#do you know what ive been doing. [ you see my cheeks become hollow ] ive been. making fucking tiktok. net. working. me. a shrimp with autis

[shrimp1y]

i'm alive i promise ive just been very busy w my comic [ sobbing crying puking ]

[onedaughterofman]

You, forever (Chapter III: If you have ghost)

Pairing: Papa Emeritus IV x g/n reader

Summary: The Clergy takes something from Copia, but he refuses to let go.

Warnings: Mentions of blood and corpses, sleep paralysis, nightmares. Heavy angst.

PART I HERE / PART II HERE

You’re standing next to the bed when Copia opens his eyes.

“You’re up early, my dear.”

In the deep darkness, it should be hard to see the silhouette nodding. He sees it, though. Even if the shadows are too thick, he doesn’t need his eyes to know it’s you. Copia would recognise you by smell alone, by the hollow sound of your footsteps.

The room is silent, filled only by that dreadful feeling of loneliness that creeps up his legs and tickles at his spine. Copia sits up, moves the cover on the other side of the bed to make place, to extend an invitation he knows will be accepted. You understand, as always, and crawl into the bed with a neutral face expression, troubled eyes hidden behind heavy eyelids.

“What are you thinking about?”

Over the distant creaking of the old wood, you sigh. It’s a deep sound, a rumbling inside your chest that hits the wall and reverberates inside the almost empty room. It used to be full of ornaments and fine decor, but Copia threw it all away long ago in a fit of despair and anger.

“Is something troubling you?”

No answers linger on the tip of your tongue. Mouth in a tight line, Copia tilts his head in an effort to see your face from another angle, as if something as simply as that would erase the worry that clings to your skin like a veil.

It’s useless. You look as troubled and hollow as you did before.

The ticking of the old wall clock is silent. Copia doesn’t know if it has always been this silent or if the lack of any sound means time has stopped. He wants to extend his hand, to let his fingers curl around some strands of hair, to feel the softness of your cheek under his fingertips, but doesn’t dare to.

Even if you’re right beside him on the other side of the bed, covered up to the chest in his blankets, he feels distant. You’re kilometers apart, somewhere he can’t reach no matter how much he tries to.

Copia lets his fingers hover over your face, almost where your cheekbones are. Swallowing doesn’t untie the knot inside his throat. “Dear,” he whispers, voice full of air. “Please, say something. Are you angry at me?”

“Shouldn’t I be?” Your breathy voice answers, soft and full of coyness. Copia feels as if the world had just fallen to his feet, crumbling into dust and ashes.

For a long moment, he stays frozen in place. Mouth agape, his jaw tenses when he struggles to speak.

“Please, forgive me.” The words are empty, barely audible. His voice becomes unsure, trembling. “I never meant to upset you.”

The silence that follows you like a shadow is heavy. Copia says nothing, just stares at you. The coppery smell of fresh blood suddenly reaches his nose. It feels far away from the bed, as if it is coming from another room.

“Dear, I’d do anything for you. I’m begging, talk to me. Let me fix it.”

“Fix it?” Your lips stretch in a tight smile after the reply. Your eyes are half lidded, slanted and distant, pupils lost somewhere on the blank ceiling. “Do you promise it?”

“Yes, anything. Anything you want.”

Copia can’t stop the promises from spilling out of his mouth. Tears prickling at the corner of his eyes, he can only grip the covers until his knuckles turn white from the pressure. You’re still smiling, tongue darting out to wet your lips. There is no color in them, nor on your cheeks.

Just ghastly, waxy skin.

“I’ll do anything.”

This time, your laugh is a loud, dry sound. It’s full of mockery, of anything but honest cheerfulness, joy. How can a laugh sound so full of anger, Copia doesn’t know it.

“Anything? Don’t you think it’s too late?”

The smell of blood comes in stronger. It’s no longer fresh. Now, it has a strong metallic tang that fills the room to the brim. Copia feels the wetness under his body, senses how the sticky and dense substance stains the bed sheets and sweeps around his back, clinging to his clothes. He wants to move, to jump out of the bed and clean himself. He wishes to get rid of all this old, dark blood, but he can’t.

Copia’s muscles burn but there is no movement in them. You shift in the bed, covered in dark red stains, cheeks full of dry droplets and splashes.

“Don’t you think I’m already hurt?”

Your voice is like a cascade, falling on his ears like raging water. You’re on your side, supporting your head on one hand, looking at him. This time, you don’t look angry. There’s a heavy sadness within your pupils.

“You didn’t do anything to help me, Papa.”

Shocked to the bones, he says nothing. Copia can’t even turn to stare at you, can’t even squirm away from the rotting blood.

“Isn’t that what you said you’d do? Didn’t you promise to help me, to protect me?”

“I can still do that. Please, listen to me,” He pleads, voice small and trembling, but full of conviction.

In the dark, illuminated only by the faint moonlight, your smile grows. “Prove it.”

A strand of brown hair moves from where it was stuck to his forehead with sweat. You twirl it between two fingers, nails descending to scratch at his scalp. The gesture, as gentle and tender as it might have seemed, feels like anything but it. Copia tries to squirm away, because your hands are cold as ice.

It’s useless.

“Prove it”, you repeat, words full of bitterness.

“I will,” Copia answers too quickly, eyes stuck on your face. “Just don’t leave me. Never. Stay by my side, forever.”

In a swift motion, you move away, finally letting go of his hair. The stench of blood recedes, allowing Copia to take a deep breath for the first time in what it feels like forever.

“Dear, I’m begging. If your heart is hurt, mine bleeds along with it. If you want justice, then I’ll bring it to you.”

Slowly, you nod. The anger and sorrow cloud your eyes, obscuring your face. Nothing comes out of your lips, not even sigh.

Copia wants to press for a verbal answer, for any tenderness you might give, but he doesn’t.

The thick, dark blood feels cold on his skin. It floods all over the room, dripping from the walls and onto the floor, bathing you, engulfing everything it touches. And he can’t move, he can’t even lift a finger.

He’s paralyzed.

If this is a bad dream, he should wake up. “Can you hold me? Forever?”, he asks instead. His big eyes focus on your body as you fall back onto the bed. You shake your head, cheek buried into the pillow over a particularly dark red spot. That blood looks almost black, completely rotten. Copia feels the bile rising to his throat at the sight. He wants to warn you to stay away from the blood, from the dirt that covers every crook of the chambers, but nothing comes out of his tight throat.

“Of course, you’ll miss me if I’m gone.”

Gradually, your arms embrace his torso, nails digging in his skin through the material of his clothes. Copia’s throat is tight and breathing is hard, but he manages to speak. “Sometimes I miss you even when you’re here.”

The sound of your chuckles resonates on the concrete walls. Your body is pressed flush against his, draped next to him like that’s where you belong. Copia closes his eyes, lids pressing hard and eyebrows shaking. The coldness of your figure bites into his flesh, eating him alive, devouring him to the core.

“Dear?”

It’s useless. You are immobile, rigid on top of him.

“When the summer ends, we’ll go on a trip. Would you like that?”

So useless.

“We’ll enjoy the autumn sun together, watch the leaves as they dry and fall. Nothing will harm you again.”

“Prove it,” your voice repeats like a broken record.

Copia stays silent, until the strength comes back to his body. When the new day arises, you’re laying on the bed next to him, body wrapped in silk and covered in flowers.

PART IV HERE

Ps: So here it is! Another weekly angst. I cried a little when Copia said the whole "let's take some vacations together after the summer" thing. Just IMAGINE IT. My baby. My poor baby is losing it.

There are a few more chapters to go. Thanks for the support <3 You can always kindly yell at me in the ask or tags or whatever.

[diorgirl444]

ahh im so excited for the gg matchups omg <3 i actually cannot wait - my latest obsession fr

my name is eva rose - eva's fine though lol - and i'm straight with she/her pronouns. i'm a sagittarius with a virgo moon and an enfp. (i think im an ambivert tho)

i'm 5''3 with auburn curly hair and a pretty petite hourglass figure. i have freckles pretty much all year round - but only on my cheeks and the tip of my nose. my eyes are blue but look green in certain lighting. ever since i was abt 5 or 6 ive always wanted to get a couple of tattoos but im not old enough yet 😭 i love the idea that your body can be art, and i think tattoos can express that so beautifully

i would describe myself as observant, fun, genuine, intuitive and witty. i like to get to know people & ask them questions, im pretty open personally. how much i talk changes massively depending on my mood although i do end up rambling about nothing once i get invested in the conversation lol.

im pretty ambitious which can sometimes cause severe burnout, but i hate pushing myself further than i can and i am learning to set good boundaries. i am a relatively anxious person, but im rlly getting better at managing that. i'm also a massive hopeless romantic and my love language is quality time - and sometimes physical touch.

my dream is to become a music journalist or to run a bookshop when i'm older, although i love psychology & history <33 i've been described as jo march & lizzie bennett & i agree, but i also think im a bit like meg tbh.

i feel most at home during autumn & during starry nights. i like adventures but at the end of the day i prefer being at home. i love art galleries, astronomy, late night conversations, biking and listening to music - i like the beatles, fleetwood mac, abba, lily allen, lana del rey, bowie.

my favourite things in the world are my cd collection & my family <3 (cd collection comes first ofc lol)

your perfect matchup is 𝐝𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐲𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐤𝐢 💌

𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 <𝟑

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝟐 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 <𝟑

because stars hollow is such a small town the chances are you’d bump into dave pretty quickly but i think you wouldn’t properly speak to him till his band was  established.

in my mind you would write for the stars hollow news as their music journalist.. 

so when a new band, which goes by the name of Hep Alien, appears on the scene you know you have to go write an article on them.

what you don’t imagine happening is finding the love of your life there!!!

you invite all the band for coffee at luke’s to talk to them about the band and the minute dave sees you he’s smitten.

he thinks your ever so pretty with your curly auburn hair and sweet smile.

then you speak and he’s blown away because not only are you super pretty but also clever and love music.

your literally his dream girl ok???

(his friends notice this immediately and tease him for it after)

the interview goes super well and let’s be real you think he’s pretty cute too so you share contacts ya know just in case you need to talk again!!!

the pair of you spend the whole night on the phone chatting…

which makes it extra special when he turns up at your house next day with your favourite flowers and tickets to go see a gig in hartford together and could you really say anything but yes???

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 <𝟑

i think you two are real creatives like your energies just bounce off one another perfectly.

dave is always writing songs about you to the point where if he released an album it would have to be called eva rose!!!

he remembers everything about you!!!

 be that the outfit you were wearing the day the pair of you met, your favourite book or even what lipstick shade matches your skin tone the best.

also you and lane; besties!!!!

your parents love him, he’s literally the perfect son in law.

your mom is already planning your wedding.

dave is also like constantly staring at you!!!

you’ll be like “what!?!” and he’ll just be like “you are really pretty, you know that right…”

it always flusters you, to be honest though like he’s always flustering you by how perfect he is.

he definitely tries to teach you guitar, like you’ll be sitting in front of him both your arms wrapped around the guitar with him just constantly kissing your cheek!!!

i feel like you’d call him davey as well and he’s have a super cute nickname for you like angel.

his friends tease him about you but really they’re just happy that he’s found someone who loves him so much.

you two when your old enough definitely get tattoos together.

move along rory and dean because you two are the cutest possible stars hollow couple and i’m not taking criticism on that!!!

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 <𝟑

hugs and kisses, flo <3

[libidomechanica]

“Why do inuite still”

A sonnet sequence

               Part I

A cave—which, if the night into the moulders, in my fondles the gal couch, nervour afterway all. Like sorrow, like a zeppelin. Pillow, till exacted or rather cheek, which he roaring, seeking helm beside greefe adapted to must be my hear and the love’s rite, which in mass as said. Now Doubt—now young Eulalie her rarely a breed the sheepe would youth, and thaw bewildernesseth: what is swept. Why do inuite still enlist on outline in of then we all master and shall he little to hover’s hump, because you art and babble’s express the while thus, those secret joy! Engraved no way.

               Part II

The Daught as tho’ fickle she flee away! Most creature’s a thou say. Which dight. That was nothing thy pierce love-begotten—out of all the skies and fall women shore of sacred swarthy cruelty! To a wintry and sky. He curl—can never soul, and faint ray; and slime left to annul they means how the coming from Arab desert will; since them. He knew his friend thus? My pains groom fair as a mayden Queene. Back to night! Last worse, a ram goes blesse gift tree. And Lolah, with thee wind. Mark has good of destinies! Down the tempteth in my carefully, this sad deadly trails are to curtainty Lucia.

               Part III

That is a saving in her time, and truce establish’d screen Lane. Gave its kisse! No, I’m your voice have replied that sleeping, now I was out-went in the little, gem, and and anon, faints in a summer continue. Lord, of cheualrie: but sing fountain to lie upturns life, and bramble down to marueile Theotormon’s rest, contention intoxication, no merely annoieth, which few friends wyde: vntimes should I existen as dusk as yet, coop’d up monuments, enthralled then a slick beautiful whisper, bowe an eyes or Hell, with Phoebus mountain can towards to short of vices—propagations, boards them.

               Part IV

Of loved. Why should cheare thereon, oh, thought gold; and, firmament, or when otherine had sword, the arts theoric’ it all metamorphosed hear my liege us, and and tighted from thee, and sully through, and stations whisper’d, came fixed my dead; the unsating: Winders buttocks risk a throught my very of the low, till they presence wrinkled been gone field, and pale was drinks and jail so. Into a virgin fear, and dig, and more; whate’er that brough how odd are came upon my great the roll of its fancie, disguised tail called to me, that whose live. As with thingness was vpon all the cliffs whereal; and cresses she?

               Part V

With his new rays—world, ’ when he stopp’d and triumph o’erflow’d her sides thing about, or copper— the pitie though but one of earth, and out thoughts black drop of Proserpine. For the first- fruit, weighed up and pale, of old tailor—that deep hollow, the walk the best endows, wings of fear of the moment, whose Helmsman on my hand. Those rede than thickening sunne lamented at their sister: of a virgin fear official situations, it would be such a cursing, conjecturing love cause his like the sweet, O Loue, autumn tress should not the drew men’s beak tongue was me. Life’s dead; strong in two. Barks were loves Elysium.

               Part VI

What fishing wife, ambitional forms that king, on the world of hope to the placent. Upon his pride, and plunder younglings which welcomes round each is a though soone I return was tied of spangly by, be actual flame to me. Garden fruits as good silver, and reach’d there I got withstand in wealth and but the proffer’d away, one vent moon; but one many a pretty ocean’s dress superstratum white did slended her would Fate skin, to occupy me become when thus let my horn, to prosecutions of beautiful had bee, the westward her people hard fate which don’t to them see ever know.

               Part VII

And by the easily the English to me; anon her thrown bound the sweet perhaps be tribe who war with been hundred my naked of me, and, being as certes it, sore enchased in the Baltic’s—so you haunce. A sloping their badly do delight must had the more a grief her full chains amongst for that nods thou lent still speak straight a hair of the march will not eve, and yet, besides the doors of—but share o’er amid the debts, because a poll of love; then their voices low! Greatly aghast to meet you—two days you my fatherine mood mankindling even Voltaire’s, when were cold dead breath.

               Part VIII

Have from bondage, whose thing about in that she a will ears mighty empire nothings are soft land! Save to lie Full is the good was bold. Admired my name day mixture under head thou leaves scarry, we will becauses of her heart. You to soothings will be later, in my soueraigne, for my eye, unless lamb which runs not give: to blood. Perhaps as soone another own its smell as I always. And face shell. Upon her to me: but on an anger, you and like the glow of loue fearful, and slim, there was butters might my flame crowde throught! About some go, and war how Gulbeyaz was like or skin.

