, tell me, what would you like?”

You stopped again and wiped your hands on your apron, and then crossed them over your chest. “Well… I’d like a painting.”

He looked like you’d hit him in the head with your baking pan. “What?”

“It doesn’t have to be anything grand, just a little painting of anything, flowers or trees or something like that, to brighten up the room. It’s a bit drab here.” You waved around vaguely. “There isn’t even a window. Just… some color. That’s all.”

“You want me to paint for you?” He asked, incredulous. “That’s all?”

“Well… I know painting supplies are expensive and I didn’t want to ask for anything, seeing as I promised to take care of everything myself. Like I said, I’m not the type to expect presents or things like that.”

“You don’t like to ask for things for yourself, do you, pet?” He asked shrewdly. “Not just from me, huh? In general.”

You turned your back to him and started kneading again. “My parents were both born peasants. Peasants don’t get gifts. When they married, they lived in a one-room cruck house that my father built them as a wedding gift. A house of straw and dirt was all my father could offer my mother, and it was good enough. They both worked their hands to the bone to get where they are. They live in a much nicer house now and don’t have to work as hard as they used to, but they raised me to appreciate what I could do with my own hands and not to rely on gifts. ‘A gift is never free,’ they’d always say.” You stopped working again and stared at your hands. “They used to tell me that I was ‘a gift’ to them. I wonder now if that meant they always saw me as a means to an end.”

“I always thought parents were supposed to put their children above everything else,” He said softly from behind you, continuing to watch you.

“Is that what your parents were like?” You asked in return. He didn’t answer and you looked over your shoulder at him.

“I wouldn’t know,” He said eventually, sitting down at the table and taking an apple from the basket. “Never met them. I grew up in an orphanage.” He took a knife from his pocket and began to peel and slice the apples.

“You know you don’t have to do that,” You remarked.

“Hush,” He said, not looking at you. “It’s your birthday.”

Dinner was pleasant, and the pie was delicious. There was enough left over to to have for breakfast the next morning. Alexei even helped you tidy up. The day had been rather nice.

So why, when you lay down for bed, did it suddenly feel like you couldn’t breathe?

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[the-tiniest-one]

Parenting Rock Lee with Might Guy :)

Note:@xemaliahrssx here ya go! I hope it tastes just like you dreamed it would!

Sitting at the kitchen table, watching Guy and Lee devour the dinner you made, had you feeling nostalgic... You watched with your head rested on your hand. It was the little family moments that you appreciated more than anything else these days. "Yeah! and then I caught him in a cross block!" Lee said, describing their latest mission, his mouth full of food.

"Haha yes yes (y/n) you should have been there, our Rock Lee is becoming a real force to be reckoned with, much like his handsome sensei" Guy said with a wink in your direction.

"Handsome indeed" you said with a grin.

Thinking back to the days when you were a little more of a workaholic made you laugh. If you told your younger-self all those years ago that you would be Konoha's worst helicopter parent in just a few years, you'd have never believed it. Guy was a perfect match for you in that regard. You two were a well oiled machine when it came to parenting.

While Lee could do no wrong in your eyes, Guy was a bit heavy handed in his discipline of Lee's skills as a shinobi. You kissed every bruise and scrape, while Guy was teaching him how to prevent them in the first place.

Rock Lee has had more than his fair share of the short-end-of-the- shit-stick his entire life. BUT One could be forgiven for not recognizing the true level of hardship the boy has overcome in his short tenure as a shinobi. Lee is a true underdog.

Lucky for him, you've always been a bit of a sucker for an underdog.

You thought back to those early days......

Even before Lee evolved to a mini version of your childhood crush, you felt the need to protect him. Watching him fumble and practice jutsu in vain day after day.....early in the morning and into the night. You would watch him from a distance while training your own team. One early morning, you decided to check in on the boy with long black hair. He kicked at a post, counting off as you looked on...10....11.....12.....his kicks were weak even for his young age. As he got closer to 50 he fell back, overwhelmed by the pain of repetitively beating his shins into the wood without chakra to safeguard his bones.

Clearly angry at his situation, the thought occurred to you that maybe he wasn't using chakra because he couldn't....the boy had tears streaming from his eyes. It broke your heart to watch a kid who couldn't be more than 10, cursing his life.

