#dead father who they still miss dearly? check

[wisebeth]

kathani sharma and katniss everdeen have the same energy ngl

[idontknowmyownmind]

Just randomly remember threads I read on Twitter long time ago, so my memories are vague at best

It's a combination of more than two threads

The idea is, twin krs and cale used to be so close but since the arrival of violan and basen, they become distant

Different from cale who choose to be the 'bad', roksu actually try to be close with his new family members

Cale and roksu share bed, but since then cale told him that he doesn't want to again

Roksu comply because he can't really reject cale even though it's make him sad

Cale can only watch from afar how his twin play with basen with their parents watching

Making a perfect picture of family without him

He miss his twin dearly but he know that it's his own fault and consequence of his choice

Cale went to sleep, ignoring the aches of his heart

The next morning, hans found cale laying in the middle of blood soaked bed with dagger still stabbed in his heart

The dagger has arm symbol but no one know that beside the molans

Let's say that ws mistake cale for roksu, someone in the 'oracle' who is said will end him

Hans immediately check whether cale still alive while shouting for someone to come

A maid stood frozen for too long hans has to slap her and tell her to get the count

She frantically run toward the dinning room and inform everyone

She only manage to says, "young master cale.. blood.." before roksu bolt toward his twin room

His eyes shaking and his breath ragged but he keep running

When he arrived, he feel like the world stop and his world started to crumble

Hans, despite crying, try to get rid of the bloody sheet while calling cale

Roksu stumble toward his twin, calling him deperately

But it's too late

Cale is gone

Roksu, drown in guilt and sorrow, refuse to burried his twin

Treat him as if he still alive

Keep him locked in a room far from everyone, deep inside the mansion

He keep cale's body 'healthy' with magic

He is trully spiralling into insanity, obssessing over his twin body and refusing to believe that he is dead

He will dress cale up, doing his hair, cuddle with him, and tell him stories or his daily life

He forbid anyone to enter the chamber he keep cale

The only one allowed to enter beside him is only hans and the molans, he even forbid his family

His irrational mind blame them, blame his father who neglect them, blame violan and basen for coming here, but mostly blame himself for leaving his twin alone

He also become obssesses with arm, wanting to razzed them to the ground, leaving no one acquainted with them alive

The events still happen like lcf but with darker and more insane and crueler roksu

He show no mercy toward his enemies

His people both respect and fear him

Once, the kids accidently enter cale's chamber and that's the first time roksu look at them with wild and harsh eyes and spoke to them coldly

He ignore them for a week, locking himself inside with his twin

And that's when his people found out about the event from the past through the molans

Rosalyne once try to talk roksu out of his madness but almost got killed in his rage if not for choi han stopping roksu

It wasn't something that could be touched anymore because it was already rooted in roksu's heart, mind and soul

From then on, no one ever bring it up again

Hmmm.. some ideas how I want to continue this

First,

Roksu find a way to wake cale up

Make him more of an empty vessel, a soulless puppet than anything

But roksu doesn't care, at least cale is awake and moving

Roksu stick close to him

Hugging him on his laps while he caressing his hair lovingly

Sleeping on cale's lap while he comb his hair gently with his fingers

Cale face eerily blank, his eyes like those of glass, he never talk and only react to roksu

Second

A cale from another worldline, where he still very much alive, accidently got transported into this fuck up worldline

He doesn't know that he is in a completely different world and think he still inside his world

Walk back to henituse teritory, ignoring the weird and shocked gaze from thw citizen because he think it's must be because he is a trash anyway

When he arrived, he weird out with how everyone acting and he kinda feels scared seeing his twin gaze him intently with those dark eyes

When Eruhaben want to tell him that he is in different world, after they 'interrogated' him, roksu immediately take cale with him

With his glibe tongue, he convinced cale that everyone just being weird and he doesn't need to worried about anything

Send a silent warning to everyone that no one will not tell this cale the truth or else

A week passed by and it's the first time (after a long time for the henituse and staffs) they see roksu to look actually geniunely happy

It's a twisted situation but they can't do anything it might trigger roksu

He never leave cale's side, when cale complaint he manipulate his way and guilt trip cale to let him

Then roksu from cale original worldline also sent there after he threatening GoD

GoD warning him about this world other him, roksu doesn't think much thinking that they're not that different

Oh boy, he is so surprised when he witness it with his eyes

His possessive side (he always possessive over his people, especially his twin) can't acccept it

[Or for more darker situation, this cale's roksu is also equally obssesses and possessive toward him]

[And for darker result, this cale is killed by roksu because he can't accept that there is him who still get to have his twin alive while he can't. If he can't have his twin beside him, then no other him should]

Third

Roksu transported to tboah world when cale just started his trash endeavor

Manipulate his way to be accepted into the family through cale

He is the image of a perfect, loving, and caring brother toward cale

Everyone like him

But the henituse feels something off with him, but they just brush it off because as fast as it come, it's gone when roksu smile at them

The molans know something is not right with their young master's twin brother from another world

With the way he stick close to cale, subtly monitor him and 'move' him as he want

But they can't do much more than keep watching and make sure that their your master is safe

Roksu slowly isolate cale from anyone, make him believe that no one truly there for him but him

He orchestrated that cale will getting beat up by choi han, but not to severe, and manipulate the molans to leave with choi han

He then twisted the story and sealed cale fate with him

The GoD actually bothering roksu to get back to his world but he refuse

GoD even use his real twin as a bait but he still refuse, he know that the molans and hans from his world will take care of his cale, they know better than neglect him

Maybe he can keep both cales

Always thinking about some reaction verse

Earth 1, st, lcf, and this alter tboah react

Of course the first three world confuse and shocked at first but not think much

The cales and roksoos can't get rid of wrongness from roksu but just brush it off

Alter tboah getting unsummoned and the other three react to roksu...

Alternate

Roksu let cale get burried

But he started to hallucinate that cale still alive and here

He doesn't tell anyone because he doesn't want to share

It's worsen as time goes by

....what if the hallucination is not actually hallucination

[ele-sme]

3 years

3 years passed since Neteyam died in the last battle, 3 years passed since Quaritch died, shot again by an arrow.

3 years passed without humans on the way.

The grief took over the family for a year, then they had to move on.

Life was good now, Neteyam was missed dearly, but he now was in peace.

Lo'ak and Tsireya started official court, Tuk started training, Kiri decided to return to the forest and continue her training as Tsahìk, Spider, even if slowly was becoming a warrior for the sea clan.

Jake and Neytiri some how moved on, day wasn't passed without them going to check on their forever teen son.

But eventually they calmed down, even apologise to Spider.

Welcomed him into the family, and he slowly became an official part of it, growing strangely close to Neytiri.

She lost a son, he never had a mother, they needed the comfort of one another.

Still he didn't call her mom, but there was time, they had all the time in their life.

Until...

Tuk, Lo'ak and Spider spent all morning togheter.

They played with the water, swimmed, draw on the sand and so so much more.

Now they were laying on the soft sand, now colder and not hot.

Watching as the sun flew down and the sky became of an unnatural natural shape of orange.

Spider was in peace, this is all he ever hoped for.

Being accept, having a family to call his own, a father and a mother, siblings.

Although...

There was one thing he missed more than everything.

Neteyam.

His first friend, died because of him.

In 3 years everyone who visited him said to Spider how Neteyam's soul was not angry at him.

But he wanted to hear it from him...

The thought of never seeing Neteyam again...

Everyone could but not him, that wasn't fair, that was dishonest, this was mad-

But also will of the mother, if she wanted him to see Neteyam, he would have been born with a normal body, and not a pink tiny one.

The sun was now fully dissapering, and the bioluminescence was appearing.

"Guys!" Tsireya happy voice was heard, making Lo'ak jump up.

He greeted her with a kiss, which made Tuk do a disgusted sound.

"Reya, you should totally upper you standards" she said, making Tsireya chuckles and Lo'ak mad at his baby sister.

Spider close his eyes when they started to yell at one another.

So goddamn similar to eachother.

...

...

...

Something was wrong...

Spider felt wrong.

Breathing was hard.

His eyes didn't want to open.

What was happening?!

What the f-

"Spider"

...

Spider forgot about this voice, Something he never wanted to admit out loud but made him cry for months.

But this...this was Neteyam voice!

Spider eyes were close but he could feel Neteyam sitting next to him.

"Dude" he said, Spider couldn't reply, like his lips were glue togheter.

"It's been a while" Neteyam said, as he played a little with Spider's locks.

Why was Neteyam there? Was this a dream?

"I need to bring you there, a direct order" he continued

Oh

As a tear fell off Spider cheek, he gave the other a smile.

He could feel Neteyam taking his oxygen mask off.

Although he could also still feel it but that feeling was faitinig away.

He finally open his eyes again, Neteyam next to him smiling happily at the boy.

Spider sit up right and he finally after so long hugged Neteyam.

"She wants you there personally, she loves you so much i swear, she can't stop talking about you" Neteyam said in the hug.

As they pull away, Spider looked at his friends and siblings.

Tuk and Lo'ak still yelling at eachother meanwhile Tsireya tried to calm them.

"What about them?" He asked, and Neteyam's face was longing.

He wished to remain there for them too.

But this wasn't how the mother wanted.

"They will go on, they're strong" he said.

He offered a hand for standing up, which Spider kindly accepted, he was now standing.

He chuckles when he noticed that he was somehow teller then Neteyam.

' must be a dead thing '

"Ohh shut up" Neteyam said without even letting him start.

With the same hand, he helped Spider step out of his physical body.

Who was now resting in peace, soon to be laid with the ancestors.

Hand in hand they walked in the forest.

"Don't turn away to face them, that would only hurt more" Neteyam said, tightening his grip on Spider's hand.

In the distance there was Tuk, who scream that Spider couldn't breath.

Another few steps and a cold bloody scream came from behind them.

"There's also a human woman waiting for you" Neteyam said, grinning at Spider.

"My...?" Neteyam nodded immediately.

Waiting for them a latin woman, with a shine smile on her face she said hello to her son.

Hugging him tightly when he arrived.

"Come my son, she been waiting for you"

And them three walked away, leaving behind an horrific scene.

Of two parents loosing both young sons in less then five years.

[ms-nesbit]

Good jay hunting (chapter three of empire records)

Chapter one and two found here (x) (x)

Rating: 18+ (say it with me: minors, fuck off!)

Summary: y/n and jason go on a date at the gotham cemetery, where jason tells y/n about his tenure as robin. Her feelings for him deepens, so much that he receives a surprise when the date is over.

Trigger warning! This chapter dives into Jason Todd’s history, which includes: d0mestic vi0lence, r@pe, pr0stitution, substance @buse, child @abuse, and neglect. PLEASE be advised.

ao3

Note: I fucking loved writing this chapter. I will take a break though because it hit a little too close to home for me. I hope you all enjoy and, as always, reblog and refrain from being a dickhead and reposting my work elsewhere. Thank you!

A cold front ushered into Gotham quicker than the summer heat could pay its sorrowful respects, Gothamites struggling to acclimate to the drastic change in temperature. On the Gotham News Network, gas leaks and lawsuits were reported, detailing the inhumane treatment landlords provide for the elderly; it was nothing new to the godless city, each sin managing to top another.

Jason was desensitized to it, too. He recalled his time in an apartment on the upper East side of Gotham, near Murphy Ave. - his biological father stumbled through the door, fury steaming from his lips in the scent of bourbon, as he picked which target to his unfathomable wrath; Jason’s mother sacrificed herself when Jason’s motor skills were still developing, and skull fusing together from his ripe birth; yet, when Jason began reading, gaining ideas that inspired him to do good, he stood before his mother, fists balled and chest puffed, a zeal of a thirty year-old in a nine year-old’s body.

His father was why Jason’s mother dipped her toes into medication - he injured her so severely, she visited the doctor, who abruptly prescribed her narcotics without questioning the source of her injuries, and sent her on her way. Each tablet was a sense of bliss to her, something she missed so dearly, it enveloped her in endless bliss when she re-experienced it, so she became erratic for more, bargaining with the local shadows to entice her, indulge her, give her what she needed.

And Jason was learning from this. He blinked his deer eyes as he saw his mother dive into the pill bottle face first, and how his father’s silhouette looked carved in chalk. I’m okay, he told his teachers when they noticed his missing assignments, or unexcused absences from school. I was just sick. I forgot.

Never could he step down from his position as son, mother, and father - he was all a nuclear family to himself, and couldn’t afford to jeopardize his position. With his father dead, he was man of the house at ten, and grew three sizes to accommodate; with his mother paralyzed by chemically-induced numbness and familiarity in the shape of ovular bliss, Jason adapted rapidly, cooking meals for himself and his mother. And without the income, he stole what he could; after being arrested a few times, he feared not his own record becoming tarnished with demerits, but the judicial attention being shifted to his mother, whom he dearly loved and missed, and instead sold his soul to the streets, begging to give whatever he could so he could feed his mother, care for his mother, rear his mother as she needed.

After that dreadful night, though, when he visited his friends after school instead of checking on his mother, he re-entered the apartment, dirtied and covered in neglect. The air was thick with news he believed he had the power to prevent, the poor boy, his last light of innocence taken from him with her final breath before she lay lifeless on the bathroom tile floor, becoming one with the grime and mildew that accumulated.

He shed no tears that night. He cradled her, listened to her in lament, but remained a soldier for the mother he wished he knew. Jason held her as he rocked her to sleep, hoping the embrace could restore her soul to eternal happiness in the afterlife. With her, a piece of his soul died, too, and his smiles were in vain, voice seeming a bit tainted with a poison others in his life couldn’t quite identify.

It was quite ironic that he loved the theatre tenderly, as he became an actor at a young age, playing the role of a century. He performed at Apollo Theater as Lady McBeth, his mourning in tow each day he spoke of his mother and her life, as if she wasn’t a ghost haunting his mind post-sunset. His tongue was burning and heart lonesome as he performed exquisitely, so well that even he was convinced that his mother would be at home, waiting upon his arrival.

One night, after escaping from the hands of his disparaging foster parents, Jason picked up his equipment used to steal - or boost, if you will - automotive parts for cash. He used the pieces as relics to restore value to himself, whether it be in form of wrinkled, used money, or bartering for shelter, transportation, or a favor; that night, however, proved to be different in many ways: the moon entered its final phase, the quarter presenting itself behind passing clouds, Jason’s best friend had been missing for days, only to have his body recovered from the lake that day (another day of grief for Jason, no doubt, although he was anesthetized to death).

Jason found an abnormally shaped vehicle in Crime Alley, and he snickered to himself when he approached the profile, it was…the Batmobile. He kneeled and began his workmanship, spinning the car jack to loosen the lug nuts. Before he could finish, though, a presence bestowed itself behind him, the Fool, and it was the caped crusader himself.

The following months were a quick haze for the pre-teen - the vigilante revealed his identity as Bruce Wayne, and Jason, although ecstatic to belong in a home once again, didn’t shake his misfortune, the baggage worn around his neck like a lagahoo. If it wasn’t in his days as anxiety attacks and hoarding, anticipating the next loss, then it was carried through in his subconscious, the most unsuspecting of all in forms of nightmares and shapeshifting creatures lurking with a liquor bottle and belt.

Screams and pleas entered the halls of Wayne Manor, carrying all the way to Bruce’s chambers, and sometimes, on the most unforgiving nights, into the Batcave. It brought heartbreak to the home, especially to Bruce’s butler, Alfred, who served Jason much closer than Bruce could. Although Jason’s older adoptive brother, Dick, was polite and respectful of Alfred, Jason saw Pennyworth eye-to-eye, restoring some youth into the mature man when Jason assisted him in the kitchen, or with chores, with such glee (and it was a delightful task for Jason to partake in! He longed for mundane tasks that other children took for granted, gruelled about, resented their parents for, and Jason smiled with each load of laundry completed, or dinner prepped with Alfred.).

“We must do something, Bruce.” Alfred begged Bruce with broken eyes. “Not that cloak.” he spoke vehemently, with such disgust that the man could ever dare coerce Jason back into danger, this time with less protection and a daring purpose.

Yet his concerns were dismissed by Bruce’s concoction of arrogance and stubbornness, a deadly duo that ultimately led Jason to his demise by the clown prince of crime. His lifeless body lay on the concrete, and Bruce was taken aback by the woeful fate of the boy, despite the stern admonishments made by his aid at home. He vowed never to risk another boy’s life after this, to allow Jason to rest after sixteen years of distress.

The truth unfolded after the detective unmasked details of his son’s death: the clown had tempted him with the unveiling of his mother’s existence, his true mother. The pictures the clown’s unhinged partner took, which were messily glued to Todd’s tombstone, left little to Bruce’s imagination: the torture his son endured at the hands of a criminal, the look of terror in the boy’s eyes in one photo, with a shadow of a man’s arm in the air, crowbar in hand…

It was the first time since Martha and Thomas’s deaths that Bruce wept, shoulders slumped as he hiccuped. The boy died in vain. For nothing. There was no rest for his tortured soul, no restitution, requisition for the last breaths laborly drawn.

And when Jason arose from the dead, vindication sharp on his tongue, and life stolen from his green eyes, it only instigated heavier burden on Bruce’s aching bones, remorse deep in his voice when he faced the revived Jason returning back to Wayne Manor, distraught from uncovering that shortly after his death, Bruce replaced him.

—

“So…you were Robin?” y/n asked.

Jason nodded sadly, face pointed at the starry sky. “Yeah.”

Silence cursed them again, the night drawn out from Jason’s confession. Y/n didn’t expect it to be this tragic, although she appreciated it quietly. “Do you miss her?”

The words caught Jason off guard. He was used to y/n’s surprising angle on conversations, scoping out a person differently than the status quo. No small talk, no pleasantries, just rawness. “I talked with Bruce’s shrink about it - he said she could help or some shit,” his face warped in disapproval. “But I don’t. I romanticized the idea of her, but to be honest, she chose drugs over me. It hurts sometimes to think about, but that’s that. It was easier for me to think of my dad as a piece of shit, because he basically hit me more than he talked to me.”

“Makes sense. Guys are often stupid pieces of shit. No offense.” y/n raised a hand.

Jason shrugged. “None taken, we’re sacks of fucks.” he scoffed at his own comment. “I still kinda resent Bruce for wanting me to be Robin, I mean…why did he think that was any bit okay to do?”

“Maybe because that was the only way he could handle grief?” y/n offered.

Propping himself on his arms, palms flat behind him, he breathed deeply. Y/n had a point, though: when Bruce introduced the idea to Dick, Dick felt the same type of grief Bruce had; however, when the mantle was passed to Jason, the mourning was different, if at all: both Bruce and Dick had someone to lose, whereas Jason hadn’t.