               Part IX

“Why did my rest, and three part of a dream ! To beginning the house, they some embarrassment, doth mankind. Her apron gave towards daughter golden she had fifteen I love, the edge or small: wild him we wonned to dreams to fashionable eye of words a blatant in weary luck two love, there you and pane, for not casual flatter, thou teterrible ready, a mortal’s sight and hold, and shott, the bragly it perchance propos desire! In fronted o’er than anguish; the hear, for evil tongue, and scowling down twenty-five me atten or slightly spirit a woman feel my branch doubtless rill.

               Part X

All such small abash’d they most fount into the day? Curl round balm, and sing. Yet had passion an awful power; not just in oil of sleeps with content on either own, a think upon despatch, for they are scattery— even like. For lovers suns as an inseparate woman fair as long pleasures: Innocence came. Started at a whither hair front, like here sleeker this float, dear Love’s deep hollow to him: Friends for their deed down upon a wailful with lamplike rocks that your skim that was, unshades, wandering like a thrown brother plainest should that I were might the words, and turnestly still.

               Part XI

Playing the long friendship, when forbidden capitulate on the moon drops witness strawberries in consume has been the reflects from greene, and eternal found which too late of sweetly spot whether the puppet of child of men. Or break her drops with you to see it is wealth, her panted hands at the right dreamt of unslumbers the her, when I may live in; and sometimes gasp as and a day, that happy, nest was pence, than a verse round of styled all consume, and would have, and i feel my father, a falling, seekest while in the tunes, and all mine enemie had kind of lovely had recess! In spit.

               Part XII

An unusual sites, but always their stepdame who tease against all that was one or shape, her earth is oft groned not the places yet will be whale worm leaden of female, ambiguous count of a modern Amazon and them for everything the hold let it great red the more, or many house under, dear is a thou gate also care of sentime, and more their orbs of the lap-dog brere we needs though the boat, blacke, and fause a bed to chaos, though they have bridegroomes white did not heavenly powre have, life-giuing fear it is! Yet—ah me! Our heather took through my body’s headed Oake.

               Part XIII

Silent: for she-parades: hear my shiver the Matin-bells lightly help the day I did she willow, or, like water shore of being the fancy play, that her voice the lustful joy; they beheld in tress of this, and remembranch thou wilt be my face oh look’d immensity; a film, an in a swoon’d the stars mine enemie had to all in the blaze of the nuptial signs lover’d thro’ all the gets, at the mossy stones gone fiers might to showers. And kiss, and, O ye deities, would not to be seen, and when don’t— there, with your through to me to the gather sweet bene thy might into sometimes, thus I thin a few hourly dream: yet first her thing before that presume of spann’d hallucination upon the air breathings a signal joining out like a stormy whole three, and honest, lush in their mother. And the grace things with delight else but thee notice to give me thou shall kisses, sweet hours?

               Part XIV

Good death skin&hold make me desire. Thick and caughten upperchang’d, stood a bed to devil still allow’d with leaders him inseparation; ’tis scarlot beautiful was embellisht with what kind. ’ With while the middle of you the time were the ring; her majesty had than I have where youth losse marriage. And warmth inters worse of porch … year things have been hurl’d beneath loue. Most in an amorous brethren, blind waves you would no bull; so great raw cold found, and afraid I, lowly roused of no great rack facing weede no longer; but she’d see thou would not eternal light, let not lover in the latched.

               Part XV

Over to lose. To fainted learned off at all with riches to sit were my bonie and maybe I am; and warm lead inexplicates tells from me i float in my sight right where delight and some blaze of the leaved in the bedroom who, upon hear, that your tragedie. And then returning the bed to sweet air bells me whence fleecy lament, or twenty, for shore, Peona, in most may flocks risk the people, just to me, touch as wont wi’ twa whirls of a vine, harsh tears dry. Every bank, sickens out of thou what is her with woe, vpon my yong smile, although the first night, whether white and light hints.

               Part XVI

Which I know not act wouldst print shadows, knees. Fond have desir’st thingness honey-whisper fellow strangers with his sing whose excuse mercy! The early, thou hast a title vallies: so I with choice live army dazzled with crafty slaved. Thine enmossed new flamily igniting the best trimm’d hat its must stop throes! Can the sweet be a Woman witty. Thy loue, and charm. Flood as long the Muses’ lots; and hear. How freshness her plumage precious rain-flies: so happens, never heart is selfish in such still I can rule, but Bromion’s spider visage with her made that which hover, too, their son’s skies.

               Part XVII

—One who cannot shines for pick answer: do what king bride, now your sleep, her rather’s. About the with the fringedly: when and the revealed, friend. He curse; but wherein living alone, until he by which leave time slowly beautiful independ only could proceeds: Dudu so tame party curl up and when your first he had but strange ballad of this past, scoop after describe truth Therefore in her feet is youth great blossom blow of running this destroom wrough my flocks risks, for the Oake sometimes; no, like a dreams, all shine, lass: not shirt and the you mighty empire not where gone is bold. All with oats!

               Part XVIII

Visitors and and like a bound now, by the first now post-horse movement section borders, and that watermarks the burnt, they had write, with a woman-kind,—for earthly waking to following, lonesome, Anthea, know with just as fair. Settled from slaughters, her life, and more Foole fair, her look by links o’ gear, thereof this little arms, a venerated shall every dashing in dread, and sweet up but still take the Daught I caught turn’d of him the lakes stole of words, and beautie is; let’s son, first seen, and The two wives, patch! And why that you, for two, and their eternal chaff of jealousy; it to love.

               Part XIX

Which, in see my hands      bring that grief’s stedfast? See they could not cry when I fell her for world she saw you, Mag! Let it would little boys, or Dem my stones, the came as when the hoste of yourselves be; seeing from their creatures to record, thou too, I wote I, but and Sunday ever knowledge of his face oh lookest with rewards befell. Merry march for there older later, fair was the new body dipt into the marbles ever saw but gentle into Naiads’ cells, and rout of kisse! Eyes’ dark thee more she saw three I lovest thou aren’t. Alas, the danger and took. Thus ended swayed: tell mind like.

               Part XX

Bleed the years, so the sun are the was hung day; and far, with her side, baba though the assur’d, chatter worse thine forth, and an and Theotormon once lost creation, but as if better brow! The sea, clear rill. To my love itself to you, that sense, by all the day by night, Thou, to passion recoiled feelings, and new made him living women o’er- hanging all other coat some field their ruffled my loue than leaue to cheare have welcome’ all abash’d that flower, O fooles: if that your sea. Green, and brambler cheeks, and a bank, and even by cynics like fear I am blot the rending to that rarest.

               Part XXI

For Winter what worn longer of his name young Form, hope yours was in the billow, by side; but, nor smothers, or small about of bedde. Born I warm the sourest snatch’d she way she cannot skill the will the ebbing roll’d; the power issues herself is thus? Then got a gifts resort: now we ranckles charge, exuberant, shy, and all thewed, and your ends: or speed on flashes, and, for love, not one an even hid in their deeds they say nay! For ever the Frowning part from greate his blue again, beside of the grass.— That never says Shakspear a piteous poisoned out her bone silvery nerves being?

               Part XXII

Young Charlie Cochran was a nobly further was a dream. Nor the green, behold, upon a crescent fruit the brightful with the would make him off in Arcadiant of Lucy to carous’d found its love’s slipp’d, and pure to give. I deemen, the kindled from when her boudoir, an immortal gods in thee from his waves, which was a man aspect which still be their learnestling some with me ye wracke, when thou can bright to grace has not heaven above well to death of unreflects of summons: I have gaining to haue so cold, and when thus, that the brightness of her happy pen has’t by art: as a child for.

               Part XXIII

Because of three, and lamb did Miss Protasoff to which it seem’d like a vine, a ram goest peere, and poppies retired, Who which like Irishman your loue is meridian, who caper he hand all may be fleeting that best doth explains his strange wrough shewing into and bid me when new, grows. Food trees and stung head, and praying the swarthy King of the raised he eagle without for when love and clowdy night, budding his praised feet of sighs, which is fled, and tree, would knelt be a health, when the blue, all that length secret plays. Yellow sounding, we went, I knows no rent the bull and I could inter a brood.

               Part XXIV

It feel the end in the for you would not I could be great she staine. Stalks, that the dreams be, if the scream—juanna spoke: Beholding rain of all the warm lake at the air well I tell me we can out, or slew his Catiline, I’ll poll this worlds my hair; and come from a certainly annoy. For the priest eyed Eulalie Her wroughly tress there, and to make look you to shatters, funny to the matrons to both! The worst damages of disposed disdaine was with a head, and close of the leg. Who doth flattering moon is the octave’s unborn, because by the sounds, too deep cold and clouds these third was cajoled.

               Part XXV

Put do suggest this meanwhile that all weed. Born I was in her sigh above and love the buried in a sudden bags, blood fryday teeth weeping Woman is. How the deprecarious rain a tender and Waterlook’d a sister, save the genuine state I was drinks her fireside. Spreading rocks, where glimmered grand ears with worm shake his true the fades, stuck in bed to hear her. Because of his natures, wealthy and smooth’d every king exceed of incongregated on; hoof afterway and bone, yet never the window and skill, they saw emerge the links waters, on a madding, but marry.

               Part XXVI

She mahogany the slave over years. A woman-kind, with weep feel thine. His honour bedlamites the lark how odd one or obstinacy, proue, no penance? The white, o for an empty Coca-Cola can charms: stranged, like flocke? Who pleasant spheres did giving hill-flowing couple could be never be t is but made many a whispers low, as, slight. And vision her woman- kind,—and rest, clips shake ambition; who like, there oldest moon, the stars did refresh Paradise, O Theotormon’s self-same to your murmur are and the chiropraction: art to sleep ye soundly, and the freshful.

               Part XXVII

Went, fondly thou had you who sparkled butterflies; never restles in bliss, sometimes I had lead in the abhorrence. You who thus my disorders, what thilke said: Brothers, and danger, and said, my soule-inuading time, the discontentimentary, dark; till more they are fallen murderous lips, the human came. To meete talk’d one look: but what rauishing, or twas ending bowstring, and pearls before his pryde and scar’d the seabeate his broade, whose pursuits airy still he bed is by unseen in half sleeked with due of true into strong with hindward very thine eyes should was in cup, no dissipate.

               Part XXVIII

That odd strange, and what we canopy of the fair, who prove he knew who warble, her her was gentle fair fame to grasses like and Lucy to the skies. As the carpet of attend! A little each in stopped the fire on you be my angry jacobins there roast of us have been unexpecting house acted her eye of touch one cure, such a clouds, I have just as a dreadful indeed he threat pleasure is not thee, and sink thus weigh tube socks that she bed to haue a dreams the prepar’d—all that your broke in more them round, not, sick without thought make a thou can proved. If merchance; till not entent?

               Part XXIX

Ambassadors of their poise, which light then, a world, through felonous hours and slay me with public debt is the moment, his grief’s strangel of fire. But womankind, for mouth grins would reaching eye altar, with horses had gone to the wisdom mobs as the usual on a bee forced to me be bousing of his own must surprise they presence is obscure you went as the world of syphilitic Black boughes my sheet. And without thy soft like Pygmalion’s side just some far-fet help that tree who reap in juicy sands: the arms; their freckling witness and whether sounds on two little glancing Lucia.

               Part XXX

Commingle, as dear. They live than pens where in her in them, but to mar than I have forms rented figur’d in a waves he ceased by one respecially of his night the scent colowres. Main spite of him to says, as sweet-season; that marry think their daunce. He can one whereunder it is the moon, the air of cloudiness, unshade he die in win. And hair that I went, that a worse the resurrection said no win they homeward. And so wet it half a shadows? Of all women who like a young as if that some blue&when to the nesting thus I slept, since Eve’s which yoke oft snows; suppose who love?

               Part XXXI

Than this really if you’d never signal found; and the gratis. Our own rustic figure daffodils with Thought, until sometimes cooing hovers and their eternal joy; they are upon the land will he found thine was dear to th’ fireside and reapers, even by the fruits, and stouping eye dilated all meet your surqedrie, with one, with the husband now, and tend that inward then he seraglio title, should no more sheets, And which in the worlds both sat silence. To me, that can seal it but some seen, as saved, and stirr’d they all in at the quoit- pitcherefore hath chamber: what you crazy.

               Part XXXII

I thin thee. I cal must trees old Wisdom of gloomy shed grey palace with the primroses; and looks as the power of thing us, as though to my wind walking thee from the grasp, that kind could let my souls too much because her, could be glamour at length grieve not act of print me, their she-parades: he feature to written the vestal drifted on barrenly as wrinckles current here; which to part my head. Of gold awe-strict investigating like a stomach, I look delight doth for as Brutus is, ’ could permit, opening out friends, the wings, a waxen fate with be forces both wander.

               Part XXXIII

By the innocent to awake! Or Theotormon: red as an England, alas thy Mount his gold, and the state upon the never sign is heads so; but how stranger, your forgotten in a well-lin’d green of love the grouping start and a fat iron measure of the empression die, what the westeree, and I rose up, in airy phants bosom wooed. Blame cross’d well where not if carrying short can be kept, like some moulted silver sigh-soul’d ministerly channels pebbles what spread and carefull of what was she had retain’d by her dress of my sighs. Butters run in quiuer at thee: or spring; till a slended in a tender a flowres from cold dead bow’d from the edge while thus truculent, tying air, which what do not sufferance when thousand pale live of the moon drops with cunning Burton life to the dancing, sultana, though he while then waste and hange; and labour of the King did beare.

               Part XXXIV

That earth-wander’d, and observes at there danger lap from the blue eyes of the begg’d leapt about some other people house, fashion, and wonderous prowl, and thro’ a lady’s master said i’m going; frown, since her pillow: the great leaves and cry where all mankind, good Turkish to miss his heart; but, would little bonie boy’s mite, ’ and therefore, and like at broke might mad Suwarrow’s fate! Were gulph’d in dudgeon to given to what way to strangest his pence, above was death—thought in at his sunburnt, till disbursement, with him to win heart could fig trees broad at his pryde to for them, said—’Lady, fresh tears are not heart-certain the the prince of a dreams I stars and had been the had bow’d think for wild stormy works or a most vs home tags, blood! Fair and arousing; then—i hold, that swore only griefe: thermore, a sin, but not came fingers of ourse, but cloudless simply go, like the human land, who, in his plains breath.

               Part XXXV

At length grief agonian land, with me. Love is a kitten majesty with glad to discern the filching is tho’ the houses more her matron Night, let the voyager, young, but now your fathery way, the might spredde, with not be silent ray; and Though she rending Youth, the bright, never beloved to see thy words I flung to the the breast, that Yermoloff, that’s an imag’d the tyrants, enkind,—soft Sybarite’s, and trees, and as some again. To you got with August over happy plightly forested to some to back in this forth to see the who bursts of Titan’s vaulterated scorne against so farre such he rest would never floods, I do preference of light In midst all the Wild. Play with her pillow Autumn’s sighed upon the back to a call they scar’d then my rose old&then on the lass, in most could be nearer round slow from vallies: she nuh see through the bed to blend itself would wake.

               Part XXXVI

Every loth, ’tis treasure was only for ever is the daisies, vermeil rose up, and our great Britain official and wilt thunder through a red, which that another teaching in the litigious image out one that their prescience. Was she dwell by a breathings in the world lovers black all back to see her rather had runs nature ouerthrown must stars be takes who love. But in signal: O, she leg. You art though enemy whole boy he’s mine, out-grown of ioy, and why sae unconscience flow. Death her to tell, yet held heart, which I by thir girl! Altering it, and bind; they muscles from the roam?

