#cowards do a proper night with proper lighting!

[tarjapearce]

Chapter 6: But Chaos Clings Within

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Mild depictions of violence, emotional distress, mentions of mental illness, mentions of meds during pregnancies, graphic depictions of panic attacks, comfort towards the end, a squeeze of character background. Sexual language, Character study. No Proofread.

Summary: Just when things couldn't go worst, Miguel proves you wrong.

Previous

A/N: I do not condone toxic relationships or behaviors, much less encourage them. English is not my main so excuse any typos c:

Sorry for the wait, finally got the time to get this out :'). Internship is eating my soul. Feedback much appreciated ❤️. Enjoy!

Miguel O'Hara. Lab technician from the research department. Successful scientist, the best of his generation, the million dollar brain, as Sully had called him once, married to science, hard working man-

His calloused pads pinched the bridge of his nose.

And a cheater.

A deep exhale heaved through his already rigid nose, muscles hardening from the tension that always held an obsessed grip on his body. Like a ghost, permanent, silent and always manifesting in the least proper moments.

A liar,

He pulled the keys out from the slot, and grabbed in a single hand the stacked and unused boxes on the passenger's seat. Hoarding wasn't in his traits, as he'd rather to invest in things that nurtured his self or shut Dana up, like the ring she tossed on his chest after the elephant popped in the parking lot.

Hollow-hearted lover

This would be his last time entering the place that had been his shared home for the past four and a half years. His apartment judged him with it's silence, glaring his way from every ivory and smooth wall he walked by. Sneering at his life choices with minor inconveniences, that only added to his piled up and ever heavy stress load.

He walked towards the elevator, knowing by heart the buttons he needed to press. Moving towards the turns and angles he needed, to reach his soon long gone home.

Of course lights would be on, the new owner was already making some impromptu renovations in the trampled and spat on love nest. His keys, another thing he'd have to surrender later, were pushed inside the doorknob, to then open past the gates he always made sure to double lock before sleeping.

Dana's voice filled in the living room, followed by another he knew too well by the many times she'd welcomed him at Christmas gatherings. Blanca. Her older sister.

And a reluctant daddy.

The women stopped their talk as Miguel peeked over the door, hulking frame swallowing the narrow hall connecting to the jasmine smelling living room. There was no effusive greeting this time. No welcome home hugs, nothing but silence and an bungled up smile his way from Blanca.

The woman knew better than anyone that neither Miguel or Dana were perfect. Innocently mistaking the dreadful silence and tension between as another couple quarrel.

Does she knows?

Her demureness didn't give any hints that she actually did. And it was enough for him. He wasn't in his nines to hear another hysteric fit of how much of a coward he was, or how the consequences would be out there to get him sooner or later.

Another Tyler Stone.

"Gotta go"

She hugged Dana, and then him.

"Hope everything gets better soon." She'd mumbled through whispers.

The eldest of the D'Angelo siblings spoke with a sympathetic smile before leaving for the night. Almost running in her way out to avoid being used, as usual, as a mediator.

The door clicked quietly, and it was Dana's turn to heave a tired and languid breath, yet she didn't speak. Instead, she went over the kitchen to prepare some tea.

It was more than enough cue for him to mind his business and pack away the last bits of his belongings.

Some work tools, books, diplomas and the last bits of his clothes. To his surprise, they were neatly arranged and folded in a bag.

Eyes darted towards the kitchen where Dana was. Unbothered, focused on selecting the perfect mug for her comfort drink, ignoring his existence.

It didn't feel too different when they had a fight. The aftermaths were either them lying naked, breathless and laughing like loons or silence. It all depended on how bad the fight was and who displayed the ultimate final punch.

Miguel was usually the winner, leaving Dana in the corner of shame, nursing her defeat. But this time, she had won, a flawless and clean victory.

He hated it.

Cause it didn't matter how much he tried to come up with a comeback, there wasn't any. Her beating was too powerful to even fight back, leaving him on the floor, stunned but not wounded.

The boxes were filled in matter of minutes. The more he took away the more he realized his absence wasn't even acknowledged.

Dana had already filled in those spaces, and his things being removed only added a little mess in the neatly organized place if anything.

He wasn't missed.

In fact, the nattily folded clothes only reinforced his suspicion of Dana having her subtle way of hurrying his process, to get out of her home, her life and heart.

He took turns to fill in the void space of his car, accommodating the boxes and containers in a way to not damage anything fragile. One last box was everything that remained, reducing the countdown to mere minutes. He returned at the apartment to get his books.

Hefty pages easily carried in the cardboard recipient. As he lifted it like nothing, one of his thighs knocked over a golden, minimalistic and borderline abstract statuette next to the coffee table.

Dana's rushing steps made his scowl to deepen at the sudden accident.

"Goddammit, Miguel!"

It was her favorite. A tall figure cradling a small bundle. His best interpretation was a mother and his baby she had gotten in a gentrified decor shop, something that started after they talked about kids in the long run. She had gotten the supposed sacred and good luck figurine merely out of superstition.

And now it laid broken, in tiny shards on the floor, impossible to be glued back.

Dana brought the broom and the garbage collector to sweep off the pieces.

Miguel bent to pick up the bigger shards but Dana's stern voice stopped him

"Just leave it."  She squeezed between him and the coffee table to pick up the pieces with such care it felt like picking herself up, "You've done enough." That's what she had been doing these past days.

Try and glue back all the pieces Miguel made sure to wham away with a sledgehammer.

"Dana"

Miguel's voice felt like a terse loofa on her tender skin, scrubbing raw and flushed red.

Blue gaze pinned him on the spot, a silent What from her. Sadly, they knew each other too well to ignore the subtle signs in the body language. Miguel crouched next to her, taking the rickety broom and plastic collector from her hands.

"Let me."

"Just leave, Miguel."

It was more a plead than anything. But stubborn was the main trait engraved into his brain ever since he was born.

"Dana, mi vida, look-"

"Miguel."

Her tone final. His hands rose up, defense in them.

"I'm sorry, ok?"

A shameless scoff escaped her pouty lips, while she retrieved the tools from his hands.

"The only thing you're sorry about is that you got caught, Miguel."

"I tried to correct-"

Dana took a sharp inhale before speaking, calmly. "You don't get it, do you?"

"I didn't think it would come to this, really. The condom-"

"Ugh! Stop. Stop!"

Dana had to take her distance from him, but he tried to reach out. A futile attempt as his ex fiancé slapped almost too gently his meaty palm. Away from her, disgusted and irked.

"You think I wanna hear how you fucked the receptionist? You should learn a thing or two from her-"

There it was. The bickering he loved, and the perfect chance to win her back. He didn't know if delusion hung high his brain today, but he was somehow convinced that Dana would tell him to stay. To fix everything. Delusion at it's finest.

"She was a slip-"

"And that slip and mistake ended up being pregnant and now she's trying to correct your fuck ups."

His brow quirked, suspicion rising at her sudden mellow talk.

"Didn't know you were her personal friend." His arms crossed while a hubristic smile stretched on his face. Seizing her with derision," Drank tea with her too?"

He was sure his eyes rolled so hard it hurt.

"My goodness. And to think I was about to marry you..."

Miguel snorted, cynic as usual "Stop acting surprised. Don't be a hypocrite you know how-."

"Hypocrite?! It's called empathy, jackass. Maybe you should learn it. While you're making fun of her and acting like we can go back to normal, she's desperate to find a solution to a problem you refuse to address or even acknowledge."

"For all I know, she could be lying and blame it on me," he tried to reason. But to no avail.

"You can't be serious right now. How messed up you must be to believe such thing when moments ago you admitted something happened?!"

Miguel's hands went on his hips, grounding himself to avoid invading her personal bubble more than he already was.

Another cloyed sigh from the brunette, "Unlike you, at least she's adult enough to face her problems and give the child for adoption."

A cold shudder came down his spine. Was his hearing right?

"Disculpa, qué?" He had to blink the frown and scowl that immediately took his countenance a hostage, but to no avail. It was another blow Dana gave him on the floor. Merciless as she was, she'd give him no truce.

"Adoption. A-D-O-P-T-"

"Fucking funny. The fuck you mean adoption?"

"I'm not here to amuse you."

And in truth he was far from being entertained. His brain had gone into an flout, ignoring his rationale, doused in glacial water that froze all attempt into logic thinking. Body buzzed with something ghastly, unable to be properly processed as it remained as a knot in his throat.

No. You couldn't.

"She can't be that stupid-"

"She's not stupid. She's assuming the consequences. As you should be!"

His hands no longer remained on him, too perturbed to stay still. They rubbed a bit too hard on his face, a twitch popped in his eye.

"No, she's... she's being fucking stupid. I.. I gave her-"

"A check to get rid of if. Yeah, I know." Dana crossed her arms while seizing his newly disturbed state. Steely nerves were something used to describe him, but this insecure and fearful man before her was everything but composed.

"She can't..." The ramble with himself continued, not really caring if Dana joined or not.

But you were keeping the child. Against his wishes.

How dared you?

His mind tried so hard that a painful pulsation echoed inside his skull. Hurting itself in the process of trying to understand why on earth would you keep a baby while having all the stakes at odds.

"She will. That's not up to you to decide."

"No, no, you don't understand, Dana. She can't have-"

"Well, too bad cause she's keepin-"

In a flurry of anger, his hands slapped the broom away from her grip, with such force she yelped, startled "Cállate!"

He roared and Dana recoiled, wide eyes in terror. It didn't matter how many times he clawed at his scalp, in an hopeless attempt to smear away the news. He heaved, realizing too late his mistake.

"I'm-"

"You need to leave."

His ex's voice was too calm, too kind, despite his aggression. It no longer held that bickering and holding a grudge like usual. It was devoid of all emotion, denying him the satisfaction of baiting and engaging into his game.

But he certainly wasn't there for a laugh anymore. Reality was always bitter and disappointing.

Heart jerked, menacing to splinter and rive at any second, fury flowed through his bloodstream, like a drug. Feeding his brain cortex with a much unrequited high of cortisol.

How could you? He gave you the money, yet you decided to do him dirty. Were you taking revenge? Without a doubt, and now you'd bring everything he had worked on so hard for, down and away.

In a place of a much higher shelf he, even with his height, could not reach. Like a timeout for his grown ass self.

But he wouldn't allow you. He refused to have his own story play on repeat once again.

He was set into finish this once and for all.

His anxiety had taken his nerves for an unwilling ride. Not only he had to wait for an extra hour for you to clock out, but he also had to face you once more.

Miguel was convinced that you had influenced his mind in such a way he was starting to believe you were his bad luck charm.

You were there in his revenge. You were there when Dana dumped him. He saw your sweet and fury-inducing face when the higher and richer bunch dejected his proposal in a subtle way it had given him hope. And somehow you still managed to get into Dana's head and root for you, when the woman usually remained on a neutral line or rather to not get involved at all, even if it somehow affected her personally.

You had tipped the balance completely on your favor. And now, the rotten cherry of his Frankenstein of cake, was knowing you were to take the pregnancy to a full term, when he had specifically told you to get rid of it.

His million dollar brain couldn't come up with a logical and quantifiable explanation as to why.

Why? Why? Why? So. many why's and little responses.

She wants to screw me over.

A malicious frown came to his lip, twitching ever slightly, temper already boiling underneath.

He wouldn't let you. Not when his career was taking a fly, the rejection was a little mishap, but nothing that he couldn't fix in a future.

He left for his car, ten minutes before the clock ticked at five pm. Your leaving hour. Silent and steadfast steps advanced towards the parking lot. Where everything had started. Where bad luck and unfortunate decisions from the universe begun to hunt him down.

Where his life took such a radical change for the worst. His nose flared upon the realization.

You brought the worst out of him.

Made him act out of his usual composed and calculating self. Forced him to conduct out of his pattern, taking impromptu choices wasn't who he was.

Lashing out when he'd keep his mouth shut. Behaving recklessly when he'd analyze the situation first, deeming it worthy to get involved or not. Saying things out of place when he knew he needed to remain shut, reaching to the points of threatening and mastering the arts of deceiving.

And now, you were forcing a role he didn't want, yet knew he had self imposed it. He knew the condom broke, he knew that he needed to change it.

But damned be his lust and hormones fluctuation, your deliciously sweet scent that somehow was engraved into his memory, the snug and tight cunt that had made his mind a puddle. And your fucking righteousness to accept your consequences that exposed him and his lies.

And once again, a reluctant daddy.

You've turned his life upside down. Everything he had carefully and methodically crafted, was now on the floor, ruined. Tarnished beyond repair. You were chaos.

He had given you the resources to end the problem, yet you spat on his face. Repaid him with aversion. And he was now set in finding out the answers he needed.

He saw your head peeking out from the elevator, going to your little and toy looking car. Pretty doll playing with danger.

Keys dangled, along a daisy shaped keychain in your hands, swaying back and forth at the rhythm of your steps.

The clinking drowned the heavy echoes of his leather covered feet, noticing him a little too late as he slammed your car's door shut, prowling over before you could enter.

"W-What the fuck?!"

Breath hitched, eyes widened in alarm as your skin crawled when meeting his accusing and dern gaze. Brain flaring with the dangers alarm, panic simmering on the slow burner.

You nearly stumbled while backing up as he stalked you.

"What's wrong with you?!" Your eyes closed as he yelled. Angry breath fanned on your shaky self.

For a second it wasn't Miguel that yelled, but Mother.

Body reacting with muscle memory by raising your arms up, trying to create more space between you both. Miguel was burning in wrath and it scorched you.

"I fucking gave you the chance to handle this, and you decide to keep it?!"

Hulking frame loomed over, reducing your existence even further as he slammed his closed fist in the hood of your car, startling you even more. He was violence.

"Get away from me!" With a brave push, your body made the great effort in pushing him off you. He barely budged, but his nose flared fumes, instead he took your wrists with a single hand and pulled you closer so you could properly have a piece of his mind.

"You don't understand, don't you?" You wriggled your hands and he bared his teeth, nearly colliding your foreheads together.

"You think I'm scared of you?!" But in truth, you were terrified beyond your wits. Heart wasn't beating, but pounding painfully the more you struggled.

"I don't want that child" He seethed through clenched teeth

"Let me go!"

"No te voy a permitir que me arruines la vida" (I won't allow you to ruin my life)

"I swear if you don't let me go, I'll scream!."

His grip loosened enough for you to wriggle your limbs away from his reach but he quickly clutched on you again, ignoring the the measly threat, desperate to find the answers you were reluctant to give him "Why are you keeping it?" He shook your body, "Why?!"

He panted in his frenzied state, and you whimpered at his manhandling. But the familiarity of violence in your life didn't break you instantly. Just made you irrational if anything.

"That's none of your business."

His chest puffed up, hand on your car's hood. He wasn't letting you go that easily. His gaze asserted dominance while stalking your own, moving his head along yours when you finally managed to free yourself from his grasp.

"Where is the check?"

"I tore it" His muscles tensed, nails digging in the fat of his hand, holding back a biting comeback, "Now get away from me."

Miguel heaved. Ire and frustration fighting over who gave the last punch. You were driving him insane, and not in the way he indulged.

"You must be the dumbest person I've known. All you had to do was to go to a fucking clinic and get yourself fixed! Why didn't you listen?!"

"Oh, fuck off!" This time the effort in your body as you pushed the wall of muscles was greater. A little light-headedness swooned over your sight. His eyes narrowed upon you exhaling through your mouth, repeatedly. Setting a pace while holding your lower back.

Physical exertion had you panting, but the emotional toll he had just put you through drained you completely. Like a vampire feeding off your sanity.

"You're sadly mistaken if you think I'll help with-"

"I'm not fucking asking you to. I've never asked and never fucking will!"

It was your time to roar while tears menaced to escape and roll down, "What makes you think I want anything that comes from you so you can throw it at my face later?"

Voice broke with a new found bravado that seeped through your panicked cracks, sick of him intimidating you, but your fight enticed him. He loved the sense of control he inflicted, it fuelled him and stroked his ego in such pleasant ways that had him folding.

"If you wanna play mommy, fine by me, but don't you dare saying I didn't try to help."

"Your fucking help was to hide your mistake before Dana found out" You gritted through teeth and he smirked, taunting even further

"You're not ready to be a mother-"

"Oh and you think you'd be a good father? You know shit about it." Vitriol dripped with every mouthful of your mind.

The two were too focused in marring each other as much as you could with words while struggling to keep afloat. He was drowning you, but you pulled him down. If you sunk, he was coming down too.

"That's precisely what I paid you for, pinche pendeja!" (Dumb bitch)

His tinge was everything but polite or caring. It didn't help that your head spun, you had to take a moment to scramble away to retch out behind a car. Slumping against the metallic structure for support.

His face squeezed into a disgusted expression at the noises you did. Concern and empathy wasn't in his vocabulary neither in his life. He just stood there, watching your hands curl as your body begged you to stop munching on his bait.

"Fuck off." you mumbled while wiping your lips with the back of your palm once the nausea subsided enough.

"What did you say?" His head tilted, vexed and amused you still had the energy to keep the bonfire alive and soaring. Just the way he liked. He was ready for round two.

"Fuck. Off."

It was the last thing you threw before scrambling to your car and locked the door. His bold hand already on the handle, doing his damnedest to pry it open. Hands banging on the now shaky glass, demanding for you to come out.

You drove away as he yelled something foreign.

The ambush had left you shaken to your very core, and just when you stopped on a red light, you finally noticed your trembling limbs, clenching on the steering wheel, anchoring to it.

Stop it stop it stop it-

Heart subdued into a claustrophobic beat within your ribcage, head spun, palpitations turned into powerful plows on your torso. Breath hitched, erratic, panicky.

No, no, no!

All you could see and hear was mommy dearest yelling, brain already sending the defense signals to your childish arms. Covering from the imminent physical lash out she'd provide after you accidentally dropped your drink in the floor.

What the fuck is wrong with you?!

Many things if honest. Eyes bleary with fat tears, panic rose the more your brain forced you to remember . Fresh belt marks burned into your arms and legs.

Nausea went rampant, but with the little strength you had, fingers moved to dial MJ's phone number between muffled sobs.

Chest rose and fell, into a frenzied breathing pattern, the unceasing honkings from the cars behind you drowned your terrified weeps. It didn't help your terrified state.

The distant voice of MJ kept ringing in your ears, imploring for you to reply, Your abdomen cramped, and your mouth screamed. Brain loaded with so much information, it was impossible to process properly.

The ringing in your ears sharpened, phone too heavy on your hands, lights came and go, dancing in such a hurried haze, forcing to clutch your chest.

A dark shadow hovered over the car's window, moving it's limbs frantically, lips moved but you couldn't hear a thing.

Mind too dazed with the past to be on the now. More shadows joined narrowing the space for light and reason, panic broke hell loose.

Throat burned at the shrill it gave out. Nails sunk on your skin. You had tried, but the shadows were stronger. And they engulfed you.

Sweetie

The muddled thoughts thrown together in a tiny space that begged for order.

Your name was called, lights danced before your eyes, following your irises movement, lids immediately covered them, a whine joined the messed up party.

"Hey, Babe."

You knew that voice. The Nyquil for your pained soul and berated brain. Soft fingers cupped your cheeks, gently turning your face upwards.

"It's me, MJ"

Touch toured to your hands, enveloping your limb in a warm embrace. Lungs exhaled a way too relaxed breath. Almost paused.

The milieu before you slowly took shape. Abstract lines and forms melding together into a red spot. It's angelic voice lured your liquified brain back to a solid mass, earning a lucid moment of thinking.

MJ. It was MJ.

"There you are" Her smile too tainted with sadness to pass as one of her genuine ones.

Your body buzzed with waves of something you couldn't pinpoint, but it felt good. Heavenly almost.

Your eyes blinked lazily, one after another, even your breathings were sluggish. Hand twitched, regaining the lost movement.

Body felt like a feather, weightless, suspended in air, floating, dreaming of silly things that definitely put an imperceptible smile in your lips. Too good to a washed up and spent you.

But the doctor's nasal voice brought you back within a few blinks. The chest hurt and itched, the urge to rub the pained area turned overwhelming, and that's when your senses came into clarity.

Finally able to discern between the abstract and intangibility from your secluded surroundings. White ceiling and walls, indistinct voices playing in the background.

Machines beeped, monitoring your heart, and so many other things you couldn't swot on even if you tried to. The stench of chemicals and sterile air permeated your tired lungs.

Phones rang unceasingly somewhere in the ostracised cubicle, fenced with a plastic curtain that separated you from the rest. Concealing your panic from prying stares. Mouth could be mistaken for the Sahara desert due the arid weather inside your crevice, swallowing was painful.

But not as painful at the look in Mary Jane gorgeous eyes.

"Hey"

She whispered as her hand squeezed tight enough for you to know she was there. That hwr presence wasn't a dream. A tired and meek hum rumbled in your throat, acknowledging her.

"Welcome back."

Her warm fingers left you for a moment, skin already missing her comfort, as yours lacked temperature, and even so in a clumsy attempt to raise your hand, you realized a bit too late that, your wrist were restrained on each side of the automated bed.