And it showed when Jason worked the role. He showed sympathy to petty criminals, sometimes aiding and abiding them, to Bruce’s disapprobation; his demeanor soured as intel regarding trafficking rings and abusers surfaced, knuckles bruised and teeth clenched as perpetrators’ blood spurted onto the Robin costume, tainting its bright colors into a deeper, richer tone.

It was worse when Bruce pushed Jason to attend the Wayne galas. The upper class flocked their wealth and acquitted crimes, which burned Jason’s ears as he heard someone’s misfortune reduced into a witty anecdote paired with hor d'oeuvres and sparkling champagne.

Jason knew of the children who were taken by the boogeymen and women in the dark. He knew of their lives and tales that were once short, stout, and sweet. The attendees spoke of their deaths apathetically, muttering insults under their breath as they attempted to justify their ill motives. Almost as if these were the boogeymen and women, simply dressed up in thousand-dollar gowns and heirlooms that cleverly disguised their sharp talons and venomous taste for the vulnerable, their souls containing all moral onus were snatched from their now-empty vessels. He argued with them at the galas about the children, urging them ferociously about their contributions, as if nobody dare exist outside of them.

How could they? A life so lavish, how could they know of any decision made out of self-preservation and greed rather than sympathy and the greater good? They were the one-percent, top of the socioeconomic chain, the bourgeoisie glaring down from their terrace views at the filthy proletariats below them - and while one could argue that the view from up high could be so grand that even the diamonds in the filth could be mistaken for fool’s gold, the wounded mistaken for the parasite that would consume the rich had they attempted to so much as inspect the streets, why would they then take measures to ensure their own safety, stuff more money into their pockets, knowing what they’ve seen?

The pasta salad Jason was poking at lost its flavor. A shame. “I know that Bruce couldn’t understand, but…Dick? I mean, you said he was Robin, too, right? And it wasn’t like he came from a wealthy background.” Y/n spoke between munches of lettuce that hung out of her mouth.

“Dick traveled a lot, and his family didn’t have a ton, but they were…a family.” Jason’s words were a sad string playing into the cemetery. 

It was the truth. Jason was a true reflection of the city in which he was raised: impoverished and tattered, the result of a godless, greedy, unfiltered city full of beasts whose sins remained unpunished, unanswered for. His heart pumped true - as that of Dick and Bruce - but in deep red, different than the blue blood that his adoptive elder brother and father carried in themselves; they could never understand him, really, their path vastly disparate than Jason’s living tragedy.

All y/n could think to do was kiss the man beside him, spilling his life before her atop the delectable array of desserts he prepared for her. She cupped his cheek with her hand and pulled him toward her, their lips clashing into a deep but slow kiss. As y/n’s lips moved to hold Jason’s, she felt a tear on her thumb, the one on Jason’s cheek, and she inched her body closer to his, to ensure that she wasn’t another chapter in his story, either.

She hadn’t disclosed her sobstory - the one filled with angst, betrayal, and the anguish of abuse and torment year after year from those closest to her; she was just as tired as he, and finally felt a bond, vulnerable with someone besides the weeping albums she listened to when her nightmares resurfaced.

When they broke their kiss, only the faintness of the ghosts from their graves divided Jason and y/n. They held their hands, fingers interlocked, as they stayed close. Y/n hummed when Jason wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and Jason smiled (for the first time in hours) when y/n reached up to kiss the white patch of his hair, now knowing its origin.

Instead of parting ways after their food finished, they laid down, hip to hip, and counted the stars as they relished in the caress of each other’s skin. It was the first time Jason saw y/n so disarmed, which was jarring compared to her all-plaid, studded outfit. He liked her anyway, a bit too much for his liking, afraid that he was diving too deep.

And before y/n drifted to sleep in Jason’s arms, she felt the same fear subside, until it quieted to nothing but a puny whisper.

—-

Jason’s administrative account was open on his laptop when he arrived back at his home, securing each lock before he removed his leather jacket and set down his biking helmet.

He glanced at a notification on his phone, which was from y/n. He was glad she wasn’t insecure and reached out to him first. The innocent grin on his face quickly turned amorous as he opened the notification, which brought him to a video y/n sent of herself. 

Naked.

Masturbating.

Determined, Jason shuffled to his armchair, unbuckling his jeans and wriggling his cock free from them as he sat and watched the video. Y/n ran a hand up and down her body suggestively, showing Jason what he was missing; then, after brief teasing, she opened her legs, sitting up as she revealed her wet cunt on full display for the camera. Jason’s cock twitched when he saw her swollen clit aching to be touched, and the thought of his head between her legs, thigh on either side of his shoulders, almost made Jason explode there.

Instead, he took the fuel and set up his webcam and account, enabling bluetooth on his phone and connecting his wireless headphones to privately hear y/n’s noises. He pressed a key on his laptop, beginning the livestream.

On one hand, he held the phone, the content away from the webcam’s view; his other hand stroked his cock, quickly, as he followed y/n’s every word.

“Put your cock in me, Jay.”

“Fuck! Yes, eat me out just like that.”

The phrases were too much for Jason to handle, who was moaning incoherently, fitting in garbled, “So hot” and “Gonna make you come.” His hand moved rapidly on his cock, and he was getting close, noises crescendoing. “Y/n, y/n, so good.”

It wasn’t until y/n exploded, dildo inside of her and fingers circling her clit, that Jason’s orgasm was ripped from him, his body tensing as he nearly screamed, eyes squeezing shut as he rocked his hips into his hand. “God, fuck.” he yelped, sucking a breath in as he felt his body tense up again after he thought his climax was over.

He had forgotten he was live. He didn’t know he said her name aloud in the dazed state. Nor did he know that he continued to say her name, over and over, as cum shot from his cock.

“I’ve been seeing someone. Hope none of you are jealous.” he admitted, blushing. “I’ll see you all later. Till then, take care.” he ended the livestream abruptly, finally taking a breath after logging out of his administrative account.

He closed his laptop and set it on the end table beside the wingchair, heading to the bathroom to shower and masturbate again to y/n.

[thenerdblog]

Character Information about My MLB AU (1)

Princess Marinette/Ladybug

The Mischievous Forest Girl and the Mysterious lost Princess of Dupain; Marinette is known to be an outgoing, sweet and cheerful teenage girl who was beloved by all of her animal friends including her very own kwami, Tikki. Besides, she likes to go barefoot around the forest and climb on trees to check up her bird friends (despite being clumsy). Marinette cares about her beloved 'Uncle' - Master Fu who has raised her for the first fourteen years of life despite being very unaware that she was born into royalty as the Princess of Dupain and the only child of King Tom and Queen Sabine.

Prince Adrien

The Golden Prince of Pariez; Prince Adrien is known to have a heart of gold in his kingdom with his handsome features that were taken after his late mother, the late Queen Emilie. Yes, Adrien misses his mother dearly and longed to be loved due to on having a distant father - King Gabriel who treats him unkindly. Shortly after the abduction of his betrothed (Princess Marinette), he was betrothed to another Princess named Chloe Bourgeois who he have known since childhood. He likes to go out in horseback riding with his very own squire, Nino Lahiffe and loves Marinette - Royal or not - he would always still love her.

King Agreste

The Tyrant and the mourning king of Pariez; King Gabriel of Pariez is known to be cold and rules his kingdom with an iron fist causing his citizens to go through famine and poverty. Many of his citizens made hateful speeches about him but not at his very own son - Prince Adrien. Like in the original AU, he mourns the death of Emilie and would do anything to resurrect her from the dead by using Master Fu's magic.

Princess Chloe

The spoiled princess of Bourgeois Islands; Princess Chloe is known to be a spoiled brat and believes that she will get everything what she wants as she will continue to crave about her wealth and luxurious items. She is Prince Adrien's second betrothed after the absence of Princess Marinette. Princess Chloe would usually cling onto Adrien and brag about how they will get married or perhaps their 'engagement' events.

[acosmicblizzard]

Younger sibling hcs pt.3 (Ikemen revolution)

Links to other parts: pt.1, pt.2

Warnings: Possible spoilers for all current released wonderland residents routes, Major spoilers for Dalims route (currently only Loki’s Oliver’s and Harr’s are released in english as of the time of writing this. Dalims is released in Japanese, if you don't wish to be spoiled skip over Dalim and Deans sections) Possible ooc as i have only done rays route. Don’t repost my writings, reblog instead! Wanna check out my other works? Here’s my Masterlist!

Wonderland Residents

Blanc Lapin

Okay so this can go two ways just like the childhood friend headcanons, either A you're dead or B you're immortal like blanc. And just to torture people i'm gonna go A. I maybe, just maybe will make a part 4 just to make the happy version of these headcanons.

Blanc knew you weren't gonna live forever, he knew that. But that didn't take away any pain from when you finally passed. He didn't want to have to continue living all alone, why did he have to? He loved you with all of his heart and would do anything for you. Why did you have to leave. His memories filled with happy moments between you two and he knew no matter how much time passed he would never forget them. The sad times, the happy times, the hard times, all the time spent with you. He cherished those memories but knew how much pain it would cause him. Though he definitely won't let you be forgotten and lost to cradles long history, as in the memories and hearts of people, those who have been long gone could live on forever. And anyone who he trusts to tell the tales to he would tell story after story of your time spent with him.

When it comes to Immortality, you can become stuck in cycles of emotions eternally. It could be eternal pleasure, it could be eternal suffering. As much as blanc wishes you were alive and could be by his side forever he knows that's asking too much. You lived a happy and fulfilled life, he would never want you to carry the burden of immortality. Not far away from his house is a small grave, decorated with your favorite flowers. Every now and then when blanc feels lonely or sad, he'll visit your grave and just.. talk. He knows you're gone, resting eternally, but he still talks hoping in some way you can hear the stories he's telling you now of modern day cradle just like how you would sit at the fire place and listen to your older brother tell you stories during the wintery seasons.

Oliver Knight

It came suddenly, no one in your family knew what to do. Your older brother Oliver went missing. There were absolutely no clues nor traces on where he could've gone or where he could've been taken. It was a shock to all of your family as your parents tried to work with the police to find your brother. But any and all searches came back empty handed with no clues and no idea on where we could be. Years and years passed and you had taken over Oliver's position in the family business. Three years, it had been three years since Oliver went missing. There were still no clues, not even after the years of him being missing, nothing came to light. At this point some of your family other then your father had accepted that he was gone and was never coming back. but your father always held hope that maybe one day he'd come back. And so did you, even if it was hard to keep the hope that maybe one day he'll come back.

One day when you and your father were walking to a local bakery you two came across a lady wearing a hat that was very similar to the craftmanship of your older brother. Oliver was always insanely good at making hats, they were always amazing quality. One thing led to the next and you ended up talking more with the lady and when it was revealed that she knew Oliver's current whereabouts you were ecstatic.

While on the other side of the moon, Oliver sat inside a cell in the magic tower. He knew one thing, he had to get back to the real world with Alice. But more importantly, to this family. And back to his younger sibling he loved dearly. He definitely knew he was in for a lecture from everyone there, and he's gonna love being back. Though a solution to this magic curse may be hard to find he refuses to give up. He's coming home and you better be ready for it.

Loki Genetta

Before Loki was taken by the magic tower you two shared a very close bond. Days passed peacefully as you two grew up together, you guys would play hide and seek almost all the time, you would steal your moms makeup and put makeup on eachother and do eachothers hair even though you'd get scolded afterwards. Days kept passing happily and peacefully until Loki's 11th birthday. Out of nowhere in the middle of the celebration Loki's magic showed itself for the first time in his life and destroyed some of the house. You were confused, scared, you didn't know what was going on. Neither did Loki. But the next day your brother was taken away by these strange people in cloaks.

Years and years passed with no signs of Loki coming back and you continued growing up all alone. His bed in the room you two use to share disappeared. All of his clothes and toys disappeared. It was like his entire existence was meant to be forgotten about. And forget you did, to ensure no one knew of what happened to him your memories were wiped. You kept moving on in life even though you'd randomly get heavily sick at times and felt incomplete. You always wondered why, why is this happening? Did something happen? What did you not remember? What's the explanation for this? So many questions that you didn't have the answers too.

Your life continued going on normally though, getting ready to graduate school, looking into getting a higher education if you could, if not look for a job maybe at a café or somewhere else. Completely unaware of the mismatched eyes watching you where ever you went. Siblings are meant to protect one another, and Loki would follow that belief to the grave. Without your knowledge whenever he could he would follow you, hiding within the darkness to not reveal himself. Maybe one day you would be reunited, but not here, and not now. Loki absolutely refuses to risk your safety and have the magic tower try anything especially with Alice the 2nd very recently falling into cradle. Getting you involved with anything he and harr are doing is a big no. One day, you two will be reunited. Please just keep waiting for him.

Harr Silver

Growing up together you and harr stayed together through everything. Harr struggled with communicating with others and was always shy so you did most of the talking to others. You became slightly good at reading his emotions through body language and even with a slipup here and there you were still decent at it and could usually tell what he was trying to communicate to you. You're most likely also have magic like harr. Harr was definitely willing to teach you magic and help you learn it, even if he was still learning himself he would still help you out in anyway he could.

It was a shock when Harr was declared a criminal and a threat to all of cradle by red territory, you went off on Lancelot. Confused and angry on why he would do this to his friend. Lance didn't explain nor did try to and dismissed you. That just made you more angry and you went to Sirius to try and get answers. Sirius informed you on the letter he got from Harr before all of this went down. Sirius didn't have the whole picture so you pieced together what information you could together and even then that wasn't the best explanation. All you knew was that Harr is innocent and lance needed him known as a criminal for a reason.

It wasn't too much longer till you took off to the forbidden forest to try and find him. It took awhile and ton of getting lost in the forest but eventually you found him. While Harr didn't want you getting wrapped up into this mess you reassured him siblings look out for one another and you'd be helping him with whatever mess he had gotten himself into. Years passed, the treehouse was built, you met loki and he became your best friend and so much more happened. Of course not all of it was happy and with Alice the second falling into cradle things are gonna get more chaotic, but you believe Harr, Loki and you can figure this out somehow.

Mousse Atlas

Growing up apart of the Atlas family was quite the experience, due to being the first born Mousse was expected to become the ace of hearts and unless mousse were to step down from his position you were free to pursue whatever career you wanted. In case of this you still trained and became a good swordfighter for if mousse ever stepped down. Throughout your childhood you and mousse trained side by side while still retaining the normal life of a child, going to school, making friends, playing games, just general kid stuff. As you grew up mousse filled the role of ace of hearts and became apart of the red army and while you sometimes worried for him you knew he could handle himself.

When mousse resigned from the position of ace of hearts and became a diplomat you were meant to become the next ace of hearts but surprisingly the role was filled for you. You didn't have to drop the job you were already passionate about thanks to zero. Even without him being apart of the Atlas family you fully supported him in joining the army and slightly bonded with the ace.

Mousse has made it a habit to always bring you back something back on his diplomatic trips to different countries and places. Always wanting to surprise you and bring you something interesting back even if it's just something like teas or candies. If he can, he'll have letters sent back to you in cradle and update you on what he's doing, what he's learning, the new things he's experienced while there and more. He'll also attach photos to the letters he sends so you can somewhat get a view of the things he's seeing as well. Letters are your way of long distance communication and you wouldn't have it any other way.

Dalim and Dean Tweedle

Once upon a time three siblings could be seen playing with eachother, growing up and going through life peacefully. But that peaceful happy carefree life would soon be shattered and broken apart in many ways. Before you could register what happened Dalim had went to the magic tower and you now saw the view of a bright light of a magic crystal activating. Just like that life as you once knew it changed. It was no longer three siblings, it never was three siblings, what third sibling? It was only ever you and Dean. The extra bedroom in the house is for guests, no one else ever used it. But there are kids toys and stuff in there, probably just extra birthday or present gifts mom and dad are saving for us! Though you don't know why your parents would get you and Dean these things when they aren't exactly things you two like. Life continued on normally other then these strange random sicknesses on you and Deans birthday. Dean became a teacher and you became a baker and even with both of you two having busy jobs you do make sure to find time to meet up every now and then and just talk and hang out.

Recently, you've been having run-ins with a tavern owner by the name of Dalim. Strangely, he had the same last name as you and Dean and looked very similar to your brother. You can't help but feel this man is familiar somehow, it strangely is a comforting and welcoming presence. Like somehow you know him when you've never seen this man before in your life other then the nights you go out drinking and he's tending to the tavern. You two could hit off conversations like it was nothing. Over time you became more and more curious, there's no way this can just be coincidences. The similar looks, the same last name, the strange presence, and a new piece of info, how all three of you share the same birthday and usually get sick on those days too. It all lines up strangely, you know him from before, from somewhere, but where? You aren't gonna give up on finding answers though. Even if you have to look into places you shouldn't be looking into, you're gonna find the truth. No matter what it takes.

Closing up the tavern as usual Dalim stared out one of the windows and saw you walking around central quarter and too the civic center which you could get into easily due to your connections to Dalim and Blanc. He could tell you were catching on that something wasn't right and he knew that would start causing problems. No matter what problems that would cause though, he feels the need to protect you. You're his sibling after all, even if you can't remember it. He remembers it all well, the happiness that was taken from the three of you. And he'll do anything he can to protect the happiness you have currently even if that means stopping you from figuring out the truth.

[archaneanscribe]

Finally Taking the Trip to Jupiter

Vague spoilers for MGS4. Also xtremely fucking sad fair warning lol

“Snake... Dave?” Hal immediately corrected himself upon entering the room. The veteran’s (finally they could use that term, with there truly being no fights left to fight) request to drop the codenames they had maintained for nearly a decade had been a little sudden, but entirely understandable, “We think we’ve found a place to stay, for the moment. A nice house, close enough to a town that Sunny can go to school in, but far enough ouy most folks will leave us alone.”

David simply nodded- taking a deep breath that would normally be an intake of smoke into his lungs, but he was sincere in his declaration of quitting. Even if it wasn’t for very long, he could do that much for Sunny and Hal, after all this time. The tech wiz stood awkwardly in the doorframe, posture so closed in on himself David would see the gangly nerd he once was before he had started spending more time eating and moving around than seated in front of a computer.

He still did plenty of that, but years on the run had shifted the ratio considerably until just recently.

“Out with it, Hal,” he croaked out in a voice that was becoming increasingly unfamiliar to both of them. This seemed to shock his companion out of his own thoughts, and he finally moved closer.

“Ah, well, you see- what do you want for your last name, Dave? You know I’ll be formalizing Sunny’s adoption, which means we’ll finally be obtaining,” emphasis was put on the word, because in reality it meant forging, “papers for her, and I thought you’d probably be in need of some too. We can use whatever is on your birth certificate, but if you want to pick something out yourself...”