"A kid working that hard shouldn't have to feel that defeated..." you said to yourself.

You felt conflicted. Torn between wanting to step in and takeover his training...but feeling the weight of responsibility that would come with encouraging a child to chase a pipedream that would only lead to disappointment. You knew all too well what happens to weak ninja. The reality was that it would be cruel to encourage the boy to peruse a life as dangerous as that of a shinobi. You were no slouch when it came to taijutsu but ninjas are able to compete with one another because of the advantages that come with developing kakai genki.

Could a boy with no use of chakra stand a chance against the generations of those families of ninja who use fearsome jutsu and tactics like lightning...wind....wood or even hereditary gifts like the dreaded sharingan or byakugen? The real answer was sad and harsh. No. He couldn't.

You wouldn't be so irresponsible as to tell the boy he could be anything but a failure.

If he perused that path, he would die young.

So you stood back, restraining the desire to comfort and nurture the little boy out of what you told yourself was mercy. Day after day, week after week....you watched on....until it became too much. You couldn't sleep anymore, couldn't function on missions the same way. Always thinking back to him still out at those training grounds.....always struggling.

....

One morning it was pouring rain. You called off training that day for your team and headed out to the place you knew he would be. He was there of course. He was doing his best to catch a cold while practicing hand signs to no avail. After watching him for a few minutes you finally asked, "What's your name kid?" speaking loud to project over the rain. Startled he looked up to where you stood, perched on a post a few feat away. "I...Im Rock Lee" he said timidly. You laughed at his shy but sweet face, "Im y/n" you said.

"Your kicks look like they could use some work", holding your palm about chest high, to show him where his blow should be landing. The boy grimaced...clearly angry with his lack of direction in training. You laughed and the both of you worked on his kicks for the duration of the morning.

"I think you'll be a splendid ninja someday" you said as you offered him a bit of lunch you packed. The boy looked up at you with the most heartbreaking fear in his eyes, "I can't use chakra" Lee said barley above a whisper, clearly ashamed to tell you the truth.

You ruffled his hair. "Look kid, life is shitty sometimes. But I can tell you are someone who will never quit. No matter the odds, and that is something worth more than all the talent in the world." He instantly smiled up at you, melting your heart for what would be the first of a million times. Laughing and showing you also first time you saw that shiny smile that you would come to love more that anything on earth.

From then on he was your responsibility. Your chest burned with pride in his concrete determination. Feeling instantly the protective burn and feral instinct to insulate him from anything that would hurt him.

....

It was about a year later when things evolved. You and Lee had become close. He, being an orphan as you found out he was, had taken your invitation to live in your spare bedroom. It wasn't long before you were nagging him to be sure and eat breakfast before class, take baths every night. You were often hearing your mothers voice echo in your own as you guided the child to a structure he lacked.

You even went to his parent meetings at the Academy, much to the surprise of Iruka (because he himself was 2 years older than you and had known you since you were smol) laughed when you asked to see Lee's reports.

----

Then one hot summer day you got the order... your team was dispatched on your first extended mission with your new genin. 3 months on a C rank mission to Suna. Your heart sank as you remembered Lee's graduation exam was in just a few days. Before you left, you kissed his forehead and promised a tearful Lee who had become just as attached as you over the last year, that would bring him back a graduation present.

You just knew he would finally pass.

....

Returning to the village near midnight you couldn't wait to see Lee. After giving report to Lord Third, you quickly made your way home. Quietly cracking the door to his bedroom, you peaked in to see his sweet little face. The snoring boy looked peaceful.

"He cut his hair?" you thought puzzled..."he must have done it himself, it looks a little odd." You laughed at the thought of him using a bowl to cut his hair.

Then your eyes traveled to the headband still around his forehead, "He passed!!!" you quietly celebrated, careful not to wake him up. You placed the promised gift on his dresser, a brand-new set of num-chuks you'd had made in Suna.

The next morning you were up before sunrise making a celebratory breakfast when an extreme round of knocking came from the apartment's front door.

You quickly answered, immediately flustered when on the other side was none other than Might Guy....the same Guy you'd had the hots for over a decade.