MJ disappeared for a moment to bring you a tall glass of water. She pressed a button and the bed's frame instantly bent smoothly to rise your torso upwards, transitioning your body into a lax sitting position.

Leaden legs by instinct spreaded a bit more at the uncomfortable pressure on your lower belly.

"Here." MJ brought the glass to your lips and poured gently the vital liquid, quenching slowly but surely the thirst you were oppressed into.

An elder man with salt and pepper hair entered your cubicle with a clipboard in hands, examining your state with a brief quizzical and medical stare.

"Hello! Sorry you wake up like that, but we had to sedate you. You were hurting yourself. "

It now explained the delicious high you didn't want to leave from.

"The baby is fine."

Oh

The baby. The creature you grew inside the now polluted guts, suffered no damage. But you had received all the aftermath. And something you had truly forgotten about.

People had left their cars, to certainly give you a piece of mind, but their approach changed drastically upon watching you crying, screaming and fainting. In that order.

Someone had called an ambulance as MJ bolted to your location. By the time the ambulance came, you were quanked and unconscious to recall anything.

MJ sat next to you as Mayday laid in her arms, tired, rosy mouth ajar, safe. Like she should. Like any child should.

None of you dared to speak, she knew you'd reach out when needed. And what you required was rest.

"It's alright, I'm right here."

The doctor called you by your name softly, explaining.

"Is there anyone in your family with mental illnesses?"

"My..." throat rasped, weak and broken words came out. You tried again after clearing the windpipe with a cough.

"My mother. All I know is that she had this Post-partum, uh... Psy..."

Eyes squinted, trying to remember the name.

"Post-partum Psychosis?"

"That thing."

A vehement nod from you.

"This gets a bit trickier then. You see. Right off the start, and I apologize for the sudden news. This will be a complicated pregnancy."

Shit...

MJ's face sobered, but her hand gripping yours never faltered.

"Complicated as in delivery or..." MJ inquired.

"The size of the baby, and the environmental stress only adds more weight to this. You're near the twelve weeks, and even so, passing them doesn't guarantee your baby's safety."

Your eyes squinted, confused. "Meaning?"

"The first trimester of the pregnancy is the most difficult and dangerous. Miscarriage is a higher risk."

You swallowed, hard. Free fingers crumpled the sheets underneath them.

"And I don't know what happened before you were brought here, but it was severe enough to trigger a panic attack. We had to sedate you for a bit so we could run some tests."

"Is she able to leave soon?"

"Until tomorrow. We have to monitor you and the baby responses to meds."

Fuck me.

"Meds?" The word familiar enough to recall those forbidden remembrances you always tried hard to bury for good.

"Zoloft. We still debating on it. It's safe, so don't worry. How often does these attacks happen?" routine questions really.

"It was the first one in months. The first while pregnant actually."

The doctor scribbled in the clipboard while nodding to then release your sore wrist from their confinements. A little bruising forming in them in the shape of fingers.

"Still it's an extra precaution we need to take. And some vitamins and minerals you need. Some of your readings came low, so to minimize the risk of miscarriage, I suggest you to seek a less stress inducing environment."

"I see."

In truth, you stopped paying attention after the last bit.

How and when on earth you'd find a new job in such short amount of time? Were the meds expensive?, Did your insurance even covered them or this barbed joke your body pulled out flawlessly?

Hospital night stays weren't cheap, and dread only slithered towards your head, constricting your brain in a myriad of questions that fought to be wondered first.

But one thing was certain. You needed rest and a new job. Since raise was out of the question. The doctor left, and you felt Mary Jane's burning oggling on your weakened frame.

"What happened?"

A simple yet complicated question. Reluctance once again showed up in your lips, sealing them momentarily.

"I need to know what's going on to help you"

"MJ..."

"I'm worried about you."

"I know..." Head hung, defeated, "I'm so sorry for being a burden, you were probably busy and-"

Your best friend chided your name, like she'd scold her own child.

"Darling, We've know each other for what? Five? Six years now?"

"Six when I pass the first trimester"

She chuckled, "Almost six years knowing our deepest secrets and you believe you're a burden for me. Don't be ridiculous."

Her soft hand squeezed yours tighter.

"You'd never be a burden for me, alright? I just wanna know what happened."

Her ever honest and see-through peer revealed nothing but unalloyed concern and care.

"Miguel happened." You heaved.

Her honeyed and caring look instantly hardened at the name.

"What did he do?"

"He found out somehow that I'd give the baby for adoption. And he didn't like it. Ambushed me in the parking lot and-"

"I need you to stop right there, dear. cause if you keep talking I'll call Alchemax myself and will report him for harassment."

"It wouldn't matter. He's like a god in there."

"And still, the bigger they are, the harder they fall. And that man, is going down for sure."

It surprised you to see such viciousness in MJ's usual demure demeanor. Even though your only wish was to be left alone, deep down you hoped that Miguel reaped what he had sown.

And to your luck, universe was listening your heart's whims for once.

Taglist:

@miss-taura @serpentstarr @randomnobody187   @8xbygirl   @del-ightfulling @iytatsworld @moonzuzuu @huehuehuehuehehe @ryk-mt @deputy-videogamer @sizeablysized @katitakenway @stealyourblorbos @beingdeluluisthesolulu @death-moth-art @obsessedwithromance @crybabiixo @spiderpapi2099 @tremendouswolfsaladranch @cherrycosmos392 @sbrn0905 @xylianasblog   @elgatofx @eepiebeepie @vonev @tatatida @freehentai @scaryplanetdestroyer @minalovesyoubabes @emeloyy @migueloharastruelove @jdbxws @m4dyy @nyxzoldyck6 @fruitychae @francesca-the-1st @siidmm @ana-paulinathe-arts @artyanimi @damhanallagorm @lauraolar14 @what-is-your-wish @oharasfilipinawife @jellyboob @aockskcw @ittybxttykxttytxtty @smartyren @plumplum2099 @angel-of-the-moons

[wordsofhoneydew]

happy wednesday <3

thank you to my lovelies @anincompletelist @suseagull04 @itsmaybitheway @eusuntgratie @heysweetheart-writes @rockyroadkylers @magicandarchery for tagging me !! your snippets were absolutely scrumptious

i started my first song fic!! so i’ll be sharing a longer snippet than i usually would:

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Henry is walking back now, taking careful steps around the crowd of dancing people as he tries not to spill the tray of shots he’s holding. A high pitched giggle escapes his lips as he sets it down on the table in front of Alex, but Alex never strays his focus away from Henry’s face. The way his blue eyes gleam reminding him of the water at his father’s lake house back in Texas— dark and all consuming—as he looks back at Alex so intently. He could get lost in them forever.

just another blip in my heart:

He’s laughing at some suggestive joke Pez makes, head tipped back and smile completely unguarded. The sheen sweat on his cheekbones makes his skin glow under the luminescent lights of the bar, as if he was sculpted by Michelangelo himself. And Alex just watches him in quietude, utterly infatuated with Henry’s natural beauty. It makes his heart clench in his chest; knowing that he can’t have him, that Henry doesn’t feel the same way as he does.

So he looks away begrudgingly, grabbing another shot and downing it without a flinch or grimace, hoping that the buzz under his skin and the raucous music will eventually drown out the thoughts of the pretty blond man in front of him.

Then Nora is grabbing Alex by his wrist and pulling him up to the dance floor. He bites back a groan as he gives in to her, and places his hands on her waist.

“What’s up with you, Alejandro? You’ve been sulking all night.” Damn Nora’s perceptiveness and ability to read right through him. He thought he did a fair job at hiding the looming feeling of dejection that comes to him whenever Henry’s around or weighing heavily in his thoughts.

”Nothing.” Alex catches a glimpse of Henry watching them and turns around so that his back is facing toward him. Out of sight out of mind.

Nora looks over his shoulder as she continues to dance, a knowing smirk spreading across her lips. “Oh I see, still pining over Henry?”

Alex rolls his eyes as he tries to keep up with the pace of Nora’s movements. “What d’ya think?” he practically grumbles. “It’s not like I can turn off my feelings like a fuckin’ light switch.”

“Loosen up, man. Or just talk to him. That white boy is literally in love with you, stop being a coward and just go for it.”

A coward. That’s exactly what Alex is, and if it means it will protect his heart from inevitable rejection, then so fucking be it.

“I need another drink.” He mumbles, not caring whether Nora hears or not.

The night fades away into Alex stumbling through the front door of his apartment, still buzzed with adrenaline and alcohol running through his system.

After a much needed shower and change into a comfortable pair of sweats, the fuzziness subsides, his feelings begin to feel tangible, more real. His mind replays the events of the night; prim and proper Henry loosened up after a few drinks of gin and tonic, how he swayed his hips subtly to Get Low and smiled to himself as other people gyrated against each other. He recalls how they caught each other's eyes every so often, then noticing how Henry quickly averted his eyes every time. Tonight he was beautiful and glowing, and absolutely captivating in the way he just was—In the way he always is. Alex misses the person he was before he found himself enamored with Henry; gregarious and the life of the fucking party. Now he’s stuck in an endless loop of pining after someone he can never have and convincing himself he’s over it.

sometimes I think of calling you up:

Alex is sprawled out on his couch with his TV playing something he could care less about. As suspected, the effects of alcohol can only do so much to drown out the despair of unrequited love, his mind no longer buzzing from the sound of club music, but circling around only one person’s name over again. Henry Henry Henry.

+

@agame-writes @affectionatelyrs @absolute-audacity @anchoredarchangel @bitbybitwrites @saturntheday @cha-melodius @clottedcreamfudge @daisymae-12 @dumbpeachjuice @everwitch-magiks @firenati0n @nocoastposts @littlemisskittentoes @inexplicablymine @junebugclaremontdiaz @ninzied @rmd-writes @orchidscript @myheartalivewrites @i-am-freyja @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @getmehighonmagic @happiness-of-the-pursuit @tinyarmedtrex @gayrootvegetable @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @captainjunglegym @sherryvalli @alasse9 @read-and-write- @sparklepocalypse @songliili @sunnysideprince @priincebutt @bigassbowlingballhead @o0anapher0o

[thevoidstaredback]

"In any story, the villain is the catalyst. The hero's not a person who will bend the rules or shw the cracks in his armor.He's one-dimensional intentionally, but the villain is the person who owns up to what he is and stands by it."

-Marilyn Manson

The night was spent getting a proper hold of their bearings. They knew where in Japan they were, but no idea how to get back. They also had no idea on how they got there, but that was a problem for later. For now, shelter and food were to two most pressing issues.

Chuuya and Atsushi had never worked together before, so they were stumbling around each other the entire night. Atsushi had been hell bent on them finding shelter before anything else, and Chuuya was insistent on getting money first. Atsushi was willing to break a few laws to keep them safe, but he was very vocal about not hurting anyone. Chuuya was willing to break every law he could think of in order to get his way. They could both agree that they'd rather avoid working together ever again after they've gotten back Yokohama.

It's terrible, working with someone so different from yourself. Stumbling over each other and getting in one another's way. It could cost a life. It could cost many lives.

"That'd be terrible for being undercover." Atsushi said. He was still holding himself under a mask around Chuuya.

Chuuya scoffed. "Since when are we undercover?"

"Since neither of us know where we are or what's going on."

"Oh? Is that snark I hear?" Underlings who sassed him never got out of it unscathed.

He was suddenly confidant in his answer, "Yeah. What about it? You can't attack me."

Atsushi isn't Chuuya's underling. "Who says I can't?"

"The truce between our two groups." Damn it. "Besides, I could go to local law enforcement and report you for assault and battery."

"But you won't." Good point. "If you did, then you'd be alone in unfamiliar territory. When you get back, the truce would be called off and you'd have the entire Port Mafia after your head."

Atsushi didn't respond, falling back into the mask of self preservation.

Chuuya sighed. "Fine. In order to keep a low profile, we'll do things your way."

Still not saying anything, Atsushi took a step ahead of Chuuya and went in search of an abandoned building to set up a temporary base in. It was late, probably near midnight, so not many were out. Those who were out were sniffed out and avoided. Despite everything, Atsushi made himself ignore the calls for help. Getting involved would mean being seen. Being seen would do no good at the moment.

Chuuya was reluctant to follow Atsushi, but he had to admit that the kid wasn't acting at all like he expected him to. He'd expected a coward or someone who would go running to help at the first scream, but he did no such thing. The kid kept sniffing at the air as they walked, leading through back allies and staying out of light.

"I can say for certain that nothing has happened to the ADA." Atsushi spoke softly.

"What makes ya say that?" Chuuya asked. He was genuinely curious. How did this kid know anything like that? Could he determine anything about the Port Mafia?

Atsushi's eyes seemed to be glowing when he looked back at Chuuya, the gold and purple covered in an almost not-there film. Eyeshine, Chuuya noted, is a thing all cats have. Helps them see in the dark. "I haven't lost control of my Ability." Was that supposed to be a reassurance? "The President's Ability is still working, so I can confidently say that he - at the very least - is okay."

"Based off of that," Chuuya added on, "Everything should be okay with the Port Mafia, too."

These were only assumptions and they both new that.

It was quiet as they kept walking, still out of light and still away from humans. It took another thirty minutes of wandering until they found a place to hole up. It was a very rundown building, but it was still standing. It didn't seem to have any other occupants, so that was a point in their book.

The interior was as rundown as the exterior. The floors had no holes, but every other board squeaked when stepped on. The lights didn't work, so it was safe to assume nothing else did either. While there was no holes in the walls or broken windows, the place was starting to show signs of life in the graffiti and plants creeping in. The stairs leading to the second floor weren't rotted through, but enough weight would cause them to collapse. Much like the first floor, the second floor squeaked on every other step. The paint and wallpaper was peeling at the corners, and the doors were falling of their hinges.

Chuuya didn't like getting dirty. He'd spent so long living on the streets that the thought of staying in this building was barely digestible. Regardless, he picked a room on the second floor and went in. "I'll be in here for the night. Don't bother me." He doubted he'd get any sleep, but it would be a good place to think.