A smile formed under Dave’s mustache.

“I already know what I’m using.”

Hal perked up, “You do? What is it?”

With the same simple, to the point gruffness he would never quite be rid of, the one legendary soldier answered in a single word.

“Emmerich.”

All sounds except the Nomad’s machinery working overtime on her last voyage and David’s unfortunately heavy breathing ceased for an eternally long moment, Hal’s face journeying between every emotion he possessed. Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes, and his attempt to stifle his sniffles failed.

He probably wouldn’t have admitted it at the beginning, but something David had always loved about Hal was his ability to keep crying. No matter the hardships he faced, the traumas, the evils and cruelties he bore witness too, he didn’t run out of tears. His compassion was a well that ran deep, and those tears were just a result of it overflowing.

“Dave...of, of course,” his expression betrayed some amusement past the waterworks, “Do you want me to list you as my brother, or-”

“You know exactly what it’s going to say, Hal.”

They both laughed now, such different sounds than it was just a year ago even. David had been sitting on the edge of the bed, and Hal had been across the room, but that distance closed as Hal kneeled on the floor, placing his hands on David’s knees. It was a gesture that David had previously classified as pitying, but he knew better, now. 

It wasn’t for his comfort at all.

“Thank you, David.”

David had half a mind to ask what it was like to kiss an old man with a mustache, but they didn’t have the time for jokes like that anymore, so he just closed his eyes and enjoyed it.

---

The eyeroll David had given when Hal told him the name of the town they’d be living in was named Jupiter was so legendary it surpassed his previous exploits with ease. But, despite how silly it was, he couldn’t deny the warmth in his chest. 

They’d gotten their trip to Jupiter, just a little late.

Jupiter, Washington, was as small as a small mountain town got. It didn’t even have an elementary school for Sunny to attend (she was bussed to the neighboring, larger town). Most residents were the descendants of the people who had first lived there, so their new faces stuck out for awhile, but they eventually concluded what was essentially the truth, albeit missing some key details, and moved on- they were just two retirees, hoping to live out what was left of the older one’s life in peace with their orphaned granddaughter, nothing exciting.

Hal laughed at how huffy David had gotten at the granddaughter comments.

For the first month, their time there was peaceful. Content. Happy.

The second month, David starting being able to spend less and less time out of bed.

In the third month, he took Hal aside.

“You should stop sleeping in the same bed as me.”

His husband was a genius, he knew exactly why, but he still asked anyway.

“Don’t make me say it.” 

That he didn’t want Hal to wake up one sunny spring morning cuddling a corpse.

Tears were shed, as they always were, but he complied nonetheless. All of David’s belongings were transferred to the guest bedroom (Hal had tried to convince him to stay in the master bedroom, it was more comfortable, but David was adamant- that was where Hal would be staying in the future, and he didn’t want his ghost lingering in the air whenever he slept).

On the first day of the fourth month, right after sending Sunny off to school, Hal told him they were getting a dog for her.

“She loves those chickens, and I thought she might like another pet.”

“Or is it to replace me?” he asked, morbid mirth nearly buried under the pure gravel that had become his voice, “Seems to fit perfectly.”

Hal’s eyes, sad and weary, seemed to want nothing to do with this conversation, but he participated for his partner’s sake, “How so?”

“It’ll bark at strangers, bite the hand that feeds, and just generally be a pain in your ass.”

Despite himself Hal did laugh, not entirely bitter, “We’ll train it better than that.”

“Don’t train it too well. Won’t remind you enough of me.”

Fifth month, they had a dog. Rex, a joke on two layers- a name so common it was funny, and a reminder of one man’s shame that he’d never quite shake off. Not a husky, because while that would please David, they’d be keeping it long term and that level of energy just wouldn’t suit their needs. Rex was an adolescent Golden Retriever. 

The dog of the American dream.

Almost like he could tell David wouldn’t be around long enough to justify getting attached, Rex mostly ignored him. The feeling was mutual. 

Sunny loved them both dearly, and that was enough.

---

They had been there half a year, and Sunny made them breakfast. Her specialty, eggs fried to methodical perfection, toast just a little browner than anyone would like, maple sausage microwaved for ten seconds more than the instructions said just to make sure they were thoroughly cooked, and a glass of pulpless orange juice tucked precariously into the crook of her arm as she carried the meal to Uncle Dave’s bedroom.

It was two minutes after Hal watched Sunny depart from the kitchen that he heard a loud crash, glass and ceramic shattering, followed by Rex’s insistent barking and whining. He was on his feet and rushed to the scene, fearing the worst and finding exactly that.

“Oh, Sunny... Sunny...”

“U-Uncle H-Hal,” she barely managed through her cries. Rex, to his credit, ignored the food on the ground and nuzzled at her face, whining, confused and upset by the noises of unparalleled distress his beloved human was emitting. Stifling his own grief, Hal went over to the young girl and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.

He didn’t do a great job at holding that grief in after all.

“Sunny, Sunny, Sunny... I’m so sorry... I should have checked up on him when I woke up... It’s okay, Sunny...”

“H-He’s d-d-dead. J-Just,” her stutter was exacerbated by her choking sobs, “J-Just l-like my m-mother.”

The downside of having such a bright child was that you couldn’t shield them from life’s harsh realities that easily. There was no convincing Sunny that Uncle Dave was with the birds in the clouds, or any other such comforting tale. 

He was dead and gone, and she knew that.

---

The gravestone read:

               David Emmerich

       Beloved father and husband.

All three of those titles were ones he had only worn for six months, but he had worn them with honor.•

[herstarburststories]

Home in a Motel Pool

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: Dean and you have some fun in the motel's pool.

A/N: This one took a little longer than I thought, but here it's! Wet Dean in motel pool for us. So canon compliant of me, I know I know. This piece is my submission for @deanwanddamons 's 1st Blogiversary and 2K follower celebration with the prompt in bold. Congrats again, honey! And it's also my part for @anaelsbrunette 's YAS’S POC READER CHALLENGE with the song Home by Depeche Mode. Thanks for the extra time and the marvelous challenge!

Warnings: sex in the pool, p in v, dirty talk

Hunting was brutal. Even when the hunters won, it was a victory with no triumph-- there would be someone dead, always a corpse and loved one weeping as a reminder that you and the Winchesters couldn’t save everyone. You’d come around the town, tell the folks what they wanted to hear to get some information, kill the thing, and luckily save a person or two. It was a page from the emptiest stage, a show for a crowd of three: you, Sam, and Dean. Their own critics and praisers, doctors and patients, sinners and saints.

And if your hands were melted and molded into killing machines, you better pray for your heart to be made of anything but gold. That job didn't leave space or time for tenderness. In order to hunt the prey, you must become ferocious. Attack anything on sight, sing to the loneliest sound that’s the gunshot in the dark, pretend that you’ll make amends only to end up befriending the glorious end of the line that often came too soon.

Thing is, it wasn’t just about that. It would be easier if it was all about perfect soldiers and ultimate killers. A black and white world stained with crimson red would be the ideal, but there were always more colors.

Certainly, it wasn’t the most illustrious job one could get. If anything, it was unfair and underpaid and the seed of violence. Every hunter happened to do things they never could speak about, and all the blood got so normalized to the point red is just the color that pointed you were doing it right. like a good grade or a father’s head pat. Where was the seat on the table for any gentless to sit down in the chaos? In the thankful hugs from the mothers of the rescued children, in the pranks the boys came up with against each other for no other reason but childish nostalgia, in the nights where the three of you stopped and sat on Baby’s hood to watch the stars in silence, in the way Dean’s tough hands touched your cheek so lovingly, in the smell of the Impala’s wheels burning against the streets. Summarizing, when saving people wasn’t reasoning enough, kindness appeared glistening in the middle of the pandemonium, as a paragon of something good in cruelty.

Just like this moment.

‘’My body aches in places I didn’t even know that could hurt.’’ You groaned as you got out of the classic black car, hand on the back of your neck to apply some pressure. Even being thrown against a wall by some demon hurt less than sleeping in the backseat-- sweet mundane problems.

Sam scoffed before adding insult to injury, ‘’At least you were sleeping and didn’t have to hear the same cassette three times.’’

‘’Quit whining, you two. I was the one driving through two states.’’ Dean said in a huff, swirling the keys as the three of you walked towards Bonita Motel’s entrance. He placed an arm around your waist, his own way of showing affection in quietude. Your hand slipped inside his leather jacket’s pocket. ‘’Sides’, Baby’s backseat is comfortable and Zeppelin is awesome.’’

The youngest Winchester refrained his response to an eye roll and a mumble among the lines not when played three times in a row. You, though, turned your head to the side and offered your stubborn boyfriend a cynical smile.

‘’I prefer a bed.’’

He aimed at you with his signature lopsided grin, the one he knew that you loved, while you passed through the main door of the establishment. ‘’That’s not what you said last week.’’

‘’Guys, limits.’’ Sam pleaded, shaking his head at Dean’s comment before turning around. He made a chatter that quickly got old with the woman behind the counter, gaining two keys. The long haired hunter tossed one at his brother, who quickly grabbed it with his free hand.

‘’This is a good motel…’’ You commented as the three walked upstairs, the gleaming blue sight caughting your brown eyes. Your whole body shone as if it was really a beach and not only a cheap motel’s pool. Dean and Sam had never gone to the beach, but you grew up with salt aired weekends, a collection of swimsuits, and a loud family on the sand. You missed the sensation of being held by the ocean so dearly. It wouldn’t be the same, nothing was after you jumped in Dean’s Impala in New York; hustling for some other life, a better one like your parents when they came to the United States. Yet, a pool could be diverting and cozy. Pulling away from your man’s hold, you approached the small chlorine miracle. 

‘’There’s a pool!’’ You pointed out, as excited as a kid in a carnival. ‘’We should take a swim.’’

‘’You guys go. I have some research to do.’’ Sam nodded at the pool with his head, denying the request with a sleight of hand as he opened the lock of the room 209. ‘’Have fun, kids.’’

The green eyed man clicked his tongue when his brother disappeared with the craike of a door. He wasn’t exactly against the idea of jumping in the pool - apart from the germes, but his paranoia wouldn’t mind that much, not after trying endless motel’s bathtubs. The drive here had just been too long. Besides, if that crap motel had a well-cleaned pool, it probably had vibrating beds. He could use a massage. ‘’I think I’ll get crash in bed.’’

You arched an eyebrow. ‘’Didn’t you say that Baby’s backseat was comfortable to sleep?’’

‘’How taller than you I am, sweetheart?’’ He smirked as you walked back to him like you always did, your own north star in shape of a magnetic force of a man,

‘’Shush.’’ You slapped his chest playfully, wrapping your arms around Dean’s neck. ‘’Come on. Most motels we go to barely have a door, much less a pool. I miss going swimming. It’s a sunny day…’’ The childish joy in your tone metamorphosed into a newfound malice. ‘’You’ll get to see me in a bikini.’’

The Winchester wiggled his messy brows at your statement, suddenly reinvigorated as he placed his arms around your waist to bring you closer. Forget the body ache and all that, that was a way better reason to be sore in the bones later. ‘’You made some good points.’’

‘’I always do.’’ You kept the adamant tone, even when you could feel his breath on your cheek, those green eyes so livid when looking at you. God, you had to put a period here before things escalated and you two ended up getting to right in the middle of the hall. You attempt to make a joke: ‘’Darling it’s better, down where it’s wetter.’’

He knew it was a prompt from The Little Mermaid-- you two had watched two days ago in Tupelo, in a vintage television after killing a Ghoul, while Sam got some junk food. Yet, the kind of smile that brought to his face held anything but purity. A simple conversation became double-edged with Dean Winchester. You two often ended up breathless, either from fighting or from doing more entertaining dances. You should’ve seen that one coming.

‘’I know another wet spot.’’ He’d say, unholy significance trapped in each word as his right hand started to motion over your skin, guiding his greedy finger under your skirt. Your mouth was set in a grim line, a surprisingly determinate attempt to hold back a moan. You and Dean could do it in the pool, unite the good infant memories with the tent-like emotions of adulthood to make a grand deal.

‘’You’ll get all of me wet.’’ You kissed the corner of his lips, smoothly pulling away with a wink. So much self control. ‘’Hurry up, cowboy.’’

You grabbed your bag and rushed to room 208 to change your clothes, leaving an astonished, mildly turned on Winchester behind. Getting in the bathroom, which didn't stink for once, you swiftly changed into the bikini. A jade green one, directly from Brazil’s brand Cia Maritma. If you squint your eyelids hard enough, you could still put a name to each face that was with you when you wore it for the first time in the calmer days. All the long gone friends and the daily sunbath in your caramel skin.

Decided to leave the past well enough alone, you just smiled in melancholy and turned around, facing your reflex in the mirror. You looked hot. Dean surely would agree about that, especially with the way the top brought up your breast.

Arriving in the room to your boyfriend ready for the swim, you couldn’t help checking him out. You were attracted to the way the righteous man’s body was built since the first glance, addicted since the first touch. His shoulder, the freckles on his nose, and the way he wasn’t all defined, yet had the muscles right in the certain spots. You took off your hairpin, hair falling on your shoulder into a brown sea, like the waves crashing against the ocean rocks. The smell of your sweat and orange monopolizing the edges of everywhere, mainly Dean’s senses. He relished on how soft your skin was compared to his, how your accent tingled his insides, and the way you swing your hips while walking. Your boobs almost jumping at his face because of the tiny bikini only aroused him more.

The place had to get some credit. For a dive motel, it was more than they’d picture. Manageable bathrooms and safe locks, the pool glimmering blue with a small tree by the right side. It was gorgeous.

A dazzling breeze whispered through your bodies, causing you to shiver slightly and Dean to get sweet smelling sheets clinging to his knees and feet. Fucking tree. You could taste the friction swallowing the atmosphere, a report of what was near.

Before you could say anything, Dean grumbled as he pokes a leaf away. ‘’It’s gonna rain.’’

‘’It will.’’ You agreed, holding his hand to pull him closer, well-aware that your body would scare away any linger of adorable grumpiness. ‘’But who cares about raining when you’re in a pool?’’

It's the kind of question that doesn't need an answer, it briefly exists to make Dean distracted in wonder just now, a pause between seconds as you jump in the pool first. The water splashing around with a brutal sound. Your body seems to recall an old memory, how you made a lark of anything with your siblings in the sea,  how you used to feel like the beaches were a peculiar way of God to show the living how his touch would feel like. Every fiber of your body missed this.

Dean went in too, emerging to the marvelous sound of your laugh. He glanced at you, now less of a hunter and more of a man. The drops on your face could easily be confused with tears, yet the way you grinned and threw water at him couldn’t leave space for any other world but happiness. The Winchester often noticed your longing for cultural things that you no longer had in the palm of your hand. It was stupid, he even felt somehow resposible for taking you away of everything you ever knew only to coaxe you through the road not taken— full of bumps and blood and undecked halls. Then you’d smile, you’d wrap your arms around him like you were doing in that exact moment, and he would see that the drops all over your face are flickering with your chortle.

What other choice would Dean have, what other option could he ever make himself pick, if not to place his hands on your hips? So it goes. He put his rough hand on your, each tender touch seeming to make the bruises there clear up.

The hunter was leaning in to kiss you as a wave of water met his face.

‘’Ops!’’

He narrowed his eyes, spilling out the water. ‘’You are gonna pay for this.’’

‘’I’d like to see you try, Kansas boy.’’

Yeah, you once were raised in the water, such an important part of your identity which you didn't wish to lose, yet slowly slipped beyond your reaches. But you had Dean, you had adventure, and you had the motel’s shitty pool. If you could find contentment in that, you should know that who you were wasn’t lost. You were still the five years old who played in the plastic pool, the seventeen girl who grabbed your cellphone’s lantern and went looking for what was making a noise at 3am, the twenty years old who jumped in a car with two hunters and a craving for finding her true home. You were all of them at once. 

Heaven sent the only true friend you could call yours and you’re under his lips. Dean’s crashing his mouth with yours, hungry like an animal after your playful war. You two are soaked, and so is your pussy. He pressed your against the border of the pool, your back to the wall of it. The water rushes in and you couldn’t care less. When did a bikini start to look like too much clothing?

Breaking the kiss, the Winchester glanced at you. The green of all the wild gardens localized in his orbs, dappled with stars and desire. Waiting for his touches, enjoying when he took his time with you was always worthwhile. Today, though, you needed him fast and dirty and raw.

There was nothing you'd rather than spread your legs, so you did it. Dean’s smart fingers quickly ripping your panties and brushing against your heat. He let out an annoyed huff, missing the satisfaction of your wetness around his digitals, how he knew you were a mess for him and him only. The pool’s water didn’t let it much evident, he’d have to fuck you even harder, make sure you were still needy for his cock.

You whined, clinging to his touch with a swing of hips. His hand covering your pussy as Dean applied some pressure, savoring the way your body winced and your eyes shut close, a beautiful moan leaving your lips. He couldn’t wait to eat you out later after he made you come in this stupid pool. Hedonism made his blood thicker-- like he was a calm sea before you, and now his waters were violent and hungry for destruction. 

He pulled his hand away. ‘’Dean…’’

‘’Don’t worry, sweetheart.’’ His throbbing cock entered you, voice even deeper as he spoke. ‘’Gonna give you what you want.’’

You placed your legs around his waist and he held your thighs underwater, the sky spilling out its own water above. It didn’t stop two. Your hand on his shoulders, nails sinking in seemed to be a combustible for Dean to go harder inside of your. His hips attacking yours as his mouth kissed your neck with bites.

‘’Dean, please.’’ You pleaded, warm walls squeezing his long dick. ‘’More.’’

‘’All my cock is for you, honey. You get all of it, fucking you, scratching you open.’’ The eldest Winchester said, his voice so low and sensual. You could come only from his talking. ‘’That’s what you want, huh? You want me to fuck that pretty cunt, mark you up inside this shitty pool.’’ His digital reached your clint and you growled. Dean kept his dick inside you, unable to pull away from the heavenly sensation of being inside you. ‘’Wanna know something? I can’t wait to come inside that tight pussy right here.’’

He increased the rhythm, pounding you even faster and rougher as you tried to keep up, the lack of synchrony causing his cock to reach and pull inimaginable pleasures inside you, all turning more brutal and necessary. The pool had its own waves, your and Dean’s movements causing a chaos ocean chaos in it.

The heat and the sickliest, you were drowning in pleasure with each thrust to a desperate beat that his heart echoed. All your pretty noises tangled with his breathless howls. The rain’s drops becoming one water with the pool as you and him became one with your intertwined bodies, only to grow apart again and come back in need for more.