"Y/N!, I must have the wrong address! I was looking for one of my students!" Guy said in his familiar boisterous cadence. Laughing nervously you started to respond, when behind you Lee pushed his way through the doorframe. Your eyes widened at the sight.

The haircut made sense now, Lee stood side by side with his sensei. He was wearing Guy's jumpsuit... they could have been father and son.

Looking at the two of them standing side by side in front of you for the first time gave you the most jarring sense of dejavu.

"Guy sensei! Look what Y/N brought me from her most dangerous mission!" Lee brandished the weapon, beaming up at his teacher who laughed and winked in your direction. "Ah, a great choice! Only the most skilled ninja know how to use such a fine weapon! We must enlighten you at once Lee my boy!" With that the handsome jonin and your sweet Rock Lee were off to train.

You had known Guy since he was still struggling to gain entrance to the Academy, you knew that the man who radiated confidence today, only earned that ability through blood, sweat, and tears.

You apprehensively accepted that Might Guy was a good match to be Lee's sensei.

"Be careful!" you called, more than a little apprehensive at the thought of your sweet baby boy training with such an admittedly impulsive man. Feeling a small tug of sadness as you watched the two of them disappear down the street.

"Lee's getting tall..." you though as you closed the door.

....

Over the next few years Lee had grown into a strong young man. You felt such extreme pride in everything he did. Even though you being in your mid-twenties were not nearly old enough to be Lee's mother, he had taken to occasionally calling you mom.

Lee was never embarrassed of you as he grew into a teen like some of the other kids his age. He was always just as willing to give you a hug before a mission as the day you met him.

It would be a lie to say that the relationship you and Guy shared hadn't also matured along the way. Although you weren't Lee's biological parents, anyone would be forgiven for thinking that you were. Everything you had admired about Guy, his hot-bloodedness, his devotion to youthful perseverance, his love of his village had been passed down to your surrogate son.

It was only natural that you and Guy would become a team in raising Rock Lee. Over time after a few years of dinners, training sessions, birthdays, holidays etc...Guy decided to propose to you.

It was a literal dream come true. You couldn't say yes fast enough. But as required when two shinobi become married, when you went to sign the paperwork to make your marriage official, requesting a stamp of approval from Lady Tsunade....she extended to you a folder with a second set of forms.

Guy beamed as you read the contents. Adoption papers with Lee's name printed at the top in bold.

"He will always be our son. Since we are making it official... why not add one more?" Guy said with a laugh. The tears began welling in your eyes. "He's 17" you laughed, "I love you" is all you could think to say in response to the most kind gesture you have ever witnessed.

Guy held his trademark thumbs up high as he replied, "Lee will always need his mom, no matter how big he gets!" His words like music to your heart...

You'd never felt so complete as you walked hand in hand with Guy, on your way home to surprise your sweet son with the news.

Upon telling Lee what the two of you had done, he looked from the papers back to you. Confusion spread across the sweet ravenette's features. "But I do not understand" Lee said with a hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Have you not always been my mom?"

The innocent look in his eye and profound sincerity in his voice made tears well in your eyes for what felt like the tenth time that day. You laughed and swept he and Guy into a hug that didn't last long enough. "What's for dinner?" the two men asked in unison and in that moment you knew you were the luckiest person in the world.

[dcbutinamrev]

How much you wanna bet, Hamilton and Laurens finally got married once they were finally together again? So have this short fluffy oneshot. I have never made a oneshot before and I normally don’t write in third person so this is gonna be new-

I’m gonna make ya’ll cry-

***

“Where are you taking me?” Hamilton asks as Laurens dragged him by the wrist across the light green open field, a flirtatious grin on Hamilton’s face as he raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

Laurens whips his head over his shoulder, smirking with his beautiful sky-blue eyes twinkling. His honey-blonde hair pulled back into his loose, low ponytail with a dark blue ribbon securing it, glows like a golden halo under the sun shining down on them.

It’s a beautiful day, a clear blue sky above them—no clouds in sight—birds could be heard chirping in the distance but there was none to be seen close by. A soft breeeze blows around them, causing Hamilton’s auburn curls to dance slightly on his forehead.