Atsushi nodded and left the man on his own. Part of him said it was a bad idea, but the rest of him knew that they were forced to trust and rely on each other. He choose the room next to Chuuya's and curled up in the far corner. He was used to sleeping in places like this. The cellar in the orphanage was much worse than here. Colder, too. Less bright.

~~~

The new first order of business, Chuuya decided, was to sort out his thoughts. Based on the maps of Japan he'd studied when he first joined the Port Mafia told him that Yokohama was near the Chubu Prefecture. It had once been a part of it, but had declared itself independent a long time ago. When exactly, he wasn't sure, but that wasn't a pressing thing to know at the moment.

He'd gone to bed on Friday night had woken up Friday afternoon. He had a whole week missing from his memory and that was never a good sign. At least, the best case suggested a week. Without knowing the exact date, he had no idea how big of a blank was now taking up his memory.

The next thing Chuuya did was search his person. He was fully dressed in his uniform, so that meant he had woken up and gotten dressed somewhere during the missing blank. He was still fully armed with a gun under his vest and the hidden knives on his person. His phone was in his back pocket, but was dead. His wallet was inside his coat, but he had no cash. At least he still had his gloves.

The next thing to do would be to set out a plan of action, but that would have to wait until Jinko woke up. Getting their story straight was the next pressing matter, but he was gonna let the kid get some rest. God knows they both need it.

Part 1

[oleander-nin]

There’s this song that has a tight grip on my soul that I definitely recommend titled ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine, but it lead me to getting a request idea if you’re taking any!

I don’t see a lot of rottmnt!raph x reader’s often so I’d figure I’d request one where reader is staring at the ceiling, daydreaming about something when raph shows up outside the reader’s home while it’s pouring to confess because he was too anxious when he had the opportunity prior that week and they hadn’t talked since. I just really enjoy angst/comfort, haha!

A/N, not important: I'm releasing you from the dungeon/j. On a side note, I am so sorry this took me so long to get to. It's a wonderful idea, and I truly hope I did it some justice(I didn't). I'm so sorry for the wait. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

Tw: My writing, confessions, daydreaming, reminiscing on reader's regret, rainy night, sneaking around while parents are sleeping, feelings of love

Words: 1891

Summary: Raph appears at your window late at night, even the pouring rain unable to keep him from confessing.

The fan buzzed overhead, adding a comforting background noise to my foggy brain. The rain pattered against my window, hitting the roof with the familiar rhythmic drops that made me feel safe. A roll of thunder sounded in the distance, the boom muffled from the walls of my room. I  laid on my side, cuddled up in the plethora of blankets piled on top of me, my mind racing despite the calming atmosphere.

The single lamp I kept on my desk was my only source of light, its warm glow made the entire room feel that much more welcoming, a proper hiding place for a lonely mind. Gosh, why didn’t I just tell him. It would’ve been so easy, and I genuinely think he would’ve said yes. He was so caring while he helped me learn how to knit, showing me the proper way to tension the yarn and move the needles. His presence was kind and warm, and I swear I could’ve just died happy right there and then. I wished more than everything I could’ve told him, told him how happy just being near him made me, told him how his smile lit up the room, or told him how I never wanted to see him cry.

But I didn’t. Instead, I just sat there, listening to his gentle words as he corrected the way I held the needles, or how I twisted the yarn. I was a coward. I pull one of my plushies to my chest for comfort, the bear with the red bandana and pirate attire being my victim. I let out a small laugh, nuzzling my face into the soft material of the plushie. Raph had gotten it for me after I had first seen his favorite Jupiter Jim movie, ‘Jupiter Jim Sails The Seven Galaxies’. It was a sweet gesture that made me fall even more in love with the giant snapper mutant. I couldn’t help but feel a pang in my heart from the fact that I could’ve been cuddling Raph instead of a plushie if I had just told him while we were hanging out last week. It hurt me to know since we hadn’t talked since. I couldn’t help but be mad at myself, knowing it was my fault. I knew I should reach out, but my heart hurt too much to do so.

I wanted Raph to be the one holding me, his arms wrapped around me as we watch a movie, or his comforting presence helping me when he is able to convince me to do reps with him. I wanted to go on a date with him to Hueso’s, or to walk around the Hidden City, arm in arm. I wanted to be with him, to be the one he goes to when he’s upset, or wants to talk about his goals in life. I wanted to be there for him in every way I could, more so than I already was. I wanted to kiss him, to hold him, to love him. I just wanted him to love me too. I didn’t want to mess up if I saw him again, to tell him too early, or not at the right time.

I squeeze the pirate teddy tighter, my lips gently kissing its bandana covered head, pretending it was Raph. Oh how I wished it was. I knew it was stupid, being almost 18 and still pretending my stuffed animals were my crush, pouting over being too scared to face my crush and not reaching out for a week. I knew if anyone saw me right now, I’d never live it down. Not that I couldn’t lie my way out of it though. It was easy enough to just say I really liked this teddy bear. Even if it was mostly because Raph gave it to me.

Tap

I look up towards my window through my dimly lit room, my eyebrows furrowing slightly. That was too loud of a sound to be a raindrop. Was it hailing? I shifted on my bed, fishing around for my phone on my bedside table. I sit up, my legs folded under me as I rest on my knees. I open my phone, pulling up the weather app. Scanning through the temperature and the humidity levels, I saw no mention of a prediction or confirmation of hail. Only the current rain and thunder were being spoken of. 

Tap tap tap

My head turns towards the window as I slide off my bed, slowly inching towards. A couple more taps sound from the window, too precise to be anything but a person. I pull back my curtain slightly, my eyes scanning for whoever was causing the tapping. I prayed it wasn’t some murderer, trying to confirm my presence so they could jump out and kill me.

My eyes widen as a soaked Raph greets me, balancing on the small ledge as he waves. I make quick work of unlocking my window and pushing it open, waving Raph inside. The large turtle mutant fumbles in, trying his best not to scratch the window or the walls with his spiky shell. A small puddle starts to gather at his feet from the water dipping off of him, Raph lifting up a foot like he was surprised. Raph winces apologetically, his hands wiping at his wet shorts to try and dry them off. I shut the window once Raph was inside, keeping the rain from coming into my room anymore than it already had.

“I’ll go get you a towel.” I say quickly, rushing to the bathroom down the hall while Raph stood in my room, trying his best not to get water everywhere. I rustle through the bathroom cabinet, pulling out two towels, one for the floor and one for Raph. I make it back to the room, handing a large beach towel to Raph while I soak up the puddle that was forming under him with the other.

“Sorry ‘bout the water.” Raph mumbles apologetically, carefully drying himself off as to not rip the towel on his spikes. I shake my head, smiling as I finish drying off the puddle before taking the wet towel back to the bathroom. When I return, I’m holding an extra pair of Raph’s signature red shorts, a pair he’s forgotten from previous visits. 

“I meant to bring these over earlier after you left them last time you came over to go swimming in the pool up top. Good thing I forgot.” I say with a small grin, handing the spare clothes to Raph. “Go change into the dry shorts in the bathroom. But try to be quiet, my parents are asleep.” I put my finger over my lips as I tell him to be quiet, and Raph nods, keeping his voice low as he thanks me.

I sit on my bed again, swinging my legs back and forth while waiting for Raph to return. The large turtle makes his way back to my room, now dry and without the towel or his wet shorts. He joins me on my bed, sitting carefully so his shell wouldn’t get caught on the mattress. We both sit in awkward silence for a moment, neither of us sure what to do or say.

Raph ends up breaking the silence first, his voice gentle as he rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry for not reaching out at all recently.” Raph looked genuinely apologetic, as if he had committed some cardinal sin for not texting me during the week, as if I hadn’t done the same thing.

I shake my head, sending Raph a crooked smile. “Nah, it’s all good. I didn’t exactly try either.”

Raph lets out a small huff, laughing softly. “Well, I’m still sorry. So there.” Raph grins, seemingly pleased with himself for apologizing. He pulls me into a side hug, ruffling my hair. “You make any progress on the scar you was makin’?”

I push his hand off my hair, rolling my eyes. “Yeah, it looks like a tangled mess though.” The scarf in question was currently hidden under my bed, too ugly to be seen. Once I was better though, I’d make Raph something. I just needed to practice a bit.

Raph lets out another laugh, his eyes shining brightly. “Oh please, it can’t be that bed. You were doing fine last I saw.”

I shake my head, a bright smile on my face. “You have way too much faith in me, my friend.” I pretend calling him ‘my friend’ didn’t hurt the way it did, pretending it didn't make my heart squeeze painfully. I pretended not to notice the way Raph’s smile faltered at the wording either, neither of us seeming to be able to stand being ‘just friends’. 

I pat my thighs awkwardly, the silence in the room settling like a thick blanket. I clear my throat, moving past the previous statement. “So, what has you here at 2:37 am? I can’t believe Splinter let you out this late.”

Raph seems to sink a little, seeming guilty. My eyes widen as I realize what he did, a snort escaping me. “Raph, you didn’t. I can’t believe you snuck out!”

Raph huffs a bit, a small blush on his cheeks as he tries to defend himself. “It’s not like I’m in any danger! We used to leave the lair all the time this late. I just… Needed to see you.” He admits, fiddling with his fingers while avoiding eye contact.

I look at Raph curiously, my heart beating faster at his words. “What did you need to see me for, Raph?” I ask, trying to stay calm. My brain started racing, millions of reasons coming to my head. 

Raph clears his throat, finally making eye contact with me again. He takes my hands in his, trying his best to stop the twitching in his fingers. I look into his eyes, my heart beating fast as my ears rang slightly. Was this it?

“I wanted to thank you, first of all. I really appreciate you being there for me and my brothers. It’s been… Really nice knowing you were there for me, and that I had someone to turn to. I would also like to apologize again, for not reaching out. I meant to tell you something last week, but chickened out at the last moment. I’m sorry. So, I decided, I need to tell you now.” Raph smiles gently, squeezing my hands lightly. “I like you, (Y/n). More than a friend. I know I’m a giant snapping turtle mutant, but please… Give me a chance. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

I look at Raph with a dopey smile, my heart beating a mile a minute as my brain tries to catch up. I dumbly nod, all the words I wanted to say stuck in my throat. Raph beams at this, seeminging happy with my non-verbal answer. Raph pulls me into a tight hug, nuzzling his snout into the top of my head. I let out a bubbling laugh, hugging him back while I feel like I’m on cloud nine. Everything was perfect in this moment, and I was convinced nothing could bring me down from this high.

We both froze when we heard the door to my parent’s room click open.

[delimeful]

nothing in this world (i wouldn’t do) (5)

warnings: mentions of cannibalism, mild blood and injury, arguing & dehumanization, captivity, poison, references to unethical science practices

-

In the end, Virgil left without saying goodbye.

Once all the secrets between them had been thoroughly overturned and dragged into the light by Patton’s visit, his two housemates started their training back up in earnest. Apparently, Virgil’s presence had unintentionally stalled them.

He did his best to help where he could, but no matter how many self-defense moves or surprise attacks he drilled into them, he couldn’t help but feel that there were more drawbacks than benefits to his presence.

After all, he was no trained slayer, regardless of rumor. His fighting technique mostly consisted of ‘take more chunks out of the other guy than he does of you,’ which wasn’t exactly viable for anyone without a demon’s regenerative abilities.

Even more pressingly, the kids were fond of him, always arguing about his status as a monster, and he was worried that it would get them hurt. Surely, there were other demons out there who would try to act harmless or friendly in order to lower an opponent’s defenses.

Virgil was pretty sure he was a bizarre outlier, a statistical anomaly that had gotten knocked in the head during the transformation or something. He’d never met another demon that didn’t want to kill people. He wouldn’t bet on another one even existing.

He knew the two of them had a history of their own when it came to demons, and neither were idiots. But neither were they cruel, and that soft-hearted nature was what concerned him.

Virgil didn’t want to be the reason they tried to extend a helping hand, only to get it bitten off.

He couldn’t bring himself to attack them wholeheartedly, to try and scare any missing portion of survival instincts back into them, because he was selfish.

(He doubted it would work, anyhow. The two of them had gotten concerningly good at calling his bluffs.)

He couldn’t bring himself to give them a proper goodbye, because he was a coward.

(He’d said a farewell to Thomas, that day he’d sent him down the mountain, hugged him tight until he’d smacked his shoulder and complained about worrywart brothers crushing the life out of him.

He’d said goodbye, and lost him in all the ways that mattered.)

Instead, he helped run them through one last day of training, exhausting every muscle, and then waited until the two of them were dead asleep before slipping out a window into the night.

Harley’s preternatural sense of smell was good enough that just dipping himself in a body of water wasn’t going to shake them, so instead Virgil relied on his own unnatural ability, and scaled a sheer cliff face to travel by treetop for a bit. It didn’t matter if they knew which direction he headed so long as they weren’t physically capable of following.

They had their own lives, their own goals to pursue. This was for the best.

And if Virgil found that his solitary travels suddenly felt much lonelier?

Well. It wasn’t like there was anyone around to notice.

—

It hadn’t even been a full month before trouble found Virgil again.

Maybe it would be more accurate to say that he was sent into trouble. After all, the circumstances of his current situation seemed far too precise to be a coincidence.

He hadn’t thought anything of it when a teen had approached him timidly on one of the roads skirting a sizable town. It had happened time and time again before, though usually those approaching didn’t carry so much nervous tension. Most people were only a little wary of what they assumed was a demon slayer dedicated to protecting them.

That should have been his first sign, in hindsight, but he’d been too busy being morose about missing his own temporary wards to take note.

Maybe he should have worried about how their friendship would impact him a little, too. He doubted he’d ever be able to look at a younger slayer without seeing them again.

The stranger had pleaded for help, watching him with a curious spark in their gaze, and gave him directions to a nearby grove, one that multiple people had apparently disappeared in, including their older brother.

Virgil had fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker. He hadn’t thought to ask around for other victims, or even notice that nobody else on the path seemed familiar enough with the rumor to recognize him.

He hadn’t had the faintest inkling it was a trap until the snare had already cinched around his neck.

Metaphorically. Literally, it was more of a cage.

He hadn’t thought much of the trees ringing the clearing, not when he’d noticed more pressing details, like a collapsed form in the middle of it. He’d felt his heart kick up a few notches at the sight.

(He really hadn’t wanted to have to bring a body back to a little brother.)

There had been a worrisome pressure inside his skull as he’d hurried forward, like the lightheaded sensation that warned you you were going too high too fast while traversing mountains, but it hadn’t been that strong, and he’d been worriedly scenting the air for blood, and then—

And then the figure had pushed to their feet and fluidly ducked right out of the clearing, as though they’d never been injured at all.

A pop, and the pressure vanished. Virgil treaded forward a few paces after the stranger, bewildered, and was met with a wall of pain the moment he tried to exit the clearing.

He recoiled with a yelp, staring at the empty space between the trees with something like betrayal.

There were tiny purple petals scattered along the ground. Virgil cast his eyes upward with no little dread.

Wisteria trees formed a lavender-colored canopy ringing the clearing, a breathtaking sight, one that he definitely should have noticed before waltzing right into the middle of it.

He turned back the way he came, only to find that there was now a sapling stuck in the dirt hole he’d hopped past earlier. Its blooms were sparse compared to the older trees around it, but Virgil got the feeling it wasn’t any more likely to let him through.

Slowly turning a full circle, he still couldn’t see any trace of the formerly-collapsed stranger or whoever had decided to screw him over via tree-planting.

There was a distant birdcall, the high-pitched caw of a crow.

Virgil recalled the way Roman had decapitated a demon in the blink of an eye, and felt a shudder run through him, his shoulders raising up to his ears.

He suddenly felt a lot more empathy for every hare that had ever gotten caught in his family’s traps.

“How unusual. The vast majority of cognizant demons are far more aggressive by this point.”

The voice was clinical and steady, and when Virgil turned towards it, he found a stranger in a familiar black uniform, a sword strapped to his hip.

The slayer was watching him with an icy, dispassionate gaze, standing just beyond the circumference of the trees.

He was so screwed.

“Nothing to say?” the slayer asked, raising an eyebrow. “No futile demands, no pointless threats?”

Virgil felt his face pinch slightly. What would he even threaten the guy with? Watching him bash his face into the brain-fryingly painful walls of his magic flower cage?

“Patton was right,” he continued, watching as the breath visibly caught in Virgil’s lungs. “You certainly are a unique specimen.”

Patton had—?

Oh.

Virgil’s chest felt a little like it was crumpling inwards, a wilting flower crushed underfoot. He drooped slightly, despite knowing that this was a completely reasonable response. Really, it should have been the fact that he was even allowed to stay with DW and Harley that was surprising, not this.

The hug had probably been to distract him, then. A shocking gamble to make sure he didn’t realize that Patton knew the truth about him.

He should’ve known better.

“I’d advise you to save us both the time and drop the act,” the slayer continued, apparently a bit thrown off by Virgil taking a moment to wallow in completely pointless self-pity. “You’ll find that I’m far harder to trick than soft-hearted fools.”

Was he talking about the kids?

Virgil felt his face pull into a scowl, despite the fact that he’d worried about that exact thing himself. Those were his soft-hearted fools, and not even highly skilled top-ranking demon slayers were allowed to be cruel to them.

“They’re good kids,” he signed sharply, having more trouble than usual forcing his hands into the proper shapes. “Be nice.”

The stranger’s eyebrows flew up slightly, before settling back down into something even colder. “How long did they have left? When did you plan to stop playing nice with your food?”

Virgil recoiled so severely that his hood toppled back, revealing his demonic features and disgusted expression alike.

It shouldn’t have been such a shock. He knew how demons worked, was intimately familiar with the instincts that had plagued him since he’d first regained consciousness as a monster, but the past few months had left him surprisingly thin-skinned. While living there, that sort of vicious accusation was only thrown in his face in his more miserable nightmares.

He’d have sooner used DW’s knife to decapitate himself than tried to take a bite out of one of the kids.

His hands fumbled for a moment, before he gave up and resorted to a sharp shake of his head instead. A firm denial.

The slayer’s face contorted with a hint of anger, the patch of skin between his eyebrows beginning to wrinkle. “Enough. Behavioral oddities are one thing, but they won’t convince anyone with real experience. Demons are motivated only by power and their next meal. Stop pretending, or I’ll cut you down where you stand.”

Virgil could feel his body buzzing with adrenaline, his clenched fists wet with blood where his claws were piercing his own palm, but he clenched his jaw and held firm.

The slayer was going to kill him regardless. Virgil wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of rewriting his time spent with DW and Harley into some twisted plot.

The slayer’s hand dropped down to his sword, and Virgil swallowed thickly, but before a single move could be made, there was an obnoxious fluttering of wings right next to his head.

Virgil whipped his head around, startled, only to receive a faceful of feathers and one disgruntled peck to the nose.

“Bastard! Fiend!” a familiar, raspy voice cried right into his ear.

Virgil stared at the bundle of fluff that was irritably settling back onto his shoulder. It was unmistakably the bedraggled young crow that followed Roman around.

He started to reach a finger up to pet her on automatic, brain still struggling to catch up with what her presence meant, only to freeze at the feeling of sun-hot metal at his throat.

The slayer had crossed half the clearing in a heartbeat, and now stood with his sword one twitch away from sweeping right through Virgil’s neck.

His expression was a stone mask of neutrality, but he couldn’t hide the way his face had drained of color.

“Return the bird.” A monotone demand. A friend of Roman's, then?

Virgil slid his gaze back over to the crow. (What had her name been again? Something ridiculous.) He jostled his shoulder slightly, figuring that would disturb her enough to warrant a departure.

The crow continued to cling onto her perch stubbornly, sharp little talons digging into his cloak. He grimaced, hoping it wouldn’t tear.

“The bird. Now.”

Virgil shot the slayer an irritated look, wiggling his shoulder harder in clear demonstration of his effort.

The slayer didn’t seem remotely appeased.

What was it about Virgil that made people think he was into murdering birds? Was this some demon trend he’d remained blissfully unaware of?

The blade pressed forward slightly, singing through a layer of skin, and Virgil felt his general frustration with the situation solidify into petty spite.

He slapped the blade away, ignoring the piercing burn on his hand and the shallow gouge in his neck alike to jump back and lift a hand to the crow, prompting the slayer to freeze mid-pursuit.

Virgil curled his finger in so the claw wasn’t facing outward and delicately ruffled the downy patch of fluff on the crow’s chest.

“Bird is my friend now,” he signed, and flipped the slayer off for good measure.

“Rapscallion!” the crow added vehemently. Virgil chose to interpret that as agreement, despite the fact that she followed it up by nipping his ear.

The slayer stared at him with a peculiar expression, knuckles white around the hilt of his sword. He exhaled slowly. “What do you want. In exchange for the bird.”

What part of being designated tree-adjacent by a barely-fledged crow translated to ‘holding innocent birds hostage’ to this guy? Virgil was literally the only one being held against his will here!

Well. There was an idea.

“Let me go,” Virgil signed, pointing at the freshly planted wisteria sapling. “Leave me alone.”

The slayer took a long, deep breath. “No. I won’t allow you to roam free and hurt more people.”

“Who have I hurt?” Virgil challenged, crossing his arms.

There was a certain sense of security that came with having an apparently-beloved crow sitting on his shoulder, protecting him from spontaneous beheadings by being dangerously close to his neck.

“I don’t know the specifics.” The slayer’s entire body was rigid with tension. “But I know it was someone. You’re a demon, and a remarkably keen one at that. No matter how well you pretend now, there was a time when you devoured the innocent.”

Virgil flinched despite himself, because the slayer was right. Even if he hadn’t actually done anything in the end, it wasn’t on his own merit. Only Thomas’s presence had pulled him from that feral mindset, kept him from desecrating their parents bodies in an unforgivable way. He’d been lucky.

“I don’t kill humans. I’m helping people,” he signed. “I’m a monster, but I won’t hurt anyone.”

“Your word means nothing,” the slayer said firmly.

Virgil rolled his eyes, letting a low hiss escape from between his clenched teeth. “Then what do you want?” he signed.

“There’s nothing you can give me to earn your freedom,” the slayer answered curtly, eyes barely visible past his lenses. “The only reason you’re not already ash is because there’s still information that can be gleaned from you. Abnormal cases are always the most interesting to unravel.”