Your and your lover’s figures distorted on the reflex of the pool water, washing away any piece left of purity as you moved in a hurry when you finally reached your orgasm. Your cunt tightening around his hardness was too much to bear, making Dean come after you.

He rested his forehead against yours, breathless faces with closed eyelids darting together. The heat calmed down by the water. Dean dared to look at you, but not to pull away. His cock remained inside your tight cunt and he caressed your cheek gently. That woman pounded from within and is pinning him down to earth, like you are his own gravity, the glimpse of relief, the lover’s photographe that gives the soldier’s battle a meaning.

‘’There’s a saying in my country.’’ You said suddenly, opening your brown eyes as he lifted his head to greet yours with his forest ones.

Dean captured your small nose, your desirable lips, your big eyes, your gorgeous tan skin, the signals he had map of on his lips. His thumb still stroked your face as his cock took its time to weaken inside your pussy. ‘’Yeah? What’s it?’’

‘’Quem está na chuva é pra se molhar.’’ He arched his eyebrows, a silent request for an english version. The Winchester knew around ten words in your mothertongue. Half pet names, half cussing. You pecked his plump lips. ‘’There's no literal translation, some things just lose their core if you try to put them to another language. It would be like if you are in the rain you want to get wet. It would be another way to say if you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen.’’

‘’I gotta say, you look pretty hot when you say those things.’’ You smirked. You rolled your eyes playfully, fingernails tenderly fondling the back of Dean’s neck under his haircut. ‘’Do you miss it?’’

‘’My country?’’

‘’Yeah. Not just your country but your language, your friends, your life there.’’ He shrugged, secretly scared of the answer. ‘’It’s not like we go to the same places you used to go to. I see how many bikinis you carry around.’’

Which was the main reason he booked that motel. You didn’t need to know that. The childish joy you had with the surprise was enough for his credit.

‘’No. Well, I still speak my language when I’m mad at you.’’ Dean chuckled. Whenever you two got in a heated argument, your inner latina would come out and jump at him in both languages at once. It was supposed to be serious, but mostly got him all hot and bothered. Your accent was just too sexy, especially when you were angry. ‘’But no, not really. I miss situations and people, but not how it was. It was a good life, but it wasn’t the one I was supposed to have.’’ You pulled him to you by his neck. ‘’I thank you, you know? For bringing me here. For showing me home, Even for the tears and the fear. I finally I’ve found where I belong.’’

Tranquility engulfed the atmosphere momentarily as comfortable as a silent sleeper, the rain no longer coming, giving stage to a sunny sky. You and Dean, twisted together like that was all serenity you could relish on. You both quiet in the afterglow, his cock no longer hard but neither wanted to pull away. He laid his head on your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck. He certainly would bring you to a beach as soon as he could, maybe pop the pretty question on his knees there. For now, thought, he could enjoy thar simple moment.

‘’After my house was burned to the ground, I didn’t think I’d have another one. I was always rolling around the country, never really stayed in a place for too long. I didn’t want to call some random walls my home and have it destroyed in my face again.’’ Dean said, his thumbs caressing your thighs underwater. Since his first breath near you, he knew he was a goner. Even better, he knew he wasn’t a goner, a nomad, or a lonely wolf anymore. Dean Winchester once swore he would never come back home after what happened in there, and then you appeared. The hot latina who kept up with his stupidity and didn’t think twice before calling him out on his bullshit, and was always there for him and actually loved him-- not besides the job, but with all the things being a hunter included, all the ugly acts he had to go through. You believed he was good and worthy. His house burned, but you gave him a home. For the first time in so long, Dean felt warm and happy and loved. ‘’But you gave me a home. Without the apple pie life and all that. You, me, and Sammy-- fighting the good fight, just the three of us. This is my home.’’

To be a hunter was to be gauge of the deadliest trap ever laid, always carrying the heaviest cross ever made like a soldier’s duty that wouldn’t end with a couple years of trocious war. This treacherous slope was forevermore. A hunter life, all the fraunds and the paid phone calls and the running away with laughs empty of joy, the song from the wrong side of town. But fuck, all the saving and the excitment and the hustled love made a dance for the melody and suddenly it was worth it. All the tender parts, the new restaurants every week, the jokes in the car, the hidden chortles in the dark places. Sam. Dean. Dean and all this am out of love and loyalty he gave to you.

Everything was worth it to be in his arms.

He brought you back home.

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[sturchling]

Gilded Poppy VS Hawkmoth

This is another part to the idea that I saw and talked about with @anastasian-dreamer and @musicfeedsmysoul12 . I just had to write it out! Find the first story here! The Gilded Poppy helping take down Hawkmoth. There will be some spoilers for the final episode of the first season of Jett’s route, so keep that in mind if you still haven’t read it. I hope you all like it!

The Gilded Poppy had never really paid Hawkmoth any mind. Sure he was a pain when his akumas interrupted their heists. But sometimes the chaos worked to their advantage as well. So they never really saw a point in worrying about it. Sure, they always made sure that Tom, Sabine, Marinette, and the bakery were fine after each attack, but that was about as involved as they got with the situation. That was until Hawkmoth came after one of their own. 

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Jett couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He felt almost numb. One of his best mates, Jock was laid out on the floor in front of him. Dead. He wasn’t aware of his surroundings at all. So it was a good thing that the rest of the Poppy was heard the ticking sound, and pulled him out of the building before the bomb went off. Now, as he stood on the street, watching the building before him burn and a crowd gathered around, Jett didn’t know what to think. Then he saw him at the edge of the crowd. Hugo Vansittart standing there, staring at Jett. Jett instantly saw red. He knew that Hugo did this and he was going to make him pay dearly for it. From the corner of his eye, he saw a dark butterfly fly towards his poppy pin. Then suddenly a strange feeling came over Jett, like his rage was increased ten fold. And a soothing voice spoke in his head. That is the last thing he remembered.

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Jett had been turned into Judgement, a justice based akuma that used an attack he called truth bomb. Anyone hit with his bombs confessed to any crimes they may have committed. For most people hit during this akuma attack, it was small stuff like jay walking, or littering. But Jett made sure to hit Hugo who confessed, during the live TV coverage of this akuma, to killing Jock and making the building explode. The other members of the Poppy made sure to avoid Jett. They wanted to help their friend, but if they got hit they would reveal they were members of the Poppy and that couldn’t happen. Ladybug soon had Jett deakumatized and Hugo was arrested immediately, along with some other citizens who had admitted to more serious crimes. Now Jett and the rest of the Poppy were angry for a whole new reason. How dare Hawkmoth come after one of them. They were fine leaving him to Ladybug, until now. An attack on one of them was an attack on them all, and no one messed with the Gilded Poppy and got away with it.

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

That said, the Poppy knew they would need help. They knew they needed to contact Ladybug. So, they left a burner phone at the top of the Eiffel Tower, where she and Chat Noir often met during patrol. They also set up a camera pointed at the platform, so they would know when the two heroes arrived. As soon as the two heroes arrived on scene, the phone lit up with a new text message. The two heroes were confused, but looked at the phone thinking someone had lost it and maybe they could return it to its owner. But when they read the message they knew it was for them. Hi Ladybug and Chat Noir. We are the Gilded Poppy. We wish to help eliminate Hawkmoth as a threat. He has become quite a pest to us. Our only condition is that if we meet, you do not tell anyone who we are. If this is agreeable to you, meet us here same time tomorrow. -Thief Lord

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

Marinette was freaking out. She had been able to keep her composure while she talked with Chat Noir and they had agreed to at least hear the group out. But now that she is alone, she was panicking. That manner of speech from the text reminded her of someone. It reminded her of the way Nikolai spoke. And now that she thought about it, she remembered Nikolai, Remy, Vivienne, Jett, Leon, and Zoe all wearing the same pin. A golden poppy pin. Oh my god. They are the Gilded Poppy. I am friends with the Gilded Poppy. It didn’t bother Marinette, but it was certainly shocking. But she couldn’t be sure, maybe she was overthinking again. She wouldn’t be sure until she met with them tomorrow. 

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

Marinette was freaking out internally again. She and Chat Noir had just arrived at the Eiffel Tower when she heard Nikolai’s voice from behind her. “I assume since you are here, you agree to our terms and won’t turn us into the police?” Marinette did her best to curb her panic, and slip into her Ladybug personality. “Yes, we won’t turn you in. Come out here.” And then, standing before her, were all her friends. She had been right. They were the Gilded Poppy. For their part, the Gilded Poppy was also surprised. Sure they knew the two heroes were young, but they didn’t realize how young until now. They couldn’t be older than Marinette. But they pushed that aside, they had work to do.

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

Marinette quickly took charge of the meeting and brought the thieves up to speed on everything. That the source of Hawkmoth’s power was his miraculous and how once they took that from him, he wouldn’t be a threat anymore. The Poppy felt comfortable. This was right up their alley. Stealing some fancy jewelry was nothing new to them. It would be weird to return the jewels to Ladybug and not sell them, but the Poppy understood that it was too dangerous for that to happen. For the next few weeks, the Poppy put all their resources to trying to get any clues towards who Hawkmoth could be. They also continued to meet with either Ladybug or Chat Noir every other day or so to go over any information they may have found. It was one night, during one of these meetings, that Marinette made a mistake.

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

They had just finished up going over all their information. They were getting close to a suspect and the Poppy was sure they would have a name for Ladybug in the next week. As she turned to leave, Ladybug called over her shoulder “Thanks guys! See you at the bakery tomorrow.” Marinette froze as she realized what she just said. She hoped maybe they would just brush it off, but of course, the Poppy caught exactly what she had said. And it only took them about two seconds to realize what that meant. They had always thought Ladybug looked like Marinette, but convinced themselves that it was just a coincidence. But how else could they explain that comment. Remy stepped closer to Marinette, who still stood frozen on the edge of the platform in a panic. “Marinette? Is that you?” All of the Poppy was just staring at her and Marinette didn’t see a way out. So she just detransformed.

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

Needless to say, there was a lot of explaining to do that night. Marinette told them everything that had happened since she received her miraculous and all her adventures as Ladybug. The Poppy was horrified to learn that this girl that they viewed as a little sister had been fighting Hawkmoth without much help. And their rage toward Hawkmoth was renewed all over again. Now this monster had gone after another one of them. He had been making Marinette’s life hard for years now. And it was going to end soon. 

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

By the end of the week, The Poppy had used all their Underbelly resources and found a name as a suspect for Hawkmoth. Gabriel Agreste. He was the only person in Paris that had the resources and time to be Hawkmoth. They immediately told Marinette through the burner phone they had been using and the group of thieves met with Paris’ heroes. Chat Noir seemed hesitant to consider Gabriel as a suspect, but did eventually agree that it couldn’t hurt to check into the lead. Since the heroes couldn’t exactly be breaking into a random civilian’s home, it was decided that the Poppy would break into the manor that night and search for the two missing miraculous. With a description of the two jewels from Ladybug, Nikolai, Remy, Vivienne, and Jett quietly broke into the mansion and searched the place top to bottom for the jewels or any proof that Gabriel was Hawkmoth. Zoe remained at the hotel, monitoring all the security systems for the mansion as well as the camera feeds from the cameras being worn by Nikolai and Vivienne. Ladybug and Chat Noir were with her, watching the camera feeds. Leon was outside, ready to speed everyone away from the mansion at a moments notice. 

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

When the group went into Gabriel’s office, they found the hidden safe in the wall, and inside that was the Peacock miraculous. Vivienne grabbed it and put the jewel in her pocket, before continuing to feel along the wall for any other secrets. Meanwhile, Chat Noir watched in horror as Vivienne pulled the miraculous out of the safe. This at the least confirms his father is involved somehow. Then the group accidently hit the right buttons to open the secret elevator up to Hawkmoth’s lair. When the cameras being worn by Nikolai and Vivienne showed the room with all the akuma butterflies flying around, it was clear that Gabriel Agreste must be Hawkmoth. Finally, Nikolai silently entered Gabriel’s bedroom. And there, resting on his nightstand was the butterfly miraculous. Nikolai snatched it and quickly left the room, as quietly as he came. 

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

The Poppy returned to the hotel and gave the two miraculous to Ladybug. Ladybug called the police as soon as she had the miraculous. She told them that some concerned citizens had told her that they thought Gabriel Agreste was Hawkmoth. She also told them that after some investigation it was proven to be true and she had recovered the missing miraculous, making it safe for them to go arrest Gabriel. When the police arrived, they found Gabriel tearing the mansion apart, looking for his miraculous. He was arrested just in time for the morning news. Soon rumors started that the other members of the Agreste household were involved as well. Adrien, feeling he had no other choice at the time, had already revealed himself to Ladybug and accidently in front of the Poppy as well the night they recovered the miraculous. Marinette also revealed herself to him. So, knowing that Adrien wasn’t involved, Ladybug publicly announced that she had cleared Adrien of any wrong doing and that he had no idea what his father had been doing. Adrien ended up living with the Dupain-Chengs, being unofficially adopted until a more permanent situation was decided on.

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

Once everything had calmed down, Remy and Jett started joking that Marinette and Adrien should join them on a heist. Or at least, it had started as joking. Soon, the rest of the Poppy had joined in and they were completely serious. Jett would often wrap his arms around their shoulders, saying “Come on you two! You could do some amazing things for a heist. Think of the possibilities!” Of course they both immediately denied it. After all, Paris’ heroes couldn’t be involved in crime. But then Nikolai said that they could just steal back a stolen painting from another thief and return it to its rightful owners. The Poppy didn’t care about keeping whatever they stole, they just wanted to go on a heisting adventure with the two kids they viewed as their siblings. When he heard the suggestion, Adrien was excited and begged Marinette to agree. Eventually Marinette relented. The combined force of the Poppy begging and Adrien’s puppy dog eyes was too much.

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

They worked a small heist with the Poppy to steal back a painting that had been stolen from the Louvre many years ago. It didn’t take long to retrieve the painting and Ladybug and Chat Noir made sure it was returned, anonymously so as not to raise any questions about how they recovered the painting. Soon after the heist was completed, it was time for the Poppy to leave Paris for their next heist. The thieves came by the bakery to say goodbye to Tom, Sabine, Marinette, and Adrien. They never thought these four people would become so important to them, but now they couldn’t imagine their lives without them. After saying goodbye to the group and seeing them off, Marinette and Adrien went back up to Marinette’s room. When they opened the door, they saw something shining on Marinette’s desk. Sitting on her desk were two golden pins. Two golden poppy pins. The two teens smiled wide as they picked up the pins and fixed them to their shirts, happily waiting for the day they would see their friends, the Poppy, again.

[helaintoloki]

Odds and Ends

pairing: Ben Hargreeves x reader, Five Hargreeves x reader

warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of blood, death, unrequited love

notes: listen, the pairings sound odd but they make sense when you read it i promise

prompt: “There’s a time for us, it’s just not now.”

They say when you die your life flashes before your eyes; you witness the moment of your birth from an outsider’s perspective, you revisit your first steps and your first love, you remember the quiet nights of rainfall on the windows and the smell of freshly cut grass on early school morning’s. You can recall how it felt to get your heart broken for the first time and the warmth you felt wrapped in your mother’s embrace. It is quick and long all at once, like watching a movie, except everyone fails to mention what happens once the credits begin to roll. Where do you go? What do you see? What do you do?

You’d been the first to get struck by the Handler’s gunfire, a bullet flying straight through your chest and embedding itself in your heart. You died almost instantly, and despite the pure horror that struck Five at the sight of your gruesome death he could do nothing to save you as he too crumpled to the ground. It was a split second of pain, and then you were gone.

Just as you had been promised, flashes of the life you had lived pass you by with the same quick clicks of a slideshow presentation on a projector. You could see yourself nestled in your mother’s arms, the swaddle of blankets encompassing your figure shielding you from the outside world. You watched your younger self shyly display your powers to a stoic Reginald Hargreeves, seven heads curiously peeking through the crack of the door to get a look at the team’s newest edition while your mother watched on anxiously. You saw the way in which you napped upon Five’s shoulder, the rainfall pattering gently against the window as he read the pages of his favorite novel, and you relived the sadness that came over you at his disappearance. You witnessed the quiet nights of stargazing alongside Ben, experienced your first kiss again and your first time falling in love only for it to end in bloodshed and a snowy funeral with tearful apologies and guilt ridden thoughts. Everything you’d ever lived through plays out in front of you right until the final gunshot, and then everything around you goes dark. There is nothing.

You’re not sure how long you sit in the empty space where life ends and the afterlife begins, but soon enough you find yourself wandering through the doorway that suddenly presents itself to you. There are no clues as to where it might lead, but light bleeds through the cracks and beckons you to step forward before you can change your mind. You’re overwhelmed by the warmth that surrounds you the moment you step foot inside, and it takes you a moment to adjust before you can fully comprehend where you are.

The room you stand in is quiet, sunlight filtering through blinds and coating the cream colored walls in golden hues. Colorful houseplants line the shelves and photo frames fill in the empty spaces— moments from different points of time occupy the frames, stolen glances and hidden kisses and dreamy smiles. You gravitate towards the photo next to the succulent plant and gingerly pull it from the shelf: it’s a photo of you and Ben as children, and with a watery smile you bring the picture close to your chest and clutch it tightly against your heart.

“I thought you’d like it,” a voice says gently, your whole body stiffening in surprise at the sound. A single tear slides down your cheek before you can will yourself to turn around, and you nearly drop the frame at the sight before you. He’s different than you remember him, but he still has the same kind eyes and gentle smile that you missed ever so dearly. His eyes seem to sparkle at the sight of you, welling with tears as he opens his arms to you. “Hi, y/n.”

“Ben,” you whisper in a trembling voice, a choked sob escaping you as you fling yourself into his arms and hug him impossibly tight. You can feel the warmth that radiates from him almost as if he were alive, can sense the way his arms wrap themselves around your waist and squeeze you unbearably close to his chest, and you can savor the sensation of his plush lips pressing against your forehead in a tender kiss.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers, afraid that if he raises his voice any higher he’ll disrupt the peaceful quiet you find yourselves in. “I didn’t expect you so soon.”

“I didn’t either,” you admit with a weak smile. Chills crawl down your spine as you’re reminded of your own death, but you push the thoughts away in order to make room for Ben. After all these years, you’ve finally been reunited with the love of your life, and if you’re being honest you aren’t quite sure how to act. It almost doesn’t feel real, and a small part of you is afraid of waking up and finding that it was nothing but a dream. Ben pulls your attention towards him with the careful guidance of his finger underneath your chin, his reassuring features calming your nerves.

“You’re not dreaming,” he promises you. “This is real, you’re home.”

“I’m home,” you reiterate with a tearful smile before carefully cupping his face in your hands. “I’m home.”