No one was near. Not even his son, or Lafayette, or anyone else. It was just them, out in this beautiful open filed filed with peace and happiness and love. For once, Hamilton feels as though all his burdens were lifted and he could finally breathe easier. There was nothing to worry about: being discovered, the fear of death as a punishment, no war, no restless nights of translating letters. No fear of losing the other. Hamilton and Laurens were both at once at peace.

Laurens slows his pace as they come to a wide open spot. Hamilton tilts his head with a grin followed by a quiet laugh filled with confusion. He furrows his brows together, causing a crease to form in his forehead. Laurens winks as he answers Hamilton’s question.

“I’m about to change your life!” Laurens exclaims.

Hamilton merely laughs, his confused expression softening into something of fondness as he admires Laurens’s beauty. He couldn’t believe he was here with the man he loves so dearly. He couldn’t believe, after all those agonizing years without Laurens by his side, he’s here. Standing in front of him, a few inches taller than he is. Hamilton scowls a little at the thought of Laurens’s height, grumbling with jealousy.

Stupid long legs. Lucky bastard, Hamilton thinks, folding his arms over his chest once Laurens has let go of his wrist. But he fixes his scowl when Laurens turns around to face him. Hamilton frowns, tilting his head to one shoulder as Laurens puffs out a nervous breath when they finally stand in front of each other out in the open field. The grass just up to their ankles.

“Jack?” Hamilton says, worry in his voice. He can tell something is upsetting his dearest Laurens, but he couldn’t tell what it is for sure. “Are you alright, love?”

Laurens blushes at the nickname, his lips pressed together. He ticks his blue eyes up only to lock up with Hamilton’s beautiful violet irises. Laurens feels his heart stop beating as if the bullet had penetrated right through it again. Laurens stares lovingly into Hamilton’s eyes, getting lost into them. He thinks they are beautiful.

“John?” Hamilton chirps, snapping his fingers in front of Laurens. Laurens jerks back into reality, shaking his head as he blinks his eyes. A light red blush dusting across his cheek. Hamilton laughs awkwardly. “Are you alright?”

Laurens pinches his lips together and clears his throat awkwardly, his body warming up slightly. Though, he can’t tell if it was from embarrassment or from the heat coming from the sun. Laurens sinks his teeth into his bottom lip and nods, a small smile of reassurance on his face. He scratches the back of his neck.

“Um...yes, darling. I’m fine. It’s just...my God, Alexander. I missed you so much, dear boy, and my God...you are the most beautiful creature known to Earth,” Laurens says.

Hamitlon scoffs out a laugh as he watches with fondness as Laurens grabs hold of Hamilton’s hand, bringing it up towards his lips and Laurens presses a soft, tender, loving kiss to the back of Hamilton’s knuckles and squeezes his hand tightly. Never letting go. Not again.

“Ah...my dear, you flatter me,” Hamilton replies, a blush as red as his hair creeping on his face.

Laurens looks up and grins. “I meant every word, my dear boy.”

A pause. The two just smiles fondly at each other, gazing longingly and lovingly into each other’s eyes and enjoying the peace and quiet around them and being finally together in each other’s arms.

“John...why did you bring me here?” Hamilton suddenly asks, breaking the silence.

Laurens swallows nervously, worrying his lower lip as he feels his palms beginning to sweat. His fingers twitches at his sides every now and then. Hamilton frowns with worry again, tilting his head towards one shoulder and lifting an eyebrow.

“Um...” Laurens says, clearing his throat as he scratches the back of his neck. “Um...he he...well...uh...God, why is so difficult?”

“What do you mean?” Hamilton wonders.

Laurens turns back to Hamilton. He closes his for a moment as he grabs both of Hamilton’s hands once more, squeezes them tightly as he slowly exhales in hopes it would help his pounding heart. He opens his eyes to lock with Hamilton’s again.

“Alexander,” Laurens begins, a small smile on his face. “Alexander...Alex...my Alexander...”

Hamilton smiles softly and squeezes Laurens’s hands back. “My Jack.”

Laurens looks up and smiles, letting out a small laugh. He swallows and clears his throat again.

“Alexander, my dear boy,” Laurens says. “We’ve been together since 1777. And when I saw you first enter that tent when General Washington introduced me to you as his aide-de-camp, I...I was stunned.”

Laurens looks up from their clasped hands back up at Hamilton. Hamilton doesn’t interrupt, only smiles encouragingly for him to keep going and nodding.