Wow! That was about as far from a reassuring answer as a statement could get. Virgil was almost impressed.

“In fact,” the slayer continued, “if my estimations are correct, I should get a baseline for your vulnerability to slow-acting wisteria toxin within the next thirty seconds.”

Virgil’s face scrunched up in confusion, and he followed the tilt of the slayer’s head down to look at his collarbones, where he could just barely see the tail end of the scratch he’d gotten earlier. The edges of the wound were a dark purple, and when he reached up with his fingers, he found it was hot to the touch.

Dizziness descended on him like a second, much more uncomfortable cloak, and Virgil had just enough time to remember the uninvited guest on his shoulder before his knees began to buckle.

He scooped the bird into his hand without hesitation, filled with a sudden panic that the little creature would cling to him even as he fell, and end up squashed.

There was a shout of alarm as his legs gave out completely, but he was too busy to make out any distinct words. He tucked the squawking crow against his chest, giving her a solid cushion on all sides to protect those delicate bird bones.

His vision blacked out entirely as he hit the ground, the vertigo so intense he could hardly tell up from down. His fingers had grown too numb to register much of anything, let alone the negligible weight of an undersized bundle of feathers.

Before he could begin to fear the worst, though, he heard the distinct sound of offended, raspy-voiced swearing, loud enough to be audible even over the blood rushing in his ears.

The little crow was fine.

Well, Virgil thought as he lost consciousness, that makes one of us.

[lovebillyhargrove]

Part 3 of Billy knows his limit Part 2

Steve knows he can be a coward. He's fought monsters and gone through hell and back but he can still be a fucking coward.

Just like that time, at the Byers' when he first saw the lights flickering and unbelievable shit happening right in front of his eyes, he ran. He was terrified. The instinct told him to get out of there, and he did.

Steve knows he can lose if he's fighting fear. It's possible.

That's the reason why Steve ignored Hargrove on the following Monday after jerking each other off in Tommy's bathroom. Steve had wanted to touch this popular Californian asshole for months, get his hands burnt a little on the hot unfamiliar sun, and it happened so that the stars aligned - he crossed Billy's path, took Billy's hand.

And Hargrove followed.

Did Steve want to do it again?

God, yes. More. More.

Did Steve approach Hargrove in broad daylight in front of the whole school knowing what they did?

He didn't. He panicked and he didn't and maybe he shouldn't have led Billy to that bathroom in the first place.

Steve laced up his Nikes and ran.

Steve'd wanted to touch Hargrove for so long, but after he did, the level of magnitude with which his usual beliefs and ideas were shaken, terrified him. Left him running for his life.

But only. The secret that they shared. It was scorching him. Wasn't letting him be.

Steve did come back to the Byers' that night though. Couldn't leave Nancy and that weirdo in trouble.

~

This Sunday Steve wakes up and goes to the garage. His parents are in their apartment in Indianapolis. As most of the time. He slides the door up, and there it is - the gift his father bought to himself for his 45th birthday

the red 1983 BMW r65. His dad spent a fortune on it. And it is,

A beauty. Steve's sliding his palm over the cool fuel tank and the soft leather seat.

Yeaah

His father would have a fit if he knew Steve's even looking at it.

"No, son, you cannot ride it. You don't have a proper driving license for that. You are absolutely not allowed to ride it and you cannot touch it."

Little did he know, but Steve could, in fact, ride a motorbike.

Indianapolis was only 70 miles away from Hawkins. In summer of 1984 Steve went to Indianapolis to take motorcycle classes. Hawkins was too small to find those. He dropped it the moment he understood he could ride a motorbike without being a major road safety hazard, and since then he couldn't help but take the BMW out for a ride a couple of times. Or more than a couple. Dad didn't have to know.

His father practically never rode the bike himself. He was seldom in Hawkins, didn't have the time. The bike was like a valuable possession, treasured and abandoned in the garage. Stood there all alone.

Was kinda unfair, in Steve's opinion. So he kept it company.

It's the last week of school. Tomorrow is Monday, their last basketball practice.

Steve's gonna skip it.

No more hiding.

~

After dodging practice Steve got into his beamer and drove home. Took a 5-minute shower, changed his clothes, put on a light jacket, went downstairs and slid the garage door open. The BMW was already waiting for him. He took care of it yesterday, checked if everything was okay. The black helmet was right there on the shelf. He didn't have the second one, but who knew if he would actually need it. His plan could go sideways and end up in a crash.

~

Steve slowly pushes the bike outside and closes the garage door. His palms are sweaty and his heart is racing. Fuck, it's worse than any of his prior little adventures. It feels too big, and it certainly doesn't feel like an adventure. Steve's as serious as a heart attack. He's gonna have one, soon, if his heart doesn't slow down. His breath catches in his throat, and he hasn't even got to the school/best part of it yet.

He gets on the bike and turns the ignition key. The engine comes alive, and its rumble sends a thrill down Steve's spine.

Nah. Hargrove won't be able to resist this baby. He doesn't stand a chance.

When Steve gets back to the school parking lot, the first thing he notices is that the camaro is still there. People are starting to spill out of school. It's the last week of studies, and there's an undertone of excitement to everything that's happening.

He parks the bike not far from Billy's car, gets off, takes off the helmet and leans on the bike, waiting.

Steve's heartbeat becomes too loud when he sees Hargrove go out of the school building. He's afraid his legs are gonna give in and he's gonna fall down together with his fancy BMW and make a sight out of himself. What the fuck is happening, has he never been after a girl before? He has, but this shit's a million times more intense.

The heart beats and beats and beats and then stops when he feels Hargrove's eyes land on him.

He's read it in books and seen it in the movies. When two people are surrounded by a crowd, but they say "the world stops turning" and the two people only see each other, only have eyes for each other. The world didn't stop, but it definitely became slower and the time seemed to turn into some kind of a viscous syrup that takes forever to pour out from a narrow-neck bottle.

Steve's heart is pounding in his head again and Hargrove's looking as if not sure what to do, as if he's still figuring out if this message is meant for him. It's obvious he wants it to be for him.

It's a cliché, but they are standing there like they are alone in the parking lot. In the universe.

It's a cliché, but now Steve knows that the cliché is real and so true.

Steve smiles.

"Hey Hargrove!"

Billy snaps out of it, comes up to him, slowly

"Nice ride, Harrington."

There's no bite to it. Steve feels the envy though. Billy's just a boy who likes cars and bikes and anything fast. Except, maybe .. kissing? Steve wants to find out so bad.

"Yeah, not bad, huh? That's not mine though. My dad's. But I thought, why not, you know .. take it out for a spin?"

Billy's checking out the BMW. He's gonna say yes, he can't resist, it's too much of a temptation.

"You should. Do you know how?"

"Yep, I do. Took classes and shit. You like it? I can give you a ride, if you.. want."

Billy's eyebrows rise just a millimetre

"Oh yeah? I have my own wheels, Harrington."

"I know, but I figured .. we could.. Max has her AV club till 4, right?"

"You know the brats' schedule better than me."

"I could drive you around, go to the quarry. Or to .. a lake."

Billy snorts

"A lake, Steve?"

"Yeah. Lovers' lake. Ever been?"

"Maybe. And I'm gonna, what? .. Sit behind you like I'm your bitch?"

Steve's blushing.

"More like my.. partner in crime? My dad will kill me for taking his bike. But.. bitch is also, uh. An option."

"Wow wow wow, Harrington. In front of the whole school, no less. Everyone's looking, King Steve."

Everyone is looking.

"I uh.. I don't give a fuck. Let them look. Okay it's not like I'm gonna be running around telling everyone I've held your dick.. and not because I'm ashamed or anything. It's because.. that's only between me and you. But I'm also not gonna act like a stranger around you. And .. I was stupid for acting like that, Billy. I know you're angry."

Steve takes a deep breath. Billy's silent. He can feel the I'm sorry written all over it.

"You want the truth? I'm still afraid of you, Hargrove. Scared shitless, if I'm honest. But I'm done hiding. So .. if you're still uh .. interested.."

Steve falls silent too. They are looking into each other's eyes and Steve can swear he feels the time stop. Just like they say it does. It's Billy who breaks the gaze, eyes cast down for a second, smiling quietly more to himself than to Steve, standing there in the Hawkins High parking lot, so unspeakably beautiful under the warm late spring sun rays.

"So.. Lovers' Lake, pretty boy?"

[merakiui]

WAIT IDIA MAKING U WEAR THOSE HOSPITAL GOWNS THINGS WHILE HES IN HIS STYX UNIFORM ELABORATE 👀👀👀👀

↑ THESE!!!! And with the choker collar as well…….. OTL the way the sleeves are short enough to expose the wrists!!! It’s more shirt and pants rather than a gown, but even so it’s still good!!!!!! The light color contrasts well with Idia’s uniform hehe.

Just,,,,, the idea of him making you wear the thinnest of materials so it’s easier to tear and take off. He probably has one custom-made for you and it’s so skimpy. T-T call him Master Idia and he’s folding. When anyone else calls him that, he can’t stand it because it’s a reminder that he’s heir to STYX and that his future looms ever nearer. But when you do it… it’s a different story. You keep telling him he’s a loser and a coward, so watch him don the STYX uniform and prove you wrong when he’s kidnapped the NRC students. :) you can watch through the cameras with him while you sit on his lap, speared on his cock. <3 all while dressed in that thin hospital wear.

But also please just imagine being some poor side character (in Idia’s eyes) who essentially grew up in the STYX facility because there’s something about you they’re studying. Maybe your guardian(s) gave you over to the Shrouds because there was nothing they could do and they couldn’t afford the funds for proper treatment, so in exchange for curing or helping you STYX gets its research. You’re separated from the world beyond by a thick wall of glass, trapped in the little cell they’ve put you in so that if at any point your vitals or mentality become unstable they can easily sedate you and minimize damage to just a single room.

You’re essentially a lab rat for them, but Idia and Ortho don’t understand that when they pay your cell a visit when the lot of you were all children. Idia’s fascinated that he has found someone else his age here. He starts to bring games and books and other things he really likes to share with you, holding them up against the glass so you can read them. His hair is always tinged the softest shade of pink because lately he’s felt somewhat shy around you. You’re just happy to have someone to talk to, as it can get awfully lonely with just the researchers or STYX robots, neither of them willing to exchange many words or entertain you with friendly chit-chat.

But then the accident happens and Ortho and Idia stop coming to visit. You wonder what happened to them. No one tells you anything, but there is a thick air of tragic melancholy that hangs low the facility. You’re not sure what the reason for this is, but despite not knowing it manages to make you sad. Once again, you’re alone in this prison and no one’s told you anything.

And then, many years later into your adult life, Idia comes to visit. And this time he’s accompanied by Ortho—at least you think it’s Ortho. But there’s something mechanical about him. Regardless, he greets you as he always would when the both of you were younger and he seems ecstatic to see you again despite his robotic qualities. Idia doesn’t look as starry-eyed as he was before, rather he seems…sadder? Miserable? Cold? There’s something not right in his eyes when he looks at you as if you’re a calculation he needs to solve. You think you might finally be set free or cured or…something, but then you’re being moved into Idia’s room and he’s saying something about how you’ll be arranged to marry him because you’re the only one who truly understood him back then.

You have no idea where any of this is coming from, but when you overhear that STYX has gotten some new test subjects you hope to use your newfound (albeit monitored) freedom to good use in hopes of finding a common ally in the students from Night Raven College. And maybe it’s possible to escape. Unfortunately, you don’t realize these students also know Idia and they’re all selfish boys who’d do anything to save themselves. If their freedom comes at the cost of yours, they’ll gladly hand you over to Idia.

[crimsonlyinglilly]

DAY 9: ALT 1: human shield

Day nine of Febuwhump.

@febuwhump

Mikael on the night he really loses his children.

-----

He takes the cowards way first, unable to face his daughter when he does it.

They had already drunk the spiked wine Esther had prepared it was just up to him to trigger it.

It needs to be done, of course he can’t lose another child, like Henrik, like his precious Freya.

Starting with Rebekah makes sense, his now youngest, his only girl, now, the one he’s likely to hesitate with.

So he plunges his blade through her back and into her heart, making it quick, Niklaus moves to catch her as she falls, then freezes when he catches sight of the bloodied sword in Mikael’s hand.

Niklaus follows quickly after that, a short thrust before he manages to unfreeze. 

Mikael ignores the ache in his chest at the sight of Niklaus’ body laid over his sister, as if to protect her from him.

Niklaus may have been weak but he was always his sister’s protector and no matter what they are still his children and Mikael never wants to see another of his children still and dead.

He must do this, it’s for their own good he reminds him as he leaves the hut.

Two down, three to go.

His Firstborn son, his little protector and his mischief maker.

It was his luck that had separated them so he wasn’t forced to do it all at once. Finn and Elijah had both returned late after the day with their woman, and Kol had left to question them.

He’s greeted by Kol laughter as he enters the Finn’s home, the one he had built just years ago, Henrik insisting to help with Rebekah even as Niklaus and Kol descended into roughhousing instead of truly contributing and Finn and Elijah argued in their slightly more controlled way.

It was a good day, with his children alive, the ache of freya distance and Esther warm at his side laughing at their antics.

Mikael was cold even as he entered the warmth of the hut, Kol laughter stopping as he noticed him. 

Finn dies before he can turn his head to see him, like Rebekah it’s cowardly through his back but it’s quick and out of all his sons Finn is the one most able to best him.

He takes a moment to slow his oldest’s fall.

Elijah’s next, while not as strong, he’s quick and smart, when he’s not letting himself lose to amuse his brothers but there is one weakness that’s alway been clear.

Elijah doesn’t attack or flee, the moment he snaps out of the shock he throws himself between him and Kol, telling Kol to run as Mikael approaches.

Elijah doesn’t look at him with fear or betrayal, his son glares at him in hatred and rage, as he stands to shield Kol, even as the sword enters his heart, and Mikael crushes the shiver of something, as he’s reminded of Esther's sister.

Still he doesn’t let him fall, he catches and lowers him slowly.

Kol uses his magic to throw a table at him to defend himself, his now youngest son had always preferred Esther’s arts over proper sword work, so after Mikael ducks down and closes the gap, stepping over Elijah to do it, the blade slides into the chest of his last child with ease.

Kol looks at him with wide shock and betrayal as the light leaves his eyes.

With his task complete he takes his time to lay Kol’s body down gently next to Elijah.

It’s the slight of his two dark haired boys that reminds him of lost third, his Henrik, that forces him to leave.

He wasn’t finished; he had to get a thrall, two, one for Rebekah and Niklaus and a second for the boys, to make sure they complete the transition.

They weren’t going to lose anyone else.

(Mikael lost all his children the night he killed them.)

 Rebekah looks at him in horror when she realise it was him that slid the blade into her back, Finn flees that night without looking at him, Kol follows suit days later avoiding him before. Elijah comes back in a state vacant horror at what they did but as days go back he covers it with a mask of his normal self, but Mikael catches the seething hatred under the mask when he meets his son’s eyes.

Mikael may have been his father but he was also always going to be the one who had killed Elijah’s siblings, and to the man who was once a little boy that promised to protect them, that was something that could never be undone.

—--

Kol sees father’s sword appear though Elijah's back in his nightmares for centuries after that night, the sword they had both spent thier childhood watching him clean and hone never truly expecting it to be their blood dripping from it.

They never speak of it, Elijah could have escaped if he hadn’t tried to protect Kol.

He had been nearer to Finn’s other door, was faster than Father, knew the land around them better than father and was well known and liked by their neighbours even some from the wolves knew him, instead of escaping Elijah and stepped closer to their father and death for him.

Kol wants to know why? wants to know what he thought as he died? Was he cursing Kol for not escaping? More than anything he wants to know if Elijah regrets it.

He never manages to work up the courage to ask.

[twilightmalachite]

2×2 - Children on the Streets 7

Author: Akira

Characters: Hinata

Translator: Mika Enstars

"But y’know, I actually really like that about you, Anzu-san. I don’t know, it just feels like we’re similar."

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Spring

Location: Shack

Hinata: These days, I don’t know. Of course, strangely I and only I have become popular thanks to things like Volcano Island and all that, and I feel my fans have definitely increased, but…

I don’t know why, but I’m getting lonelier and lonelier despite all that.

Is there something wrong with me?

You might get angry hearing me say this, but… I wish I wasn’t a popular, fan-favorite idol.

Yuuta-kun is filled with ambition, but I’m actually already satisfied.

I don’t need to succeed, just seeing Yuuta-kun be genuinely happy is enough.

Just having Yuuta-kun with me is enough.

Just having him smiling by my side is enough.

That’s all I really need to be satisfied.

Since the moment we ran away from home with his hand in mine, that’s all I’ve ever, ever wanted.

My time, my skills I trained, everything I had… I would have given all of it up for that.

Because, my mother asked me to take care of Yuuta-kun.

“Hinata, you’re the older brother, so make sure to protect and love Yuuta.”

I don’t remember much about my mother anymore. That’s all I have left of her, those words and her smile.

I wanted to light up the world he lived in like the rising sun.

Even though it would have been better if there wasn’t a place for me there.

Hinata: …Right. Sorry. I’m saying strange things. I’ve been so busy with work that I haven’t had any time to stock up on fun things to talk about.

Hm? You want to keep listening?

Do you want to know about me, Anzu-san?

Why is that? Is it because you like me?

No, it’s not. I get it. You want to know about me so you can help me grow into a great idol, as a producer.

I’m just annoyed because that self-interest is coated and sugared with something like sweet affection…

But y’know, I actually really like that about you, Anzu-san.

I don’t know, it just feels like we’re similar.

You’re a liar and a coward. You put on a loving, protecting facade and try to control the person in front of her with words that are pleasing to the ear.

But. so does everyone else, right? I mean, the tongue is an organ made for lying.

And I’m a hundred times happier that you did that rather than ignore me, like my father did when he was no good for a while, Anzu-san.

What was I talking about? Right, right, about how to get out of this situation.

Actually, I do have some thoughts regarding that.

Yup. Among the people who kidnapped us, there were a couple who looked familiar to me.

We lived on the streets when we were kids.

Things were really hard up until Master picked us up. I did whatever I could to keep my little brother and I alive.

Of course, I was still just a small child, I couldn’t do anything huge.

Adults, those who live a proper and normal life, didn’t even notice it, but…

In a dark corner of every town, there are tons of people who have no place to stay in those sorts of “decent environments”.

And among them were people who taught me who taught me how to survive in “those sorts of places”.

At the time, we were like stray cats who had run away after being abandoned by their owner.

And stray cats like that, they’ll huddle up and share information about the best places to scavenge for garbage to eat and all that—

Surviving by supporting one another. If we didn’t, we’d all just have died, that’s just how it is.

Hinata: But… We were protected by a kind person, our Master.

There are people who don’t have that. Those who kidnapped us last night, that’s where they ended up.

They still live in the darkness, unrecognized by ordinary people.

No, rather… They’ve lived here for a long time now, just invisible to me.

Those culprits responsible for this incident would have been us, if we had never gotten protection from Master.

If we had remained in misfortune.

We ordinary people lump them all together as delinquents and the such, calling them social outcasts, pinching our noses and pretending we don’t see them.

But, they, who thought we, who should’ve been peers in the same position as us since we were kids, stepped out of the dark and said something to me.

“We’re here, you know.”

“Maybe we’ve become invisible to you…”

“And it seems like you’ve completely forgotten about us, but…”

“You’re one of us, in the end.”

“And if you’ve forgotten, we’ll remind you.”

“I’m going to drag you back into that same darkness as back then.”

“That way… You’ll see us too, won’t you?”

[ ☆ ]

← prev | story directory | next →

[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart  Chapter 23

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary: After fire claimed the lives of your family, the monastery of your Uncle Carden becomes your new home. As the niece of a priest you are expected to behave prim and proper, but not even the watchful eyes of the Weeping Monk can see all. An ancient magic returns to life when love and duty begin to blur.

Chapter Title: A Patient Passion.

Notes: Finally proofread this one. Also, some spice.

Warnings: There’s a list of warnings for this story: Murder. Violence. Death. Angst. Sexism. Strong Language. Trauma. Childhood trauma. Survivor’s guilt. Mentions of child maltreatment. Threat of Sexual assault. PTSD. Misogyny, Self-flagellation. Gore.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Pining. Smut. Spicy content. Little Slow-burn.

Word count of this fic: +130K

Chapter:  23 / 27

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

All of it was a blur as you faded in and out of consciousness.

There was shouting, there was fire…

The loud voice of Arthur rang over all else “Keep them at a distance!”

Gawain said something about shielding you from ‘them’.

Green light blinded you when you tried to open your eyes to see.

Lancelot’s voice felt far away even if it was so close.

“Breathe.”

Breathing hurt, your head was thumping painfully.

Trinity Guards on patrol had run into you and the others, they had seen how you were ready to strike their Abbot down

A rock had been thrown hard against your head and send you to the ground.

You regained consciousness in the middle of a fight that had broken out.

Nauseous and with very blurry vision, you tried to get up.

Lancelot was there to help you to your feet, the ashen markings burning green once more.

The fire of the torch, that one guard had carried, proved to be an ally in this fight.

The Fey Fire kept most of the guards away and burned those who tried to cross the barrier it formed.

When your vision began to improve, you realized Lancelot was using his Fey magic to surround those who were attacking.

Wicklow realized this too late. Who could predict that Fey could control and command fire itself?

Gawain, Arthur and Red Spear witnessed the power that ran through the veins of the uncrowned Ashen King with their own eyes.

Blood was on his hands. Yours.

When he saw you bleeding from your head, he had feared the worst. Now he doubted he could even stop the flames if he’d wanted to.

The night he had saved Percival, he had challenged the Abbot and saw the coward flee.

This time he did not grand him the chance to do so again.

The flames trapped Wicklow and his surviving guards in their deathly embrace.

No one wished to stay behind to hear the screams.

You found yourself being guided away by Lancelot, every step only made your head feel worse and the nausea increased.

Arriving at the horses, you were barely able to take Llamrai’s reins in your hands.

“No.” He was firm and leaded you to Goliath.

Red Spear tied Llamrai’s reins to her own horse.

Arthur and Gawain were there to help you get on Goliath.

You were slouched over, even sitting upright was causing vertigo.

Lancelot tried to make you sit properly in front of him but gave up when it only made your condition worse “We are going home.” he brushed his fingers along your neck soothingly “Everything will be alright.”

No matter how hard you fought it, darkness fell over you again.

  When your eyes dared to open again, the headache had not vanished yet.