(Five’s body tremors in time with his breathless panting as he struggles to fight against the heaviness of his eyelids. His body is warm and cold all at once with the blood that slowly pools around his figure, and he uses some of the last remaining strength he has to turn his head and look upon your body. You lie lifeless and still, hair splayed around your head like a halo and crimson red seeping through your clothing, and a shuddering breath leaves him at the sight. His first love, his only love, the one that could have been had he not gone against his father’s wishes all those years ago, is dead, and it seemed he could do nothing to stop it. Soon he would join her along with the rest of his siblings in the quiet afterlife, and so would come the final end of the Umbrella Academy.)

“I’m so sorry about what happened to you, Ben. You were so young, you didn’t deserve it, and if I had just-”

“Hey,” he interrupts gently, “it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

“But being alone for this long...”

“I’ll admit, it wasn’t exactly a walk in the park,” Ben says with a faint chuckle, “but I’m okay now, we’re okay, and I don’t have to be alone anymore.”

“I missed you,” you profess vehemently. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says with a careful smile, one that slowly begins to dwindle with time.

“Ben?” You prod gently. “What is it?”

(All Five had ever wanted was to keep you safe, whether it be from a scraped knee after a bout of rough housing with Diego or the end of the world, it was his job. You’d fallen in love with his brother in the wake of his absence, something Five could never blame you for no matter how much it hurt, and it was through Vanya’s book that he got a glimpse of the life you had lived without him. Your secret romance with the Horror, your descent into loneliness and isolation after his passing, your work as a nurse under the guise of a fake name so that you could use your gift without anyone ever associating you with the life you had lived as a child. You didn’t want it, and he’s sure you didn’t want this— to die such a horrible death at such a young age when you still had your whole life ahead of you. Five had lived long enough to see what the world had to offer, if he were to die now he’d have all the boxes checked on his list, but you and his siblings still had so much to live for and so many things left to do.

“I just want you to be careful,” your voice echoed in his mind, young and naive and apprehensive about Five’s plan to travel without Reginald’s permission. “Be smart about this, smarter than you usually are, and make sure you come back home.”

“You’re the genius who said we should jump. Right?” Luther. “You’re the one who got us stuck here.”

“Start small.” The voice of his father. “Seconds, not decades.”

Wait a minute, that’s it! By god, that’s it!)

“You can’t stay.”

“W-What? I don’t understand, what do you mean I can’t say?” You sputter, taken back by Ben’s blunt declaration. You were dead, where else could you go, what else could you do besides spend the rest of eternity with the love of your life?

“You can’t stay,” Ben repeats solemnly. “You can’t die yet, it’s not your time.”

“But I am dead! A bullet literally went through my heart, I don’t think you can exactly come back from that,” you protest anxiously.

“I can’t explain it, but trust me when I say that it isn’t time for you yet,” Ben pleads, gently taking your trembling hands in his own and giving them a soft squeeze. “You still have so much to do in life, so many great things. You’re going to get married, you’re going to settle down in a nice little house with cute little kids running around the place, and you’re going to be happy. So happy. But you can’t do that here, so you have to go.”

“Ben, please,” you beg through a sob. “Please, I want to stay here with you. Don’t make me go back, don’t make me leave you, I can’t.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Ben shushes gently as he cups your face in his hands and brushes away your falling tears. “Hey, it’s okay. Y/n, I promise you we’ll see each other again, okay? I promise.”

“But I just got you back,” you croak, and Ben can only offer you a trembling smile in return.

“There’s a time for us,” he reassures you, “it’s just not now.”

Ceaseless tears fall down your cheeks as you collapse into his arms, your hands clutching tightly at the fabric of his sweater the same way in which a small child would clutch at their favorite blanket. Ben is warm and safe, he is home, and your heart aches at the thought of having to say goodbye a second time— you could hardly handle the first. You had been inconsolable, your sobs had been gut wrenching for the rest of team, and if not for Allison urging you to eat and take care of yourself you might not have ever recovered from your grief. The universe was unfair and unkind, taking the person you loved away from you not once but twice, and despite how strong you wanted to be for Ben you couldn’t help but feel defeated.

“Will you kiss me while there’s still time left?” You snivel, holding on tightly to Ben’s wrist as he reaches up to cup your face and caress your cheek with his thumb. He smiles, sweet and tender, and pulls you close.

“I’ve waited seventeen years to kiss you again,” Ben professes, and without a second to waste he pulls you in close and presses his lips against your own in a long awaited kiss.

(Time is reversing. Five can feel the blood slowly seeping back into his body, bullet wounds seem to heal themselves and the corpses of his loved ones are beginning to reanimate as everything becomes undone. The pain is nearly gone, and it’s with a newfound determination that Five wills himself back onto his feet and travels back seconds in time to prevent their deaths, to prevent your death.)

You can feel yourself slipping away from him, you’re losing your grip, and despite how desperately you try to cling to him your touch is beginning to fade. Ben can faintly feel your lips against his own and knows that it’s time, but he holds onto you for just a little longer until he can’t feel you in his arms anymore. He pulls away with a bittersweet smile and releases you from his hold, eyes gazing at you for the last time.

“You get a second chance,” he says. “Make the most of it, and don’t worry about me. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

(With a startled gasp Five finds himself back in time just moments before your deaths. Your eyes meet his his frenzied ones and you frown, gently reaching out to him.

“Five? Is everything okay?”

He doesn’t get the chance to answer before he’s disarming the Handler of her firearm, and it’s with that single act of defiance that your death is finally reversed.)

You don’t remember your death and you don’t remember your reunion with Ben. You’re none the wiser, and Five wants to keep it that way. With the Handler dead and the threat of the Swedes gone your life is no longer in danger, and he finally feels like he can breath again.

“You okay?” Your voice sounds gently, pulling the boy back to reality. He gazes upon your figure, wisps of stray hair straying from your braid and a questioning though kind smile on your face, and a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding leaves his lips at the sight of you. You don’t return his affections and you’ll never be together, but he can live with that so long as you’re safe and sound.

“Never been better,” he replies with a closed lip smile. You catch the boy off guard by pulling him into your side and giving his shoulder a tight squeeze, an act of affection only you can get away with, and after a moment has passed you release him with a small giggle.

“Come on,” you gesture as you begin to follow Vanya and the others, “we still have work to do.”

He walks beside you in a comfortable silence, and though he doesn’t know it there’s a faint voice that echoes distantly in your mind, one you can’t place but find soothing nonetheless.

“There’s a time for us.”

And there will be, but for now you’ll just have to wait and see.

[marauders-venting]

I Know Him

pairing: wolfstar (remus x sirius)

genre: murder mystery fluff

warnings: several mentions of murder, child abuse, blood (stabbing and bullet wounds), hints at homophobia, hints at sex

words: 4447

a/n: this is a switching fandoms fic with harry potter characters in the sherlock holmes universe. In this fic remus is holmes and sirius is watson. I have kept certain aspects that i thought were important about remus and sirius’ personalities but i had to give them some of holmes and watson’s personality traits for the fic to make sense.

also just so you know I based this fic off the original sherlock holmes books only. I have never seen the tv shows or film adaptations but i’ve heard they are very different from the books.

It was a chilly Saturday afternoon and Remus and I were sitting together in an armchair by the window. He was reading a book but I simply stared absent-mindedly. At Remus, at the street outside, at the dust in our apartment catching the light. But mostly at Remus. Suddenly, I caught sight of a flurry of movement outside. A woman bundled up in scarves was running down the street looking flustered.

“Remus,” said I, as I watched the woman scan the numbers on the building and near our apartment, “if I am not very much mistaken, the very thing you have been craving for the past week is approaching right now.”

“A client, you say?” said Remus, laying down the paper. “About time!” His eyes lit up with excitement and I scrambled out of his lap just as a knock sounded on the door.

“Mr Lupin?” said Mrs Hudson, the landlady. “I have a Miss Anne Robinson here to see you.”

“Yes, yes let her in,” replied Remus impatiently. Within a few seconds, Mrs Hudson had returned, leading a friendly-looking, middle-aged woman into the living room. Miss Robinson had a cheerful face with wrinkles next to her eyes that come from smiling and yet she looked sullen and tired, as do many of the people who visit our rooms at 221B Baker Street to seek professional help from Remus.

“Pray take a seat, Miss Robinson and tell me your story,” said Remus eagerly. “I have had no other cases to occupy me for the past week and would be glad for a problem of any kind. You are a cook, I presume?” The woman looked startled.

“Why, yes, Mr Lupin,” she said. “I work as a cook for the Wright family. But how could you have known that?”

“It is of no importance, I assure you. I simply noticed the soup stain on your dress,” said Remus. I could hear the slight note of impatience in his voice. However, I doubt anyone but I could have noticed it.

“How very clever of you,” said Miss Robinson, smiling at him. Remus brushed the compliment aside with a gesture of his hand.

“Now what is the case that you have brought for me today?” he asked.

“Well, Mr Lupin,” began the woman, “just three days ago, tragedy struck the Wright family. I spoke to Dr Wright and he agreed that it would be best to bring the case to you. I should probably begin by explaining to you the history of the household. Mr and Mrs Wright were very fitting for one another; they loved each other very much. When they decided to have children, Dr Wright hoped against hope that the child would be a boy. He desperately wanted someone to carry on the family name and honour. Poor Mrs Wright died in childbirth and Dr Wright heavily mourned her loss. To add to the trouble, little Mary Wright was not the boy her father had hoped for. Regardless, he learned to love his daughter and cared for her always; I would even venture to say he spoiled her a bit too much, although she turned out to be a lovely, modest young lady. And the spitting image of her dear mother she was too! Never saw a girl resemble her mother more than Mary resembled Mrs Wright.”

Miss Robinson smiled serenely at the thought of the mother and daughter together but then, her mouth turned down at the corners and her eyes became watery. She blinked several times and shivered slightly before continuing with her narrative.

“Anyway,” she continued, her voice shaky and unstable, “this is where I come to the crime. Just three days ago, at 9:30 on Wednesday night, Mary and her fiance, Charles, were found dead in Mary’s bedroom. He was stabbed right in the heart and she was shot in the head. The police have their suspect and I must say that the evidence against him is quite startling, that is to say, it seems like a finished case. But I thought I had better come to you sir, for I have the strangest feeling that the police have got it all wrong and I always trust my instincts, Mr Lupin.”

“Who is this suspect and what evidence do the police have against him?” asked Remus.

“His name is Joseph Williams, sir. He is a servant of the Wrights. He was found bending over the body of Charles after a gunshot was heard. When the other servants arrived, myself included, and called out his name, a triumphant smile rested on his face, his eyes ablaze, alive.” Miss Robinson shuddered. “The mere thought of his face chills me to my very core. I don’t know why I believe him to be innocent, sir, he seems perfectly capable of committing so horrible a crime. He has confessed to the police to have loved Mary ever since he first laid eyes on her. This would, of course, explain why he would have killed her fiance. The police think that he killed Mary because he was angry with her for not requiting his love but he denies all claims. He says he would never have touched a hair on her head. And as for Charles, he says he would have very much liked to kill him but that he did not do anything of the kind.”

“Were the weapons for the crime found?” asked Remus.

“The gun was in plain sight, thrown on the floor right beside the two. But the knife has not been located.”

“And I suppose the crime scene has not been preserved if the crime happened three days ago?”

“No sir. They moved the bodies on Friday morning.”

“Very well,” said Remus, straightening up. “Then I shall like to interview the other servants and Dr Wright if possible.”

“I shall speak to him, Mr Lupin. Perhaps you could come around to the house tomorrow morning?”

“Yes, I think I shall,” replied Remus. “Alright then, I just have one question before you leave, Miss Robinson. What hotel was Dr Wright staying at that night and why was he out of town?”

“How the deuce did you know he was out of town?” asked Miss Robinson, her brows raised and her eyes wide.

“It was quite simple, really. You never mentioned anything about how he ran into the room and cried out at the sight of the couple’s dead body or anything about how he slept so heavily that he didn’t hear the shot. I have heard many recounts of murder and this detail is included every time without fail. And yet you left it out of your narrative. Therefore, he must have been out of town at the time.”

“Oh,” Miss Robinson chuckled, “you gave a fright there for a moment Mr Lupin. Dr Wright was staying at L'Hôtel D'Affaires as he had an early conference meeting the next day.”

“Very well,” said Remus, “We shall see you tomorrow morning, Miss Robinson. Good day.” And with that, she bustled off back into the now significantly more crowded street.

The following day Remus and I ventured out to the Wright house to investigate. Remus questioned the two other servants but the interviews were brief and nothing new was discovered.

“Now we shall question Dr Wright and then I might head to the station to hear Mr Williams’ account,” said Remus.

One might think that it ails me to watch Remus question so many people and not understand what he understands. However, I must admit that it is one of my greatest pleasures to watch Remus work through a case. He is the master of deduction but there are a few telling signs that allow for me to draw my own conclusions. I know that he is excited despite his efforts to conceal it. Perhaps he fools the rest of the world but not me. I have the expressions of his face memorised. The furrow of his brows when he collects his evidence, the twinkle in his eyes when the pieces fall into place in his brilliant mind, the bite of his lip when he’s concentrating (sometimes I wish I were the one biting his lip in his place), the curl of his lip when, once again, he manages to outwit everybody else in the room. I believe Remus is the only man I have ever met who can be both modest and proud at once. And I love him for it.

“I was devastated when I got the news Mr Lupin,” said Dr Wright, once we were all sat down in the living room. “Naturally, of course. My beloved wife has passed and now my daughter and son-in-law too. This was the order of events as I had it. I left that evening at 6:15 and checked into L'Hôtel D'Affaires at 7:30. I had an important conference meeting early the next morning, you see, and I abhor rising early. The next day, I was summoned by the police and told that Williams had been arrested for the murder of Mary and Charles. I never knew Williams had feelings for my daughter but I think that his actions were certainly a poor expression of love.” Dr Wright’s face tensed with anger and despair. He looked truly broken and empty, as though he were lost and unsure about what he could do now that everything he had loved so dearly was gone.

“With your permission, sir, I will ask you a few questions now,” said Remus. “Were the couple happy together?”

“Oh yes. My Mary loved Charles truly; I believe she would have done anything for him.”

“And how did you feel about the match?”

“I too was satisfied. I thought that the boy was a wonderful young man and that he would take good care of my girl. I looked forward to their marriage.”

“What was the boy’s family like?”

“Oh, they lived quite comfortably and were very kind people. I thought Mary would be happy to be welcomed to such a family.”

“Well sir, I am truly sorry for your loss; I think we shall quit your company for I think I know everything that can be of use to me.”

---------

“Now to the police station then?” I asked once Remus and I left the house.

“No,” said Remus, still deep in thought, “no, I think our time would be better spent at the town gossip house.”

“Two beers, please,” said Remus as we walked into the nearest pub and placed three two-pence coins on the bar. When the bartender handed us our drinks, Remus turned to me and said, “Did you hear about what happened up at the Wright house?” I was familiar with Remus’ tactics by now and knew that he was, in fact, not speaking to me at all but merely hoping to be overheard by one of the locals at the bar.

“Know ‘bout that now do you?” the bartender interrupted before I would have had a chance to reply. He turned to face us once more.

“Yes, I read about it in the paper,” said Remus casually. I have said it before but he is an incredible actor. He fools them all. All but me. I grow warm at the thought and a smile begins to spread across my face but I suppress it. Smiling now would seem odd at the very least, suspicious as most. “They arrested the man, didn’t they? The servant they suspected?”

“Sure did,” replied the bartender. “And I reckon ‘e’s the one ‘oo dun it, too. D’you think ‘e’s the one ‘oo caused all them yellin’s up in the Haunted Shack?”

“Excuse me?” said Remus in evident surprise.

“You ain’t from around ‘ere, mister, are you?”

“No, I can’t say that I am.”

“Well, there’s a shack up there next to the Wright ‘ouse, a right nasty shack I’ll give you that. Now them Wrights is livin’ in a nice house, ain’t nothin’ too grand but it’s more than modest. Right by the Wright ‘ouse there’s an ol’ shack, abandoned I reckon. Dr Wright had fenced it off but ‘e never ‘ad it torn down. Now sometimes, in the dead of night, we villagers would ‘ear someone sobbin’ up in that place. Once we even ‘eard a scream. Ghosts, that’s what everyone’ll tell you, that the place is haunted. Rumor ‘as it that the reason that Dr Wright never tore down the bloody thing is because ‘e fears them ghosts. But I think different. I say whoever been makin’ those noises up in there, that’s your man, that’s the murderer. It ain’t makin’ much sense but it’s the bloody truth I’d be prepared to swear to it.”

Suddenly, Remus drained his drink in a gulp and said, “That’s an interesting idea, but we really must get going, Sirius, if we’re going to make the next train.”

Next, we visited L'Hôtel D'Affaires where Remus made some small inquiries while I admired the hotel’s lounge and thought over our discussion with the bartender. Why on earth would Williams, the servant, sob and scream in an old, mangled shack? I had no answer but I was sure that Remus did.

Finally, we returned to Baker Street for a spot of supper and bed. We ate without exchanging a word until Remus suddenly broke the silence.

“This case is wrong, all wrong!” he exclaimed in frustration. “But I haven’t enough evidence just yet to get the man convicted. But I shall find it, I shall.” And with that, he marched up to bed. I waited to follow him up. On nights like this, I give Remus space to mull over his thoughts about the case alone before going to bed. He has never asked me to but I know he wants the time to think.

“Hello,” said I, upon entering the room later that night. Remus seemed to have been lost in thought; upon my entrance, his head turned sharply towards me. “Would you like me to leave?” I asked hesitantly.

“No, of course not, darling,” he said, his expression softening, revealing the man I know behind the great detective. “As a matter of fact, perhaps I should let my mind become distracted by other matters and return to the case in the morning. I sometimes find it easier to approach the facts at a different angle when doing that.”

“I could think of a few ways to keep your mind distracted,” I said, grinning at him.

“Can you now?” he smirked.

---------

The next day, Remus decided to go back up to the Wright house and search Mary Wright’s room, the place where the crime was committed, for evidence of his new theory. He came back with a triumphant look on his face that indicated success. That night, after a small supper, Remus asked if I wished to accompany him.

“Where would we be going?” I asked curiously.

“To bring this case to justice,” he replied simply. “Bring your revolver,” he added; even though I had not yet consented to join him, he knew I could not refuse an offer such as the one before me. Not only because of my all-consuming love for him, but because of my curiosity as well.

When we arrived at the Wright house – which was, apparently, our destination – the door was opened by Dr Wright himself.

“Mr Lupin,” he said in surprise. Without waiting for a reply, Remus stepped over the threshold and into the house; I was on his heel as always.