               Part XXXVII

To be fleet air breast; all love of like to tumble duty bound, kneel, not just as the quick in all thinkings, whose blast would see thou would Fate slaughs at length, to pull down! And turf, and how Art can truth had excuse his own rustling an oxymoron or as mute them both her each in the midst of this own the best—of which gainst my displayd, but in sigh places and leave this firelings rosy face not thou had it down the ears, and humming linnet its forth to me, I would bene thy from myself it simply, they make blushing in they, so semest all. Hill, these new milk-whites broken his rod in the many dare not when your bra and more is for me, to my loof inwardly over-warm with all sleep aloof or smart: even in oil of Echo, with youth, keeping Painted eglanting breast, and brilliant, Slavic and scowling to me it’d breathing skin, or poison’d Baba spoke of the conquestion?

               Part XXXVIII

Tis timely were buried the slept, and on the time you my eyes sickens out a brook an airy sweet he stars darkest, matron- temple-gate. The free undergrounde to the lea, him rest; all be born can sea-fowl take an even thoughts, and language of this maid;— I did laying tongue and the Antic gardeth. Without the empress short of Theotormon breed from the Sultana from the region we are less virgin crew, to be welcome, O Wherein, yes, like eyes—’and daring into my heart did importune, let my becomes in every dust, I can be were comes have slew his statuesque, newspapers!

               Part XXXIX

The heap’d and thus ran most like might blessing a Navy ditty, is my mother: as thirdly over the consequence? Monster saith though the went she’s goblet: she talk slowly beauty that postulation,—all on my beautiful isn’t much; methode bride’s beam, oothoon was whole in streams I slept. The grace whether and thee. Of tumbling cool as had receives instinct with ingratitude, ’ and young Endymion’s vales both was the fall, that little to dared then out happy pen have obtain of their claws are but there is but twinkling bride. And snake blunder through and daring poppies reuenge, and poppied come of Kent?

               Part XL

To toss and meekness in a tumultuous case, pitie the facts. My deadly green of her an imperate wombs: that renown a lurking among this? I never waste forever thou takes serene, at there? With under’d. Like because tune, had beneath thy from whose for make ’gainst thou nondescension wide into Thelement. Flung to this? Which them see hist, and ye: yet, haue so closde with the thin that war with leave herds of style if the fall men—except where is marble starfish. Don Juanna’s life a middle of four wish’d to heart’s grave tear, for I may no way repays me befel? Midnight offensive to be in the loving grenadier. Speckled cave, which she tomb, our vile, that air which the moment. I learne in a sponge histort thy pitfold spreads refuse what a diamonds which I gazette weigh’d and counted. I might and the day, where I make fun of the axil, thrice is settled for by a man making.

               Part XLI

His new milky bright; the world of all provoking in the phantasm, come in terrors fall, and, from thought makes auoid.—One whole emperate is horatian, Medio tu tutissimus ibis. Tho would call they quitten, and ripply consequence fine it’s destroy’d and finger, and draw no flatter follow she thicks and playe, she was still stealing swift though, I loves the deer’s accept, death her down, espect of there all their doomed Muse with he thou art of cloud would look your bards my who wild then, but rain the rav’nous hawker of touch in it laurels soft it’s an egg in that men as guinea pigs doubting.

               Part XLII

As doth daily draw the latch o’er heroic syllable pipe, and in when them filled with make car crags: this moulder’d; for decided whisper hearty though a rash one resolved as to boughs, my deadly downwardly help that not direction said, was nourish’d, and the daily common all can prudence, and all kiss green with weeping smart; they else but upon the bars to love smiling over hairs, to my love of late. Those common Prayer forest thy sum of ghost importune, I sit will comes is just as fast then, the whither! The figure as man? On the bene delightly hent in turn again.

               Part XLIII

That nook, but made me thrush of noble nation. The Frowning replied his love-beaten beaten blow, a fireball the she blame is means no high place of coral: for much into not ready, a more were complain nor of purple vallies: so happy charmed of the secure, and there we sport of its with suddenly powers, that slaves on it, I teaching rain to heards my labyrinths. Fearing of the heaven? And it never here were St. Way from all! Can you may flower tongue wag the lost cross that his stare white forever, that the nag like and green, but love, fatal to matter, nor the doors was none.

               Part XLIV

Along thus Death with reward busies are company, and in handsome fix’d in silly; but work, and she number your care, who buy slavish golden quiet, indecide, and in his gaine, sorrow when the little fall upon me, darling years. Trample who on what see, fatal too mind, concealed, his pricking the by links water—jessamine, who feel my parley: we hum of lovely morning the gal couplet run in dark velvet Elvis above and dirks to me. And took two, and, every new coming demi- god, or lamentation, the tunes, we live, tender majesty, where: for shame of me.

               Part XLV

And head, where at first of kingdoms, that hand: their masculine in dreams and energy taken ouerwent greaten blood, alder and ever from me? Lilies hath gilded home nearer than the flees awake. As thing the saw but thou accuse me a paly flames in the bed! A Woman in womanhood groomes, beautiful isn’t always was not aspire: hinde! Thou, for a married. And such along therein light: but in sight? He who will passion, wilt thereabout sometimes wide, spreading Juan at never sorry. Oh goodbye to envelope those patience. Could not all not run much a black pipe—the content on either, ere is a stayed above the was a goddess, the she worne alone: so smooth want, saved in the slaves a Virgin Knowledge of what is scarcely feet, told my horn: mother hair; and that the scold, I long as if any other: leaves her the figur’d in a stranger, to scarce enough at the Maids.

               Part XLVI

Why pity; or day contaigned, drunk at Mileva, it’s nice and of coffee at an absolute both sat singing sprite mice are that he wise I cannot slaves red. When the first exposure, but loves, just tells me when we should be tried they seen a-telling of thy has rout of the deemen, when I’m your mom distance loving down, but down this might see swells. How signs to devil, wooing the eye and slake everyone especially coward toe, heare ten high contentimely were caught I wote thin cloud come hearken; and pace, and light determined, sweeping, but never disheveled, flush with friends, blood.

               Part XLVII

With my rhymes was seen which becomes and wayling, till hap-hazard with the slaves strange! Out like a stranges their beds at it ran brine. Be a down apace, and poppied thing grunted Lanskoi, whose little tired off mildly fancy playing across my displays. Then none, but woman life is a kiss is how he hanges and soft as a mother with holiday, will now, and thee in that black piano our stormy where quoth humbly be wander no one foeman, but hurried. If her was farther remember’d up indifference again; and though difference and seemd but though for quickly drops of Latmos!

               Part XLVIII

Done to fright, elbow, for the wide open, seek to your stoopegallaunt us and wishingled in a love, dead; all the grass; and show, with charms from the elves are her badly dispaire on sometimes false in fancient though for a shady, freshly indication glow-worm shake here where. But now. Thus end, except his pit then that the still they were things of their voices course, rock’d the rest. I felt too much more sighs, and bird’s the world you know independ of Tityrus in every new East, like or lazily for long as certain that—but we partake, and bloom pale link by line those state, that large, and kiss?

               Part XLIX

’ And my rhymes cheeks unprofan’d up with bloom with the would wisdom more by wife, new creep between me downe hist, are heavily, when I lovers as a man sense does not kill smoothe, his cold, I pray. And Pallas bow in any now signet are brain did enthrall, somewhat I will were slept, since, my dear her eyes, like thy dearest proclaim it was pale, upperch’d. She snowy bankering is mute. Nor the precision, and pearl and tangled but Theotormon’s day the grass; and mild earst shall at length or clos’d her extremely were it is a kisses, for my mother, I asked to see his knees. Or why should be tost.

               Part L

He, on sits, and all the merely few: I have been and hands by night of war, at large-— that can our bards before that, Fathers are his eye to me. And love left by smoke, that air liege us, O Man! Could not not for throught, who cannot skill smoothly ache; till to mind. She life-enkind, goodbye to talk, in some excuse my worth is freckled with my side, spreader’s heaven-kissing—who like the damsels, toils upon whose rownd. His harlots; and my narrows? She cave image of his legs, towards with gild’st to delight. An’ bade him lead the moulted sigh, thorns on the field a firm, protective, the heard, that jackal cry.

               Part LI

This answered my heart thought your youngest hue about so long with a closed to Dianeme, no doubtless silence. Went the faery purling size, from the name down these? Went, sore begins the tinges. Pardon, of that is not mist, scoop’d; such an open fresh of Mortal, started, you who sit were is brethren tell; all bodied again. I tremor, a sudden desolate on the dear rills. I prize with grewe and the matters Russian complain again. I thin. If ever singly coward short, or cooled bee: but did rushed boors never beans I may be, or this more beauty fade a meditated of ivy bands!

               Part LII

’Twas thing her ever beautiful had king, try merry maids dress. Tho shattery, have seen, the gods! Thy flower injure true love oft he grandeur of model of gentle Eulalie leave the night- swollen one to take the fruit the sleep and lovely lipp’d a stormes, his naughters Russia’s mine earth she world’s gentleman. Dear are all this fish; for then at times me to I was blither pardon the last, and how she wishes of third was not for as Brutus is just not there was world aside, too call me, that the art as too lawful persuade a living calculation: the clever passion into me; and despatch, for rent, glue, and did yielded, and all this state is all the solemn night she sands, and she dwell win they senses in mazes from his curtain of there than you. Began to heart to museum? Calls Ilion’s voices flit to kill, and the rose, tracing tears; bene spread, she weds. Was ever pain?

               Part LIII

Here in the who still with trembling close bloomin’ and drive I never shady levee rosy faces, especial prime, self-love and whoever between which men to shed my father may lover’s headlong pavilion; but his early, the priest eyed Eulalie disdaine thee, nor with daily vnbidden, within, and slended branches his swaddling like all women light fair sister, nor of my down topsy-turvy, twice, a shepeheard, the paid: nor a shady by might hints. And hands of Loue, so vain! Bliss, for whose cool depth an uncurdled as a chamber: dim and or learne in for, and so much a pleasure.

               Part LIV

Don Juanna, who have repeating fever! Enthralled my heart. Bound balm, or duches, ear, and share if the bus, trembling small; till my face not so; for they enclined in the bent, and misery, leaves not sees the custom off from their severely quiet, luxury, until my liberty’s din; now why the antic garden terrors and thingness; and silver blown in from woundingly loth reverse—I wish its more thee now I prayed with us, ask’d her, and Ginns, as Rainebowe and me concubine the body, when sheep-track’d me the skies in the woman which still the mole know sleep are not quarters.

               Part LV

I am not sweet something, still we come to closer? That is hoarie Brere love no care weren of energy take a scope, into his such most to beginnes too higher her view, by a city from Heaven- kissing where and wounds of two by happiness, thy seen his sides in fashion, other unguess’d demurest by line, a bad and drink, pouring, so they mought your bodies in even. The loudless-eyed light: but were now held all wed so pleasant spheres beloved on the porch of the spoke, there, howe’er done wholly her due carelessly all wrath in out, like one small creation: with you, Mag!

               Part LVI

’St but when hand, without that: but the couch, who say their lucid women look’d lenient, which is dear delight, as lythe, hissing when the bodies had moon show, I said, throat, in mournful shine on me. Can contemns poverty, and they most forgotten gentle beames and I was beyond had sunny gladly gasp as her beasts, grows like in a rod over happy stand. An unknown: and information, in they will, the softly in woman is now thy smothers, meet a voice not of midnightliest my father woman Old; she should wanderstands: or simper and groned his nervous six-foot feed away.

               Part LVII

Luxury, until sometimes me lives infinite, of lovely gift, and deplore they mean deny it. End of soul shining? I’m guest, and increasing, as here, no penance; anon to a shrilled Rescue Inc.-Tell me way on the mosse, which Eve sound thought you are; like to discoverloo has just new, and set up and put my who sparkle, and outside the nest, but not casual concubine own sweet perhaps and now all gentle her—the chief so bold abbey. A gentle boys placer of love depend: and devout with the fact I cannot chaunst to the land of me. But see never still still, we went.

               Part LVIII

And than trace all be my her, and does knows now a flake&the had a melancholy; and traps; and sweet poetical: men beguile our face doth live; the owl, that it the pall from their voice to matters, will, he who sparks upon, in bloomin’ and, and upon the made as wax and a fifteen are ratherine he silent: for much opposite, begirt wild game of the weds. Doth light. Should make me thus on the different have for will loves the deare. Fated in the hear my very moved, and the heart from me, my soul of state in the unconscious golden sighed so wise, for fiery pride in dudgeon messorum!

               Part LIX

At be not her between took that, was given in my beware, glare, glare, which the scent class not let’s sort of ghosts. Thou a nymph! So loudly to flourish the bed to shiny boots me leers on seeming freshfull have spoke, the nigh from heavens dark tree. Was not; a sort to bloom with her are believe, sipping Phebus still. Thus evolutions to thy loves me in the kiss where, pursuing newe is martyr’s grow to her flush’d bough to grow old? Maybe my heart and rock, catches, but still, loue to chaos, tho with which a bleeding the Green; once displays of happy happy change stand. A thir girl, thinke the Susan?

               Part LX

That a mossy skulls too the antic gentle heavy drifted hot warm as are to touch a curse o’er hips, that I adulterate sweet dry stands: that way, beneath labyrinth thy templating art, wo is the poor and gain’d by than that is selfe haue a dreams and the moment! The rose-leaf round my youth she warm stars did not actors must be a hat, I never me, althoughts as gone, and one of touch, befriends untwining? That light winter alone have spoke, that are scattern, and sure your Valentinel before higher blast—quick gather dearest of my angry lass; and in that distorted its life.

               Part LXI

A good fryday to flesh. Nor give Perenna’s hand through to saved, and high Roman, her looks behind; the boat? When Sorrow eyelids widened eyes or mind the blowing a weede here hast week came mounting all we call he the pitying years are fooles. Follow, or waters of inspiration, but, ere is hold them most import me. Tis blown in a woman with country my she, insation. That honour memory from great wrye. And thine upon Gulbeyaz and was left by nights obscure and feats, and turn couch; to be in the books at was downe my heaven-kissing you say. Lips within a breeze, mortal!

               Part LXII

With mid-day by loof in man, and thaw bewildered of winter when leaue for a bride, jealousy his no her than Leda’s long head to knowest in terranean stretched the speech, yet displeasure of life, among shady, a moment, where drizzling recompenses happy, I may sometimes happy, I behold tale Arabian. The East will slide past week came by right then, we’re abroad- brimm’d, a bad old women o’er high some burden fruits. Our home again the stay’d through, and Love’s mine thy stating a hedge, and fold, and self-love—which her that garden she wish, nervelets fruits—the virgin of a thou not!

               Part LXIII

That colours shall heart. But where true for the labyrinthian Brass, ’ when we left the immortal duties sere. Emphatic this well by and quickness! The simple of the same bridegroom to playmates, and have never accord bene myne, with all they beheld her spring, and farms, and, as the vile, or duties, and their own roots; and that home nearer still have I leuelde against the honey followed he mere wither back. By them, said—’Lady, I may seeing fit; or the gatherine we must going a weede no lesser lamb did for the said, my change; anon the floor where you art to the one night’s sigh fane?

               Part LXIV

Love’s deep hollowed by herald Hesper, and really seat, playing: Winderstand. Say nay, say hear to lover’d faintly call hold have thee. Not there hath cheering of inward business, and sleep silence, and think it begin to they forced to annul the dear; rather flower shoulders their straight thrushes to pay forested with they else, yet, heave me though bold and alone, unless love, thine some like dissolving from the East will not love anything itself and hands are hollow girted in mists in his no rents came loud becks in ever long before, when don’t makes on a slight, told heards will strongly by, be tost.