And when your vision finally cleared, you found out that you were in your room.

There was a bandage tied across your head in Pym-style.

Two sleeping children had put their heads to rest on the edge of the mattress.

Percival and Neia, one at each side of you.

They had watched over you while you slept, until they fell asleep themselves.

Instantly, you let the idea to get up from the bed fade away.

The brown curls covered Neia’s face almost completely, Percival’s untameable locks were pointing at all directions.

It was such an endearing sight, how could anyone disturb them when they looked this angelic?

Pym was unaware of the angelic sight and opened the door with bravado.

You gestured for her to be quiet, while she was excited to see you conscious again.

She tiptoed closer and quietly took of the bandage to exchange it for a clean one, it had some blood on it “How long have you been awake? Does your head hurt?”

You whispered back to her “Just woke up. And yes.”

Pym checked the cut on the side of your head “I think it stopped bleeding. They really threw that rock hard…”

The fresh linen cloth was wrapped around it to protect the cut, she used some herbs to speed up the healing.

“They?” You couldn’t recall much.

“Those twats with their scary looking masks.” Pym informed.

Trinity Guards??? Slowly your memory returned.

Almost did your voice go louder, but then you remembered there were children sleeping on your bed “What about Wicklow? Is he dead?”

She sounded pretty happy to share the news “Oh, yes. He’s very dead.”

That cheery smile she had was just a tiny bit unsettling, but it was a relief for all that the Abbot was dealt with.

Pym could barely contain her excitement “Arthur said that Lancelot made Fey Fire and that’s how they won the fight.”

You rubbed your temple “Pym, are the others alright?”

She was quick to reassure you of it “Oh, they’re alright. Arthur’s just having a stuffed nose for a while and Gawain bled only a little. I’ll go tell them that you’re awake.”

You pointed at the sleeping children “I don’t want to wake them…”

Pym looked at Percival and Neia, smiling in endearment “They’re adorable when they sleep. I’ll tell them to wait until morning to come see you?”

“Good plan.” You smiled up at her.

Quietly she sneaked out of the room and just before the door almost closed, you could hear her whisper something to someone.

A quiet answer followed and the door creaked open again.

Lancelot’s eyes fell on you first, then on the sleeping children.

It reminded him of a painting he had once seen. One where two cherubs were in silent prayer with an angel in the midst of them.

His boots did not even make the floorboards creak as he neared and knelt at your side.

He collected your hand in his, thumb stroking from your knuckles along your fingers “We did it.” then he brought your knuckles to his lips “The Abbot is no more.”

Your voice was a whisper “I wasn’t any help, I am only alive now because you saved me.”

Hearing it was reason for him to make you see the other side of things “You did everything we asked of you and risked your life to give us the advantage on Wicklow. If you had not asked us to go to Helgenstone, the people in the church would have all been killed, none of us would have been there to save them.”

It still bothered you how it had gone tonight “I don’t know why I hesitated to kill him when I had the chance.”

He spoke in a calm and gentle manner “Many years ago, when I began, I hesitated many times. Your conscience stopped you, there is nothing wrong with that.”

Disagreeing with him would be foolish, he was right, having a conscience is what seperated one from monsters.

Your eyes were glued on the way he proceeded to brush his lips to your knuckles again.

He stroked a hand over your hair and examined the bandage “I put the satchel with your clothes under the bed.”

It made you look down and notice that you were still wearing the clean tunic you had gotten from the Sisters at the church in Helgenstone.

Lancelot stood up again, his attention on the sleeping children.

You smiled up at him, well… you tried as best as you could with the headache.

He curled a finger under your chin, tilting it up while leaning down slowly.

Surely he could steal a kiss? It would not wake the children.

Your lips found one another and made you forget the pain.

The bliss lasted for only a count or three before giggling was heard.

And then a big, loud, fully meant “Yuck.”

Neia’s giggling at the sight had woken Percival, who gave another sort of reaction.

Lancelot’s expression switched between a guilty one and an embarrassed one at the boy’s response.

Neia on the other hand encouraged it “Kiss!”

Your face heated up, his flushed.

“You should be in bed.” Lancelot barely managed to sound stern.

Percival muttered something under his breath that only the Ash Man heard.

Whatever it was that the boy had commented on it, it was enough to rattle the poor Ash Man “Percival, will you guide Neia to her room?”

The boy knew he was being dismissed and this time spoke louder to taunt “Someone should guide you to your room.”

You had to turn your head to the side or risked having them see how hard it was not to laugh.

One certain look of warning from the Ash Man was enough for Percival to do as asked.

The young knight told Neia “Come on, let’s go.”

The little girl was at his side in a matter of seconds, hooking her arm with his and locking the young knight to her.

Of course Percival ignored the grin from the tall Ash Man aimed at him for it.

For one so little, Neia could be quite strong and not even Percival could get out of her hold, the boy gave up and just walked with her out the door.

Lancelot even held the door open, attention on the ceiling to avoid Percival seeing just how wide the grin was growing.

Once the pair was outside, he closed the door and immediately looked over at you “I believe Percival has found himself quite an admirer.”

There was no doubt about it and you agreed “That smile she has whenever she looks at him-”

He chimed in with a smirk “Looks quite familiar.”

Right away, your eyes fixed on your fidgeting hands and away from that cheeky twit who was out to get you flustered it seems.

He went to sit on the edge of the bed “How is your head?”

You deadpanned “Still attached.”

It earned you a near scolding look, but he couldn’t keep a straight face “I believe your head will be fine if you are able to jest about it already.”

More wit was send his way “Because I think crying would hurt. They really got me good with that rock.”

With compassion he looked at you and confessed “When I saw you fall, I feared the worst. I struggled to keep control over my power when I felt it rise in me again.”

You took his hand in yours “I am so proud of you and the way you are overcoming the fear of your true self. I know you will learn to control it, you saved many with it already.”

He took the opportunity and turned your hand, your inner wrist facing him, then he moved your sleeve up to view the mark gifted to you “I could feel your fear in the church, the fear of the fire. And I felt the mark’s reaction to the Fey fire.”

You couldn’t hide your awe “I can’t deny that seeing those flames turn green was one of the most incredible things I have seen in my life. I’m certain others will feel the same once they see it for themselves. You saw the way those at the church were looking at it them.”

Hearing you sound so excited over it nearly got him blushing.

It sounded as if he struggled to handle the attention it had drawn to him “Word is spreading about it. Some have even spoken to me now, people that avoided me before this.”

Was he finally being accepted by the Fey?

You carefully breached the subject “Do you think they know about your…uhm…title?”

He misunderstood “I am quite certain everyone here knows what I was called before coming here.”

Gently you smiled “Not that one. Your royal one.”

Lancelot mouthed an ‘Oh’.

He was uncertain of it “Maybe there are rumors. Some must have heard of the Ash Folk and their lineage.”You jested “Once word gets out that you are in fact a king among the Fey, you will be one of the most eligible people in the lands.”

“Are you worried?” The tease fell from him so naturally.

“Should I be?” You fired back.

His eyes dropped to the mark again “I know who I want. Now and always.”

You watched him rub his thumb over the mark and saw the pattern glow again, a silver now mixed with green that resembled Fey Fire.

“We could wed.” He said it very quickly.

The many times he had thought of it…

Even when he was still with the paladins, he had once hoped to earn enough of Father Carden’s trust and respect to be able to request a union.

It would never have been possible or allowed.

But now all paths could be chosen and the only one he wished to take was the one that would always lead him back to you.

Did you truly just hear him say it or was that rock damage making you hear things?

After collecting some air in your lungs, you matched his vague suggestive tone “We could.”

He regretted not being more forward about it, he should have known you would have him spell it out or meet him with wit.

When he remained quiet for a little while, you blurted out shyly “Do you want to marry me?”

His eyes went up to yours.

Was that an inquiry…or were you asking???

By the look on your face, it could easily be either.

It sounded far more brave than you actually felt “Well?”

At that, he arched a brow and smirked “If you wish.”

And that was how he pushed the decision back to you again, both tugging to get a clear answer to the question out of the other.

You sighed at the ridiculousness “Dammit, Lancelot. Are you going to make me your wife or not?”

That was very forward.

His answer was nothing short of determined “I will.”

It felt like your heart was making loops inside your chest “Well, that’s settled then.”

He swiftly cupped your face and poured all his love from his lips unto yours.

You could feel how he held back to avoid hurting you and you relaxed into his hold easily.

Every kiss was always filled with the devotion to please and worship.

Every touch gentle for he still feared his hands were too rough to hold someone so dear to him without hurting them.

You leaned back a little “Wait…maybe it’s this-” pointing at the bandage on your head “-talking.”

He was not falling for it at all “You are terrible.”

It made him lose some of his restraint and left you at the mercy of his scolding kiss.

Lancelot broke away, leaving just enough space to speak “I believe you should know that someone came to this city while we where in Helgenstone. He will join us in our fight against the Church.”

You squinted your eyes at him “Who?”

The cheeky twit let his hold on you fall away and stood up from the bed “I will tell you tomorrow.”

Really?

“Tell me now.”

“No.”

He really enjoyed having a secret to tease you with.

“Is it the Holy Father?” You took a wild guess.

His brow arched to match the smile “You have high hopes for who this person could be.”

You sighed “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

Lancelot was determined to make you wait “Tomorrow.”

This person had asked for this to remain a surprise and he would honor the request.

“Fine.” You grumbled.

The bed sheet was draped neatly over you by him “Sleep. There is still quite some time left before dawn. Pym will come into the room a couple of times as you sleep to make certain everything is alright.”

You couldn’t resist trying “Or you could just stay here with me and save her the trouble.”

Shyness came over him instantly “I couldn’t…”

Sweetly you tried to persuade him “I promise I will behave myself.”

Lancelot send you a look “And I know that would be a lie.”

Opening up about what you wished for wasn’t simple, but you tried and hoped it would not scare him off “After today, I doubt my dreams will be sweet. I wish you were here with me tonight, because I do miss your presence at night-” after a pause, you admitted “…a lot.”

The hesitation and anxiousness you detected in his expression said it all.

The last thing you wanted was to make him think you would rush things or that it would upset you if he said ‘No’.

He sounded quite rattled by the confession, like he was battling against what he wanted and what he was ready for “I uhm… I…”

You eased his worry immediately “I understand. It’s alright. I’ll let you go.”

The anxiousness left his eyes, yet he remained quiet for a moment, eyes lowering to the floor.

And it was that that made you feel guilty for asking it, his hand landed on the doorknob and when his eyes found yours all he did was nod.

A polite unspoken ‘goodnight’…

Words had left you there all alone, so you just nodded back.

When he closed the door after leaving the room, it sounded so much louder than it was and the room was uncomfortable silent afterwards.

He wanted to marry you…

What if he started to think that you wouldn’t want him if he wouldn’t bed you?

Minutes past and you felt more and more regret that you had asked him to stay without making it clear that nothing had to happen, that you would be happy just to have his company and not be alone.

Carefully you sat up on your bed, feeling how the slightest movement was enough for your headache to flare up. There was a tankard of water on the little side table next to the bed and you drank some of it.

It helped a bit and with a couple of steady breaths, you pushed yourself up from the bed.

Vertigo hit you, but you stubbornly stood your ground against it and walked…well stumbled to the door.

Reaching it felt like a huge relief, at least you were stable enough to walk again.

If only you had been stable enough to step aside when the door opened and bumped against your chest.

You stumbled and fell backwards, your bottom took most of the impact, not that it wasn’t painless…

A flaming curse escaped you, the one guilty of surprising you by entering the room was beside you instantly.

The pain was forgotten right away when you saw those orbs that matched the sky the day you had first seen them “Lancelot?”

He was filled with remorse “Are you alright?” upon seeing you nod, he apologized “I’m sorry, I did not know you were near the door. Forgive me.”

The apology wasn’t necessary, you were happy to just see him again “You came back…”

While he helped you to your feet again, his voice was so quiet that you’d barely heard him “I spoke to Pym, told her that I would watch over you tonight.”

It rekindled your hope “You’ll stay?”

It still didn’t sound louder than a whisper “If you allow it?”

It slipped from your thoughts right out of your mouth “Always.”

With caution, as if he was handling a potentially feral cat ready to claw at him, he placed a hand on your upper arm and shut the door with the other.

Goodness, anyone could see how nervous he still was and you feared to make a sudden move that would send him running.

You waited for him to say something, instead he cupped your face and tenderly kissed your forehead.

Your eyes fluttered shut, as did his, and you wallowed in the feeling of being loved in such a way that nothing had to be said and all could be felt.

The brush of his mouth against your skin as he whispered felt like a prayer “I will wed you, care for you and love you.” he opened up about his fear “My hesitation for us to become intimate is not your fault. I fear I will do wrong.”

You joined this prayer with him, whispering back “There is no shame in worrying. I could tell you to not be afraid, that all would go well, but no one could know this beforehand. I can tell you that I will not rush you. And that I will care for you, love you and wed you with or without us coupling. All I beg for is your presence.”

He tilted your chin to lock eyes with you “Only my presence?”

Your mouth curved into a grin “I could ask to leave the arrogance at the door and that wit of yours, but I won’t.”

The smirk he had now only made him look even more dashingly handsome “Because you cannot leave it at the door either.”

It earned him a playful smack against his chest and quick as a whip he had grabbed your wrist and pulled you close.

When he swiftly tilted his head, you evaded his kiss by turning your head to the side.

Right away he could tell that you were messing with him “What?”

Your grin only grew wider “I did say just your presence. Nothing else.”

He could detect the teasing from a mile away and still tried to catch something of you to kiss.

While squeaking in delight, you pried yourself from his arms.

Dammit, it sure had caused the mark on your arm to respond to him, pleasant shivers ran across your skin.

After backing away a bit, you swayed your finger in a scolding manner “You are unbelievable. Worse than any man who tried to climb through my window.”

The smugness dripped from him “I never had to climb. You always let me in.”

You rolled your eyes, but he was right “I can’t believe you were once responsible for making sure I behaved virtuous and proper.”

It got a chuckle out of him, then his attention fell on the way you were a little unsteady on your feet “Either I made your head spin, or that rock did.”

It had sounded like a question “The rock did, you just made it worse.”

You looked down at your clothing, there was blood on the tunic from the cut on your head and wearing it through a burning building had not made it look any better.

You asked only to make certain he would not be uncomfortable “Would you mind if I take of this tunic and sleep in my undergown?”

The time it took for him to answer and the dilating of his pupils would have been enough of an answer.

Finally he snapped out of it “Not at all.”

When you walked away to take off the tunic, you did notice how his flushed cheeks only made his ashen markings stand out more.

But he had seen you in an undergown more than once and shown no problem against it.

To distract from it while taking it off, you asked “Do you remember the first time we were in my room alone together, back at the monastery?”

His head tilted, the question prompted that lovely boyish smile to appear “Yes.”

How could one forget how you had straddled his leg while kissing him with a fiery passion?

“I’m still impressed you were able to leave my room without being seen or waking me.” You remarked while folding the tunic and putting it in the closet.

“So was I…” He said more to himself.

You approached him again and placed a hand along his arm while going to stand behind him.

Your intention became clear to him, he loosened the cords that kept the cloak secured to him and let you take the cloak from his shoulders.

It felt nicely warm in your hands and the wish to put it on yourself crossed your mind.

He saw you hug his cloak to your chest, while taking of his aketon as well, and smiled “Cold?”

“A little bit.” You admitted.

Seeing him without the cloak, that he used to shield himself from the world, always felt like a special occasion. To see him just in his shirt felt serene.

Of course you were, that undergown’s fabric was far less heavy than the tunic’s.

“It will be warmer under those sheets.” He even steered you towards the bed.

You sensed he would not join “And you?…”

He nodded and pointed out the space just beside the bed “I will be here.”

It made up your mind “Then I will be too.”

His protests fell to deaf ears with you and you gathered the sheets and pillows from the bed, just like that first night and brought them to the place he had gestured to.

If he wasn’t ready to share a bed, you would accommodate him.

You knelt on the floor and held up a pillow “I know sleeping with me in a bed is a step you’re not ready for, so I will join you here.”

The speechless Ash Man witnessed how you build a comfortable sleeping spot for both on the floor and without a single hesitation.

Seeing you fluff the pillows and try your best to make it comfortable for him…

To see you trouble yourself and go the extra mile…

For him…

The kindness and love that went into such a simple act was beyond anything he had ever known.

Your attention snapped to him when he dropped to his knees as well in front of you.

In one swift action, he cradled your head and crashed his lips to yours.

It almost had you lose your balance and you had to steady yourself by grabbing a hold on his shoulder.

The fiery passion and his determination to continue this send a hot flush through your body and made you forget all about the cold.

His hot breath touched your cheek, then your jaw, slowly he went further into the exploration.

The confession was a whisper leaving his deepest thoughts “You smell so good.”

The scent of you was enough to never let go again.

You didn’t know what to say after hearing that warm deep timbre in his tone that had carried out the confession.

To try and control your breathing and thoughts, you turned your head a bit and gain some air for your lungs.

It wasn’t enough to keep your thoughts together when he brought his lips to your neck and pulled you closer by the waist.

You knew he’d stop before it could lead to coupling and welcomed all he gave with open arms. Every kiss, every touch and especially every single shuddering breath that he took.

You brought your hands behind his neck and laced your fingers together, locking him into you for a little longer to kiss him back tenderly.

He wrapped you into his embrace, one hand lightly scratching on your back while the other found it’s way to the back of your neck.

When he broke away, it was with a quick breath of air.

He caressed your cheek, the seas of his eyes were overtaken by the darkness of his pupils.

You managed to bring out “I smell good?”

He didn’t regret to admitting it “Very.”

Was he drawn to it? Was this something that just occurred with those of the Ash Folk?

“How very?” You asked, grinning at him.

He brought your palm to his chest, where his heart was beating “Enough to cause this.”

The beat of his heart matched your own and you curled your fingers in the fabric that covered his chest “If we continue like this, we won’t get any sleep.”

Both your attention drifted to the sheets and pillows between you.

With that said, you moved away and crawled under the sheets to make yourself comfortable for the night.

And you had to readjust the bandage on your head a little after it was disrupted by him.

You had wrapped yourself in the bed sheet like a caterpillar ready to sleep and wake up a butterfly.

He found it quite amusing to see but also wished to unwrap you from the thing because it stole away the warmth and some of your scent that he craved for.

He was beside you not a moment later, his shoulder touching yours.

Instead of accepting your cocooned state, he began to free you from it.

“But I’m cold…” You objected.

His solution to that was pulling you against him while hushing you.

The last time you saw such a look aimed at you, was back in the village near the monastery and you remembered how that night had gone.

It was a night you regretted, but this time you were not with someone who would betray you.

By supporting himself on his elbow, he could gaze down on your face.

You touched his cheek with the back of your finger “I know that look.”

He would have asked what you meant, but deep down he knew.

Not ready…but that did not mean that he not thought of it.

Or wanted it…

He would not deny it “Forgive me, I do not want to confuse you.”

It was a step forward that he was speaking of it “I know. It’s alright. I do enjoy that look, it suits your eyes.”

His charming smile was there to approve of the jest and to share it “It suits yours too.”

Right away your gaze dropped down from his face, it was proof of how well he could read you now “Forgive me, I can’t help it…”

Hearing how you ‘can’t help it’ came as an unexpected compliment to him.

It was more than enough to stroke his ego and nurture away the doubts he had about his appearance.

He was bold enough to pull you under him, to get so close that his chest and the floor was what kept you in place “Neither can I.”

You offered him the chance to explore matters further “Is there something you would like to try?”

Lancelot recalled “We spoke once, of other things we could do. Like touching.” then spoke his wish “I want to touch you.”

Staying calm was difficult when you felt yourself start to tremble, this was a learning moment for him and he was asking for guidance, you had to be calm “How?”

His words left nothing to misinterpret “All of you.”

With widened eyes, you nodded “That’s fine.”

After a brief shared look and a silent nod from both, he knew you truly agreed to it.

There was an awful lot of thinking going on behind this wandering eyes of his as they flowed over your form.

The first thing he did was make sure that the sheet was still on you so the cold could not bother you.

And it was an excellent tool to help you remain comfortable and keep some modesty.

Because when he slid his hand under the sheet it had no virtuous intentions.

You felt it on your waist, gliding over your hip to your thigh where his fingertips tentatively memorized the shape.

The shyness in him prevented him from meeting your eyes. As if he feared to see rejection and disapproval in them.

Your comment was meant to pull him away from those doubts born from worry “Warm hands.”

That locked his gaze on your face very fast.

It certainly had sounded approving of the fact.

He was so very quiet…

And then you felt the warmth of his hand on the bare skin of your leg, you didn’t even feel him move your undergown out of it’s way, causing you to jolt.

He whispered for you, your name spoken like an apology for his action.

It had only startled you a little and you explained the cause of your response “I didn’t feel you move under my dress.”

Your quiet giggling was enough to erase the worry from his mind.

“Forgive me.” He said and brought his face in the crook of your neck to nip at the spot below your ear.

His endeavors did not stop, warmth met and fled skin over and over again.

Staying quiet when he was exploring you with perfectionism wasn’t easy. Heat was spreading up your neck like a spell coming over you.

With eyes closed, you let him continue to his heart’s content.

His hand caressed your neck and he brought his lips to yours to taste those quiet gasps he heard escaping.

You clung to his shirt, tugging at it once and wishing it was not part of this.

He broke away, removed the shirt and discarded it aside.

It dawned on you how much he had begun to tremble. Was it nervousness or being overwhelmed by intimacy?

In between a gasp for air, you showed your concern over it “Lancelot, are you alright?”

He gave a shallow nod and stole the air from you again.

The answer had not sufficed for you, you could just sense that there was something he struggled with.

And soon, he noticed your own hesitation and stopped his affections.