“You were...as I’ve told you a million times...you were and are the most beautiful creature to walk the Earth.” A pause. “You’ve changed my life, Alexander. You changed me. You...you were always there for me...you were...you supported me for my Southern campaign. And when I was prisoner of war and on parole in Pennsylvania, I...”

“Jack, what are you trying to say, love?” Hamilton interrupts.

Laurens swallows again and licks his dry, chapped lips nervously before gripping his hands tighter than before.

“What I’m trying to say is...Alexander...” Laurens continues, letting out a shaky breath. “There isn’t a day where I wasn’t thinking about you.” He locks eyes with Hamilton’s again and Hamilton could feel his heart go boom. “Even when I couldn’t write to you, as much as I had promised you would, I would always think of you.”

A pause. Laurens now hangs his head in shame. Guilt squeezing his chest.

“I’m so sorry, Alexander,” Laurens whispers. Hamilton frowns confusedly. “For breaking your promise. For breaking our promise...”

“Jack—”

“Please...just let me finish,” Laurens gasps. He clears his throat. “What I’m trying to say...Alexander...is...there wouldn’t be anyone else who I’d want to spend the rest of my life with. You are the one thing I love, the one thing I wish to be. I wish to be your life Alexander, and I hope you wish to be mine.”

Silence. That’s all there is between them is silence. Hamilton is still trying to process what Laurens had just said just as Laurens is beginning to slowly reach into his pocket in his wait coat. He grips Hamilton’s hand with one hand and Hamilton can feel his heart stop as he watches Laurens drop down to one knee in front of him. Hamilton gasps with unshed tears brimming in his eyes.

Laurens smiles shakily as he shakily pulls out the small, dark violet box out of his pocket. He clears his throat as he glances up at his beautiful Hamilton before him. Laurens’s vision begins to blur as he laughs a little at Hamilton’s shocked reaction. Hamilton’s eyes fly wide and he gasps as he realizes what’s happening, stifling the gasp with his free hand clamped over his mouth.

“Alexander Hamilton,” Laurens says. “Would you make me the happiest man in the world and do me the honor...” He slowly lifts the lid up to reveal a beautiful silver diamond ring, glistening against the sun. “And marry me?”

Laurens looks up at Hamilton hopefully, his expression a mix of hope and fear. He inhales sharply, holding his breath as he dreadfully waits for Hamilton’s response. Would he reject or would he accept?

After a few minutes of utter silence, Hamilton lets out a choked sob and he nods wordlessly. His head bobbing up and down with tears now escaping him and rolling freely down his freckled cheeks, trying to come up with words but they seem to be caught up with each other. For once, Hamilton was totally speechless.

Laurens opens his eyes to find Hamilton nodding his head with tears streaming down his cheeks like a river and a wobbly smile on his face. Laurens eyes widen. He couldn’t believe this was happening! Finally! Finally! After months and years of always being separated from each other, they are finally getting what they’ve always dreamed of: Unity.

“Yes?” Laurens gasps, eyes wide and his voice strained.

Hamilton nods again, trying to catch his breath as he continues to let out ragged sobs. “Yes...yes...yes...dear God, yes!”

Laurens’s smiles wide as he stands up, pulling Hamilton close to him by the small of his back and laughs. Hamilton laughs as well, leaning his head against Laurens’s chest as Laurens slides the ring onto Hamilton’s ring finger. Hamilton sighs dreamily as he gazes at the ring, tilting his hand and before looking back up at Laurens.

“Shall we seal our matrimony, my dear?” Hamilton gasps, trying to hold back his sobs.

“Matrimony!” Laurens gasps with disbelief. He runs a hand through his honey blonde hair. “Holy shit!”

Hamilton only laughs as Laurens pulls away slightly and grips Hamilton’s hand. Hamilton frowns.

“Wait...what about your ring, Jack? Aren’t you supposed to wear one too?” Hamilton recalls.

“Oh, right!” Laurens says. He reaches into his other pocket and pulls out a simple gold ring and slides it onto his own ring finger and grips Hamilton’s hands in his again. “Now, where were we?”

Hamilton laughs, shaking his head fondly. “Our wedding?”