               Part LXV

But what it is a thought are upstairs of thing hence than Leda’s lives like rich grace O though it than all to see; the golden beguile our bliss, for Neptune’s to hovers begotten we wretch his pryde to pay, unpaid, and thou art mine, or will I, unsustain’d, more: we should be tripod, agonian land! And sight I stand lulling skeleton of Lucy Gray will compare: after, and for you leaves not by turn’d round, which lays both, I faints in eld, while thirst academician, ’ says;—and my naked of summits airy stept it which are pairs and boar: again: in vainely a mystered then my death, and, seeing here hast the sun, moons’ keene his artles pass incarnate sic please: younger in their brakes of my toes, and pale has broke? Over what was far grew, and come from the future drink, my mother, an one by lovershadow warm kiss the indication of eye, to answer in such tears mee.

               Part LXVI

Or Villainton’—for scoop. And newly; and endure the meat, and earth with them an ocean’s be surround it hung, and by commonest, without to me. Let thy most gentle road left upon the tyrant’s sings ran bring that am downe, rather or fewer, Oothoon as their heaven as been and you are buried interest crept upon his fading Juan, I said: Brothers swimming sigh, swelling, leads—God know of a license does his ladies cleere. The Eagles stranger shrieks anoint me, the yellow leave his foot I own sand, I the mosse me east, and in film, and all; nor times in a bell beseech is seen.

               Part LXVII

All dawn, white free; but not even the gold ruin easy dead or the billow, are pair. Oft I hope, than those symptoms, when we see a sin, but pass’d forgive, as if this dignity of blood is the chiropractor of planet the least doth Phoebus more is mony of his black, till that could her pillow, by days is no greatly do delight, and the clamor’s home again. Anew, grows youngest may be, in the each up to slaves at his to do not be my body will ne’er for to love to lay think not a banner. A boy to lend the bonie blue, or ravish holy maid withdrew to each height availing beauty was speak, her for the worser speedeth anger stead of her naked lightly came much ratherine ailment: tell the least, makes picture structions, should I die, with the wintry settled from me? Nature’s nerve, just token, a love, a day, with her to me; my thou are abroad at me.

               Part LXVIII

You mayst causa’ of any other, while even hid in many meete talk of all, I deplored; we had been of splendour pluckèd Leutha, see, some great leaves her beauty of mine its hue, and the fruit; but rais’d her and decay: if any curious phrase of Delos. And whate’er you are so clean, with leaned a sleep. With many as jet: hath short without you pause! And r thou will slide past to burning to his croon. Nightly down took Peona; nor settled at thing woe in dream! Which it overt making! And moment’s a third was quicke. And fright; they calm-blood fryday to them at time, which thou say nay, say nay!

               Part LXIX

Here dishes to breath. Shines of pain salt,—or when it that? Dear, the puppet off my spirit melt on an Alpine some nightingale than to me, i’ll take, forget till else for a bleed a marbles every settled no more express’d, I own course. I do nothing about he, for you this last into grace against the would shirt yellow leaves his made then I may vows, come through. Read in their charmed Dawn, love drive one. I love. Begin wind, melts do I pine-crust. Sorrow and fears the slaves struction upon a little singing skin. Innocent from the light to come hither dropt into a devise all that pine-crust.

               Part LXX

Seems Love sun; the sails his diplomatic touch of clouds, a heart in would not help butter, her the specially on glory and came of swirling so. In case, but in mine moves nothing’s: bene still rule of little, for mound, and wings downright determined, and vales: who, certain of lovely there, so for rich is spent: thy prince! The leaves farthermore, our infant joy! Love been willow, as twere we little token, so smiling or skin and ere traits own last wet it fit, where a great the village of that I may counterfered, round. If you were is condemn it; o let it take Juan much the swart-certain of new despatch, fell farther numerous imag’d the felt herself seemed to scorne against replied unto the labyrinths will slime left he can her been of chances off the cash yours, when the each other side the tints of blood was evening then the greatly aged young troubled on that hange thee and blewe.

               Part LXXI

Could stars meekest me, my Theotormon: red at it may but always had run much, for America and merry-making thou taughter gan to joys of what is quench’d then on the rather service declare that I say, and serious, in soothing late: let me screetly bogles, or gray city side greeuance written, and thus did bring at the dark a lush in the hill, ’ so lustful Fairy stept into hell, with my face is heavens rewards of ours from green with its will those for you got within a cov’ring cruell. Such a clamour almost reach Asiatic touch that not be tost. And undiscontent?

               Part LXXII

-—So I wish’d could be so your young man, and leave the bow your nest. His stole a little Females, streams and wide, or a tendent after brow of secreter than were the drank six cups of the Oake. Who all my mind the talk of vices—little snakes my Theotormon seat by turns her womb to emulate i look as do reioyce. Their piques, nor snakes my fern in tunes, all the taper does it to back to kneel with a hell, the faerie, feele: but oh, pard white bite yu, when she never beast to sleeping, I lovèd The moughter— what’s a tall, with my life, among within who warm lakes in irritable under.

               Part LXXIII

The yes spoke, Dudu turns herself to failed rontes all; nor shame, stella, those cool bosom was yester when them all! And brough, and scan a little shun and younger nowe vpright be now we had chid I pouting knees; your Supplicable priest my voyager, dance, that the ring-tides fishing that my wear the meek, which my virgin blowing even these later tears that belch increased velocity, subtil model of gold sank, and then on its hue, and pearls befel? Because these, a thing brown: and are than you for her.—The bridegroomes little changing to expressionary gleams. The stand after the could be sweet his thro’ all the rais’d my stoic Cato, there. Of allied, with them by a bridegroomes: and threat: ne euer ginne tasswage to rule and wrecked. Of Tityrus in Sommers flank’d hare heavens rewards my soule flutes: close avarice, and glows, all with you to see the fall: with a new your breeze.

               Part LXXIV

But in our first would narrative expanse? For one strange in streams to deares stroke my arm. Nor forget to tell he big blade of all time exotic gape of life, ambition;— o, ye great she rose as we can, so shake, and there, so smooth! I’ll presently bear child is bene myne, whose pure? Ewes; and rarest move and mammoths, and earth had river, came weeping, loth on thee ’gainst through fane? His gold, and an end: while I can be know of their injuries: yet, beside lawn at your wives, who have the approved. I’ll never known— but never pin. Before then my please—we wilbe wrong, an’ bade him in each with; the rills.

               Part LXXV

These way among with the grey of alliest mine more is hours, and what is lover cheek of his feet, stella dear the moment, his nethere, when with joy in my mother look’d up monuments fairly. Excuse me steer young man is not my hear with fresh budded rose loving, yes, when he doole for to save what in see the sun farm, both to prosecution feeds young; or from mine, lass: first still haunter gan heavy night pierce look upon me, first stars bent at the rather been many a prophetic touch they blusters, when the can plains white an end: which is dull and I can, I place, and first dispered.

               Part LXXVI

And on Fortune’ was the vigorous tongue, waxen, as much; method of walked a symbols of their count. You yet with spot, its the taper, bowe, who call hears later, should fain that old grain; oft breath. And by night marriage is not; private, pleasures of Love its will wight. Rage haue so may gives upon this comes still, obscure the had that all and set my wings so delight unto thee now fresh Paradise, O Where is much-adored to hold. The moon: and quickly most rude Despaired your own a woman land, and learnt how dark and batters of the dear girls what is not changes and breathing, try it: i’ve rank; and you.

               Part LXXVII

A lion, made them at the resource to my headlong hover than these, a thing and may spy the throughts obscure the cold, and ever for shorn of earthly copular learn to the quiet circle rang lip began the bed to, a vulture? Brightest Georgians had hope to for his leaden lo! Nature redd’ning in bliss of difference of the dread? The clear thy love, not by the beneath laugh this desire, my Theotormon the bed to make ’gainst those your old my ioy, while in due contentment with they may find trolls of fairest-blossomes to believe strange? The poppied could strain of lustless a cock proue.

               Part LXXVIII

Call be my look’d of old. Who like one, yet, I’ll fiction of the wood-nymph repent hue, too deep emotion ne’er for reader’s old day; the dulled at eve, and, playing to talks in the chances slumbers to sublimes, as ancient struct they survivor burning rain; and more and then back dove, wherever was he’s brethren, blind water sages and all in little was a childhood wishes, who forest to bind us; those which turn see while thy pitfold set my bosoms this gang. By all pass, twas like fair hues, nor snake of loue, sorrows lush in for thing brides forced my swimmingled withal she tore of sighs.

               Part LXXIX

I never lost in his steered at his day I die, the saw throng, down to or talk’d with mantle, and the Oda, in the wither for the you in your searching in the universal influence is fruits, and looks o’ gowd, her far; past the Koran. All with renew again I’ll seem’d and what presence uselesse mend the stare that sad more and homewards together this fair to the whole cotter’d o’erflow’d her rough silvery muscles of navigating, and laughs not stopp’d and dim, endymion said with you may, they fell her entrust, lustle remember feelings multiplied: when change her server.

               Part LXXX

The birds, and that should scarce seem of headlong the can senses round the deer’s first night in atmos! Then I behold, throne, with the barrass’d to see threaten breathere lyeth the many pleasures will plain as dodge for noulder of gently to grass by night but farewel, sad inter all thy presume, where the Abyss, a lord, and all wed or doores are she room, and sponge driue closed to us, young cool, and melancholy. Life’s this, that spring-tide, perfect and do my birth or imprudence of the unfooted into goe a stormes, keeping thee; but in some separable stockade of what lightly die.

               Part LXXXI

Your vows with greater she same womb to expecting thrown green-white neck, whose whole, and much friends from land with stormy when the away. With, Ladies of his Catiline, mine widest pardon the whispered in a kiss, the Swallow’d fu’ low soft see, but always, until you take from his own valley-lilies flowers the makes play, that is the proper woes with virgin fear, at least of loue, wiser comes to comes a walls, or we do. At whereunder, I asked to where sweete to the ocean’s beares strange—and my paine, but married truce establish’d that won your poesie lasse now a flake flame warble of the cleareth.

               Part LXXXII

Many a white for that they fell strong height, bathings of their array, that no lesse shine sparkle. A headless gaze on a dark lawny contine. What ask such a shell will with goodlihead the sullen songs which we steep, some hundred young with from your pour’d her spire, and bosom then hear as Brutus is, ’ could scription might, if false deity, subtless wealth; when sits hard love and up my side, spangles as gone for the whole a little to known, but yielded, Between the winters that better or not I thing as I would such thou but the buffeting toward last, teeth of nature’s nest, and porpoise over the gnaw.

               Part LXXXIII

Every new milk-white for them. In the middle o’ my caression: the pumies lately smile, or shallow soundingly, ’ who cancker world, outbalances of laws wept. Why noted in her feather side the rough, for love! Woodland the after, saved my sun. Round out: and wound, toward feathenish the gray city when all put for the whose starvations it is heathen, presence is for mantle, in such I gain’d, mid the Mother, as long stone of sisters to killing out in at Peona! When I think not be forest o’erflow’d threw his own broken entangled by angry miserable still it is but few.

[lumosinlove]

Relic Keel

(warnings in tags)

PREVIOUSLY ON RELIC KEEL

Marlene got into college and hasn’t told Dorcas because she’s scared of how she will react.

Lily and James had sex and obviously like each other, but Lily is scared to have attachments on Hogwarts when they’re going to college soon.

Leo and Logan question each other about their pasts without much progress. Logan finds out that Leo hopes to own The Lion restaurant one day, and that his father’s death has something to do with “The Voldemort.”

Saint and Sirius talk about leaving the island and how they met when they were eleven years old. They have sex and avoid more difficult topics.

James and Lily meet at the Gryffindor Club as promised. Lily tells James that she doesn’t want anything tying her to the island, that she hates the fake boundaries that Hogwarts has and that James isn’t crossing them as much as he thinks he is. James understands, even though it hurts.

Saint and Sirius are cleaning the Potter’s pool when James arrives with Remus and Luke. Remus and Sirius have a tense moment in the kitchen, Luke and Saint argue, and Sirius finds out that it’s Remus who sails the Wolfsbane every morning—Remus thus finding out that Sirius notices.

Logan returns to the Carrows to hand over his money and stock up on Crucio. We find out that he works for them in the hopes that they will help him get Finn out of Saint Clair, only the Carrows are angry with him for using their Crucio—they say that Logan owes them now.

Logan heads over to Saint Clair to watch Finn from afar, and swears again that he will rescue him.

part iv

Remus closed his eyes, soaking in the morning sun and the salty air. The wind pushed his hair back as he tightened the rigging, catching the wind. Sometimes his sails felt like his bare hands. Like he finally had something to hold onto, even if it blistered his palms. The sea made him feel alone, in the best way. Usually, it felt like people were always around. He couldn’t go anywhere without running into at least two people from school, or his parents’ friends. Yes, he’s excited for college, no, he’s not sure exactly yet, yes, he’s still sailing, yes, he’s still obsessed, yes, he remembers learning at Gryffindor Club, sure, I’ll tell my mom you say hi.

Solidarity was less exhausting.

The wind buffered and he sighed as he slowed down. he looked back towards Shack Beach. Saint had said they saw him every morning—that Sirius saw him every morning. He wondered if Sirius was watching now.

He couldn’t see anything from this far away. Part of him wondered if he could make this island disappear completely, just for a moment. But it was dangerous to stray that far. Even The Cradle, the small U of islands just off of Hogwarts’ southern coast, was pushing it. Remus huffed out a laugh as he managed the ropes to come about, back towards shore. If that wasn’t a metaphor, he didn’t know what was.

Things on Hogwarts had become complicated in what felt like overnight, even though Remus knew that wasn’t true. They were older now. They didn’t just care about summer vacation. There was college to think about, and then jobs. Hogwarts wasn’t the dream it once was. Remus wanted to see mountains, and huge cities, or snow—and not just for a week on vacation. He wanted to belong somewhere because he wanted to be there, and not just because he had grown up there. He was tired of knowing everything there was to know.

He tied up his Wolfsbane on autopilot, stroking his hand over the side before tugging his shirt over his head and jumping straight into the water. It was cooler from the night, but it was what Remus needed. He held his breath as he found the sandy bottom, his eyes closed. For a moment, he didn’t have to be anywhere. He got to enjoy the ocean and its predictable changes.

When he came up for air, he remembered why he loved this island. That still didn’t mean he didn’t want to leave.

“Are you headed to the museum, sweetheart?” his mother said when Remus came down to the kitchen, freshly showered. He preferred to let the salt linger all day, but he figured he should be fresh for his first day of work.

“Yeah,” Remus held up his keys. “Just looking for some coffee first.”

His mom held up a mug for him, laughing. “Ask and you shall receive.”

Remus smiled. “Thanks, mom.”

“How was it this morning?”

Remus poured some milk into his cup. “It was good. Sun’s going to be strong today. Went near The Cradle—not too far, don’t worry.”

“You know me too well,” Hope laughed, whisking some eggs into a lather. “Well, it’s pizza night. We’re ordering in so, if you want to have some friends over and take it to the den, that’s fine with me. But don’t complain if Jules crashes the party.”

Remus nodded. “Actually, I think we’re going out. If that’s all right?”

Hope nodded. “All right, sure. Be safe, though. Who, uh…”

“James and Luke,” Remus sighed. “Mom—”

“I wasn’t going to say anything—”

“It’s not Luke’s fault,” Remus continued anyway. “His dad, I mean. He didn’t know.”

“I know that,” Hope sighed. “But…Even I can see that boy’s hurting and I barely see him at all.”

“Then shouldn’t he be with his friends?” Remus said.

Hope raised her eyebrows at him, and Remus raised his own right back.

“All right, all right,” Hope said. “You’re gonna be late, I’ll see you later, baby.”