You answered his questioning eyes “I can feel your muscles tense up. Talk to me.”

He’d hoped you would not notice, hoped that by going forward the results of his upbringing would be overrun by the experience.

If only he could leave what was taught to him behind, but some things just lingered.

Lancelot moved away somewhat and no longer hovered above you “I fear speaking of it will hurt you.”

You touched a finger to his chin “I prefer the truth, Lancelot. Above all.”

He took a moment to find the best way to explain it all, then began “We were taught to ‘cleanse’ ourselves with the whip if we thought of indulging in desires of the flesh. Desire brought pain.” when you patiently waited for him to continue, he found the courage to do so “I cannot forget the way I felt when I let the whip cleanse me. I was raised to believe that suffering was good and pleasure was wrong. And when I think of pleasure, I still think…”

You guessed what he struggled to say “That it is wrong…”

He gave a nod, ashamed that even now he could not just erase what he was taught all his life “How must I silence this voice inside of me that insists on reminding me of it?…”

If only he could see how well he was doing on that matter already.

You hoped the advice would help “Don’t silence it. Proof it wrong.” with your fingertips you traced his bottom lip “Do not let it steal away the pleasures life has to offer, how wasteful it would be to not enjoy the life given to us.”

He let the words sink in while touching the bandage on your head.

Too much had already been stolen from him.

His life, his family, his free will…

And now it threatened to deny him what he desired.

He reached out for your guidance “Help me do so.”

It was rare to hear him ask for help and you would not deny to assist him “What do you want me to do?”

After taking a deep breath, he made the wish “All that you would with someone who was not raised a monk.”

You worried he was pushing himself “Lancelot, I don’t want to do anything you do not want me to do. What if I go too fast for you?”

He felt safe to say “I trust you.”

You were given time to think of it whilst he stroked along your arm down to your waist.

Then you sat up and took hold of his shoulders, he was visibly curious.

Without words, you straddled him and paused.

The shared look said it all, the hardness of him between your thighs already had him quicken his breaths.

You let your gaze drop down, then lifted it up to his face again “I can feel you.”

The look of shame vanished from his face when you brought your legs closer together and made yourself comfortable on top of his groin.

You collected one of his hands in yours and slowly brought it down between your legs, helping it find the way to where the result of his endeavors was now present.

Innocently he closed the hand, taken aback by how confident you were, but then he felt it…

The slick wetness was undeniable.

He couldn’t resist to concentrated on the scents around him now and he indeed picked up on a change.

And when this foreign scent filled his lungs, he knew he’d never live a day without longing to pick up on it again.

It went into his lungs and lust kicked into him without mercy.

You felt him tentatively stretch his fingers, you felt him shake.

His eyes were present yet a million miles away all at once, ah, always those unyielding thoughts floating through his head and filling it with unnecessary worries.

Your words were sure to return him to the matters at hand “For you.”

A pair of widened eyes looked up to yours and he received a soft peck on his cheek in exchange.

His hand was freed and it latched on to your inner thigh.

He could feel the spread of heat conquer his being, he tried to seize control of his breathing again.

So many things flickered through the restless seas of his eyes and often his eyes fell away…

With a coy seductive shimmer in your eyes, you leaned in to whisper “When you are ready...” you gave his groin a light touch “And I know, that you’re not…”

He was ready to protest “I am-”

You hushed him with a kiss, then continued to explain “I will not ignore your past as a monk, Lancelot, it is part of who you are. Come to me when you are certain and do not push yourself to be someone else for me. I want you, I wanted you when you were a monk and I want you still.”

Your hand left the fabric that did little to shield the form of his aching manhood.

His own was resting motionless between your thighs.

There was much to think about after this, you were right, he could not just ask you to pretend to ignore his past when it made him who he was today.

Although he craved to touch you now that he had the chance, he withdrew his hand.

A gasp left you when he curled the hand around your throat, firm but not painful.

“I will make you my wife or die a fool.” The statement preceded his demanding lips locking on yours.

Had he forgotten who had the advantage like this?

To ‘escape’, you pushed yourself free and up by his shoulders, letting yourself drop to the floor beside him again “Twit.”

It got a sound of disappointment out of him to have you climb off.

With a compassionate look, you teased “I know it’s hard.”

The ambiguous comment did not pass him by “You are indeed a menace.”

You turned your head to the side but couldn’t stop the laugh from escaping, it changed into a fit of giggling quite quickly.

When you felt him grab hold on you, you apologized through the quiet laughter “I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

He had you leaning into his chest with your back now, whispering the description in your ear “Minx.”

You let yourself be brought closer and soon you were wrapped in the sheets and in his arms “Lancelot?”

“Hm?” He was enjoying this makeshift bed on the floor.

Quietly you sought conversation “I want to earn my place here. I want to learn how to fight so I can be of use in this war.”

He knew what you were trying to ask of him “You have earned your place here. If you still want to learn how to fight, by your wish, I will teach you?”

You snuggled into him “Do you promise?”

It was a promise he made “You have my word.”

Having him hold you like this was doing wonders for bringing sleep closer to you and it took some effort to stay awake.

But surely, it must have been audible when your words came out more like mumbles.

You thought back to something Yeva had said the first time you met “That magic in you, is it possible that by giving the mark some of it got into me as well?”

He hummed pensively “I am not certain. Why?”

You held his arms around you “Yeva once said she could sense something in my blood, I think it comes with the mark.”

It sounded like he was pleased to hear it “There is something Fey in you then.”

The grin was impossible to fight “Yeva was hoping on something more Fey inside of me.”

He bowed his head and touched it to the back of your head, his quiet chuckling was bliss “She hoped for an heir to a people once thought lost.”

“You are the heir.” You stated.

The news of his heritage was still hard to process for him “I cannot be a king, I am not…anything.”

It fell from you in a sleepy mumble “You’re everything to me.”

He caught on to the tired tone and gave a warm hum “Tired?”

You gave a short hum, a bit too stubborn to confess to it.

But he knew the truth when you rested your head against his chest and closed your eyes.

Having you quietly fall asleep in his arms brought him more solace than any prayer ever spoken.

And when sleep came to take him too, he surrendered to it willingly.

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  There was a constant nudging against your waist that pulled you from your sleep.

For once you did not dream of fire and now this.

Lancelot was trying to wake you as gently as possible “It is dawn.”

You refused to believe it and mumbled with closed eyes “It’s not.”

There was a chuckle before he regretfully informed you “I heard a rooster twice already.”

To have a chicken dictate your sleep…

It was a grumble “The rooster is wrong.”

To the Ash Man, this disagreement was one he enjoyed “I have faith in his natural instincts.”

You weren’t ready to give up on the warm sheets you were under “And I have faith in mine and they are telling me to sleep.”

He crawled out of the makeshift bed with a little trouble “Mine are not.”

You ignored the hand he reached out for you with.

“Up you go.” He was determined to get you to start your day.

By rolling over on your side, you defied him “Down I stay.”

It wasn’t necessary to look behind you to sense that he was kneeling close.

“I thought you wanted to find out who came to join us?” He piqued your interest.

Dammit…

Begrudgingly you moved out of the warm sheets and felt the colder air hit your legs.

Without prompting, he helped you up to your feet “How is your head?”

The expected sting of pain did not happen “Better. I think.”

He leaded you towards the area with the washbasin “Come.”

The bandage was removed from your head, the ointment from last night washed away by him as he inspected the injury.

“And?” You asked with a speck of fear that it would look terrible.

His observation erased it “Better.”

You hoped to be rid of the silly looking cloth “Just ointment then?”

With a hum and nod, he approved of it “I shall go and ask Pym. Once you are done here, come find me in the dining hall.”

“I will.” You answered.

Lancelot walked over to his discarded attire items and got dressed again.

While you were picking the trousers to wear again for their comfort ability, he announced his departure from your room with a kiss to your cheek.

Not long after you had gotten dressed, Pym entered the room with a different looking ointment, something lighter than the other version.

After putting the ointment on, she showed off the socks you had knitted and Pym was visibly happy with the warm pair.

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  While walking towards the dining hall, you resisted the irresistible urge to touch the ointment on your head.

It was just there… and it was sticky…

Thankfully, Pym had said you could go without it tomorrow if it didn’t hurt anymore.

Gawain ran into you whilst heading to the same destination.

The knight was concerned for your health “Good morning. I’m glad to see you up and walking. It was a terrible moment to see you fall back there in the woods, you really gave us quite a fright.”

You touched his arm amicably “I don’t remember much of what happened after. Pym and Lancelot had to tell me about it. I’m grateful that all of you didn’t leave me behind.”

To Gawain, the thought of leaving a friend behind was unspeakable “The Fey leave no one behind. Get over here.”

The knight spread his arms and gestured for you, it was an invitation that you accepted.

He embraced you like a long lost friend, it was very heartwarming.

Then you remembered something and moved out of the embrace “You knew he would catch your scent on me the last time.”

A laugh fell out of him and solidified his guilt “Oh, I am not surprised to hear that he did. It isn’t easy to shake that man’s feathers, I thought I’d keep him on his toes.”

You shook your head at his foolery “Oh, you kept him on his toes, that is certain.”

Gawain placed a hand to your back and guided you along to the dinning hall “Come. There are people here who have asked about you. They arrived while we were at Helgenstone.”

As gallant as he was, the knight held the door open for you and let you in first.

Your eyes scanned over the large room where many were eating breakfast

There was Pym, kaze, Red Spear…

And off to the side Lancelot and Arthur were speaking to a man and woman who looked quite familiar.

Whilst passing by Neia and Percival, you pecked their cheeks and the boy acted like he was under attack and nearly slid under the table, much to Neia’s delight.

You weren’t far away anymore when recognizing the couple “Tristan?!?”

The man turned on his heels upon hearing his name be called, as did his wife who instantly smiled at you.

Iseult’s hair had gotten more of a reddish shine through the golden since you had last spoken, it had also gotten so long that she kept her hair up now.

Tristan said something to her and when you were close enough, it took you by surprise how he came to embrace you “It’s so good to see you again! Iseult and I were searching for a safe place to stay and we ran into Feys who were kind enough to lead us here. I never thought you would be here too.”

Where Tristan was filled with energy, his wife was the epitome of grace and patience.

She came to say ‘hello’ as well “It has been a long time since we last spoke.”

A brief light embrace was her way if greeting you, her upbringing at court still very present in her mannerisms.

You were glad to see they both still looked very happy together “It has. I am glad to see you are doing well.”

Tristan placed a hand over Iseult’s stomach “Very well actually. We’re growing our family and hoped to find a home here.”

Speechless you pointed at her and saw her nod.

“I’m with child.” Iseult announced to you.

You were excited for them “Oh my goodness! Congratulations!” then you turned to Gawain “They can stay in the city right?”

For the knight there was no question to it “Of course.”

Lancelot joined in “Tristan claims to be quite a swordsman as well as an archer.”

Iseult defended her husband “He is.”

Tristan chimed in “Although I prefer the bow, the sword holds little to no secrets from me.”

“Mind if we see that for ourselves?” Arthur was interested to see how skilled the archer was.

Of course Percival and Neia heard that, and the boy was quick to run up “Can I watch?”

Iseult took place next to Neia to chat with the girl for a while.

Tristan looked at Lancelot, who made a gesture with his hand to tell him that the choice was his “Alright. But I get to test your skills as well. Fair is fair.”

Both Arthur and Lancelot agreed to that term and Percival was given permission to watch the men compare their skills.

Iseult did not seem eager to go and watch her husband show off his skill and preferred the calm setting of the dinning hall.

And after not having seen either Tristan or Iseult for so long, you decided to have breakfast where she and Neia were talking to each other.

  After two hours had passed, you did went out of the fortress to go and see what the men were up to.

And heaven, it was flabbergasting to see how well they got along.

While Gawain and Percival were asking Tristan for advice on how to use a bow better, Lancelot and Arthur were sparring.

If you could have called it sparring… it was the two of them trying to floor the other as much as possible.

And neither of them were afraid to play dirty.

So far, Lancelot was the quickest to send Arthur to the ground. But Arthur’s determination to win was what got him on his feet again and again. When both stayed on their feet, they were almost a match. Arthur did get some jabs and pushes in.

You watched them for a while, hoping that Lancelot would keep his promise and teach you how to wield a sword properly.

Tristan walked up to you while Gawain and Percival bickered over who got to use the bow for a moment “They spar like children.”

Like two brothers constantly one upping each other.

You hummed in agreement “They are having fun.”

Tristan noticed the sword at your side and pointed at it “And you? I see that you are carrying a sword with you. I never knew that you knew how to wield a sword.”

He met it with enthusiasm.

You sadly had to tell the truth “I uhm… I don’t actually. I still have to learn.”

From the small distance, the Ash Man had heard what was being said.

The vanishing of your smile tore at his heart.

You looked so saddened by the fact that you had yet to learn.

And he recalled having promised to help do so…

Tristan wasn’t blind to your reaction either “Hey, look. Have faith in yourself, y/n. If you’re eager to learn, you’ll learn fast. I know I did.”

Arthur saw the attention of Lancelot be drawn away and said something only the Ash Man could hear.

Two counts later, the nosy Manblood found himself face down on the grass.

Lancelot walked over to you, took the sword from where it was sheathed at your side and handed it to you “Come. You have been patient long enough.”

It earned him quite a few curious looks from the others who witnessed it.

Tristan shared a look with you and nudged your arm “Go on then. Show him what you got.”

What you got was a sword and no experience, and a tutor who mastered the sword like he’d been born with it.

The Ash Man put you on a spot on the grass and signaled for you to stay put whilst he backed away.

It was only a short distance, leaving room enough for both to move safely with the swords.

“Attack me.” He said, like it was nothing.

Of course you were more than a little hesitant and looked to the others.

Arthur shared his opinion “I’d take that offer.”

“He can take it.” Gawain had enough faith in the Ash Man.

Percival and Tristan watched on with interest.

Having the audience of people who all knew how to wield a weapon was enough to have your confidence leave you.

Lancelot drew your attention “Keep your attention on your opponent. Go on, attack.”

If skilled swordsmen had attacked him and he walked away alive… how much damage could you do?

Percival decided to offer some blunt encouragement “Get him, y/n!”

For a second that had the Ash Man looking at the young knight.

He blamed it on the competitive nature of the boy and left it at that.

It was impossible to truly launch yourself at him with your sword, but you tried.

With ease he evaded the sword and the only thing preventing you from losing your balance was him pulling your back against his chest.

This taught him that your balance needed training too.

Aware of the many eyes on him, he released you “Again.”

Surely he must see that this wasn’t easy for you? It was a struggle to force yourself to attack.

Lancelot appeared at ease, the spark in his eyes betraying just how much fun he was actually having with this.

When you hesitated again, he beckoned for you.

“Dammit…” You cursed quietly.

Again you charged at him, aiming for his arms.

There was a strong tug at the crossguard, the sword fell to the grass a little further away and he was blocking your arm behind your back.

With pride, he praised you “That’s my girl.”

You weren’t sure you deserved it “I failed.”

He disagreed “No. That was lesson one. To not let fear stop you and to trust your tutor.”

Arthur was the one who proposed the idea to the others “Anyone else feeling hungry?”

They had gone outside for this instead of eating, so now they went ahead and made their way back inside.

“Are you coming?” Percival called out to the two of you.

Lancelot released you again “In a moment. Go on.”

The boy didn’t need to be told twice to go and get a meal.

They left the two of you alone on the field, this wasn’t over yet, you could tell.

“I know you have it in you. I saw the look in your eyes when you were about to kill the Abbot.” His hands were folded behind his back.

There was only doubt in your eyes now and you slightly shook your head.

You had hesitated in that moment, what if you did so in a matter of life and death?

He expected the reaction “I am going to grab you and you are going to do everything you can think off to escape. Understood?”

Your legs began to tremble at the announcement “Lancelot-”

As stern as they had once been to him, he repeated “Understood?”

To him, this wasn’t a game, this could mean life and death one day.

If you wanted to learn how to fight, you had to pull yourself together “Yes.”

There was something wicked glittering in his eyes “Good. Now run.”

At that, your heart had already run off “What?”

By the looks of it, he was serious.

You suppressed the nervous feeling and ran as fast as you could.

This was practice for a true life and death situation and you took the lesson serious.

He must have given you a head start and you used it to the full advantage.

A hiding spot, but where?

The stables came into sight and you went around them to hide there instead of inside.

Only then did you kick fallen leaves over your tracks in a haste.

You hid behind a shed that stood against the stable, once in a while you looked around the corner.

It felt like minutes had passed and your adrenaline had lowered again.

Was he not able to find you? The thought of reminding him of it for years to come went through your head.

Perhaps the call of victory lead to your wavering focus and yet it made you braver.

You sneaked around the corner of the shed, it’s door was slightly open.

Hiding in there felt a little foolish and you wouldn’t be able to escape if he found you.

So, you banished the idea and passed the door.

When you were thinking of running to a different spot, the decision was stolen from you.

A startled scream flew out of you when suddenly trapped in the arms of the one who had hunted you down.

He must have been hiding in that dammed shed and waiting for you.

Everything you could think of to escape he had said…

You moved backwards and his back hit the wood of the shed, still his grip on you did not falter.

“Try harder.” He swallowed a laugh.

You reached for the sword at your side, he saw it coming and was faster to pull it from it’s holder and toss it away.

An irritated grumble came out of you and you fought against his grasp.

When the idea struck to bend one of his fingers backwards, it seemed to take him off-guard.

You broke free, he recovered and caught your arm.

By the time he had pulled you closer, you had drawn the knife Red Spear had given you and held it to his throat.

If this had been a real battle, his throat would have been cut.

His brow arched, impressed with your quick thinking.

The knife did not leave his throat yet “Did you let me win?”

Lancelot put a finger against the blade and moved it away a little “I did not.”

You lowered the knife and picked up your sword from where it had landed.

“How did it feel?” He asked.

“Real.” You thought for a second “And good.”

The latter surprised him “Good?”

You nodded “I thought I couldn’t win.”

That was what he had wanted you to learn “Everyone can win, I have seen people survive with not an ounce of skill in their bones. When it comes to battle, fear is our true enemy but even that can be overcome. as you have done just now. You have done well.”

It was nice to hear that he believed you had done well “Thank you.”

He put a hand on your back and nudged you to walk beside him “First I will let you learn how to defend yourself, how to move and stay on your feet. After that, we put that sword of yours to work.”

You agreed to the plan “Sounds good.”

He sounded a little hesitant “May I ask something in return?”

It was rare that he would ask for something “Yes.”

Those hands of his fidgeted with the pommel of his sword “I wish to learn how to control my power. I thought of going into the forest tomorrow night, away from the city. Will you be there to help me?”

Your presence would surely keep him calm and prevent him from accidentally setting the whole forest on fire, or even himself…

To be there when he uses his magic? It didn’t even need asking for you “Of course I will.”

The walk continued in silence for a while, until you asked “Were you able to sleep well last night?”

A charming smile settled on his face “Yes.”

You fished for his opinion on the previous night “And you’re not upset that I stopped things from going further?”

He was truthful “No. I understand why you did.” after a short pause to think, he admitted “Physically…I was ready.”

You bit your lip to prevent the coy smile “I know you were.”

The Ash Man looked to the side for a second and prayed his color did not change “I cannot ask you to pretend that I am something I am not. I know you accept my past and who I am because of it, it is I who must accept myself. I need to stop fleeing from who I am.”

And what better way than to start with accepting the power within him?

Your fingers caught his in a light hold while continuing to walk beside him “None of us can grow if we do not acknowledge our roots buried in the soil.”

His index finger hooked around yours “Have you acknowledged yours?”

With a sigh, you answered “I cannot change that I am the niece of the man who caused so much suffering. But I will not let it define me, I am my own actions, not his.”

He stopped to squeeze your hand, a silent gesture that signified the understanding between you.

You looked around you and when spotting no one, you let your chest fall into his, leaning in with a grin to press your lips to the side of his neck.

The truth was a caress of air against his skin “I love how you smell. It makes me think off how good it feels when you have me in your arms.”

He cupped your neck and made you look at him, it was a lighthearted scolding “Do not tempt me to take you with me in that shed over there, I told Percival we would be in the dinning hall.”

Right away you stepped back “Ah, yes. One must keep their promises.”

The Ash Man agreed on that “Indeed.”

After the two of you began walking again, you spoke quietly through your teeth “We can return to the shed at a later time.”

That cheeky comment earned you quite a look.

Perhaps he would take you up on that offer…

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[jmrothwell]

red columbine (anxiety) — “can you hold my hand? please?” for Alex and anyone because of course

Julie’s feet dragged beneath her, her pace gradually slowing the further they walked, and they were quickly losing light. The city silhouetted before them by the setting sun behind it, no longer shining green as it had that afternoon. Even Toto, usually full of boundless energy, had worn himself out and let Luke carry him. The small animal typically didn’t find the stiff metal of Luke’s arms all that comfortable. 

It was testament to how much they had traveled today. The breaks became shorter and shorter as the day wore on.  Everyone excitedly pushed on now that their goal was in sight. 

However, over the past hour or so they appeared to be getting no closer. It left Alex to wonder just how massive this Emerald CIty must be. 

“Julie?” Reggie hesitantly stepped in her path to force her to stop. She was far too nice to push him out of her way though she easily could. “We should stop for now.”

“But it’s right there.” She said through a stifled yawn–her words bleeding together slightly–gesturing around Reggie’s shoulders. “We’re so close. It's right there.”

“I know, Julie, I know. But you and Toto and Alex need to sleep. It won’t do you any good meeting the Wizard if you’re too tired to even properly speak."