“I must insist that you leave,” said Dr Wright in rage. “What is this hour at which you call upon me? Surely what you want can wait until tomorrow?”

“As a matter of fact, it cannot,” said Remus. His amber eyes bore straight into the brown ones of Dr Wright as though seeing right through him. “I don’t often carry out the commands of murderers.”

“I—what—h–how dare you—?” spluttered the doctor but he had turned significantly paler.

“Would you like to tell the story or shall I tell it for you?” said Remus.

“You know everything?” asked Dr Wright, sinking into a chair.

“I do.”

“Then I may as well come out and say that I had no intention for it to go this far. I suppose it began with my wife. I loved her dearly and I wanted a son terribly. When Mary was born and my wife passed away, I was in agony. I felt as though I had lost everything that I held dear. Mary was the spitting image of my late wife; she was a constant reminder of my lost love which was both excruciatingly painful and necessary for my survival. I hadn’t the heart to kill the girl but the pain drove me to near insanity sometimes and in those moments I would drag Mary into the shack on the outskirts of this property and whip her with my riding crop. I treated her terribly though nobody knew, not even the servants.”

My hands began to shake at that. Memories of my own childhood filled my head. The whipping, the beating, the screaming. I clenched my hands into fists to mask the shaking but Remus noticed. He noticed everything. His hand twitched towards mine but I met his eyes and shook my head ever so slightly. Not now. And certainly not here. Only one arrest would be made tonight and it wouldn’t be either of us.

I forced myself back into the present, feeling a surge of anger towards the man sitting before me but I did nothing more than continue to glare at him. All these years working alongside Remus had taught me to control my temper if only a little. This man would get what he deserved. Hitting him now wouldn’t solve anything. It would make me feel a whole lot better, though. The thought crossed my mind but Remus met my eye again. He knew what I was thinking. His eyes flashed, reminding me that acting now would be unwise and reckless.

Dr Wright must have noticed the disgust and fury with which Remus and I were glaring at him, for he added defensively, “I’m not proud of it; these were certainly my lowest moments save when I… well I’ll get to that later. Anyhow, the villagers heard Mary’s sobs and started the rumour that there were ghosts living in the old shack. I encouraged the rumours, or at least I didn’t discourage them.

“Then, all of a sudden, my little Mary was announcing that she was engaged, that she was to be taken away from me; my last living link to my wife. You must understand my position gentlemen.” Dr Wright’s eyes were wide; he looked like he was pleading with Remus and me to put ourselves in his position. “On Wednesday night, I left the house at 6:30 that evening, telling everyone that I was staying the night at a hotel as I had an early conference meeting the next morning. I wasn’t lying but I wasn’t telling the full truth either. I intended to go to Charles’ house and confront him, to tell him to call off the marriage and threaten him with everything within my power. I went to Mary’s room to bid her farewell and left for Charles’. I knocked on the door but there was no reply. The door was left unlocked so I entered. I called for the man but without success. Then I saw a letter lying on the table.

“‘Dearest Charles,’ it read, ‘Father is leaving town tonight for a conference. Perhaps you would like to stay at our house for the night? All my love, Mary.’ I was infuriated. I rushed back to the house but rather than entering through the door, I climbed into Mary’s room through the window and found Charles sitting at her desk, a mischievous smile dancing on his smug face. Anger surged through me and, without thinking, I grabbed the knife I had brought with me, for caution’s sake, and stabbed him in the heart. He gave a strangled sort of scream; it was not loud enough to wake the servants but it was loud enough to cause Mary considerable alarm.

‘Charles?’ she called from the hall. ‘Is everything alright?’ And that was when my world fell apart. Mary entered the room and I stood up so violently that I pulled the knife right out. So many emotions flooded me at once and it was too much for me to handle. I pulled out my gun and shot her. I stood frozen for what felt like eternities, watching my only child fall dead to the floor from a bullet I had shot. The servant’s yelps of concern from downstairs caused me to snap out of my reverie. When I realized what I had done, I dropped the gun, pocketed the knife and scrambled back out the window. I left for L'Hôtel D'Affaires and spent the night there. The rest of the story, you already know gentlemen.” Remus’ look of disgust had not yet faded off his face. My hands had not yet stopped shaking.

“I have alerted the authorities,” said Remus, “and they are waiting for us outside. You will accompany them back to the station and await your trial in jail. If you do not come peacefully, I will use force.” Dr Wright said nothing else but followed Remus and me outside where he was arrested by the county police.

---------

“I believe I owe you an explanation, Sirius,” says Remus once we were seated once more in the comfort of our armchairs in 221B Baker Street. “And an apology. I shouldn’t have suggested that you accompany me on this specific case. Not when the details of it could… resurface unwanted memories.” I shake my head.

“It’s quite alright,” I say.

“No, it’s not,” says Remus, taking my hand in his own. “I forced you to relive your worst memories without so much as a warning, all for my peace of mind. All because I wanted you by my side. It was horribly selfish of me.”

“I would have insisted on accompanying you anyway,” I say. “I want to be by your side, my love. Now, pray tell me about your thought process. How did you solve the case?” This, perhaps, is what I enjoy most about working on cases with Remus. The moment when the case has been solved, the victims avenged, the villains confronted and punished appropriately, and only Remus and I remain, in the living room of our flat, our limbs tangled together as I watch the excitement and passion that radiates from Remus as he explains to me how his extraordinary mind saw what only he could.

“Firstly,” he begins, and already I can hear the shift in his voice. He loves his work. And he shares it with me. It is one of the things I love most about him. (I do say that quite a lot. Perhaps it is simply because I love everything about him.) “I will admit that I entered the case thinking that Williams was very likely the culprit. I consented to conduct the investigation in the case that my client’s instincts proved to be correct but I was almost entirely convinced that the investigation would be worthless. My suspicion first fell upon Dr Wright when I was interrogating him. I asked him what he thought of the match between his daughter and Charles; he said he was looking forward to their marriage. I found this most abnormal as nearly all fathers feel some sadness when their daughters leave their houses for that of another man especially when their wives have passed on. Why should this man be glad to lose his daughter? My immediate response was that he wasn’t, he was merely pretending to avoid suspicion. This, however, was hardly evidence, it was nothing more than a gut feeling.

“So we went to the town pub and learnt about the shack. I followed this by visiting L'Hôtel D'Affaires and inquiring as to the hour at which Dr Wright checked in. As you may recall, he told us that he had checked in at 7:30, an hour after his departure. But at L'Hôtel D'Affaires I was informed that Dr Wright only checked in at 10:30 on Wednesday night. By this point, my theory was formed and I was certain of its accuracy but I still needed proof. Therefore, the following morning I went to the scene of the crime and, after some rummaging about, found Mary Wright’s diary which included Charles’ reply to her letter that invited him over on that fateful night. The diary told me everything I needed to know. Then you and I went to confront Dr Wright, he was rightfully arrested and here we are now.” Remus concludes his explanation with a grim smile.

“Wonderful!” I say, applauding him for his achievement. Remus shrugs but I can see that he is attempting to hide a smile. If I could only shower him with compliments for the rest of my days to see his beautiful smile, I would do so. “You know, detective, one might find it very attractive when you make all these deductions,” I add.

“Oh?” he says, eyebrows raised. “And would this ‘one’ be you, by any chance?”

“Is that another deduction?” I tease.

“That wasn’t something I needed to deduce, love, it’s written all over your gorgeous face,” he says. Then I kiss him slowly, bringing my hand into his hair when I feel his on my waist.

“I do love you, you know,” he says, his lips still lingering on mine, refusing to pull away. “I don’t say it as often as I should but I do. The world can continue to hate it but I will never cease to love you, Sirius.”

“I know,” I reply, allowing my hand to fall and gently brush his cheek. “I love you too.” Remus blushes and I can see the man I fell in love with. Where the rest of the world sees only his brilliant mind and his icy exterior, I see beyond. I see the goodness in his heart, the emotion in his voice, the passion in his eyes, softness of his lips. I see it all and more. He shows it to me and only to me. He lets me have him. And I give him all there is of me in return. It is of this that I think when I lean in to kiss Remus again. And it is of this that I think when he kisses me back.

[bigbangclappin]

Lock

Word Count: 688

Pairing: ReaderXJackson

Genre: Drabble, smut, mafiaau! Fluff if you squint your eyeballs.

Warnings: basically smut, unprotected sex. Cursing. BamBam being himself.

A sharp gasp left your throat when your husband thrusted his hips harshly, your back arching off the bed. Jackson peppered open mouthed kisses down your neck between your breasts until he found purchase with your nipples.

“Fuck,” you groaned out as you laced your fingers through his hair, “You should take month long business trips more often…”

He made an affronted sound and smacked your thigh as he lifted your leg to wrap around his waist as he drilled in to you deeper, “Babyーare you just using me for sex?”

The chuckle you let out came out in the form of a moan, “Most definitely.”

He nipped at your neck for your cheekiness and tried to give you a kiss but you decided to tease him some more and give him your cheek, “Bǎobèi let me love you.”

He whined so cutely that you couldn’t help but give in and let him kiss you hotly. His tongue forcing yours to submit. God you had missed him more than anything. Not only did you miss the perfect intimacy only he could give you but your kids were a handful.

They definitely inherited their father’s energy and good lord could you barely keep up. You loved your babies dearly but sometimes they depleted your tank. Having Jackson back home meant the time you spent chasing your children for bath time was cut in half. They were slippery little buggers when they didn’t want to do something.

Luckily their uncle BamBam volunteered to watch them for you so that you could spend some much needed alone time with their father.

“I love you.” Jackson mumbled against your lips.

You returned his affectionate words feeling your climax near quicker and quicker. Your knees hugged his hips tightly; your nails leaving vicious red lines down his back as his thrusts gained speed.

“Fuck, GodーBamBam!” Your eyes widened when you saw the skinny man in your bedroom doorway .

Jackson slowed his ministrations to a halt; a look of offense warping his features. “Excuse me?”

You scrambled to cover you both with the blanket as you shouted at the young member who was holding your two year old son; his hand covering his eyes . Your husband finally caught on when he heard the racontorous laughter of one of his youngest members.

“Bam are you just going to stand there like the creep you are or what?” you snapped at him, your cheeks aflame in embarrassment.

“Sorry, Sorry, I thought you would have been done by the time I opened the door you know with what sounded like the finale and all.”

Your husband tsked at him in irritation, “If you weren’t holding my son I’d shoot you, now get to the point before you scar my kid.”

“We lost Cai’s favorite Pororo plushy and apparently we can’t nap without it so we were checking to see if he left it in here this morning…”

Hiding behind your husband’s broad frame you grabbed the stuffed penguin from your night stand and threw it to the otherside of the room, “Get out now will you?”

Cackling nonstop Bam began to leave closing the door behind him but not before you heard your son ask, “Why is Bàba on top of Mommy?”

When your husband heard his friend’s response he tensed before he shouted out, “He’s two you damn pervert!”

When it got quiet again you looked at Jackson gently rubbing his arms hoping to soothe his irritation, “I hope you can operate with six men because he’s dead.”

“One step ahead of you baby,” he mumbled, placing a kiss on your forehead.

He shifted slightly, his arms extending so he was hovering over you.

“Are you still hard?” you asked in disbelief.

“Don’t laugh at me (Y/n),” he groaned into your shoulder, “It’s been a month since I had you last!”

You choked out your laughter nearly in tears from the situation, “Well I bet from now on you’ll remember to lock the door.”

He grunted as he rocked his hips forward causing you to moan, “I will I promise.”

You pushed him away pointing toward the door, “Starting now!”

[gayalertcuziamhere]

Starscreams deepest, darkest desire.

Starscream. Many knew him as Megatron's annoying, cowardly, loud, selfish, femmine Second In Command and like many bots/cons, know one liked him (well except for one Vehicon) but no one really knew his story, why was he so selfish? Why did he act so spoiled and why does he push away anyone who tries to help him? Well there's an answer for that, but it's a sad one. Megatron had sent Starscream off on a 'mission' to investigate a small energon signal they had gotten from one of their abandoned mine shafts. Starscream knew that this was just a way of getting him off the ship for a while but didn't object to getting out of Megatron's shooting range while he was having one of his afternoon tantrums. 

Starscream had gotten bored of the war and what it had become, fighting Autobots, mine energon, get fraged hard in the aft by Megatron recharge and repeat. Every. Single. Day. And nothing changed, not the fragging, not the battles or the struggle for survival, it was all the same as every other day and he had grown tired of it. Starscream had been wandering the catacombs of the mine for a cycle and was about to give up and return to the nemesis for a ‘well deserved’ recharge. 

Just as he was turning to leave he heard something or someone "Starscream.... Starscream~" That voice. It was so familiar to him, but where had he heard it before, turning back to where the low husky whisper of the voice came from, he saw a faint glow at the end of the dimly lit tunnel, slowly walking towards it Starscream could feel his fear start to grow, was it the Autobots? M.E.C.H? Perhaps some Insecticons playing a stupid joke one him again. But what he found he didn't expect, it was... And Orb? But not just any Orb, it was the Orb of Galva, this artifact was extremely rare, it had been lost to the stars for eons long before the war had started both the Autobots and Decepticons searched for it but came up empty handed, who would've thought that the Orb would be included within the planet Earth's crust.

The Orb was an artifact made by Galva one of the 14th primes, no bot alive knows what had truly happened to Galva for he had died long ago, long before Starscream was even born. 

The artifact is said to give whoever touches it their deepest, darkest desires. Starscream smirked, finally he could have the upper hand on Megatron and the rest of his loyal soldiers, he could destroy the Autobots and that wretched Arcee once and for all, this could finally be he- As he reached out to touch it Starscream was blasted back by a ray of white and blue light sending him flying into the wall his vision turning black. His optics opened slowly he turned his head slowly seeing he was not in the mines any longer but rather... Vos? It couldn't be, but it was, It was Vos, his home on Cybertron, how did he get here? Vos had been destroyed during the war, hence the reason why he was one of the only seekers left; they were all nearly killed in its destruction. He turned, lifting his body off the ground and observing the room that he was so familiar with, yes everything was the same, the portraits, the decorations, the polished tiles and.. The throne.There at the end of the room sat a large glistening throne, there were multiple gems molded into the backrest all of them different types of colored gems. He stood at the start of a line of red metal leading up towards the throne. Slowly but surely Starscream walked towards it with slow steps, moving his servo up the armrest lightly not wishing to smudge it, he felt the carvings in its oar and how the cool touch of the gold colored iron filled him with so many emotions and memories of home that he had missed so dearly. Walking around it slowly recognizing ever curve every dent and placement of its design, he soon felt the urge to sit on it once again, like the many times he had done once before even if it didn't belong to him just yet, it has been eons since he last felt the familiar rims of the sealed iron of the Seeker throne. He never truly got to sit in it as a king, since Vos was destroyed before he could take his rightful place as the ruler of the Vos.

"You always liked that throne" It was that voice again. Wiping his head around, Starscream's wings and intake dropped his optics wide with disbelief. There standing at the other end of the room was a tall black mech, his wings held high behind him, his arms held against his back. He stood proudly just the way he remembered him, it truly was him.. His father. Starcry, king of the seekers and ruler of Vos. His mentor, his king, his sire was standing right in front of him, his dark red ruby optics stared back into his almost identical ones with a stern gaze, the same gaze that he always had. His black and dark grey armor stood out the most, it almost looked as if he was glowing, there were shining particles floating around him, he looked as if somebot had poured glow paint over top of him. But this couldn't be his father, he was killed when Vos fell, but if he was in the well of the allspark, then who was the mech standing in front of him 

"y-you can't be.. N-no! You're dead! You're not real! I'm just dreaming!! This isn't real!!!" Starscream cried out as if he were in pain but at this point he might as well be. He had blamed himself for his sire's death, it was his fault he was gone, if he didn't make that primus forsaken deal with Megatron he would have still been on Cybertron, in Vos with his family, with his sire.

"Starscream." The impostor stepped closer towards him, reaching his servo out to lay it gently on his shoulderplate, but was pushed violently way before he was close enough "don't touch me! You're not real! This is just a dream! Yeah that's it, just a dream, you're not real, you're just a figment of my own stupidity and guilt!" He continued to shout, living up to his name, screaming begging to wake up from this dream, or in his opinion a nightmare. "STARSCREAM!!!" he was grabbed roughly by the shoulderplates forcing him to face the bot who looked exactly like the mech who he disappointed so many eons ago "Y-your-'' Swallowing the energon that had formed in his intake he continued "yo-your not real... You can't be.." Another drop of lubricant fell down his faceplate, as the impostor wiped it away with his long talon like digits as quickly as it came "perhaps.. But that doesn't make me any less alive'' Confusion flooded him like a wave, until realization hit, that was the last thing his sire said to him before his spark was extinguished. But no one was there but himself, his sire and his twin older brothers, but they had perished as well, so than that means.. "Sire?.." The mech stared at him, before nodding slowly "s-sire!" Jumping on to his peds Starscream did two things he had never dreamt he’d do in his life. He pulled himself into his sire holding him close to his Chassis, he cried his spark out, holding him tighter not wanting him to disappear. He had hugged and cried in front of his sire, something he vowed to himself never to do. Starcry was stern and strict, he was pretty much emotionless, especially towards his own sparklings. He had always given Starscream and his trine a tough time, he showed what others called tough love, so none of his children even dared think about letting any sort of tear or emotion leave their optics in front of him.

Starcry stumbled back a bit, not expecting the sudden contact, but hesitantly returned the gesture. There was a long silence between the two besides Starscream's sobbing. It was nice and comforting, something Starscream had not felt in a long time. "I'm sorry Sire.. I'm so sorry.." Starcry shushed his youngest son, rubbing his helm gently. Starscream was about to apologize for everything he had done, for every little thing, every little mistake big or small, wanting to cry himself out to his sire but was stopped before he could "I don’t blame you Star.. You were just following your spark... Like your Carrier.." Starscream's sobs slowed down, making him hiccup slightly "This isn't really real is it? This is just a dream, isn't it?" Starcry nodded "yes.. This is a dream of sorts, but I am real" Pulling away from him, Starscream looking up towards his sire in the optics. "I-... This was what I desired most... To see you again.. To apologize and the Orb granted it" Starcry nodded again "... How much longer will this last?" Starcry was silent for a moment before turning and walking towards the balcony overlooking all of the rest of Vos, with Starscream right on his heels. "Not very long" Starscream looked up at his sire once more, he didn't want this to end, not yet, he had so much he wanted to say to him- "Starscream.." Starcry grabbed his son's clawed servo holding it tight, while his other hand went up to crease his cheek. "I am so proud of you.. Your Carrier is too and so are Thundercracker and Skywarp, we are all so proud of you and were watching over you. We always have been... We love you, I love you Starscream... So, so much" Another tear of lubricant ran down his face, he was about to say something he wished he had said to his sire a long time ago, but everything started turning black. “Si-sire? What's happening!?” Starcry pulled away looking his son in the optics, he stood back, his arms crossing behind him once more “I’m afraid our time is up Star. It was good seeing you again son, take care” Starcry turned towards the hallway on the left of the room, walking away from him. Starscream tried to follow, but was stuck in one place. “Sire! Sire, wait!!" Starcry turned his helm slightly, seeing the sad smile on his sire's faceplate confirmed that this truly was the end of what the orb would give. He saw his sire walking away from him….Then nothing.