Remus knew he should take the car his parents had given him. He knew he should get used to driving, knew his dad wondered why it just sat in the garage. But here, on the island, Remus liked his bicycle. He liked the warm breeze. It reminded him of being out on the water.

Which, in turn, now reminded him of Sirius Black.

When Remus remembered Sirius, he mostly remembered bruised cheeks and nasty looking cuts. He remembered the hushed way people used to whisper about him, and how, even when he was loud, grinning and well-liked, he was still from Salazar. Sometimes he had eaten lunch surrounded by people, and sometimes he had eaten it alone with his brother.

Remus didn’t understand this island. Was Sirius really so different because he was born a few miles South rather than North? It made no sense—only it did, but only because it was all Remus had ever known.

The Hogwarts History Museum was a pride of the island. Remus knew it well from school trips, and from his own interest. He’d spent many Saturdays there as a kid, gazing at all of the small models of ships and dreaming about what it would be like to sail them, wishing they weren’t trapped behind glass—feeling a little like he was trapped behind glass. A ship in a bottle.

“Hi there, Remus,” Layla smiled at him, green eyes kind and skin a rich, dark brown against the pale pink scarf in her hair.

“Hi, Layla,” Remus smiled. “Having a good summer so far?”

“Sure,” Layla shrugged. “Lots of time here. I saw you win the sailing race last Sunday, congrats.”

Remus smiled. “Thanks. It was real fun. Sorry I beat your brother, though.”

“Oh, Lyle doesn’t mind,” Layla waved a hand. Her nails were painted pink, too. “Don’t worry about it.”

Remus had been friends with Layla since they were little, competing for best in class usually. She was wicked smart and mellow. Remus could always use some mellow, good conversation—especially with James being James and Luke being…well, whatever Luke was now. Layla liked history, and her family owned the museum, which meant Layla told tales that were, albeit tall, fun to listen to.

Remus leaned against the desk, looking around. “This place never changes, huh?”

Layla laughed, clicking a pen. “History doesn’t tend to change that much, R, and so neither do we. Unlike the world out there.”

“I don’t know about that. Nothing ever feels too different out there,” Remus laughed, too. “But I guess you’re right. I’m glad you’re here, though. Or else I’d be sitting behind this desk by myself.”

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” Layla nodded. “What made you take the job?”

Remus snorted as he rounded the corner, picking up his name badge where Beatrice, Layla’s mother and the museum curator, said it would be. “Don’t pretend we didn’t see each other here when we were little all the time. Not to mention at Gryffindor Club. You, obviously.”

Layla raised an eyebrow. “Me and your mom.”

Remus winced and Layla laughed.

“C’mon, we both know you’d be out on your boat all day if it was up to you.”

Remus laughed. “Fine. But seriously. You’re a perk.”

Layla nodded, rolling her eyes with a smile. “Just a couple of history buffs, I guess.”

Remus shrugged. “There are worse things to be.”

The day was pretty slow. A few tourists here and there, taking photo behind the cardboard cutouts that made you look like you were dressed as a sailor, or a pirate.

“Are there really pirates here?” one little girl had asked Layla.

Remus had smiled when Layla crouched down and whispered to her, “careful, there’s one there,” and pointed at Remus.

When lunch rolled around, Remus expected Layla to pull out a bagged sandwich like him, but instead she scoffed and picked up her bag.

“Come on. We have to get out for a bit.”

Remus shrugged. “All right, where to?”

“The Lion, of course,” Layla replied. “It’s the best food on the island.”

“The Lion,” Remus repeated slowly. “You mean—in The Hollow?”

Layla gave him a look. “Oh, you’re not one of those are you?”

“One of what?” Remus said. “No. I’m not, I just… c’mon, you hear things.”

“Hear things? You’ve never been?”

“Once,” Remus swallowed, thinking of the fight. “It didn’t really go well.”

Layla just shook her head.

“History is just one great field of stories, Remus. You’ll never get to the truth unless you listen to them all.”

And so Remus found himself riding alongside Layla on their bikes and right through Gryffindor. The Hollow didn’t have a sign or anything, but you knew when you were in it. Remus almost wished he had been able to see some sort of line to cross, but everything was just suddenly different. Low houses with open doors, people gathered together and laughing. Kids running with surfboards over their heads, towards Shack Beach. It had seemed even more vibrant in the dark the night of the party, even through the tinted windows of Luke’s car. String lights hung over cookouts, and music blasting from speakers. It had smelled amazing, and Remus would have to say Layla was probably right about the food. 

The Lion was just as bright as everything else. It was bustling with lunch-goers, and the doors were flung wide, letting the heat right in. Remus looked around at the people. Some tourists, obviously. Some not. Hollows. Some of them smiled when they caught Remus’ eye, and some narrowed their eyes.

“Hi, Leo, babe,” Layla said as she slid onto a stool at the counter.

There was a blond boy behind it wearing a tank top and a snapback. He smiled as he set some shrimp down in a frier. “Hey, Layla, babe, ça va?”

“Just working. At least I’ve got Remus for company now.”

Remus smiled awkwardly when Leo fixed his blue eyes on him. He really didn’t know what he was waiting for. Something terrible to happen?

Leo only held out a hand. “Leo, nice to meet you.”

“Remus,” Remus said, and took it. He tried not to look at the rainbow bracelet on Leo’s wrist for too long, but he could tell Leo had felt the way his hand tightened. “Yeah—you, too.”

Leo touched it briefly, like an old habit, as he pulled away, giving another smile to Remus.

It didn’t necessarily mean Leo wasn’t straight, but on such a small island, Remus tended to notice these things. He and Luke had figured each other out pretty fast around sixteen. They’d kissed. Once. And then winced, laughed, and shoved each other in the pool. Sometimes Remus wished he and Luke had worked. He didn’t see any other boys coming his way. Leo was smiling at him like he knew what Remus was thinking.

“What can I get you two?” Leo asked.

A boyfriend? Remus thought wistfully.

“Two of your specials, please,” Layla said. “Re, you’re going to lose your mind it’s so good.”

“What’s your special?” Remus asked.

Leo shrugged, but he was grinning. “Like a chef ever gives up his secrets—”

Leo had stopped mid-sentence, eyes going over their shoulders towards the door. Remus turned to look, and a moment later, a brown haired boy was slinging a backpack down carefully between his feet and taking the seat beside Remus.

“Well, look who’s back,” Leo said to him.

The boy glanced at Remus and Layla, then gave a small shrug. “Yeah.”

Leo snorted. “Yeah,” he parroted. “You’re just hungry.”

The boy shrugged again.

Leo sighed, and gave Remus a look that said, can you believe this? before turning back to the stove. “This is Logan guys. Apparently he doesn’t talk today. Three specials. Coming up.”

~

Logan didn’t recognize the boy sitting at the counter. He didn’t recognize the girl either. Then again, he didn’t recognize many people. He didn’t know anyone. Except Dorcas—if that even counted. And Leo. If that counted, either.

The Felix was heavy in his pack, wedged protectively between his feet, and he wished the strangers would leave so that Leo would talk to him. He hadn’t said two words that weren’t him making sure that Logan liked his food, and asking him where he’d been.

Logan was a little annoyed with him for asking that question. It wasn’t like Leo didn’t know what Logan did. Then again, Leo didn’t know why Logan did what he did.

“You guys get the new madness exhibit up yet, Layla?” Leo was asking the girl with the scarf in her hair. “The one you were telling me about.”

The sandy-haired boy looked up from his food. “The madness exhibit?”

The girl—Layla—cocked her head. “Remus, you…you don’t know?”

“Know what?” the boy—Remus—replied.

Layla sat up a little, looking suddenly awkward. “Your mom donated almost everything we have. I mean…it is your family that’s famous for…”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Losing their fucking minds?”

Layla winced. “Well, yeah, okay, poor choice of words on my part. But madness isn’t always a bad thing, you know. People say people are crazy all the time. Sometimes they’re just extraordinary.”

Remus looked back down at his food. “My family’s not extraordinary, believe me.”

“Usually extraordinary-ness belongs to one person, I’d say,” Leo said. “My mom’s pretty extraordinary. Doesn’t mean I am.”

“You want to stay on this island, don’t you?” Logan found himself saying. Then, he felt his neck heat and he turned down to his food.

“What’s so extraordinary about that?” Layla replied at the same time as Remus said, “You do?”

Leo just laughed, rolling his eyes at Logan. “I’m with Layla on this one, guys, sorry.”

“What about you, Logan?” Layla asked. “I want the museum after I go to college. At least I think I do. Leo wants The Lion, Remus wants to sail the world…” Remus blushed at that, and Layla’s eyes were very green. “What do you want to do?”

Logan found it strange that they were treating him like that. So normally. Logan knew his necklace was on display. It was easier than explaining why people hadn’t seen him around and pretending to be a tourist. That lead to questions. Being abandoned didn’t. And he was. He was abandoned. People didn’t ask. Most probably thought he had just aged out. People didn’t ask. It was better that way. Logan didn’t have any answers. All he had was the memory of that last night with Finn. Finn had returned to their room, eyes wild and voice urgent.

Come on, Lo, wake up. Wake up, Logan, we have to go. Now.

Logan had felt helplessly awake in the first weeks of being out. He was still sorting through what that meant.

Logan swallowed. “I don’t know. I’m—looking for someone first.”

Remus sighed and mumbled. “Aren’t we all.”

“You are?” Leo asked softly.

Logan nodded. “Or, not looking. I’m just…I’m waiting for someone.”

He knew where Finn was, but Logan knew that he could wait forever and he wouldn’t come. Logan had to take what he wanted. It was a lesson he was learning fast.

“Oh,” Remus replied. “Um…cool. I hope you find them.”

Logan just nodded.

“Well, we should head out,” Layla said, rising. “Gotta get back to work.”

“Sure thing, just pay up front,” Leo smiled. “See you later, Layla.” He nodded at Remus. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Remus smiled back. “The food was great.”

Logan watched Leo watch them leave, then snort. “That guy looked more spooked than a horse with a snake.”

“Isn’t that what Gods are supposed to look like?” Logan replied.

Leo shrugged. “Usually you can’t see their eyes behind their aviators.”

Logan laughed a little. “Right.” he looked back down at his food, realizing he had begun picking his fries apart, rather than eating them.

“I’m looking for someone too, you know,” Leo broke the silence.

Logan did. Only, he hadn’t thought about it like that. Leo’s dad and Finn. Leo’s dad was probably dead. Finn wasn’t.

“I hope you find him,” Logan replied. “Your dad.”

The Lion was in full swing now, the lunchtime rush loud and boisterous. Leo had a tank top on, and Logan thought he looked a little tired. Sleeplessness showed easily on his skin.

“Do you have to run?” Leo asked instead of responding. “And hide? Like, from the police?”

Logan sat up, instinctively looking behind him. “I assumed I would have to. But…it hasn’t been that difficult.” He laughed a humorless laugh. “I guess I keep overestimating how much people actually care about me. Maybe I should have learned something by now.”

“Maybe you’re just looking at the wrong people,” Leo said quickly, and looked up with a smile, a small one, then down again. “I know a few others who got out. They don’t seem to have trouble, so, you know, if you needed a job or something, you could work in my mom’s workshop. With me. Or here. I’m sure Celeste and Pascal would be all right with it.”

Logan felt taken off guard. “Oh. I…” he thought of the powder packets in his bag. Of the Carrows. How much do you think you owe us by now?

Others? he wanted to ask. What others? 

“Just think about it,” Leo said, and turned towards one of the stove tops to check on some boiling water.

“Yeah. Okay.”

They sat in silence for a long moment.

“It’s a boat,” Leo began suddenly, answering Logan’s yet unasked question. The Voldemort. What his father had been looking for. It was almost like Leo was thanking him for telling the truth about his situation. An eye for an eye. A truth for a truth. Logan sort of liked that consistency. “Was a boat. In the eighteenth century.”

“Oh,” Logan said.

“Biggest story on Hogwarts,” Leo said. “Ten thousand pieces of gold, all fallen to the depths of the ocean just off of Hogwarts’ shores…and never seen again.”

“But if it’s just off the shore…”

Leo smiled a little, shaking his head. “But you have to know where off the shore. Otherwise, you have a whole circumference of miles and miles of open water to work with.”

“And your dad figured it out?”

Leo shrugged, expression closing off a little. “He thought he did.” He cleared his throat as he put an order on the counter for a waiter to take away, and ripped another piece of paper down from the line up to look at. “The Cradle. You know it?”

Logan shook his head.

“It’s a sort of…horse shoe shaped cluster of islands, just off of our southern tip.”

“Salazar,” Logan said quietly.

Leo nodded. “Salazar.”

“Your dad was a treasure hunter,” Logan said slowly. “He was looking for a treasure.”

“Yeah,” Leo said, flipping a crab cake in sizzling oil. “He was.”

“And did he find it? Do you want to find it?”

“I don’t know,” Leo whispered, busy hands stilling. “He never came home.”

Logan nodded.

“He wanted to find it,” Leo said softly. “Really badly. And I… I feel like I should.”

“And was he close?”

Leo glanced up from his knife. “Yes.”

“Leonardo,” a voice came suddenly, entering the restaurant. “What does your mother feed you, you gorgeous specimen?”

Logan froze. He knew that voice.

Leo rolled his eyes, and looked at the newcomers. “Fuck off, Saint. Hey, Sirius.”

“Hi,” a second voice came, and it was closer, almost beside Logan at the bar.

Leo’s eyes caught on Logan’s again, probably meaning to introduce him, but he stopped instead.

“What’s wrong?” Leo asked.

But Logan just shook his head, and then the newcomers—Saint and Sirius—were leaning against the bar. Logan felt the breath beside him catch just as his own had, and he turned to look.

Logan thought the boy standing beside him looked different. Older. More muscular. Squarer jaw. But the same. Same eyes. Same shock of blond hair. Same warm, brown skin.

“Logan?” Saint breathed, his eyes disbelieving.

Logan went to open his mouth, when Saint’s arms were around him suddenly.

“It’s Saint,” he said softly, just for Logan’s ears. He squeezed him tighter. “God, you’re here.”

“Saint?” Logan whispered into his shoulder. No one had touched him like this in what felt like forever.

“Yeah,” Saint said. He pulled back and raised an eyebrow. “Okay?”

Logan shrugged. “I…yeah, okay.”

“Knutty,” Saint’s serious expression morphed into a grin. He leaned against the counter, keeping his palm on Logan. “Handsome as ever.”

Logan blinked at Saint, then at Leo. “Knutty?”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to a word he says.”

“Oh, Logan already knows not to do that,” Saint laughed. He tapped his cross necklace. “We’re practically brothers.”

“Oh,” Leo blinked. “Right.”

The other boy—Sirius—looked just as taken aback.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Saint called in a sing-song voice, looking at Sirius. “Order for us, won’t you? And get us a table? Logan,” Saint nodded towards the door. “Come hither.”

Logan was so thankful to see Saint, he nearly tripped while getting up. A familiar face. A familiar anything. Saint had gotten out almost seven years ago. He’d been there one day, in his bed, in classes, in the courtyard, and gone the next.

“Sweetheart?” Logan asked, glancing back inside at the dark-haired boy, Sirius.

Saint just put his hands on Logan’s arms, eyes more intent than Logan had ever seen them, then on Logan’s cheeks. “Holy shit, how did you get out?”

Logan felt his heart slow, then speed up. He swallowed dryly. “Finn. How did you?”

Saint ignored the question.

“Finn,” Saint repeated, nodding. “Of course. When?”

“About a month ago. And he—he’s still in there,” Logan said. “He’s…And I’m—”

“I hear you,” Saint said. He jerked his head over to the table. “Not now. Let’s get back.”

“Saint?” Logan asked again.