She swayed on her feet, Reggie’s hands hovered by her shoulders ready to catch her if she fell. Or at least cushion her if Luke or Alex couldn’t get there quick enough to catch her themselves since Reggie’s strength was unfortunately unpredictably unreliable. The three of them patiently waited where they were until Julie finally nodded. 

Like clockwork they all moved starting work on the jobs they’d all fallen into when it came to making camp. Julie cleared out an area big enough for them, Luke went to get Firewood while Reggie looked for something Julie and Toto could eat. Alex helped out where he could. 

Soon enough they’d eaten and Julie had fallen asleep, head resting on Reggie’s lap. His eyes darted between her and more fearfully to the small fire Luke tended to. Early on Reggie had avoided getting this close to the fire entirely but risked it more and more the closer to the Emerald city they had gotten. Drawn in by Julie's stories and songs.

“You know,” Luke said, and the curious tone alone was enough to force Alex’s heavy eyes to stay open. “If we’d pushed, we probably still could have made it to the city and at least found somewhere for Julie to have a proper bed to sleep on."

It's a thought that had crossed Alex's mind earlier but he was too much of a coward to say anything about. More than a little–if perhaps rather guiltily–grateful to have what could end up being their last night together like this. It's not that he didn't want the Wizard's help or to keep his friends from getting the help they so desperately wanted either. But, there was no way things wouldn't change after tomorrow.

And what if the Wizard didn’t agree to meet with them after all. Could he handle that sort of disappointment? Could Julie?

"Oh, guess I hadn’t thought of that." Reggie softly said, pulling Alex out of his thoughts, before letting out a bitter laugh with his next words “Then again, how could I?”

Luke hummed thoughtfully, and Alex kept his mouth shut. Another thing he couldn’t be brave enough to call either of them out on. Maybe he simply had less brains and heart than he thought he had before meeting the two of them. 

All thoughts he could wrestle with another time. For now, he would try to focus on getting at least one last good night’s sleep without having to worry. Secure in the knowledge Reggie and Luke would keep an eye out for all of them. 

As always, Alex found himself waking up earlier than he would have liked. Even if he had been resting easier these past weeks traveling with Julie, Reggie, and Luke, his fears never truly quieted. However, unlike every other morning, Julie was already up sitting and facing the Emerald City as it slowly began to shine with the rising sun. The fire had been put out and Luke and Reggie were missing. Probably off fetching food and walking Toto who was also not to be seen.

The excitement of yesterday was replaced by a nervous uneasy energy. Julie ate her breakfast in a silence that not even Luke or Reggie dared to break. And when they finally started on their journey again, she hesitated to follow the Scarecrow and Tinman. 

“You all right?” Alex asked

“It’s all going to change.” She said, staring at the city in front of them. “I’ve been so focused on getting home I didn’t stop to think about what I might be leaving behind.”

Alex briefly blinked at her. He wasn’t used to anyone openly expressing their fears with him. Let alone their fears matching up so well with his. So he struggled trying to figure out how to comfort her, searching for the right thing to say or do. 

Thankfully, Julie was better adept at asking for help than he was. “Can you hold my hand? Please? I need some help being brave.” 

Of course, Julie was equally adept at completely shattering his worldview in entirely unexpected ways. Him? Help her be brave?

For her, he’d try. 

“Absolutely.” He said, extending out a paw. The two of them soon followed the others, facing the uncertainty of their future together. 

[mi-rae07]

Kang Yeosang : Prince Of Hearts (Part 7/9)

Pairing : Kang Yeosang (Ateez) and named character (Moon Yena)

______________________

Yena had thought of the many places yeosang could have gone to at the break of dawn, a place where none of the king's guards could find him. And she had known where he would be within the first few seconds of contemplating. There had been a cave behind the waterfall of Aphrodite, it was the cave that yeosang had once shown her, telling her that this was where his mother would take him sometimes, to escape the palace and it's duties. Yena had never gone inside, but now she would.

Yena let out a light groan as she felt yet another twig leave a cut on her leg, cursing at herself for not wearing proper boots as she usually would when going outside. Yena finally stepped into the cave, her eyes wandering around the vast body of magnificence in front of her. It was beautiful, the cave, especially during this time. And yena didn't know how, but there were flowers growing inside the cave, flowers in all sorts of beautiful colors. And the splash of droplets from the waterfall left the cave just damp enough to make it sparkle under the dawning sun.

??? : yena?

Yena looked to her right as she noticed yeosang crouched down on the floor, his teary red eyes looking up at her in shock. Yena sighed and walked up to yeosang as she said

Yena : did you think you could hide forever like this?

Yeosang : my father sent you after me.

Yena : yes.

Yeosang nodded, already having known yena wouldn't care enough about him anymore to be worried. Yena crouched down to yeosang's level before saying

Yena : but that doesn't mean I wouldn't have come after you once I knew you were gone either.

Yeosang : what?

Yena : I know how you feel, yeosang.

Yeosang scoffed, looking away as he shook his head

Yeosang : you know how it feels to be scared of having to be the king of a nation you basically lived your whole life in?

Yena : yes, I do.

Yeosang : don't give me that bullshit, moon yena. You were born a leader, you are, a leader. You are an amazing empress and you handle your nations so well it's…it's almost scary. Someone like you could never know what someone like me would feel right now. You must see me as a coward.

Yena : you are not a coward, yeosang, you are human. Okay yes, I was born a leader, I was raised to be one. But that doesn't mean I wasn't scared of actually being one. When my father died, the people did not want my mother to be queen, they did not want a woman as their sole ruler. And once she refused to agree to marry someone again, the people revolted against us. My mother was forced to flee that palace when I was only 8.

Yeosang looked at yena, not having know that. He knew yena's father only ruled over a small unimportant kingdom once, and that it had been yena who had turned that into such a huge empire.

Yena : my mother raised me in a village, among common people. She went through a million different hardships but she raised me right, she raised me strong. And once I was of age, she decided it was time we took revenge. Revenge to the people that revolted against us because we were women, and prove them wrong.

Yeosang : that's…that's why you conquered those 3 nations, why you didn't stop even after one.

Yena : yes, because when I conquered those I was no longer princess of a small rural kingdom, instead I was empress of three powerful nations. This empire that I have built, this dynasty that I have started, it comes at a cost, yeosang. When I was being crowned, when I had to walk down that aisle filled with people who only kept themselves back from killing me because of pure fear, I was the most fearful person on Earth. Every night and day I feared someone would poison me, someone would slit my throat. Every single day, until my people slowly started respecting me. Until they started understanding that a woman could do as much as a man could.

Yeosang : are-are you still scared?

Yena : I have grown out of most of the fear, but some will still always remain. I was scared before I conquered my nations, I was scared when I was crowned, and I will always be scared of the possibility of losing the people I could sacrifice my life for.

Yeosang pressed his lips together as yena held his shaky hand in hers before saying

Yena : we will always fear, for we are humans, yeosang. It is in our blood to feel emotions, no matter what it may be. If you want to be a good ruler, you have to let yourself feel them, feel the people's emotions, feel your family's emotions, and most importantly, feel your own. Feel them, and the people will love you more.

Yena tucked a strand of his stray hair behind yeosang's ear, that causing yeosang's heart to do a backflip as she whispered

Yena : you will be an amazing king, yeosang. You will let this kingdom flourish and I am sure of it. Your mother would be so proud of you.

Yeosang felt tears slip down his eyes at those words, his lips trembling as he said

Yeosang : I don't deserve this from you.

Yena : oh no you don't, you deserve so much more better.

Yeosang lowered his head as small sobs left his lips, yena standing up as she laid yeosang's head against her stomach. Yeosang wrapped his arms around her waist, letting yena hold him as he cried his heart out.

Because for the first time since years, yeosang had someone that could comfort him, someone that could understand him.

______________________

Yeosang now had his head rested against yena's shoulder, both their backs pressed against the damp wall of the cave as they watched the sun rise below them. Yeosang looked at yena's hand that still held his, her thumb brushing over his hand. And then his eyes fell on her leg, the small cuts and scratches being visible to yeosang as he asked

Yeosang : does it hurt a lot?

Yena followed yeosang's gaze before shaking her head

Yena : as long as I know you're safe, none of this matters.

Yeosang sniffled, looking up at yena before asking

Yeosang : do you still love me?

Yena looked into yeosang's eyes that were only a few inches away from hers, a small smile falling on her lips as she said

Yena : you think I could stop loving someone so easily, yeosang? I know you don't love me, and you don't have to, but my love for you will take a long time to cease, if not ever.

Yeosang : I lied.

Yena : what?

Yeosang : I lied because you did, I lied because I wanted to hurt you.

Yena paused, not understanding what he was saying as yeosang sat up straight next to her and said

Yeosang : you always protect me and I always manage to hurt you.

Yena : I am not innocent either. I entered this island in hopes of killing you, yeosang-

Yeosang : but you changed, you stopped wanting that after you saw this kingdom.

Yena : this kingdom was too beautiful to be mine, it is too peaceful for me to conquer it and turn it into something everyone would hate.

Yeosang : yena.

Yena looked at yeosang as she said

Yena : yes?

Yeosang : you've won.

Yena : what?

Yeosang : you've won and I've lost. I love you.

Yena's eyes widened, a small gasp leaving her lips as she whispered

Yena : you're lying.

Yeosang : I'm not. I've kept denying, I've kept telling myself that I do not love you but I won't lie anymore. Not at the cost of hurting you.

Yena : yeosang, no.

Yeosang : which means I would now have to be not only king of Malaya, but emperor of your nations.

Yena quickly shook her head before saying

Yena : you don't have to do this if you don't want to, yeosang. You don't have to force yourself.

Yeosang : no this was our promise, I fall in love with you, you get to have me and the minerals.

Yena : I was being stupid, you are not an object for me to have like that. Unless you willingly choose to be emperor, I will not have you taken away from here.

Yeosang : yena-

Yeosang cut himself off as yena stood up, holding her hand out for yeosang to hold as she said

Yena : come on, we must go back to the palace now.

Yeosang took yena's hand, using it to lift himself up. Just as yena was about to turn around yeosang pulled her close, holding both her hand in his as he said

Yeosang : I might not want to be king, I might not want to come back to your palace with you, and I…I might not even want to be a prince anymore but I know for sure that I want one thing right now, yena. And that is to love you, and be loved by you.

Yena : yeosang.

Yeosang : maybe you would have to leave this place eventually, maybe I would have to leave with you. But whatever it is, I want to love you. So let me, let me love you, yena.

Yena : are you sure you want this? Loving me comes with a lot of problems, yeosang-

Yeosang : I don't give a bloody fuck. I can face all of those problems if it means loving you, and I am sure of this.

Yena smiled, nodding her head slowly as she said

Yena : then love me, love me all you want, kang yeosang.

Yeosang smiled and leaned forward, connecting his lips with hers as he laid his palm against yena's cheek. And under the rising sun, surrounded by the sounds of water and birds, the prince and the empress kissed each other for the first time. The first out of the many in their lives.

________________________________

Yeosang : you're really going to extend your stay here for an entire month?

Yena nodded against yeosang's chest as he played with the strands of her hair.

Yena : we're on honeymoon right now, I'd like to enjoy it as much as I can.

Yeosang giggled as he said

Yeosang : we're not even married yet, yena-ya.

Yena smiled, looking up as she leaned closer towards yeosang's lips before whispering

Yena : in my heart we've been married since the moment you kissed me this morning, prince kang.

Yeosang chuckled as yena kissed him, her hands coming up to tangle in his hair. After coming back from the cave yena and yeosang had pretended nothing had happened in front of the king. Yeosang had had a talk with his father, telling han that he required some time before han decided to start the preparations for a coronation. And han had agreed to it, for now.

And so the next few days, as yena had said earlier, would probably be like a honeymoon for the both of them. Forgetting about the real world and the duties while they had their own fun, loving each other as much as they could.

Yena let out a breath as yeosang flipped them over, his lips going over to her neck as he sucked on it.

Yena : god, I love you.

Yeosang smiled against her neck before whispering

Yeosang : I love you too, baby.

__________________________

3 weeks later :

Yena : yeosang-ah?

Yeosang hummed behind her, his back rested against the wall of the cave and his head buried in yena's neck as she rested her head against yeosang's shoulder. They had slipped out of the palace at midnight to come to this cave as they had for the past few weeks, either sleeping in each other's arms while staring at the stars above them or talking about things up until dawn broke.

It had been almost a month of pure bliss, with both of them acting like teenagers in love, although half the palace already knew what was happening. From smiling at each other in the dining table to stealing cakes from the kitchen to eat in secret or smear onto each other's faces, to kissing each other in every other hallway, yeosang and yena had been the happiest.

But now yena would have to leave back to her palace within a week, and she realized it was time to face the real world.

Yena : what are you going to do now?

Yeosang sighed, kissing yena's neck as he said

Yeosang : what would you want me to do, yena?

Yena : the things I want from you are entirely selfish, sweetheart. I cannot ask you to do those things just for me.

Yeosang : really? Because I could probably do anything for you, your highness.

Yena smiled turning back around to face yeosang as she said

Yena : this is your choice, yeosang. I will be happy with whatever you decision you make.

Yeosang : I want to come with you yena, I do. I love you, and I wanna hold you everyday, kiss you everyday, I wanna be by your side. But I-I'm just scared, yena, I really just-

Yena kissed yeosang, cutting yeosang's words off before saying

Yena : you don’t have to come with me at all, love. If you don't want to, then you don’t have to. You can stay here, and I'll visit you every month no matter the cost. I don't need you to do anything for me yeosang, I only need you to live happily. That's all I want and need. You don’t have to do anything else, you can stay here for as long as you like. The minerals, I don’t care. I can find some other minerals, or I can change the weapon entirely or I'll just fucking die in the war, you don’t-

Yeosang : except I'm coming with you. This war you're gonna fight, I don’t want you to do it alone, I want to be able to be next to you through these times and I want to rule this empire together with you.

Yena paused, her eyes widening.

Yena : yeosang, you know you don’t have to rush all this through-

Yeosang : this is a decision I made these past few weeks, yena. Trust me, I've thought this through a million times. You know what you told me before? That you were scared as well before you became empress? If someone like you could be scared and still be such an amazing ruler, then I surely can.

Yena smiled, nodding her head.

Yeosang : and I want to try, for you. That's what my mother told me love was, to be able to sacrifice your fears and face them for the sake of being with the one you love. And you are the woman I love, for you, this is the least I could do.

Yeosang leaned forward, kissing yena's cheek before whispering

Yeosang : with you, I'm ready to be king.

___________________________________

Yeosang walked towards his father's study the next morning, his mind decided and a newfound courage seeping through him. He hadn't realized it could change so fast, the way he thought about his future. But he supposed it all seemed to be less scarier when yena was by his side.

Yeosang opened the door to han's study as he looked up, a small smile on his face as he started

Han : son! I've been meaning to tell you about some matters of soldiers-

Yeosang : I give you my permission, father.

Han's eyes widened, his heart leaping in joy as yeosang said

Yeosang : you can start preparing the coronation. Except it will have to be the coronation of not only a king, but also his queen.

______________________________

[poptart-productions]

Luxurious

[drabble+headcanons]

pairing // jason dean x black fem! reader

content // racism, swearing, fluff, j.d being a sweet and affirming boyfriend, nsfw content

a/n // i wanna write a full j.d smut but i wanted to test the waters with a ramble to see how well this would perform.

it’s worth noting that j.d is slightly out of character because this version of him goes to therapy; so less of a yandere, and more of just a teenage dirtbag with a side of trauma and dark humor

though if you want to request a yandere j.d i’d be happy to fulfill that! (or if you want more headcanons 👀)

minors dni!!

˗ˏˋ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ´ˎ˗

ੈ✩ | let’s not play games, westerberg high is a predominantly white high school in the 80s; no shit racism was involved in your time there

ੈ✩ | right off the bat, jason was not cool with all of the negative attention you were getting

ੈ✩ | he must admit, you piqued his interest; you were so fucking precious—he literally cannot help it

ੈ✩ | he’s definitely had an unsavory dream about you at least once

ੈ✩ | he spent a lot of time watching you—he was straightforward, but believed in proper timing; also partially because he was a ‘fucking coward’ and his heart really couldn’t take your rejection

ੈ✩ | after a particularly bad day of kurt and ram tormenting you with racially charged comments that they swore were sexy j.d snaps, beating the shit out of them with such vigor even the faculty doesn’t dare to intervene. the smell of blood fills your senses as veronica protectively grips your shoulders; a limp, near-dead ram drops to the floor, as the unknown (to you) boy uses his blood spattered hands to fix his hair. he turns to you and you shiver; despite the fact that this man was clearly dangerous—and you don’t even know his name, you felt your body shake with this school girl giggly-ness, “wanna go get a slushy with me?” his piercing eyes bore into you, flickering with anticipation

“. . .what?”

ੈ✩ | j.d moves kinda fast, but if you’re rocking with it, he would begin to make himself comfortable—sneaking into your house through the window. it scared the shit out of you at first, but you began to make it a normal part of your routine—having this happiness settle in the bottom of your stomach every time you see his face pop up behind the glass

ੈ✩ | extremely possessive—obviously. in fact, after a group of jocks push their luck about messing with you and you hide it from jason—he finds out and scolds you about it, “you’re mine, that means i take care of you” you felt your heart stop beating at that moment; when it began again, it seemed like it was beating for him, “next time they do something like this i’m bashing their fucking skulls” your mouth hung open, and you stared at him in shocked silence as he lights another cigarette. acting without thinking, you slap the cancer stick out of his hand, “jason dean!” you gasped, “please tell me you’re joking or so help me i will rat you out to your therapist!” “you fucking wouldn’t!” jason shows you a crooked smirk, before pulling you onto his lap with a kiss

ੈ✩ | yes, he moves fast, but he is rather hesitant to touch you. once he does for the first time, though all bets are off.

ੈ✩ | your first time with him was ridiculously sweet; he went slow, going at you for hours. he would kiss you, praising and complimenting your “perfect body”

ੈ✩ | jason loves cock-warming—absolutely obsessed with it. he can just be inside you—feeling absolute bliss as the two of you cuddle and he kisses you

ੈ✩ | mumbles during sex a lot, mostly random

ੈ✩ | he loves your hair so fucking much; “please, ronni?!” “okay, fine! me and martha will do it on our next movie night, okay?” “okay! thanks!” you hang up, feeling this giddiness bubble up within you as a pair of arms wrap around your waist, “what was that about, darling?” jason had come up behind you, “haven’t heard you beg like that since—“ already sensing a lewd sentence dancing on your boyfriend’s tongue, your hand flies up to his mouth, “—yeah, no need to relive the past! i was just talking to veronica, and she said she’ll do my hair the way she does it for picture day!”

you were ecstatic but j.d didn’t even bother to hide the frown on his face, “what’s wrong with this?” he gestures toward your current hairstyle

“well, babe; veronica’s hair is so pretty and thought—“

“—yours is pretty too”

ever since then, he picked up the habit of taking locks of your hair in his hands and kissing them. he mostly prefers the natural look on you, but he understands why you’d wear other styles; you’re a goddess in his eyes, regardless

ੈ✩ | j.d experienced some crazy culture shock upon seeing how black parents treat their kids; he gets pissed at them a few times, and even encourages you to live with him when he thinks they’re abusing you. you explain to him that they’re hard on you because they want you to succeed in a world that is constantly rooting for your failure—especially in the 80s, you can bet your parents did not do the whole “rebel boyfriend thing” in fact, the first time they met him wasn’t the. . .best situation

“[y/n]!” your mother’s sweet voice calls—you know that’s gonna change real soon as her steady footsteps approach your door, “dinner’s. . .ready” she opens the door to find you desperately trying to get off of j.d’s lap as his strong arms trap you in place. “salutations” he nonchalantly picks you up, “i’m j.d—dinner’s ready, right?” he begins to saunter out of your room, as your mother stares ahead in shocked silence. that didn’t last for long, though as she quickly grabs the collar of his trench coat “boy! if you don’t get the hell out of my house!”

ੈ✩ | it took a while for your parents to warm up to him. your mother would force herself to be kind to him upon seeing how much you truly loved him at first—before genuinely beginning to care for him, extending home-cooked meals and a place to stay in the guest room after fights with his dad. he doesn’t say, but it fills him with such joy

ੈ✩ | now your father; it was especially hard to get on his good side. he couldn’t get over the fact that j.d was. . .j.d. . .it even resulted in a large fight between them while having dinner one night

“i love her with everything i am” he speaks in a low, dark tone; slowly raising from his chair to stare down at your father, “i won’t let anything happen to her”

ੈ✩ | despite being a bit more well adjusted than his movie and musical counterparts, my j.d would certainly still maintain that god complex, though it would be less intense. he genuinely believed the two of you were a superior breed of human.

ੈ✩ | he’s still a teenage dirtbag, though—and a bit of an anarchist, so he definitely does chaotic shit; going on random joyrides, stealing and hot wiring cars. in fact, that was your second date. . .ever

“you’re fucking crazy, j.d!” you screamed as the brunette beside you swerves the vehicle, the screeching of the tires making your ears bleed

“yeah. . .”

ੈ✩ | you constantly have to affirm j.d and remind him how much you love him. he really finds it hard to believe that you actually want him; even now, he still flinches when you touch him suddenly

ੈ✩ | you, as his girlfriend, do basic girlfriend things. for example: stealing his clothes. (i’ve seen some different takes on this but personally i think. . .) j.d would literally fall in love with you all over again every time he sees you wearing it—the trench coat, that is. seeing you, wearing his clothes. . .just. . .fuck

ੈ✩ | it goes without saying that he gets turned on rather easily; especially when you wear his clothes

ੈ✩ | as the title of this ramble suggests, j.d treats you like a goddess; he worships your every moves, watching you intently as you do very simple tasks. he’s not the romantic type but would absolutely shower you in gifts

ੈ✩ | being realistic here: being in a relationship with jason wouldn’t be so fun all the time, in fact it could be quite draining

ੈ✩ | he’ll fly off the handle at times, talking your ear off for hours about how nothing really mattered and how he just just do it—“i should just fucking kill myself” he’s done this before, but it still struck the same type of horror in dread in your heart “jason, shut up! don’t say things like that!” “or what?!” “. . .jason, please” you beg, collapsing to your knees. realizing how much he was scaring you, j.d joins you on the floor, cradling you in his arms like a treasure. “i’m sorry darling, i didn’t—“ “then don’t fucking say shit like that, jason!” your weary voice cuts his short