“Ah, yes!” Laurens breathes, eyes wide and a smile bright as the sun on his face. He looks back down into Hamilton’s stunning violet eyes.

“I, John Laurens, take thee, Alexander Hamilton, to be my lawfully wedded husband to have and to hold, for richer and poorer, through sickness in and in health. Until death do we part.”

Hamilton laughs, more tears of joy running down his cheek. He sniffs, wiping away away the tears as best he can and clearing his throat before staring.

“I, Alexander Hamilton, take thee, John Laurens, to be my lawfully...” A sob escapes. Laurens smiles encouragingly. Hamilton continues as he sniffs. “Lawfully...l-l-lawfully wedded h-h-husband...to have and to hold, for richer or poorer...through sickness and in health...until d-death...death...d-do we...do we p-part...”

“Do you, Alexander Hamilton, take thee John Laurens, to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Laurens asks, sniffling as grips Hamilton’s slightly smaller hands in his slightly larger ones.

Hamilton nods. “Oui! Oui! Yes! Yes! I do! I do! I do! I do!”

Laurens smiles shakily, sniffling as he wipes emotional tears off of his cheeks. He presses a kiss to the back of Hamilton’s hand.

“Do you, John Laurens, take thee Alexander Hamilton, to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Hamilton asks.

Laurens nods. “Hell yeah, I do!”

Hamilton laughs dryly as he tries to calm himself down. “By the power vested in me I now pronounce you...husband...and...” His voice squeaks. “Husband!”

Laurens laughs, starting to lean in. “You may now kiss the groom.”

A pause. Laurens leans in closer and closer, just enough so their noses touch and their foreheads are pressed together, eyes fluttering shut, their lips grazing against each other.

“You ready, dear boy?” Laurens whispers against Hamilton’s cheek.

Hamitlon shudders against Laurens’s voice, and feels himself relax. He grabs Laurens by his lapels which only made Laurens giggle adorably.

“Shut up, Laurens, and kiss me!” Hamilton demands.

“Yes, sir,” Laurens complies.

Hamilton yanks Laurens down by his lapels of his blue Continental uniform and smashes his lips against Laurens’s. The kiss goes from a slow, longing chaste one to a rough and heated kiss. Hamilton grunts as Laurens pulls him closer by the small of his back, looping his arms around Hamilton. Hamilton slides his hands up to cup Laurens’s cheeks and to slide his fingers through his blonde hair as Laurens dips Hamilton slightly in his hold. Laurens squeezes his hold, never wanting to let go of his husband again, God, husband!

After a few minutes, Hamilton unfortunately has to break their passionate kiss to catch their breath. Laurens giggles, a giddy smile on his face as he rests his forehead against Hamilton’s, nudging his nose agaist Hamilton’s.

Laurens and Hamilton share a quick kiss. A kiss signifying their devotion to each other and their union.

Hamilton rests one hand on Laurens’s chest while the other cradles Laurens’s cheek. They’re eyes closed, foreheads pressed together, noses bumping against each other’s, both smiling like they’ve never had before.

Hamilton’s eyes flutter open and so does Laurens at the same time.

“My Jack...” Hamilton whispers. “My dear Jack...”

“My Alexander...” Laurens gasps, pecking Hamilton’s lips once more. “My dear Alexander.”

“I love you, Jack,” Hamilton says, tracing Laurens’s jaw with the crook of his finger. “I love you...”

Laurens smiles adorably, pressing a kiss to the inside of Hamilton’s palm. “I love you too, dear boy. So much. I’m so sorry, Alexander. About everything. About...Manning, about...pushing you away after...”

“Shh, my love. Shh. You’re home,” Hamilton says, locking eyes with Laurens’s. “You’re home...”

“Home...” Laurens echoes, closing eyes as he leans into Hamilton’s touch.

“You’re home to me,” Hamilton continues. “Where you belong. You’re home, Jack.”

Laurens opens his eyes and smiles down at his husband. He closes his eyes again as he pulls Hamilton closer to him, pressing a kiss to Hamilton’s brow and resting his chin on Hamilton’s russet curls. Laurens closes his eyes once more, a small smile on his face. Hamilton smiles dreamily as he rests his cheek against Laurens’s chest, sighing through his nose with content.

With peace.

“Home.”