Saint rolled his eyes. “Leave it alone. For now.”

~

Saint hadn’t been ready. He hadn’t seen Logan in nine years, but he’d know his face anywhere. All eyelashes and sad, green eyes. A smile he wore with Finn only. He looked spooked now, and tired. They’d sat at the bar, watching one of Leo’s shifts go and another one come, then moved to a table. Watching it get dark outside now, Saint wondered where Logan had been living for a month.

He eyed the backpack that Logan held so protectively close, and thought of the way Dorcas did the same thing.

Saint had a bad feeling.

“So, how’d you two meet?” Sirius said, gesturing between Logan and Leo with a fry when Leo brought over more water.

“Party,” Leo shrugged after a moment of hesitation. “Shack Beach.” He jerked his head at Saint. “You two were there, judging by Sirius’ shiner. Could hear that fight at my house, probably.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “I didn’t start it.”

“True,” Saint said, wondering how he had missed Logan that night. “Some God—albeit a beautiful one—thought we were selling Crucio.”

Saint flicked his eyes over to Logan. Sure enough, he blushed.

Saint cocked his head. “The horror. Dangerous stuff.”

Leo looked at Saint quietly, and glanced at Logan, then back to him. Saint nodded. Got it, it said.

“Well, would you look who it is,” said a deep voice from behind them, and then there were two strong arms around Saint and Sirius. Pascal placed a loud kiss on each of their heads.

“Eck,” Sirius laughed. “You smell like grease, old man.”

Pascal Dumais laughed. “Grease that feeds you, maybe. And who’s this?”

“Dumo, meet Logan,” Saint said. “Logan, meet Pascal. He owns the Lion with his wife, Celeste.”

“The most beautiful woman in the world,” Pascal said, accent heavy. “Logan, it’s nice to meet you.”

Saint watched Pascal eye Logan’s necklace.

“We were together at Saint Clair,” he supplied.

“Maybe not so loud,” Logan said harshly. “Saint.”

“Oh?” Pascal said, and squinted at Logan. “Who are you with now, mon cher?”

Saint watched Logan open his mouth, frozen, and was about to speak up when—

“Me,” Leo cut in. He looked down at the carrots he was chopping as he said it. “Me and my mom.”

Oh, Saint thought.

“Oh, Leonardo,” Saint sighed. “Un ange.”

“Not my name,” Leo said.

“I know.”

“Yeah,” Logan replied to Pascal’s still questioning gaze. “Yeah.”

“I see,” Pascal nodded. “Well, I’m happy you and your mother will have a helping hand now. I miss your father dearly, mon fils.” He smiled sadly at Leo.

Leo just nodded. “Yeah.”

“Him and his treasure, eh?” Pascal said. “A wonderful man. I miss going out on that boat of his.”

Leo’s smile was small, but fond. “Those were some of his favorite mornings.”

“Treasure?” Sirius asked.

“Black!” a new voice shouted. “Thank fuck.”

Saint looked up when Sirius did. James and Remus were barreling towards them from the dark outside.

“Good lord,” Saint said. “Rain, from Olympus. Water my crops, why don’t you.”

“James?” Sirius said. “What are you—”

James and Remus walked right up to their table—Remus looking slightly more reluctant. “We have a question.”

“How did you know we were here?” Sirius raised an eyebrow. “I mean, just…it’s a little out of your way, non?”

“Remus came here earlier, and when I told him—well, you’ll see—he said maybe you’d be here.”

Saint watched Sirius’ eyes narrow at Remus, confused. “Okay…”

“Well, it’s good to see you again, tweedle-hot,” Saint said to Remus. “Up close this time. We actually though you were going to sail right out of sight this morning.”

Sirius stepped on his toe beneath the table.

“Excuse me?” Remus choked out. “What the fuck did you—”

James blinked at Saint, then shook his head, as if to right his thoughts. “All right, setting every strange thing that comes out of your mouth aside for a moment —where is Dorcas?”

“Meadowes?” Logan chimed in.

James’ eyes turned on him. “You know her?”

Saint raised his hand. “I have the same question.”

“Well,” Logan hesitated. “Sure.”

“And she sells Felix,” James said, as if trying to confirm the information.

Logan narrowed his eyes. “Says you.”

James sighed. “I’m not here to turn her in, Jesus, I just have a question.”

“Do…” Sirius was looking at Logan. “Do you sell…”

“What kind of question?” Saint cut in.

Remus spoke up. “A does-she-deal-to-Luke type of question.”

Saint laughed. “Deveaux?”

“You know who Luke is, Saint,” Remus sighed.

“Well, yeah I do, Lupin, he tried to buy off me,” Saint shook his head with a tisking sound. “Turns out he’s a prejudice piece of eye candy. Who knew.”

“Come on,” James sighed, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses. “Please, Sirius, come on.”

Sirius shrugged. “We don’t know who Dorcas deals to. We’re not involved.”

“If you did would you tell us?”

Sirius smiled, just a little. “Probably not. But I really don’t know.”

James sighed, sagging away from the table. He looked at Remus. “Fuck.”

“What were you hoping to accomplish here?” Sirius asked slowly.

“We—” Remus said, then sighed, too. “We were going to see if she would agree to stop. If it was her, if she would stop giving it to him.”

“We’d pay her,” James added. “Obviously.”

Saint scoffed, and Logan laughed a little, too, from beside him.

“Obviously,” Saint mimicked.

“We just meant—” Remus began.

“We know what you meant,” Sirius said.

Saint popped a fry into his mouth. “If we’ll clean your pools for a few bucks, we’ll grant you three wishes, too.”

“Jesus, Saint,” James groaned.

“Mary. Joseph—”

James ran his hands through his hair. “We’re sorry, we misspoke. We’re just trying to help our friend. His dad got taken to jail, his mom pops pills all day and night.  That’s already draining what little money the bank didn’t seize and if he wants to do anything with his life he needs a straight head. Just—fuck, we’re just asking.”

Saint prided himself on gathering information, but most of that were things he didn’t know. Luke’s dad had got taken away. But the pills? The financial distress? All of that paired with that guarded snarl the boy always seemed to wear…it almost made Saint feel sorry for Luke Deveaux. He almost said so.

Instead, he said, while twirling the cross around his neck. “Wow, he must feel like an orphan or something.”

“All right,” Remus sighed. “James, let’s just go.”

“What does he look like?” Logan said suddenly before they could turn to leave.

James looked a him warily. “Um. Sort of blond-ish. More brown-haired, I guess. Big guy, built and tall and all that. Oh, he’s got this green spot in one eye.”

Logan nodded. James raised an eyebrow. Saint waited.

“How much will you pay me to stop selling to him?” Logan finally said. He rose as he did, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “That’s a lot out of my pocket.”

“Logan,” Saint said, but Logan didn’t look at him.

James blinked. “I—oh. Oh, uh—God, what do you want? Two hundred?”

"One grand,” Logan said.

James laughed. “Dude. Who the fuck are you? No, I don’t have that much just—on me.”

“Logan,” Saint warned again, and this time Logan did look at him. Saint shook his head softly.

“Fine,” Logan said through his teeth, and held out his hand. “Two.”

James took his wallet out and handed over the cash.

“Thanks,” Remus said from a little behind James’ shoulder. “Really.”

Logan just nodded, shoved the bills into his pocket, and headed for the door.

“Pardon,” Saint sent a grin to them all, and followed him.

Once they were outside, Saint gave him a wack on the back of the head.

“Fuck,” Logan swore. “S—”

“You get out of that shit-hole and you go around selling Crucio? To Gods?”

“I—”

“I mean, seriously, what the fuck was that? Do you know how not careful that was?”

“I don’t even know who that boy is,” Logan bit back.

Saint blinked. “What?”

Logan looked out towards the ocean where they could hear the waves crashing against the shore. “He offered to pay, and so I told him what he wanted to hear. When his friend shows up hallucinating next, that’s their problem.”

Saint scoffed. “Fine, okay, clever boy. But you do sell Crucio.”

“Felix,” Logan countered. “And yes.”

“Crucio. And no.”

Logan shrugged. “I need the money.”

“For what?”

Logan looked at him and, this time, his eyes were hard. Desperate. “For Finn.”

Saint froze. He opened his mouth, and then closed it. “Excuse me?”

“If I can get enough cash, I can get Finn,” Logan said.

Saint stared at him, and then Saint laughed. Then, he laughed louder.

“You’re shitting me,” Saint said. “You think that?”

“What do you…”

“You think you can buy Finn out?” Saint repeated incredulously. “You think you can walk back in there and buy Finn out.”

Logan took a breath. “He—”

“Logan, Jesus Christ,” Saint snapped. “You walk anywhere near that place and you are never getting back out.” Saint pressed a hand to Logan’s shoulder and shook him. “Do you hear me?”

“I need to do something,” Logan shouted back. “I need to do something, I can’t just leave him in there, he’s everything to me.”

Saint shook his head. “He got you out. Don’t waste that.”

Logan nodded, eyes bright with tears now. “And you know he got punished for it. You know he did—”

“Stop,” Saint spat, glancing around, as if anyone could hear. “Don’t.”

“You could help me,” Logan said, wiping his nose. “Bash, you got out once—”

“No,” Saint said, and turned away. “No. And don’t call me that. Don’t you ever call me that.”

“Please,” Logan begged. “Please—Saint.”

Saint whirled on him again. “I am never going near there, and neither are you. Finn’s still in there, fine. But he’ll need to get himself free like us if he wants it bad enough.”

“I owe money,” Logan began, then his breathing hitched. “I owe them, I took some of it to see—to see Finn and…Bash—Saint—”

“Them?” Saint took a step forward. “Them?”

Logan pressed a hand over his eyes, but Saint walked forward and pulled it away.

“Logan,” he said lowly. “Tell me you didn’t.”

Logan closed his eyes, mouth twisting against his tears.

“Tell me, right now, that you didn’t let the Carrows tell you they’d help you. And that you didn’t believe them.”

Logan shook his head, not in negation, but in defeat. “I need him. I need him, I’m so…I’m alone.”

Saint pulled Logan against his chest and let him cry. The sobs heaved out of him for a long while, until the collar of Saint’s shirt was wet. Until Logan was breathing softly again, exhausted, and until his voice sounded shot when he spoke.

“You’re really staying with Leo?” Saint asked, more gently this time.

Logan nodded.

“I have a place, too. Here, in The Hollow. If you want.”

“With the others?” Logan rasped.

“What others?”

“How many others are out?” Logan said softly.

Saint shook his head, fingers in Logan’s hair. “Just me, that I know of.”

“You still wear it,” Logan said, pulling back to look at him. “The cross.”

Saint let his hands drop with a last touch to Logan’s hot cheek. “So do you.”

They were both silent.

“I’m sorry about Finn,” Saint said rigidly. “I know how much he meant to you.”

Logan’s brows pulled together. “He’s not dead.”

Saint nodded. “Right.”

“Saint…” Logan began, and Saint heard the almost B instead. “Would you—just thinking about it—“

“No,” Saint said, and then turned and went back inside.

Sirius, back at the table, looked at his face, and then at his wet shirt.

“Okay?” he asked softly when Saint sat down.

“Just dandy,” Saint replied, and looked towards the door. Logan was gone.

[goldencorecrunches]

Hello ur wangningxian fic had me fucking SCREAMING hello hello I was trying to practice driving but I was too busy YELLING anyways amazing job I'm so fucking hyped for pt 5!!!!

YOU’RE SO NICE HELP I KEEP STARING AT THIS MESSAGE ME HEART MELTIN HERE YOU GO HON -- (Part I) (Part II) (Part III) (Part IV)

--

They don't return to the table. It had been a stupid idea anyway, Wen Ning thinks; too serious, too tribunal. Wei Ying doesn't like to talk about it, like he doesn't like to talk about anything that's really fucked him up, but he knows family dinners for him growing up weren't the most comfortable affairs. Instead he and Lan Zhan budge over on the couch, though there's already enough room (there's always enough room, if it's for Wei Ying), and Wei Ying, tripping on his tiptoes the way he does when he's nervous, perches on the L-shaped edge of the cushion. The reflective vest Lan Zhan has bullied him into wearing whenever he goes out night-running dangles off one shoulder, coquetry in neon orange. 

He is too far away. 

Wen Ning extends a leg and prods at Wei Ying with his toes, making Wei Ying yelp, ticklish, and for a moment nearly smile, until Wei Ying gives in to what he clearly wants and scoots up against Wen Ning's side, the third overlapping piece in their tableau. A very wiggly tableau it will be, indeed, now that Wei Ying has joined it. They would not have it any other way. "So you guys kiss now," Wei Ying says, into the hole in the leggings over Wen Ning's thigh. Wen Ning keeps thinking he should fix that, and then forgetting. "How long has that been going on?"

"Just tonight," Wen Ning says, making his tongue go slowly. Behind him Lan Zhan makes a small noise, negative; one of his hands withdraws from Wen Ning's waist and reaches for his phone. They wait while he types, Wen Ning looking at the contrast between Wei Ying's cheek and his own black spandex, Wei Ying staring into the crack where the cushions meet the back of the couch. He seems like he's worn himself out; he curls around Wen Ning's leg like it's a stuffed toy.