"Wait!" Jumping up Starscream checked his surroundings, looking left and right, sadly finding himself back in the med-bay of the Nemesis.

[iamapuffhuffle]

Arrange Marriage ~Halfdan x F Reader Part 1

Authors Note: There is hardly any Halfdan fics and I fell in love with him while rewatching Vikings and I just needed to get a bit more writings about him out there =) 

Felt weird writing this, seemed too quick. Usually I write long ass stories that chapters that take weeks to write.  -Also my first fic on Tumblr woot! Very nervous about this. ~Also loosely based on actually history to fit the story...like the show. Set year after second Paris attack in that 12 year time frame.

Warnings: Swearing, age gaps, arrange marriage, sexual themes, nudity. Angst (I think) If there are any others that I missed. Please tell me and I will add them.

Part 2 | Part 3

I’ve been staring at the approaching capital of Vestfold, Tamdrup. My legs bouncing slightly from excitement to finally get off this boat or was it because I’m heading to a new place that I’ve never been. Could be both. 

Looking to the man that stood on the edge of the boat. Up at my soon to be husband, while he told his men to raise the sail.

 He stepped down from the ledge and back inside the floating device. He headed over to the back of the boat were I was and sat down next to his first wife, Aesa, bringing her into a heavy kiss. Her dirty blonde hair wipes through the crisp morning winds. 

I advert my eyes while my nose scrunched.  

Leif Otryggsson turning around to face me, his older face held a grinning expression, “I am thrilled that we made it and with more than enough time before we are to be married. Right Y/N?” 

I look into his eyes and smiled slightly. His dark green eyes burned into mine until his gaze went back to Tamdrup. I’ve immediately dropped my smile. 

Our boat and the three others that followed us, pulled next to the wooden dock. Quickly thralls and Vikings dispersed and got off the boat.

Leif hopped of the boat. He looked as if to take in the moment and the scenery.  Coming back to reality, Leif helped Aesa off the boat, then he held out his hand to pulled me up. I noticed that I was the last one to get off. I stood up looking at Leif’s outwards hand, placing my smaller one into his rough one. He pulled me onto the wooden dock.

We walked forwarded over what to be fish guts and I step on the dirt of Tamdrup for the first time. My eyes focus on the cloudless blue sky that watched over us.

Why are I here? Right, being one of my father’s many children. I am the 12th child out of 16. Eight daughters and eight sons. My father is Earl Ragnvald of Nordmøre and he had 6 wives. My mother dead 3 winters ago due a sickness. I loved my mother dearly but it helped the grieving process a lot that my father’s other wives treated me like their own daughter. 

Father made a decision to create a closer alliance with Earl Leif. He decided to allow Leif to choose which one of us to marry. He had 5 to choose from, me being the youngest. Which he choose me, mostly because I was the only virgin. My sisters had experience in pleasing men and he decided to choose me. 

Vikings usually do not care for saving until marriage, but I never felt a need to have sex with anyone. A few warriors have tried but I declined all of them. Probably because I did not feel anything for them. 

I certainly do not feel anything for Earl Leif either. His light red hair that grew down his middle of his back. He held it back with a ponytail. A small braid on along his right check. His red beard was kept short but also a bit messy. His features looked like any other Viking, but maybe I can grow to love Leif Otryggsson. 

Leif wanted us to be married where he first married his first wife. On  a hill just outside Tamdrup. He says the gods will bless our marriage like they blessed Aesa and his marriage for many years. 

I heard a deep rough voice shouting a welcome to us. I blink to see Harald Finehair, as Leif said that he are close ally to Harald, who he self deems a King. He places his hand onto Leif shoulder. Greeting us to his capital and asking why Earl Leif was present.

Leif begins, “I only came to marry,” He gestures to me, “Y/N, daughter of Earl Ragnvald.” 

 Harald smiles, his rough voice erupts, “Welcome! My kingdom is small but doesn’t mean our feasts are. Come, follow.” 

Thralls follow right behind me. And Edda, a friend since I was young and a skilled shieldmaiden. Edda wanted to come along and stay with me. Earl Leif was hesitant at first but agreed to my request to allow her to come.

Edda was a taller than the average Viking woman, wavy, dirty blonde hair, pulled back in tight braid while her right side was cleanly shaved. Her sharp green eyes could cut anyone just by her glaring at them. She was well trained.

 As for me I can hold a sword, but I do not trust my talents with a weapon, I think I could never hold my own in a battle.  Edda always helped me with training, but I never consider myself a shieldmaiden 

We walked through a market place when Leif asked a question about where Harald’s brother was. 

 “Halfdan will be returning shortly. He has been scouting Rogaland.” 

“Rogaland?”

“One step closer for me to become king of all Norway, Earl Leif.”

King of all Norway is a great ambition. When travelling here Leif told me about Harald and his dream. Leif believes Harald Finehair will never become king. Leif just plays and tricks to be on the best side. Flipping sides when needed. But Leif is on Harald’s side until we head back to King Svein’s territory. 

We stopped in front of a few cottages. Harald states that they are empty allowing us stay while we are here. I thanked Harald as thralls brought our items inside. 

The day quickly becomes night, with that the feast begins. Me and Edda walk into the loud and cheerful hall. We both stand in the doorway as we glance around the hall to taken in the sights.

I felt the warmth surrounding me from the chilly summer’s night. The songs that were happily sung by the drunk folk. That included King Harald, his rough voice could be heard through the chaos. I see Leif and Aesa sitting together eating like everyone else. 

Edda pushes me towards the table. “Go. Sit down next to your soon to be husband.” 

I look back at her. Biting the inside of my check nervously.  

Edda rolled her eyes, “I know you weren’t until some else made you y/n.” 

I watched as Edda turns to a close by group of warriors and begun to speak to a few men.  

Taking a deep breathe and heading over to the center of the room. Sitting down on the bench on Leif’s right side, while Aesa was on his left. Being the closest to Harald’s throne. 

He sat drinking his mead while still trying to sing. Harald’s singing died out and he soon he raised his cup high, “To our guest! Even though I do not have my queen yet. The gods have blessed you with another wife, Earl Leif. Skol!”

Everyone lightly lifted their cups towards Harald and shouted ‘Skol’ with him and with that the chaos began again. 

I took a slightly sip letting the mead slide down. Leif leaned in towards me. He been drinking many cups tonight, it sent shivers down my spine and my stomach felt uneasy. He continued to mutter into my shoulder. Luckily he was speaking softly and how loud the room was, it turned to words in the wind that didn’t reach my ear. Leif went back to playing with Aesa’s blonde messy ponytail.  

Feeling less confined, I sigh heavily, II felt a hand on my shoulder, I jumped slightly out of my seat. Turning to see Edda, I relaxed. Edda leans down and whispers, “Eat Y/N, you’ll feel better. You look ill, your face is becoming pale.” 

I nod to her as I picked up a few slices of bread, stuffing my face, “Happy.” 

“Yes.” Edda chuckles as she patted my shoulder before leaving me alone again. I swallow what’s in my mouth. I picked at the bread and just took smaller bites. 

A short time has passed by and while I watched the others in their own amusements. A group of Vikings come from outside, bringing a cold draft in with them. There was about 15 Vikings and Shield Maidens looking around before dispersing in all directions. 

The Viking that lead the pack into the mead hall stayed in in the middle. Harald removed himself from a group and lifts his arms up happily. Harald shouts, “Brother, back so soon!” Harald places his arm around the Viking that once stood in front of the pack. The room shouted a greeting. 

My eyes followed the new Viking male. His short, dirty, blonde hair contrasted his brother’s long brown hair. I also notice that he also has many facial tattoos. That must be Halfdan the Black and both of them are heading this way. 

I’m trying not to stare but I felt like I had to take in his appearance closer than others I’ve met. It’s a different feeling that I’ve felt before. I watched them approaching the end of the table.

Once Leif left his attention off Aesa, he saw Halfdan. He jumped up off the bench, “Halfdan good to see you after all these years.” They grip their lower arms. 

“Yeah, too many years Earl Leif.” Halfdan spoke. His eyes went around the three of us. When our eyes meet, I felt my face getting warm. 

Leif gestured with his hand, “This is my first wife Aesa, It been years, you probably do not remember her, Halfdan.”

“Aesa, it’s good to see you again. You throw an axe at me.”

“It’s so good to see you too Halfdan. Too bad that I missed.” Aesa smirked. 

Leif interrupted his wife, “And this the daughter of Earl Ragnvald and my soon to be second wife, Y/N.”

I am kind of taken back. When our eyes meet, my body felt different. Different when Leif’s and mine eyes meet. This feels true strange.

Harald breaks our eye contact, “When are you both to be married. Should marry her soon Leif.”

“The gods will favor our marriage if we have it during the same moon me and Aesa were married.” Leif says, “In 2 full moons. Just before the summer end.”

My stomach turns again. It feels too soon. I allowed my head to drop before  taking my cup and gulping it down. Knowing it’s mead, it could be a long night of displeasurement. I was now the only one left at the table with Leif went to competed with the other Vikings. While Aesa left the table and is happily speaking to other woman, while I ate bread and drinking too much.

I noticed that Harald and Halfdan do not have wives. Strange they seem to be very popular with woman. I feel like there is history with Halfdan and Aesa, didn’t seem to end well.

After some time has passed, and I drank my weight in mead. I could feel it taking over my actions because I can not stay still. Feeling a bit wobbly as I try to find Edda through the crowds of people. I don’t usually drink this much. 

Finally finding Edda sitting with a few men. One of them is whispering something into her ear. “Sorry to interrupt.” 

Edda whispered something else to his, before standing and headed next to me. “You are fine. I watched you attempting to walk to me.  Let’s get your drunk ass to bed.” 

“I have to tell Leif before heading out.” Edda grabs my forearm bringing through the crowd and to Leif. 

I looked at Leif’s watching us as we approach him. “Earl Leif, I’m going to go head to bed.” 

“I’ll head back with you.”

“No, please continue to enjoy the feast.” 

Leif nods to me and I headed out of the hall. I bring my furs a bit closer to my skin hoping to stop the chill. 

After a short walk, we entered the lodge. We were greeted by the thralls. 

I want to take a bath to try to ease this feeling of displeasure. I asked the thralls to put a bath together. 

“The feast was interesting, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. You seem to have your fun.” I grinned at her. “I was my fault you were taken away from that handsome Viking.”

Edda sat on a chair, she leaned and smirked. “We are going to be here for a while, I have time.”

I sat on the opposite seat of my friend. I started to pick at the wooden table. “What is wrong y/n.”

 “I do not want to be married.”

Edda heavily breathed outwards in agreement. “I understand how you feel. You’ve been my friend for years. You’ve want to save yourself for the one. Which I think is fucking stupid. But that’s me. I fucked many Vikings because it’s what I desire. Y/n, what do you desire?”

I took a moment to think of an answer. What do I even desire. Yes I would love to lie with a man once and a while, but not knowing anything about them is... not what I want. “It changes Edda, I want to love. I am going to be a second wife. Just a new addition. I seen my father wives. My mother never got any attention, yes she loved him, but he loved the others more. That is what I my fear is. The person who says they love me then just go fucks someone else.” I breathe sharply inwards. I rub the side of my heads. 

“Maybe the gods will see you in this struggle and rewards you for your pain. They will...I know it. And look your bath is ready so go in and relax. I’m going to check the surrounding.”

I nod to her. I stood in front of the wooden tub. I thank the thrall and ask her to leave. She quickly leaves as I completely undress. Setting in and sit down in the hot water. It feels great as I roll my my shoulders. I sink more back in the water. After about few moments. Earl Leif comes in. He grins. 

“I am taking a bath Earl Leif, sorry that I can’t rise to great you.”

“Nonsense. Rise, we are to be married. You should not be shy about you own naked body. I will be seeing it a lot of after we are married.” 

I don’t like the sound of that. Make it seem that my body is a just a prize to be won. Sighing quietly to myself. I dig my nails into the side of the tub before I push myself to stand, greeting Leif. 

Leif walks more into the room and in front of tub. He stops me from sitting back into the tub. He gripes my forearms keeping me upwards. He brushes my hair away from off my skin, “Gods. You are beautiful.” His right hand traces along my collarbone and down my arm. 

My breathe hitches. I frown but he does not notice because his only focus is looking at my wet naked body. My body shivers from the cold air.

Leif smiles and his hand continues by going right under my breasts. I shiver and bite my lip not wanting to make any sounds to make him continue this show. Leif lets go of me and turns away. Allowing me to reemerge under the warm water.  

“I want to fuck you right now” Leif takes a deep inhale of my soaked hair. “But that will have to wait. I’ll leave you in Edda’s care as I go back to Aesa and the feast.”

I weakly nod and stare as Leif walks out of the room. 

After Leif leaves, I sat down once again. I am so happy that Leif is waiting until our wedding night as he thinks it will give him more luck. While Vikings usually embrace sex. If the gods favor me more...maybe, Leif will fall sick and die. 

Leaning my head back until my whole head went under. I just need to think. To empty my thoughts. But not a moment after, I am pulled back to the air above. 

I rub the water away from my eyes to see Edda. She let go on my hair. Her frown deepened, “Was worried that you was trying to drown yourself.”

I shook my head, “I wanted to see if the gods had a message to tell me. Are they putting me through a test. I wanted to see a sign. To see if this is my true fate.” 

[celosiaa]

let me be your shelter

CHRISTMAS FIC CHRISTMAS FIC!! Chapter one is here--many many days after I intended it to be up. It’s not exactly what I want it to be. But I hope you’ll find it enjoyable all the same. Chapter two is coming, I promise :)

“Come on, dads!!”

Calling from far ahead of them, Emma races through the snow, braids flying behind her in the bitter cold wind. Not that she seems to mind—according to the past week of dancing around the kitchen, marking the days off with big red x’s on their wall calendar, and reminding her dads over and over again that this Friday is the day—this was set to be the best day of her twelve-year-old life yet.

“Come on!”

“Just slow down a moment, Em!” Jon calls with a laugh, brushing a wayward curl out of his eyes. “You’re missing a lot of good ones!”

It’s true—she had, in fact, been flying so quickly past the rows and rows of Christmas trees, ripe for the cutting, barely brushing past on her search to find just the right one. That of course, Martin had to remind her could only be so tall, could only be so wide if it were to fit in their flat. And naturally, it didn’t seem she was going to listen.

“I want to find the biggest one!”

“I know, habibti,” Jon calls back. “But remember what Dad said, right? Martin?”

At the sound of his name, his eyes snap to Jon’s, brows lifted as if slightly alarmed.

“What I—said?”

“About the tree, darling,” Jon mutters, slipping his double-gloved hand around Martin’s bare one, grounding him.

This time of year was always difficult for him—the darkening of the sky casting long shadows over his thoughts, which already fill with fog far more often than makes Jon comfortable. Even if he does have a sun lamp at home, something to drive it away for a bit—it has been abundantly clear that the past week especially has been a struggle. Today, however, things had seemed a bit lighter—or at least, so Jon had thought.

“Oh—right. Right, darling, we’ve got to get just a medium-sized one, yeah? Otherwise it won’t stand up straight!” he says, a ghost of a smile playing across his wind-flushed face.

“Ugghh, fine,” she laments, rolling her eyes as far as they will go and widening the gap between them in frustration.

“Is it storming up there, love?” Jon asks quietly, squeezing his hand and trying to catch his gaze with his own.

At the familiar metaphor, Martin obliges—smile drawn up so his cheeks just touch the edges of his glasses, hiding the deep bags that had only just begun to fade from the depressive episode of the past weeks.

“Just overcast, is all. I’m fine,” he assures, squeezing back—and Jon raises an eyebrow in question, doubtful of Martin’s definition of “fine.”

“No, really, I am,” he laughs, bending down to press a quick kiss to the top of Jon’s head. “Promise. Thank you for checking.”

Supposing that would have to do for now, Jon decides to let the matter go—looping his arm through Martin’s as they keep walking down the snow-dusted path.

“Alright,” he whispers, brushing his lips against Martin’s shoulder. “Let me know if the weather turns.”

“I will. Don’t worry, love.”

Of course I will. Always.

“Here! I’ve got one!”

Shouting excitedly from up ahead, Emma waves her gloved hands around in the air, before diving right into the branches to hug the trunk of the tree that was, objectively, the best of the lot. This pulls a true, gorgeous bit of laughter from Martin—the first time Jon has heard it in weeks.

To Jon, there could not be a single thing more lovely.

“That’s a good one, Em,” Jon praises as they reach her, trying very hard not to think about all the sap likely to stick in her newly-plaited hair. “What do you think, Dad?”

“Hmm…”

Feigning a moment of deep consideration earns him an intense doe-eyed, pleading look from his daughter, silently begging. As if he could truly refuse her.

“Well, by my calculations,” he says, winking a bit at his husband, who rolls his eyes fondly. “That should do just wonderfully.”

“YES!!!” Emma shouts, immediately releasing her hold on the tree and wrapping her sap-laden arms around them both. “Thank you thank you THANK YOU!!”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

It’s the first time the fog has truly cleared from Martin’s eyes in month, and Jon smiles—choosing to cherish it dearly.

—

“Little bit to the left, habibi.”

“Aw, Boss, I didn’t know we were on that level!” Tim grins, helping Martin to straighten out the tree in the corner of their flat. “Should have said something sooner, habibi.”

“Shut it, Tim.”

The winning smile he flashes Jon at his coveted prize—a bit of exasperation from him—sends a pang of warmth spreading through Jon’s chest. Even if it’s been so many years now since…everything, he still feels so lucky to be on the receiving end of Tim’s smiles again. And a bit undeserving, if he’s honest. They’ve talked about it, of course—many times, in fact—but Jon has long since been forced to accept that things will never be quite like they were before.

Though that does mean that things have the potential to be better, and for that…for that, Jon is grateful.

“Could we focus please?” Martin pants a bit irritably, as he bears the brunt of the tree’s weight. “I’d rather not be squashed by this thing.”

“Sorry, Marto! Left it is then, habibi.”

“Stop it.”

“Never.”