you refused to sleep that night, afraid j.d would do something he couldn’t take back. you didn’t go to school the next day either, far too fatigued—but yet you still wouldn’t lay your head down, “i won’t do anything, baby—you can lay down, i promise”

“i don’t trust you”

ੈ✩ | every time he did this, though he made it up to you; allowing you to come with him to his therapy sessions to ensure he was being honest as well as being softer than usual

ੈ✩ | he’s aware he’s not the easiest person to date, so a lot of times he’ll just kiss your body in an apologetic way, letting you know just how much he loves you

“darling. . . ?”

“yeah?”

“i love you. . .so much”

“i love too, j.d”

he takes a break from placing kisses on your stomach, looking up at you with an unreadable expression

“i would kill for you”

“i know, j.d”

[pachu09]

Tobirama and Izuna’s Misadventures Show

Tobirama who was sleep deprived ( because he was busy finishing some important documents, last night )  was nodding off in the middle of an important Clan meeting of the Senju and Uchiha.

Madara automatically spits out an insult to Tobirama, who startled badly ( he nearly toppled out of his seat ) and looked around confused at the people looking flabbergasted at him. The Uchiha Clan Head cackled at the Albino's embarrassing display with Izuna quickly mirroring his action.

Tobirama with eyes narrowed and limbs twitching, then spits back. " Oh yeah?, since you're claiming you're the most toughest Shinobi out of all the people here (aside Anija)?. Well, since you like fighting so much, you can fucking fight for air when you're down here kissing my ass!. "

Awkward silence descended in the room.

Tobirama, upon realizing what he inappropriately said, stared horrified for a second at Madara and he quickly disappeared in a flash of light to avoid the fall out of his uncharacteristic loss of composure.

Madara and Izuna stared dumbfounded at the vacant seat of the Albino. Both brothers couldn't believe that the Albino lost his poise today, of all days?.

Hashirama slowly stood up in his seat. His face set in a thunderous scowl. " Uchiha Madara, if you ever put your filthy hands on my Baby brother. I'll slowly cut off an important body parts of yours, bestfriend title be damn."

Madara straighten in his seat and glared back at his bestfriend. " Your brother was the one who's seducing me. I'll merely answer in kind, Hashirama, my friend. " His arrogant smirk made the Senju Clan Head grip the wooden table which quickly rotted beneath his hands.

The Senju and Uchiha Elders slowly stood up from their seats. They didn't want to be caught in the middle of the battle between two Titans if they came to suddenly attack each other.

" Oh?. you don't need to answer in kind, my friend. I'll make sure Tobi–chan can get his proper rest. You know how he is when he's tired. He just blurts out whatever things, which we know half of it isn't even true...and — where the fuck do you think you'll be going, Izuna–kun?. "

Izuna, who's already perch at the open window of the meeting room, cheekily answered. " Maybe Tobi would like to have a companion in his bed, Senju–sama?, which I'll happily volunteer to be and of course it'll be a nice incentive if I too could suffocate between his pretty long legs.. " and with a cocky smirk, the younger Uchiha vanished with a quick Shunshin.

Hearing Hashirama and Madara’s combined enraged screams echoing throughout the Daimyo's Palace made for a beautiful music to Izuna’s ear. Not his fault that they're easy to tease, about him romantically chasing after Tobi. He wrinkled his nose at that nasty thought. ' Eww!!!..' Tobi had earned the title of his bestfriend, a brother born from another Mother even. He might appreciate Tobirama’s physical looks and abilities from time to time but Madara would really eviscerate him if he tried to go after what his older brother considered already his.

' Even if he's a coward to go after what he wants ' , Izuna rolled his eyes at the thought of his idiot older brother. Maybe, now with the false threat of him going after Tobi, Madara will have the guts to aggressively court and even demand Tobirama’s hand in marriage in exchange for peace between their Clans.

Not that it would be a bad exchange if he says so. Tobirama belonging to their Clan would only benefit them in the long run. Having a natural genius under their banner would surely make them all the more stronger. Even if Madara and Hashirama’s proposed village was finally given permission by the Daimyo, the Uchiha Clan would still hold a significant political power within it. What with having Madara and Tobirama as their formal representatives....

Izuna strokes his non existent beard and gleefully cackled. ( The Civilians walking beside/behind him quickly skirted around him, in fear that there's an unhinged Shinobi in the Capital roaming unchecked. A patrol was immediately notified that a crazy looking Shinobi was seen wandering around without supervision...) Oh well, time to go bother his future brother in law he guesses?. But first!, he needs to buy some snacks. Being stuck in a stuffy meeting room had long made him hungry for some nice takoyaki and mochi....

[all-or-nothing-baby]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💖

@slytherkins and @shealynn88 my loves, thank you both muchly for my tags! it may have taken me 6months (+?!) to get to this... but LET'S GO! lol.

(okay i'm a proper rebel me so i'm picking my FAVES FROM 5 FANDOMS instead bc nobody can stop meeeeeee mwuhahaha!)

NOTE: if you're going to read any of these fics, firstly tysm ily <3. secondly and most importantly, PLS CHECK THE REST OF THE TAGS ON AO3 AS I'VE ONLY LISTED A SELECT FEW HERE.

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1. STRANGER THINGS (Harringrove)

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HOUNDS OF LOVE (Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Canon Universe, Past Underage, Angst, Semi-public Sex, Porn with Love, POV Billy, 2282, EXPLICIT)

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Billy has always been a coward. Ever since—ever since Her. Since she did the double-up on him. Since she switched off and let her light go out of his life forever by taking off and leaving Billy Boy Blue's sorry ass behind.

Harrington doesn’t know any of this though. Nobody does. Nobody will. And nobody should anyways because Billy, he shouldn't be so pathetic. He’s supposed to suck it up and shut the fuck up not moon over it, not be a little pussy while he's getting his boy-pussy railed. And he certainly shouldn't be moaning through this feral fucking need of his like some frilly pink-pantied cheerleader, hell.

Never did know what was good for you, boy.

OR

Billy just wants to get royally fucked.

Doesn't want this. Doesn't want to be coddled. Doesn't want to be treated nice. Doesn't want some rich boy's dumb lovin'.

Even if he actually, really does.

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CHERRY BOMB SERIES (Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Canon Universe, Pining, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Getting Together, POV Steve Harrington, Teen-Explicit)

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A collection of Harringrove fics which hopefully read well as stand-alones BUT will also eventually—and are intended to—make up one big Steve Harrington POV 'Five times Steve wonders... & One Time He Doesn't Have To' Getting Together story.

EDIT: Now with an added little interlude in the middle which will bump up the final number of works.

Updates as and when xp

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2. SUPERNATURAL (deancas)

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THE LAST TIME (Castiel/Dean Winchester, AU—Modern Setting, Sex-work, Not Really Non-requited, POV Dean, 2269, MATURE)

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Hey, baby. Wanna spend the night with an angel?

No such thing, Dean had tried. But it had come out as a question, a challenge. An almost Prove me wrong... please? And with a smile which he couldn't have helped if he'd tried.

OR

Hurt/Comfort Modern Sex Worker AU where maybe fate and free will can exist side by side.

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WET EARTH'S CALLED MUD (Castiel/Dean Winchester, Canon Divergence, Angst, First Kiss, Getting Together, POV Dean, 1905, TEEN)

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Dean, I've got you

And I realise: he always has me.

Sheet and fork lightning fires up the whole sky and thunder cracks its huge whip above us, clouds bursting like huge water balloons, the downpour soaking us in seconds.

Everything is terrifying.

OR

Fix-It-Fic for Jack in the Box WHERE THEY ACTUALLY TALK DAMMIT. And maybe do the thing they should've been doing for 11 bloody years.

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THE DAY THE WORLD WENT AWAY (Castiel/Dean Winchester, Endverse AU, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending (as much as endverse can be), POV Dean, Porn with Love, 7346, EXPLICIT)

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Dean had come to apologise. To thank Cas. But pieces of Cas' broken heart were now on show, stabbing right through his beautiful face, slicing through Jimmy's muscles and skin. Dean could see it all now, pouring out through the jagged cuts; fear, shame, all the hurt—the lion's share of it of which Dean himself had caused. Cas was now wearing his pain on full display all over his body, like a shiny fucking outfit of the day.

Dean had never hated himself more. Even after torturing an endless stream of once-human souls in hell.

Cas let the pistol drop to the floor.

"Then what, Dean?" he choked, "why are you here?" His wet eyes searched Dean's with such wretched frustration, Dean couldn't take it a second longer. Had to make it go away, end the pain. Ironically, Dean realised, he did want to make everything stop for Cas—for both of them—even if only for a little while. Just not by means of a bullet.

How the hell do you make the whole world just stop?

OR

Quite possibly the only not-completely-100%-gut-wrenching Endverse fic you might ever find.

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THURSDAY'S SMILE (Canon Universe, First Kiss, Getting Together, Proof I Can Write Fluff, POV Dean, 1381, TEEN)

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Cas walked around the stainless steel kitchen island to Dean's side, his eyes now keen on the square of dressing protecting a nasty cut on the left side of Dean's forehead. As he reached his destination, his right knee automatically slid between Dean's knees to part them, allowing him to stand in between—and closer to Dean. Like, a lot closer.

Dean tried his best to take a slow and secret, calming deep breath.

It didn't help. Now his sense of smell was just reaffirming what his heart was already screaming at him with each beat:

CAS-CAS, YES-YES, CAS-CAS, YES-YES

Cas peeled back the surgical tape and lifted the gauze to check the cut.

And then it just kind of... happened. Dean was tired, hadn't even had his first essential cup of joe yet, let alone the necessary second. It was just a dumb joke, really.

OR

When it finally happens, it's on a Thursday.

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3. TEEN WOLF (sterek)

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LOVE LIKE GHOSTS (Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Canon Universe, Established Relationship, Stiles Has Self-esteem Issues, Choking, Consensual Non-consent, POV Stiles, 713, EXPLICIT)

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They both know not talking about this isn't okay, isn't healthy, but—and God knows why—Derek loves Stiles. So, the big guy, he gets it: that the best thing isn't always the right thing.

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DRAW YOUR SWORDS (Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Canon Universe, Angst, Pining, Getting Together, POV Derek, 7914, EXPLICIT)

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Something inside Derek snaps. No, not snaps. Clicks into place. He snarls, "That's my line, little pig."

Shit.

Stiles blinks, twice. Three times. "What?" and he’s flailing at Derek's reference.

"If you're the little pig…" Derek's predator eyes flick deftly across each of Stiles' delicate features, "...then what does that make me?" 

Realisation crosses sharp yet soft bone structure and Stiles answers, slowly.

"You're the big…"

Derek moves impossibly closer.

"...bad…"

A goddamn virus.

"...wolf."

OR

Derek keeps his distance from Stiles, regardless of how he feels about him. It's better that way. Better for Stiles.

But when Stiles has had enough of pretending there's nothing between them, just how much longer can Derek's wolf be tamed?

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INCLUDES MY ART!

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THE CROSS HE BEARS (Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Canon Universe, Established Relationship, Wolf!Derek (for a time), Derek Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-slash, POV, Derek, 702, MATURE)

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Stiles knows exactly how to take care of his wolf.

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4. BBC SHERLOCK (jimlock)

MY NAME IS A KILLING WORD (Jim Moriarty/Sherlock Holmes, Canon Universe, First Kiss(es), Sherlock's First Time, Getting Together, Jim Moriarty in Love, POV Jim, 671, MATURE)

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He's so funny. Not to them. But to me, he's so funny.

The first time I kissed him—up against a wall, John just around the corner, Sherlock taller than me but certainly feeling small—he was bait on my hook. So much so, I was sure he'd squirm as such but he froze. A museum pillar of what the fuck? Didn't struggle as I tasted Stiff Upper Lip whilst trying to coax out a passion I just knew he had buried inside of him. Then he whispered Moriarty, like a question, and it was hilarious. Hilarious because it was so infuriatingly Sherlock, and hilarious 'cause it was hot as naked sin, I remember thinking as I spirited away, giggling.

OR

The first time Sherlock finally calls his nemesis by his given name. (Moriarty POV).

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5. PREACHER (the unholy trinity)

WELL, I HEARD THERE WAS A SECRET CHORD (Proinsias Cassidy/Jesse Custer/Tulip O'Hare, Canon Universe, Established Relationship, Poly Relationship—F-M-M, PWP, Light Dom/Sub, POV Tulip, 1326, EXPLICIT)

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How do the Unholy Trinity manage to turn anything remotely pious into something truly ungodly?

Like fucking pros, that's how.

With Tulip hating on Genesis, she finds a way to take back a little control... with the help of a certain raucous Irish vampire.

OR

The PWP Dom!Tulip Sub!Jessidy fic nobody asked for.

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PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TUMBLR DON'T EAT THIS IT'S TAKEN ME FORACTUALBLOODYEVER!

[shingansoul]

That's How It Is (Trigun fic)

Sumary:

2023 Vashwood Week day 3, prompt: Scars

"I don't want to do this anymore."

This line has been rattling around in my brain for like 3 months so when I saw this for day 3's prompt i jumped on the chance.

@vashwoodweek

To read on AO3, follow the link below. To read here, continue past the read more!

“I don’t want to do this anymore…”

His voice had barely been above a whisper, but the only other sounds out here in the desert night was the wind around them whipping up loose sand out beyond the rocky outcropping they had made camp at for the night and the fire crackling beside them a small distance away at their little camp’s center. And yet, it felt like it had to be said quietly, a confession like any other sin meant only for the priest and God to hear.

Wolfwood paused from his actions, having been digging through Vash’s bag to dredge out some kind of canned food they had picked up at the previous town to heat over their meager fire. He waited, to make sure he didn't miss anything else from his companion but he was met with silence and a growing sense of unease in the air, his hackles would have raised if his body was truer to his name. He slowly turned to look over at the blonde, sitting on the ground not even a yard away with his legs pulled up to his chest and his face buried up to his nose in his crossed arms atop his knees. Today hadn’t been a bad one honestly, nobody had come to claim Vash’s bounty, nor in the town they had left that morning were they recognized. They were in a walking stretch, Angelina III giving out the week prior but it wasn't horrible or unfamiliar territory. They had not sustained any major losses or reminders at all that day, it had been nice almost frankly.

Yet with how small Vash looked curled up beside him, Wolfwood felt at a loss for proper words. He looked fucking miserable, to be honest. Not quite sad just… everything about him looked and felt run down. Part of Wolfwood thought it was about damn time he let himself feel as ragged as watching how he lived felt, but in this moment actually seeing it unguarded for once felt…off, wrong. Wolfwood plastered on a good naturedly smirk and offered a weak chuckle, trying to glaze over the moment, afraid something delicate would break if he didn't tread lightly here.

“Hey now, my cooking isn't so bad and we’ll be in a town again in no more than a couple days if we keep up a good pace.” 

He tried to keep his tone flippant and light, like he was distracted not as if his attention and body weren't both wired up now keeping attention to any actions or words the other had. In response, Vash merely shook his head, his arms hiding a grimace on his lips as he grit his teeth. Wolfwood waited a few beats before returning to root through the bag, looking to get his original target to at least give off the impression he wasn't stalling and really was casually setting up dinner. He squinted to read the label on the can once he’d drudged it out from the bag, tilting his head a bit to better catch the fire light. 

“Now let’s see…oh now this is a score, you found tortilla soup back there? See, that’s pretty nice right?” He was talking out his ass, he knew it was obvious. But talking felt better than the silence, it put a distance between what he didn’t know how to address and moving through the evening to tomorrow. Hell, maybe they just wouldn't talk about it, wouldn't that be easy and nice? Wolfwood was a coward, he knew that. When it came to things he couldn't use his hands or the punisher for he was at a loss, too carved sharp from the life he’d lived so long having lost most of the real gentleness he had in exchange for a pretty good cover act he usually reserved for women and children to get information and the odd favor.

He set up their little hanging cooking put on its sticks above the fire and dumped the can of soup into it. Stoking the fire a little, he moved to sit not quite next to Vash, but maybe a foot to his right and kept his eyes on their dinner instead for lack of better focus. Now with both his task and his companion, he was caught in a place of quietly waiting. And so he did. It could have been moments or minutes, but Vash had taken the quiet as some kind of invitation and had simply let himself slump to the side up against Wolfwood's shoulder and upper arm. His legs were still drawn in but he turned his foot to be planted so the priest didn't take his entire weight, but it was still more than he was expecting and he reflexively gave out an “oof!”.

Vash kept his gaze downwards, but his position no longer supporting his arms he made to hug himself, his face more visible as proximity didn't allow him to truly hide behind his high collar. Wolfwood, unable to avoid him now, finally looked over at his charge proper for the first time since his small voiced confession. He was quick to notice normally pale lips now looked red and rough, like they’d been bitten through or gnawed on. Wolfwood sighed, scooching closer to Vash so their hips grazed each other, making the lean for the blonde a bit less dramatic and uncomfortable. Vash let himself be adjusted, resettling higher up on Wolfwood's shoulder proper pressing his cheek against the other man, his hair now tickling at Wolfwood's neck but not enough for him to do anything about it.

“Nick?”

“Hm?”

A pause.

“What do you do when…when it hurts for so long that you just stop feeling it anymore?”

Wolfwood’s brows furrowed at the question, unsure how to approach. “Are your scars acting up again?”

Vash hummed noncommittally, “Kind of.” He sounded unsure of his own answer, and Wolfwood could feel him working his jaw back and forth against his shoulder.

“Needle Noggin?”

“I think… I realized how much it hurt, and how long I've been hurting and…,” he paused, taking a deep breath as he turned his head to press his temple into the harder edge of his shoulder. “God, Nicholas, I'm so old and it never stops. It’s just the same thing every day and I keep moving forward but it doesn't matter, does it? I’ve walked every step of this entire planet at least once and yet I still keep walking, the only other constant is-...Does he hurt like this? Do you humans hurt like this? Is it like dying stars for you all, more painful but much faster until you just die?”

Wolfwood felt utterly gutted, like he’d been cut open and everything he had was spilling out instead of one of the most earnest admissions he had ever gotten from his companion. His voice had sounded so damn tired, not in a way anyone like Wolfwood could understand he didn't think. No, he was reminded how much the man beside him wasn't a man but a being, a creature much older than anyone else on this planet aside from the one who completed his matching set. And oh how this creature had suffered, open arms and warm smile rejected endlessly and punished. Had it always been like that, had there been no time truly that humans had returned Vash’s love? No, Wolfwood supposed not, human nature wouldn't change just because of a new planet just like that, no maybe because they were it was like a return to the primal selfishness that humanity had within them. To act otherwise was an active choice, and who would do so in favor of survival even at the cost of others?

Wolfwood reached around Vash and twisted until he could get both his arms securely around the blonde. With his grip sure, he tugged until he had pulled him over into his lap and, once sitting there with long legs awkwardly tucking up to trap Wolfwood's arm around his charge, he pressed Vash against his chest. 

“Wolfwood?”

“Hush. Just sit here.”

He did not. “Ever since we started traveling together, I imagined it would be you who finally killed me.”

“Needle Noggin,” he warned.

“Would you? Kill me?”

“Vash!”

“Please? When everything is said and done, would you do that for me?”

Wolfwood screwed his eyes tightly shut, hugging the man in his arms probably far too tight for any comfort but he was never told to stop. “NO! I WON’T! I DON’T WANT TO!”

Vash smiled, a hollow gesture that made Wolfwood feel nauseous.

“Is that how it is…”

“It is! That is how it fuckin’ is, because we’re gonna live through the end of this and then im dragging your ass to December with me even if its kicking and screaming. And when we’re there, you’re not leaving anywhere without me to make sure you don't get your stupid ass killed just like it has been! This is how it is now!” His voice was grit through teeth in a harsh snarl, he could feel his lips peeled back and something guttural threatening to tear through his throat. He exhaled heavily through his nose, trying to keep it at bay before pressing onwards.

“You’re gonna love those kids, and they’re gonna climb all over you and beat you up until you cry. Miss Melanie is going to constantly scold you and you’re gonna duck your head and give her that stupid smile every time and then you’re gonna help us take care of all of the little brats we end up with and when it's over every day we-we’ll…we’ll just….we’ll do it again the next day, and the day after that.”

Wolfwood was losing steam; he had never believed he’d get far enough really do all that, he never believed either of them would survive this stupid mission, but he couldn't listen to this being who radiated hope and love for humanity just…beg him so softly to be killed just so he could finally rest. He wouldn't take any part in a mercy killing, he was the punisher and that was the killing he would do. And Vash….Vash had been punished for living more than enough. And so he firmly painted this picture of a future he didn't ever think could be real, willing one of them to believe in it as he spoke and not caring much which of them it was. He told him about the kids he could recall being there when he left, all the stupid chore they’d both be sent to do every day, how shit the beds were in the room they’d inevitably share to keep as much space for the kids available, he told him what December was like, he just kept talking until he ran out of things he could put into words. 

He resisted the urge to pant, feeling out of breath from his nonstop rambling about a life he had never hoped for before this very moment. As he sat there, clinging and breathing and just feeling, he idly thought how the soup he’d put on the fire was certainly burned. They’d still eat it anyways, of course. Lost in his scattered thoughts, he almost missed the oh so small voice in his lap, but he was quick to whip around to look down at blonde spikes and imagine what startling blue eyes looked like.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

He felt a nod against his chest.

“That’s how it is now…” It felt less like a response for Wolfwood so much as feeling words in his mouth, but whether giving in as a defeat or genuine belief and acceptance, Wolfwood didn't care. He would cling to it as fiercely as he clung to their owner in his arms right now. 

Yes, Wolfwood was a coward.

He was painfully human.

And oh how selfish he was.

To cling to the very person he was to lead into death, to refuse him release even in the inevitability of both their horrible painful miserable ends. Playing roles in a story neither wanted to tell, they had no real choices before them did they? But even still, Wolfwood wouldn't let Vash just give up and leave him. He didn't allow it in Augusta, and he wouldn't now either, and to say it was for simply his orders and contract and not the memory of surprisingly soft hair against his skin and a too light body in his grip? 

Well that would make Wolfwood a liar too wouldn't it?