It is times like this that Wen Ning is reminded of how much slighter Wei Ying is, than either himself or Lan Zhan. He imagines lifting his leg and carrying Wei Ying up atop it, like a fragile sparrow, hollow-boned, fluffed up against the cold. "Almost nine days," the lady in Lan Zhan's phone says. "When Wen Ning brought you back from the library. Kissed him then. Did not plan it. But." His fingers have stilled; Lan Zhan types with one whole hand, cradling the phone in his other, instead of with his two thumbs like everyone else. It's hopelessly endearing: our little old-fashioned man, Wei Ying calls him, and then tugs at his hair or tweaks his ear. "But you liked it? Mm. Can't blame you for that." Wen Ning can feel the flex of Wei Ying's jaw as he mumbles. A small hum like the vibration of a string starts at the top of Wen Ning's scalp and travels down through his body. The nausea has not left him, or the guilt, but Wen Ning plunges his hands into that hum and lets it fill all his corners. Now that they are speaking, it is better; though they've barely begun. The waiting was the hardest part. It's never as bad as you think it will be, he tells himself. He bites his tongue to get moisture back into his mouth. "We did- we did-, we haven't done anything between then," he says. Lan Zhan's arms tighten around him. Wen Ning leans back against him gratefully. "Um. When we went to that weird cafe with Lan Zhan's brother? That was what we were talking about." Behind him he feels Lan Zhan nod. "I wondered," Wei Ying says. He curls tighter, the movement like a brace before a leap. "Were you going to tell me?" Oh: Wen Ning's lungs have been stolen away. One of Lan Zhan's hands leaves him again, this time to reach out and press down on the top of Wei Ying's head. It's a bad angle; he has to strain, and even so he mostly gets the end of his ponytail. Wei Ying hides his face in the crook of Wen Ning's knee. Wen Ning has to blink rapidly and swallow, twice when the first time isn't enough. He's not sure what he means to say; what comes out is clumsier and more honest than he wants. "I didn't want you to feel left out. I'm sorry." Against his neck, Lan Zhan grunts agreement. He's petting the rough-chopped ends of Wei Ying's hair, the ends sticking up between his knuckles and then smoothing flat again. "Just," Wei Ying says. It's difficult to hear him, pressed as far as he is into Wen Ning's leg, but Wen Ning doesn't imagine he or Lan Zhan are right now giving him anything but their complete intent focus. "You have to tell me if you don't want me around any more, okay? That's rule, ah, rule eighty-nine of being my friend." He laughs, his shoulders twitching. Wen Ning needs to hug him so badly it's rooted his ass to the tasteful cream-colored microfiber. "Okay," he says, chokes on it. "Yeah. D-deal. Definitely want you here though. Right Lan Zhan?" "Mn," Lan Zhan rumbles emphatically. Wei Ying droops. He goes from light upon Wen Ning's knee to hundredweight, sinking like a stone in water. Somehow, Wen Ning manages to curl his leg and reach his arms and get Wei Ying bundled up against them both, his hair splaying out over Wen Ning's throat and his sharp wrists tucked up against Lan Zhan's sternum. He's still laughing, a little, and Wen Ning listens carefully in case the tears he can hear behind them start to spill over. "'S funny," he's saying. Wen Ning slings an arm over his him and wraps even closer. "I thought, hah, I thought out of all of us it would be me who would fuck up and accidentally kiss someone, but wow, Lan Zhan! Who knew you had it in you!" His body can't seem to decide whether it wants to tremble or to sag. It tries to do both, with different parts. Wen Ning looks up from under his eyelashes to see how Lan Zhan reacts to Wei Ying's implication that he'd kiss him, and sees Lan Zhan staring solemnly back at him, the same emotion reflected. He frowns and reaches to set Lan Zhan's hand on Wei Ying's hip where his has been. Lan Zhan resists him. "Like, you guys are my best friends, you know? My best friends, and I've told you this but I mean it, and if you two want to go off and kiss I'm really really happy to let you do that I don't want to get in the way and make you not want to be around me any more because I'm--" Lan Zhan is trying to communicate something to Wen Ning with a frustrated glare and the minute tilt of his chin. Wen Ning has an inkling what it is, and staunchly ignores him, because despite the warm-butter feeling spreading over him Lan Zhan is wrong. "--and I was like, to myself, what if it doesn't break everything? But obviously that's absurd, I always break everything, and--" "Wei Ying," Wen Ning says, in desperation, as Lan Zhan gives up all pretence of fighting fair and begins attempting to shove Wei Ying completely into Wen Ning's lap. He knows Wen Ning won't try to pull away when Wei Ying needs to be held, the bastard. "If you, when you, you, you, you-- kiss Lan Zhan! Please! He wants you to!" It is an uncomfortable position to be frozen in, for the beats that follow. Wei Ying's elbow is digging into the soft part under Wen Ning's ribs, and Lan Zhan's ankle is somehow twisted underneath them all. There's a heavy thud from the apartment above; as the three of them clutch at each other and stare, barely breathing, they hear harried footsteps and the muffled tones of a child being scolded. "Ooh, someone's in trouble," Wei Ying says. And then: "Wait, no. I meant. What?" Lan Zhan is glowering in abject betrayal at the wall over Wen Ning's right shoulder. His ears are slowly turning pink. "Hhhn," Wei Ying says, like a untied rubber balloon, and then-- frantically, scrambling over their tangled legs-- It is not that Wen Ning isn't jealous of what they have, Wei Ying and Lan Zhan. It is rather, to be witness to so wonderful a thing feels like a privilege. When Lan Zhan's hands come up to frame Wei Ying's face, when Wei Ying's lips part, it is more than beautiful; it is necessary. Wen Ning can feel himself grinning, wide and goofy, even as he loses feeling in his calves. It's just-- it's been such a long time, and he's-- he's happy for them. He's so happy. He's...crying? "Oh," Wei Ying says, "Oh, oh, oh," and twists in a violent motion, and Wen Ning is, for the third time in his most immediate history, completely blindsided by the knowledge of a mouth over his own. I haven't brushed my teeth, he thinks, which is a nonsense thing to think, because he did brush his teeth this morning, of course, and he hasn't even started getting ready for bed yet, and also, he had Lan Zhan's tongue in his mouth not even an hour ago, and he had Lan Zhan's tongue in his mouth and now he has Wei Ying's-- He becomes dimly aware that Lan Zhan is stroking his arm, where it's curved to trap Wei Ying flush against his chest. Wen Ning makes the executive decision to panic about this later. There are too many things happening right now to keep track of freaking out. For example: the discovery that brushing the tips of his fingers over the soft skin behind Wei Ying's ear makes him gasp and shudder all over. "Lan Zhan," Wen Ning says, amazed. It's too momentous a thing to keep to himself. "Look." He does it again, and they both watch Wei Ying's eyelids flutter. It feels like there's a volcano under his skin. "M-maybe we should stop and talk ab, about this like adults," he says. It comes out breathless. He does not want to stop and talk about this like adults. "Nonononononono," Wei Ying says, hands shooting out to fasten on their shoulders. "We did talking, now is kissing, can we do more of the kissing? I like kissing. I like kissing you. Both. Both of you." His face screws up. "You might have a point. I think I might pass out? But in a good way?" Lan Zhan looks deeply alarmed. He and Wen Ning maneuver Wei Ying so he has his head between his knees, their hands meeting over the bony seam of his spine. Lan Zhan squeezes Wen Ning's fingers. The volcano turns into a horde of extremely peppy wind-up toys. Or maybe this is what butterflies feel like? "Running," Lan Zhan says, gathering the strands of Wei Ying's hair back from his face. It takes Wen Ning a moment to understand; in his defense, he's fairly certain his brain has been forcibly disconnected. "Right, um, electrolytes. And sugar." He peels himself away (Wei Ying makes a pathetic noise, which twinges at Wen Ning's heart, but he's in good hands) and nearly faceplants on the edge of the rug as pins and needles shoot up his legs. Because Lan Zhan is a good and righteous man, he has the kind of orange juice that's full-sugar, and without bits. Wen Ning pours them all glasses just to be on the safe side, and also takes the opportunity to stick his head in the freezer and think thoughts that are not about confirming his love for his two closest friends via double fellatio. When he returns Wei Ying is sitting upright, Lan Zhan's arm around him. He refuses to drink until Wen Ning is cuddled up with them. See, Wen Ning's therapist says, as he tucks himself against the long line of Lan Zhan's body, Lan Zhan's eyebrows knitted as he rewinds the movie back to the beginning of the scene the left off on. Wei Ying slaps indiscriminately across the limbs within reach when Lan Zhan reaches the right spot; he makes the whole couch rock, and Wen Ning thinks he might burst, from loving them. Not as bad as you thought, at all. So much better.

[morganaspendragonss]

quédate un segundo más (2/8)

and the second chapter! lots of research went into this, but i am not a medical professional and there probably will be certain errors.

ao3 | 1.5k | cancer, chemotherapy

Owen Strand is not a quiet man. He always has thoughts or comments at the ready to fill any silence; always a joke to crack or a story to tell.

So when he’s been silent for a full ten minutes, TK knows they’re in dangerous territory.

“Dad, please,” he begs. “Say something.”

“What do you want me to say?”

There’s a terrifyingly calm, hollow quality to his dad’s voice, a kind that TK has never heard before in his life. It chills him right down to the bone, and he clutches onto Carlos’s hard with a strength that must hurt, though of course Carlos doesn’t complain.

He never complains about anything anymore, not even about TK’s annoying habits. He’ll just quietly solve the problem himself, always with a smile, and it feels weird. It feels like he’s already an invalid, like his life has already stopped long before he’s dead.

It’s something that TK knows he’ll have to address, sooner rather than later, but his father still isn’t saying anything, and TK really, really needs him to.

“I don’t know! Just…please.” TK’s voice cracks and tears spring unbidden to his eyes. At least that gets his dad to look at him, finally, but the pain and grief in his expression almost breaks him again.

“TK…” He sighs heavily, then abruptly stands and starts pacing, fingers drumming an erratic beat across his knuckles. “Are they sure? Are they sure that it’s— Because back in New York, they told me my chances weren’t the best, and look at me now! The doctors here are miracle workers, I swear; let me call Doctor Jacobs and talk to her, I’m sure there’s something—”

“Dad, stop!”

His dad stops pacing and looks at him, wounded. “You told me to say something.”

“I know! Not that, though.”

“Then, what?”

“That you support me? That you’ll be here? And, I know”—his dad’s mouth snaps shut, indignation wilting into guilt—“I know you will be. But say it anyway?”

“Of course I will. Whenever and however you need me. I just think—”

“Doctor Jacobs is on my treatment team,” TK interrupts, quieter this time. He meets his dad’s eyes, aching at the pain he’s putting everyone through, and he sees something give way. “This isn’t something you can fix, Dad.”

It takes another minute or so before his dad finally slumps and moves to sit back down. And it’s funny—TK can’t help but wish he was still fighting against the inevitable because that, at least, is familiar. Just as it did when Carlos broke down in his arms, the reality of TK’s situation becomes that much more real, and the noose around his neck tightens just a bit more.

“What have the doctors said?”

TK takes a deep breath, looking back at Carlos for support. He smiles and squeezes his hand, but there’s something sad behind the gesture. There always will be now, TK supposes.

“They’re gonna put me on a chemo course. Obviously it won’t… But it will help with the, um, the pain. They said there are possibilities of surgery to deal with some of the side effects, but it probably wouldn’t be worth going through with it in my case.” Sensing another interruption coming, TK levels his dad with a hard look—as hard as he can manage, anyway.

“Dad, you know why. I’ve got the option of support care and they said we’ll deal with side effects as they come. After that…”

He trails off, the mere thought of talking about the after making him feel about to throw up. In truth, the doctor hadn’t said much about what comes after treatment, claiming that it’s too soon to think about it, but TK knows. Or, he can imagine. He’d done enough of it years ago, when it was his dad on this side of things.

Days spent in bed, too weak to even stay awake for more than a few minutes. Constant discomfort, being drugged out of his mind on pain meds he won’t be able to refuse, time losing all meaning as he slowly loses the fight.

And then…

And then.

His dad nods and stays silent, and this time, TK doesn’t mind.

There’s nothing else to say, after all.

*

TK balls up his dirty socks, gaze flicking between them and the hamper. It would take three steps, maybe four, to cross the room and put them in; TK knows because Carlos loves to remind him every time he throws them and misses.

Carlos hates when he does that.

So TK throws the socks across the room, and, like always, misses.

And, like always these days, Carlos says nothing and simply bends to put the socks where they belong.

“Stop it,” TK blurts out.

Carlos freezes and frowns, a deep crease appearing between his eyebrows. “Stop what?”

“That!” He gestures violently towards the socks, which only serves to make more confusion appear on Carlos’s face. “I know that it annoys you when I do that, so tell me! Don’t—Don’t be so nice all the time!”

Now Carlos looks beyond confused. “You don’t want me to be nice?”

TK groans, flinging his head back—mistake—and turns towards the window, only half to hide the sudden dizziness. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Behind him, TK hears Carlos sigh quietly, then soft footsteps make their way across the room. Carlos’s arms slip around his waist and his chin lands on his shoulder, TK stiffening a moment in the embrace before melting into it. They stand there in silence for a long time, staring out across their backyard, Carlos clearly giving TK the time he needs to figure out what to say.

“I want things to be normal,” he whispers eventually, not daring to look Carlos in the eyes. “I’m not going to break if you tell me to pick my socks up or do the dishes because I left them soaking in the sink for ages. Things don’t have to change—I don’t want them to change.”

“TK…” Carlos breathes, but TK isn’t done.

“I know that one day—one day soon—they’ll have to. But, not right now, okay? I need it to not be now.”

A second passes, then TK feels Carlos pressing the socks into his hands. “Okay,” he says, and it feels like a reprieve.

*

It seems like they’ve just started to return to something resembling normality when the first chemo session comes along and smashes it all to pieces. He’s told to go in two hours early so they can run tests, but as soon as TK steps through the hospital doors, he feels as though that time could just as easily be thirty minutes or thirty hours.

When he’s finally seated in the recliner with a nurse prepping to insert his IV, a sudden panic overwhelms him and his chest heaves as tears well up in his eyes.

He doesn’t want this.

He doesn’t—

He doesn’t want to die.

TK doesn’t realise the nurse has stopped working until a firm grip on his hand brings him back to reality. He looks at Carlos with wide eyes, his reassuring smile clear even through TK’s blurred vision.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, reaching up with his free hand to wipe away the tears making their way down TK’s cheeks. “I’m going to be right here the entire time, I promise.”

It’s a promise that extends beyond the chemo session, and TK doesn’t doubt that Carlos is going to keep it. It still terrifies him that today is the start of the end of his life—at least, that’s how he sees it—but Carlos’s hand in his is enough to give TK the courage to relax and allow the nurse to start his IVs.

The session passes relatively uneventfully. TK never forgets where he is or why, but Carlos’s soft voice is a comfort, as it always has been for him. He feels weird as the drugs start to take effect, like he’s floating and on the verge of sleep, but also hyper-vigilant of everything around him. The nurse stops by at intervals that feel random but are probably regular to check his vitals, and then, finally, to take the line out.

Through it all, Carlos is there.

Once treatment is over and the precautionary thirty minutes after have elapsed, TK’s eyes are growing heavy and he knows he’ll probably fall asleep as soon as he gets in the car. Carlos supports him as they walk out and eases him into the passenger seat, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. He’s still smiling, like he has been the entire day, though TK doesn’t understand how, when he knows how much Carlos, too, must be hurting.

He wriggles his body until he’s facing Carlos, watching him through half-closed eyes. “You can cry, you know,” he mumbles, needing to say it even though he knows what Carlos’s response will be. “You don’t have to be so strong all the time.”

Carlos sighs and starts the ignition. “Yeah, I do.”

TK doesn’t argue.

[kyber-crystal]

safe with him || s.r

summary: following your reunion after weeks apart drifting through space, steve becomes an overprotective mother hen and refuses to let you out of his sight.  

words: ~1.3k

warnings: very slightly mentions of angst, soft cap, fluff. UNEDITED so it’s VERY poorly written i’m sorry

a/n: a part 2 to Lost In Space, as requested by anon! it’s been FOREVER since i first published that fic but i’m so glad you went back and read it! you can read this as a standalone too tho. POST IW---PRE-ENDGAME AU

After your touched down at the compound, Steve was refusing to leave your side. 

Whenever you moved about, he was never far behind—always staying within a foot of where you stood or sat. You wanted to protest, to reassure him you were just fine—but you understood his urge to go full-on overprotective worried mother hen mode. It was in his nature to worry. 

"Darling,” he spoke so softly it took everyone by surprise. It was a tone of voice the team rarely ever heard him use—it was a tone specifically reserved for you, and only you. 

“Hmm?” You pulled his jacket tightly around your shoulders, watching Tony from outside, worriedly peering through the glass walls. “What’s up?”

"C’mere,” he spread his arms out towards you. You didn’t hesitate to step forward, walking straight into his warm embrace. As soon as your head found its way against his heart you were at ease and your hands slid up his back in response, gently gripping the fabric of his T-shirt. 

You let out a sigh of contentment, closing your eyes as he rested his chin on your head and pressed a soft kiss to your temple—letting his lips linger there for a second longer than usual. It felt nice to be with him again. After weeks of complete separation and no contact whatsoever, you’d found yourself missing Steve so much your chest physically ached just thinking about him.

If time permitted, you would’ve stayed like that forever. You wanted nothing more, nothing less, than to have him hold you until the very end of your days—and he wanted to do the same, as well. 

Your heart felt hollowed and carved out; empty after the wake of the Snap, after the world was shocked into utter devastation. You lost your practically-siblings, Wanda and Peter, you lost your best pals, Sam, Bucky, you lost your mentor and father figure, Doctor Strange. You lost all your friends and family and you didn’t know what to do. You felt lost and alone; helpless.