—

A few hours later finds them settled around a lovely fire, steaming cups of tea in their hands, courtesy of Martin. Sasha has joined them now as well, curled up with Tim on an armchair with Emma sitting at their feet. Beside him on the sofa sits Martin, his arm wrapped lightly around his shoulders—and as he’s done every holiday since the rebirth of the world, Jon finds himself pondering the fact that he never would have thought this possible. Certainly not for him, for any of them, really. They should, all of them, be dead. Or worse. And yet—and yet. Here they are, making amends. Making their home together.

A family.

“Em, you would not believe the kinds of things your Baba and I used to get up to,” Tim grins, the bit of wine he’s had over the course of the evening painting his cheeks rosy. “Before he became my boring boss, that is. He’s absolutely mad.”

“Tim—“

“You hush,” he bellows, still laughing. “Emma deserves to know about the time we got trapped in that apartment complex, do you remember?”

“You’ve just told me to hush.”

“Hush, Jon, I’m telling a story!”

Rolling his eyes, Jon picks up his own glass again, taking the opportunity to sneak a glance at Martin in the meantime—pleased to see the bit of ruddiness masking the lightest of his freckles, a whisper of a smile planted on his face as he listens to the conversation. Nothing cloudy in his eyes, no fog—just Martin, his Martin. And in Jon’s opinion, that more than warrants the small kiss he presses into the line of his jaw, just beneath his ear.

“Hmm, what’s that for, darling?” Martin asks, turning towards him.

“Oh, nothing,” Jon hums against him,  “Just you. Just this.”

“Well, you won’t hear me complain.”

“Eww, dads!!”

Alas, they’d been caught—a disapproving Emma wrinkles her nose at them from her spot on the floor, Tim and Sasha muffling their giggles behind her.

“Sorry Em, sorry,” Martin laughs, untangling himself a bit from Jon and reaching for his own glass of wine. “Have to forgive us old and gross people.”

“You don’t have to be gross just because you’re old!” she insists, pointing a finger back at her aunt and uncle behind her. “Uncle Tim and Auntie Sasha are old too, but they’re not gross!”

“Hey!!”

Sasha’s look of incredulousness is enough to set Jon into fits—but something seems to catch a bit in his chest as he does, a vise clamping down over his ribcage.

Damn it damn it

His next inhale brings him no relief, merely tightening the grip, everything in his chest folding in on itself as he finds himself in the throes of once again gasping for air. Distantly, he rather thinks the wheezing sound of his breath to be embarrassing—but there is little on which he can focus other than keeping his vision from narrowing, narrowing.

“Jon?”

“M-Mar—”

“Are you panicking, love?”

Air air need air

“Can’t—”

He’s cut off by the closeness of his own airways sending out his breath with a fit of coughing, harsh and painful and—well, there goes his vision again.

“Here, Jon, your inhaler’s right here—”

Air air need air

Can’t breathe

Wrapping a shaking hand around Martin’s, Jon takes as deep of an inhale of the medicine as he can, holding holding holding his breath until it hurts, before letting it out—begging everything not to close again before he can get something up to his starving brain.

“Take it again, Jon. One more, come on.”

It comes just a bit easier this time, the gasping just a bit deepened, letting him pull it deeper into his lungs, opening everything enough to start his vision returning to him again. Even so, it takes a few minutes of just breathing, the room around him uncomfortably silent, save for the fading whistle of his chest, before he can even think about picking up his head again from where he’s braced it against his arms.

“—alright? You with us?”

“Sor—sorry,” he pants, still a bit breathless, shaky, heart racing uncomfortably as it always does. “Dunno—what happened.”

“Alright, Baba?”

Emma rests her hand gently atop his knee, looking quickly between himself and Martin. Lord knows he’s scared them enough times; caused them enough anxiety over his health that the guilt weighs so unbearably heavy on him in moments like this. When his daughter has to be his comfort. When he knows it ought to be the other way around.

Burden burden terrible father burden burden—

“Sorry—ha—Em,” he gasps, offering her a tight smile and a nod. The best he can do for now. “Fine—m’fine.”

“Was it something I did?” an unusually quiet Tim asks from across the room, hesitant to even draw his attention.

Damn it damn it

Of course I’ve got to screw things up again.

When Tim had first reentered their lives, they had found it difficult to process on both sides—the grief and anger and distrust layered up with trauma had proven to be a difficult thing to break down. Unhelped by the panic rising unbidden in Jon’s throat every time Tim had raised his voice, even with friendly teasing at first. Though he would never say, Jon knows how deeply this had wounded his friend—and Jon could certainly understand how upsetting it is for your own voice to become another’s nightmare.

They’d worked on it, just like everything else. Nothing of the kind of panic Jon once felt upon hearing an increase in volume has happened in years at this point, but still—still, Tim is afraid. Afraid of how fragile, how stupid, how unforgiving—

“N-no, no. Promise—not you,” he is quick to assure, snapping his head up to meet Tim’s eyes at once, desperate for his trust in this. “Not you.”

The quiet grief in the darkness of Tim’s eyes betrays his doubt.

“Why don’t you stay here and recover while I finish up with the cooking, love?” Martin offers, already rising to do just that.

“Oh—no, Martin—“

He’s tired he’s tired he’s already tired and spent and still recovering

You make everything worse

“It’s alright,” he smiles down at him, still lined with well-hidden exhaustion. “I’ve got it. Just take a minute, okay?”

“I’ll help,” Tim offers at once, following him into the kitchen. To get out of his sight, just in case he was making things worse after all. Just in case Jon was lying.

Damn it damn it

“Incoming!!”

From behind him, Emma’s voice rings out—and the cat is dropped unceremoniously into his lap, giving a soft mrrow of indignation at such treatment. As soon as Jon gives a small smile and a laugh, however, the Duquessa (for she must be properly titled) begins to purr at once, kneading his thigh a bit before draping herself across his lap.

“There you are, Jon—you’re healed!” chuckles Sasha as she stands, coming to sit beside him on the sofa.

“Quite.”

—

“Alright, love?”

Words a bit muffled by the toothbrush in his mouth, Martin gazes down at him with furrowed brows where Jon sits on their bed, lost as usual in the thickest, driest biography Martin has ever seen.

“Mmm.”

“Jon.”

“Hmm?”

His attention is caught at last, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the hungrily-devoured words and toward his husband—hair a mess, in just boxers and a t-shirt, a bit of toothpaste splodged around the corners of his mouth.

“Sorry—sorry, what did you say?” he asks, unable to hide a fond smile as Martin rolls his eyes, turning around to rinse out his mouth and set down his toothbrush. When he’s finished, he meets Jon’s questioning look with a smiling shake of the head—before pulling Jon in to melt into his side, pressing a kiss against his hairline.

“I asked if you were alright,” he repeats, letting his lips linger longer atop Jon’s forehead this time. “You’ve been sniffly.”

“Have I?”

“You hadn’t noticed?”

“Not particularly.”

It is the truth, although a bit masked—if he is, indeed, sniffly, it seems likely to have contributed to his lingering shortness of breath that evening. Not that he had found it especially necessary to mention this to Martin. No reason to worry him needlessly, after all.

When Martin fetches him the box of tissues from the living room, however, he finds himself grateful. Something certainly seems to have built up in his sinuses, and though eased a bit by his ministrations, it seems to be something of which he cannot entirely rid himself.

“Aw, darling,” Martin tuts with concern, pressing the back of his hand against Jon’s forehead, just to check again. “Are you getting ill?”

No no no no

Can’t be ill

Can’t worry him

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” he assures, offering Martin a bit of a puffy-eyed smile. “Probably just from being out in the cold.”

“Hmm.” Worrying at his lower lip, Martin sweeps his eyes briefly over the rest of Jon’s body. “What about your joints? Are you alright?”

“Yes, Martin,” Jon chuckles, rolling his eyes and fondly pressing a kiss against his husbands’ cheek. “No need to fuss, love. You need to get some rest.”

“Fussing is my specialty, though.”

“Don’t I know it.”

A small, lopsided smile spreads across his face—and Jon finds himself flushing at the gentleness of it.

Gorgeous.

“Alright,” Martin murmurs, tenderly tilting Jon’s chin upwards and into a kiss. “I’ll quit fussing, then. If I must.”

“You absolutely must. Or we’ll never get to sleep.”

“I’ll do my best, habibi.”

—

Click.

At the soft noise, Jon bolts awake, heart already pounding—from the shock of being startled awake, or POTS, he could not be sure. Perhaps both.

All he knows is that his heart is racing, and Martin is gone, and he can’t breathe.

Fuck fuck fuck

His lungs are at once too full and desperately empty—useless, vision tunneling as he pants into the darkness, reaching out blindly for his inhaler on the nightstand. Shaky, he nearly loses his hold on it twice before bringing it to his lips, forcing as much air out as he can before drawing a shallow breath of the medicine. But he cannot hold it, cannot keep it in long enough for it to work.

Help. He needs help.

He needs Martin.

“M—ha—Mar—“

He cannot choke out the words, not around the closing up of his throat, forcing him to cough without air. Without the ability to breathe back in. Dizzy, dizzy, can’t breathe, breathe breathe help Martin—

“Jon—oh, shit shit shit!”

Distantly, he hears the sound of running feet retreating from the bedroom and back down the hall—but his vision is starting to grey out, heart pounding out of his chest, and all he can focus on is don’t pass out don’t pass out don’t pass out.

“Alright, here, here—I got the nebulizer, shit. Christ, Jon.”

He loses time for a few minutes. Nothing remains in his memory but a swirling, spinning picture of the room around him, the feeling of something being placed over his mouth and nose. And when he comes fully back around, it’s to the feeling of Martin’s strong arms bracing him forward, keeping his airways as open as possible while the medicine has been allowed to work. To Martin’s shadowed face, bruises ever-deepening beneath his eyes.

Jon does not need the full powers of the Beholding anymore to know that Martin has once again gone without sleep.

“M—sorry—“

“Hush, Jon, just hush,” Martin reassures, rubbing his back when the coughing starts up again, nearly hard enough to vomit.

He won’t be trying to speak again any time soon.

“You’re alright, I’m here.”

As the minutes pass, the breaths come more easily, returning Jon’s awareness more fully. Now that his vision is no longer swirling, he takes stock of the pulse ox clipped on his finger, Martin’s eyes anxiously watching it, the mobile grasped tightly in one shaking hand, ready to call 999 at any moment.

“Martin—“

“Hush, Jon.”

“M’sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for, love.”

But there is, isn’t there? Worry, worry, always worry over him. Deepening his husband’s exhaustion, burden, anxiety.

It seems to be his lot in life to make things worse.

“Doing any better?” Martin asks as the wheezing fades from his exhales, though he wouldn’t dare remove the mask for a few more minutes at least.

“Better,” Jon whispers. “Dunno—what happened.”

“It’s been a while since you’ve woken up like this,” Martin worries, brushing a stray lock of hair out of Jon’s eyes and tucking it behind his ear. “Thought we were managing a little better lately.”

“So did—I.”

With a long, concerned sigh, Martin shifts to sit just slightly behind him, pulling him back to lean against his chest. For once—for once—the warmth and comfort of it all outweighs the guilt of its necessity.

“We’ll figure it out,” Martin assures, the slight tremor of his voice belying his uncertainty. “We’ll get it sorted, love.”

“M’sorry.”

“Shh. Just be still, Jon. Just be still.”

Though neither of them may be able to sleep that night— there is a certain rest to be found in just holding each other. And for now—for now, that is enough.

[crystalirises]

Everything for Nothing

Hi FwT :)

I missed you :)

But anyway... have this fic... 

Archive link (the fic is also on this post):

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28886223/chapters/71511123#workskin

TW: Major Character Death

Dream gazed at the ruins of New L’Manburg, water trickling past the rocks and pebbles that decorated the crater of a nation that will never win. He could hear their screams in the distance, the fruitless arguments for a war that’s already won. Dream didn’t understand why they tried so hard to fight for nothing, really. With his mask concealing the smirk on his face, he skipped and danced through the remains, waving to the survivors that glared or screamed at him as if he were a demon borne from The Nether. He relished in that, soon they’d understand why he’d done this. For now, he had to play the role of the tyrannical god, the man who takes and takes until that’s left is the memory of broken dreams and discs. He came to a stop, perching on top of a rock that gave him a clear glimpse of the area. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel some semblance of giddiness, of amusement at the thought of everything they loved… gone. Just. Like. That.

He chuckled beneath his breath, turning to see a familiar yellow sweater amongst the grey and black of the rocks. Ghostbur. The most pitiful of them all, really. To be dead yet remain to suffer.

Dream slid down, pebbles skittering past his feet as he landed a few feet beside the ghost. Perhaps the landscape of destruction would bring the real Wilbur back, not this husk of sorrow.

The ghost flitted about, hand wringing in front of him as a trail of phantom blood poured from the fatal wound in his chest. His eyes were the size of pinpricks, his form flickering in and out of view as though he were returning to the afterlife and merely holding onto the physical realm. Dream watched it all with a morbid curiosity, a faint smile on his face as the ghost finally settled to a jarring stop, peering down at a crater in the ground. Dream glanced at the reddening sky, the sun disappearing in the distance as a hint of night began to take over. There was nothing left here. Not for him, and certainly not for the L’Manburgians. He shook his head, turning to leave.

A bloodcurdling scream tore through the silence, too guttural to be human and too close to be anyone else but一 Dream turned on his heels, coming to a stop beside Ghostbur who had fallen into hysterics. Trails of blue seeped from the ghost’s fingertips, staining the bottom of the crater with their hue as Ghostbur tried to keep his fractured mind together. Dream would have laughed… if he hadn’t noticed the blood - actual blood puddling beneath a familiar body. He felt his heart stutter to a stop, the wind knocked from his lungs as the world turned to static. The shrieking fell away, everything fell away as Dream’s gaze turned to fix itself on dirt-stained ginger hair. His hands began to shake, his own horror rising in his throat as he jumped into the crater, begging the gods that he would be wrong in his assumption. There’s no way… There’s no fucking way. He felt sick, slipping against the freshly stained blood on the ground. Please, no一

Fundy’s skin was cold to the touch, his eyes staring forlornly into the sky… dead to the world. Wounds littered every part of him, one of his legs covered in bruises and disgustingly bent out of shape. His clothes were torn and singed, the hat he used to proudly wear gone as if he had lost it at some point . Dream held onto the fox hybrid’s shoulders, horrified by the soft and contented smile on his beloved’s face. It terrified him more than Fundy’s current state. He died… happy?

“S-star?” He pressed a hand against that too still cheek, spots of dried tears still visible against Fundy’s deadly pale skin. Dream felt a shaky breath escape his throat, a choked sound as he scrambled to tear away his porcelain mask. He could faintly hear the soft crunch of footsteps from above, his cries harmonizing with the ongoing wail of a heartbroken father. “Fundy一 You can’t be… I’M RIGHT HERE! LOOK AT ME! YOU CAN’T DIE LIKE THIS! Fundy… star...”

It wasn’t meant to be like this. Fundy had two lives, where did he一 Dream gripped his husband’s (gods, did he have the right to call him that?) body closer, sobs wracking through him as rage filled his mind. Fundy had two lives. He did, Dream had checked everyday... except for these past few days where he had been occupied in preparing for New L’Manburg’s destruction.

Dream felt the chill of rain against his back, the falling of night basking the land in darkness. He could wait. For now, he grieves. Dream buried his face into Fundy’s chest, the heart he’d once so cared for dearly, silenced. Its melody never to play again. He hated that damned smile on his star’s face, that acceptance of death as if he didn’t care for those he’d leave behind. Dream pressed a kiss against the fox hybrid’s cold lips, what once was sweet now tasted of poison and regret. “Don’t leave me. I never even got to say goodbye. Never told you how much I loved一”

Their marriage had been strained, they both knew that ever since Dream had told the world that he cared for nothing but some child’s discs. Dream pressed a kiss against Fundy’s matted ginger curls, their shine gone as if Death chose to take everything that Dream adored. Their relationship wouldn’t die with Fundy, it died a long time ago when Dream chose power over love.

“I remember our wedding. You looked so lovely that I forgot my own wedding vows.” Dream stared into those dull gold-speckled brown eyes, “You were so nervous, twitchy and scared…”

Fundy had held his breath then when all Dream could muster was a short vow of his love, not knowing that Dream had lost himself in the memories they shared. It hadn’t been fair to cut it short, hadn’t been right to sound so hesitant when Dream had spent the previous night tossing and turning in anticipation of their marriage. “I should have told you how much I loved you.”

Dream wiped away the tears that dripped from his cheeks. What right did he have to mourn a man who’d long since despised him? “I should have loved you more than what I gave you.”

He clasped a hand over Fundy’s, a glimpse of yellow at the edge of his periphery as the wailing sobs of a ghost rang in his ear. “I spent hours on my vows, and I never got to tell them. It seems ironic to say now, but I owe it to you... Fundy, I thought I was incapable of a love so pure. I knew love, but not the one you gave to me oh so freely. You showed a heartless man how to love.”

He could eyes glaring at him from the darkness, their battered and exhausted audience no doubt ready to strike the moment he’d so much as move. Dream won’t let them stop him, it was not his final time to lose yet… not when a life he held dear has been lost. “I tried to dissuade you at the start, to turn you down before you’d realize just how unlovable I really was. You insisted with date after date, refusing to give up even after everything I did. At the previous war, the 16th war, I thought you’d finally leave. But you didn’t. If I were to be real, and I want to be real, I fell for you after the fifth date. No, I loved you before then. It scared me, everyday with you. Some days when we’d fall asleep in each others’ arms, I feared the day, feared you’d leave come morning.”

The sleepless nights where he’d lay awake in fear that Fundy would leave him alone and wanting in the morning… he never did. “You never left… You never would, and I’m sorry I can’t say the same. I worried a lot about you leaving me that I never thought that I’d be the one leaving you.”

Dream took a shaky breath, lifting Fundy’s hand to his lips, the wedding ring shining brightly against Fundy’s cold dead fingers. “For whatever it’s worth… I am honored to have met you. To have been loved by you.”

With his free hand, Dream slowly closed Fundy’s eyes. If he pretended, it almost felt as if Fundy was sleeping. Gods only knew how many hours Dream memorized his beloved’s sleeping face, and he knew it was never this peaceful. For only in death could Fundy ever really feel peace.

“I’m happy to be… to have been your husband, though I was never the greatest. If I could, I would do anything to wake up beside you again… for just one last morning.” He held back a choked sob, letting his tears fall for everyone to see. “I love you. I loved you so… but I guess…”

Dream smiled, broken and lost, “It was never meant to be.”

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Fundywastaken continues to break my heart. It is only right that I retaliate. But ye... hope you guys like this and... bye! :DDD