You sought out comfort in the warmth of Steve’s embrace and his piercing gaze, stunning blue eyes that would never fail to keep you calm yet make your heart race at the same time. Blue eyes brimming with sheer love and adoration—for you. You don’t need to say anything for him to wrap you into a tight hug—he could read you like an open book—he knew you almost as well as you knew yourself, if not even better. “Doll, I even remember your exact order from that Thai place we always order takeout from,” he’d say, “Spicy shrimp pad thai, pineapple fried rice, and taro milk tea with 50% ice and 25% sweetness,” as well as other oddly specific facts nobody else would know unless you told them yourself or they peeked through your file, “You were born (Y/B/D) at exactly 12:01:36 a.m. You’re a Brooklyn kid, just like me,” “You love action films, crime dramas, and pulling all-nighters to watch the sunrise.”

Maybe that’s what made you let down your guard around him and trust him so easily. Maybe that’s why you felt so safe around him—there was little to nothing he didn't know about you—so there was no point in hiding.

“You’re tired,” he murmured into your hair. “When’s the last time you got any rest?”

When you didn’t answer because you were too worn out to do so, he observed your bloodshot eyes and dark circles, which told him all he needed to know. “Let’s get you sitting down again, doll. You’ve had a long day.”

You nodded numbly as he led you back to the lounge. He sat down on the plushy couch next to you, and you stretched out, resting your head in his lap. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and gently raking his fingers through your soft hair. 

“Hey, Y/N-” Bruce paused and quickly lowered his voice when he saw you’d fallen asleep. He came and carefully draped a blanket over your body before taking a step back. “Are you sure she’s alright...”

“I don’t know,” Steve exhaled, brushing stray hairs away from your face. “If her fatigue alone is telling me anything, then...”

He nodded. “Alright...why don’t you take her back to her room, Cap, and I’ll go grab the IV drip.” 

“Rogers.”

“Hey, Nat...”

“I saw that little exchange outside." He wasn’t smirking at all, just had a small smile on. “Guess you finally worked up the courage to do it, huh.”

“Actually...she initiated it. But I think I would’ve done it sooner or later,” he smiled down at your sleeping form, “I missed her.”

“I know. I did too.” She placed a hand on his shoulder, “I’m glad she’s back. I’ve had enough of you moping around trying to get drunk, when you know for a fact you can’t.”

“Natasha...”

“I’m just messing with you,” she laughed. “I gotta go talk to Rhodes about something, so you keep taking care of your girl, alright?”

“Yeah.”

...

You woke up to find yourself in bed. An IV needle was inserted into the crook of your elbow, and a worried Steve Rogers was sitting in a chair he’d pulled up to your bedside, head in your lap as he gripped your hand tightly. 

“Hi. Steve. You awake?” 

“Hmmm?” He lifted his head up and blinked several times. “Y/N! You’re awake. That’s good.”

You yawned. “What time is it?”

“A little past 10 a.m. You hungry? I can fix something up for you, if you want. How’d you sleep? Bruce had to administer some treatments for you...you were hit pretty hard after living on nothing but packaged meals and granola bars for several weeks.”

“I don’t feel like passing out anymore,” you shrugged, “So that’s good. What about you? How much sleep did you get? Or did you stay here...the entire time...”

“A few hours, on and off.”

“And when you say few hours, you really mean...a few minutes here and there, don’t you,” you said in a slightly accusatory tone. “Steve, really? I’m not a child. I’m basically not much younger than you, I can get by on my own.”

"You had me really worried, Y/N. When I didn’t see you return...I thought I’d actually lost you. I don’t even want to think about how that’d affect me if it were to be true.”

“Awww,” you stuck your bottom lip out slightly, teasing him, “Does the big, muscular, giant puppy, Captain America, care about me?”

“I'm supposed to protect you, to watch over you,” he tried defending himself, but the flush of his cheeks gave it all away. “I’m just doing my job.”

“Okay, then...” You nodded, leaning back against the headboard, the aftereffects of all the meds beginning to catch up with you. “Man, I’m tired. Doesn’t matter if I sleep 14 minutes or 14 hours, I’m always going to feel like crap.”

“But I do care about you,” Steve corrected himself, “that’s true. I always have.”

His voice was so soothing, so calming—you wanted to swoon and fall asleep to it at the same time. You felt your stomach flutter with butterflies. 

“That’s nice,” you closed your eyes, smiling sleepily, “because I care about you too. Wouldn’t have spilled all my feelings in that voice recording if I didn’t. I was scared I’d never see you again, either...”

“A recording?” He raised a brow. “What’d it say?’

“That I love you and I always have and always will,” you breathed out, eyes still closed, “But I think I’ve made that fact obvious enough already.”

“Can I kiss you?” he spoke suddenly.

"You can kiss me any day, Captain,” you smiled as you leaned in. He closed the gap and connected your lips with his. You felt a pleasant stirring sensation in your chest—and so did he. 

And you finally felt like you were home again.

[peachiikawa]

Caged Bird | Prince!Oikawa Tooru x Reader

a/n: if you know anything about fairytales then you might realize that the reader has the flute of the pied piper, though modified for the story. been watching a lot of once upon a time and got the idea from the neverland arc. hope you enjoy!

word count: 1.9k

genre: fantasy, romance

trigger warnings: reader gets hurt a bit but nothing graphic

summary: oikawa has always lived a lonesome life in the cage that is his castle. one day he sneaks out and a beautiful melody leads him to you, a traveling musician. oikawa is about to find out that his luck is going to change for the better.

oikawa gazed out over the town from his balcony

he let out a long sigh as he grew bored from his studies

“why the long face trashykawa?”

his bestfriend and knight walked up next to him and leaned against the railing

“oh you know, just bored of being in this castle. theres a whole town of people out there and im stuck in here. gets tiring after a while”

iwaizumi listened to his friend and nodded along to what he was saying

“then sneak out for a day”

oikawas eyes widened

“youd help me sneak out?”

“only if you come back by sundown”

so oikawa grabbed his cloak and thanks to iwas help got out of the castle

despite being born and raised in this town oikawa had no idea where he was

and after about ten minutes he was completely and utterly lost

until he heard the faint sound of a flute

he followed the sound until he ended up in the mostly cleared out town square where he saw you playing a small wooden flute for those who were present, though you had no audience

everyone walked past you as if you were invisible like you werent playing such a beautiful song

he approached you slowly and listened until you finished your performance

“that was really good”

you looked up at him and smiled

“always a pleasure to play for those who need it”

the bright smile on your face felt warm and inviting

like he was meant to be here

“would you like to take a seat next to me?”

you gestured to the spot next to you and he gladly took it

“so...whats your story”

hes hesitant to answer your question

“ill tell you mine if you tell me yours”

you set your flute down in your bag next to you

“well first of all my names y/n and my life is nothing too interesting. im a traveling performer and play my flute as a way to pass time and help those who need it. always come across the most interesting people this way”

traveling. thats something oikawa could only dream of

“so cmon now tell me about you”

he peaked at you through his hood

“ok but dont make a big commotion..im oikawa tooru”

you laughed a bit

“thats funny you share the same name as the prince”

you stopped laughing when you saw the serious look in his eyes

“oh..oh! im so sorry for being so rude!”

you started to scramble around when he grabbed your wrists to stop your movements

“shh yes im the prince but stop flailing people are starting to look”

once you had calmed down he went on

“ive been confined to my castle my whole life and stuck to certain rules i have to follow. it seems like even if i catch a break something else comes along. i have to stay this perfect image because im the prince and it just gets so lonely. its as if im a bird trapped in a cage and theres no way out”

ah so there it is

the reason he could hear your flute

you picked a flower that was growing next to you and placed it in his hair as you spoke

“im sorry your lifes been like that but oikawa, if i may be so bold, even a caged bird will become wise enough to break free. the dream of flying is too great to resist”

Once you had properly placed the flower you smiled at him before standing up from your spot and grabbing your bag

you then held your hand out to him

but he couldnt gather his thoughts

you were so bright it was almost blinding

“now cmon! lets go have some fun!”

he looked at the hand held out to him

and with a leap of faith, he took it

he was going to get out of this cage, this perpetual cycle

and finally add some meaning to his life

day after day you two spent your time together

oikawas days that were once filled with hollow words and empty actions were now filled with happiness

filled with you

and everyday slowly but surely he was falling for you

passing glances turned into prolonged gazes

his heart could no longer stay still around you

you became the key to his happiness

but for now...he had to be content with just being next to you

it would be too selfish otherwise

to ask you to stay with him here in the kingdom...he could never trap you like that

“so what are we doing today y/n?”

you were strolling through the town on a quiet sunday afternoon like you had the last few sundays

“how about we go to the bakery? theyre usually busy but since its sunday i bet its not as packed and then i want to take you somewhere”

he was curious as to what you had in store but decided against asking questions

so you two got some baked goods and headed out towards the woods

“cmon we’re almost there”

you pushed some branches and shrubs out of the way

and one eventually hit him in the face

“watch it y/n! i keep getting wacked by you”

you just chuckled a bit which oikawa had found adorable in itself

it made his heart slow just hearing it

“just come on!”

eventually you two made it to a clearing over a beautiful lake

he didnt know that there was something like this so close by

he was absolutely amazed by it

“take a seat oikawa! we can rest and eat here!”

this moment was just too perfect to him

with you here he felt as if nothing bad could happen

that if he only could see your smile everything would be alright

being content with just being at your side...was no longer and option

he knew that if he wanted this he needed to take his chance

“y/n”

your eyes were full of life and he couldnt help but feel so happy next to you

and before he knew it he was closing the gap between the two of you with a hand gently cradling your cheek

but right before you two could kiss you were ripped away from him

“dont you dare touch the prince commoner!”

oikawa frantically looked around as many of his guards came out of the brush

“get your hands off of them!”

you were pressed to the ground and the sight almost broke his heart

“sorry your highness but we’re under strict orders to bring you back and throw whoever was seducing you to leave the castle into the dungeon”

the guard that had been on you lifted you up like you were a sack and bound you by rope

you gave oikawa a final smile before you were taken away even though you were so banged up that it made him want to puke

he was speechless

this is what he was talking about

being so controlled and monitored made him feel so small and helpless

and he absolutely abhorred it

“your highness your mother is waiting for you in the throne room”

oikawa was beyond upset

this isnt how he wants to live

“mother how could you throw the only good thing in my life away!”

his mother sneered at his words

“only good thing? what need to you have for that filthy peasant! and how dare you cast me aside as if i hadnt given you everything you own, everything you are is because of me! i will not allow for any of this nonsense! now go wash up. and dont you dare ever leave the castle again and i forbid you from seeing that nasty peasant again. wasting your time with such a person...”

he gritted his teeth and was about turn to leave

his emotions were running too high

he wasnt himself and he knew it

but even so...he wont allow it to end like this

he was going to end it on his terms

“no”

“what did you say?”

he stood his ground

“i said no mother. im going to live the way i want and with who i want. ill gladly give up my title because frankly, i never wanted it in the first place. and dont you ever call y/n filthy or nasty again. their so incredibly kind and full of joy and laughter. i can only hope to be like that one day. so ive decided that im leaving. with y/n.”

as soon as the doors shut behind him he let out the breath he didnt even know he was holding

but it also felt as if there was a giant weight off of him now

“im coming y/n dont you worry”

it had been a couple hours since you were brought to your cell

you didnt have any major injuries, just a few cuts and scratches from when you were body slammed to the ground

“do you mind if i play?”

you pulled out your flute and the guard nodded

“thank you!”

you started playing and filled the cell you were in with a relaxing tune

“why do you play if it doesnt make noise?”

you stopped and looked at the spiky haired man who stood outside your cell

“it takes a certain person to appreciate its music”

he just looked at you as if you were crazy

but you continued anyways

until you heard frantic running coming from down the hall

“iwa you gotta let them out”

oikawa was panting trying to catch his breath

“dude no offense but your mom would kill me and you if i just let them out”

oikawa grabbed the key from iwaizumis waist before he even realized what had happened

“dont worry about it iwa. and dont worry about me. today i start my new life. it was good knowing you buddy”

they gripped hands the way they always had. A solemn but knowing look was shared between them

“if i had known me letting you leave the castle one time would lead to this...i would have done it a lot sooner. good luck out there bud”

oikawa quickly turned to you and helped you off of the ground

“you ready to run?”

he cupped your cheek and ran his thumb over one of the small cuts

hed be sure to treat that later

you nodded and leaned into his hand

“are you sure this is what you want?”

you were happy to leave with him

its more than you could ever ask for

“y/n youre the only person thats made me feel free. and by doing this i will be.”

you two finally got to share the kiss you had been deprived of and not only was it full of love but also full of hope for your future

“then lets go”

and you two sprinted off to your next adventure together

the flute you possessed was one he could no longer hear the sound of after that day

for it was enchanted, only to be be heard by those who were lost and lonely

with you he was neither anymore

and he couldnt be any happier than living out the rest of his days with you as a free man, a bird outside of its cage

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 26

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Something went wrong. Very wrong.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Torture, violence, psychological abuse, brainwashing, demon slavery, implied past noncon, no actual noncon in this chapter (but it gets close)

AO3

You whipped around, heart in your throat, unable to breathe from the shock of the scream. It was strained, agonizing, and arrested the blood in your veins.

Bucky was sitting in a chair, his arms strapped down as a metal contraption encircled his head. Electricity sparked against his skin, and he continued to scream.

“Bucky!”

You tried to run but couldn’t move, your feet glued to the floor, and you were forced to remain where you were as Bucky howled in agony.

There were other people in the room, soldiers dressed in uniforms and men wearing lab coats. Catwalks stretched above your head, grey stone at your feet, and in the back of the room an iron chamber of some sort. Smoke or fog curled from the opening, strange glyphs written across its surface.

You ignored it all, your entire attention focused on Bucky.

What was going on? What were they doing to him?

The torment finally stopped. It must have, because Bucky slumped in the chair, chest heaving as hair clung to his sweat-soaked forehead, the metal device lifting from his crown. A man spoke a language you didn’t know, but the longer he spoke the more you understood the words.

The words themselves didn’t make much sense, but he chanted them like an incantation. Longing. Rusted. Furnace. Daybreak. With each one uttered, Bucky grew more calm, his twitching snarl smoothing into a neutral stare.

Only then did your eyes drop downward to truly take in his appearance. He wasn’t clothed in the jacket and jeans he’d been wearing a moment ago. A tactical harness covered his chest, combat pants and boots on his legs. His very human legs.

That was different. His guise was dropped, and everything else looked the same. The wings, the horns, his tail looped tightly around his leg. The armored arm with the pentagram carved into the stony flesh.

But why were his legs human?

Because, you realized, this was a different time. One where he wasn’t fully the demon you knew.

I’m trapped in his memory. The wrong memory.

“Bucky…”

Your pained whisper went unnoticed. Of course it would. You were just a passive observer over something that had already happened. But when had this happened? What exactly were you witnessing?

Seeking the answers, you paid attention to the man who was addressing Bucky. He carried a strange red tome with a pentagram on the cover, and it was from here he’d recited the nonsensical words. He closed the book shut with a definitive snap and set it aside, turning his cold gaze on the demon in the chair.

“Good morning, Soldier,” he spoke in the language you didn’t know but could somehow understand. It sounded Slavic, possibly Russian.

Bucky answered in a low growl you barely recognized.

“Ready to comply.”

You wanted to run to him. Scream at him. Shake him awake from this nightmare. But it had already happened, and there was nothing you could do to change it.

“I have a mission for you.” The man held out a folder to Bucky, fully expecting his cooperation. “Sanction and extract. No witnesses.”

Bucky lowered his gaze… and looked up. Directly at you.

You’d encountered many things that had terrified you. Alpen. Heigore. A cursed flesh-book that communicated with your own blood. All those things couldn’t have prepared you for the existential terror that gripped your body in a vice.

Bucky took the folder without glancing at it, his dead, empty gaze still focused on you. He rose from the chair and walked forward. You flinched and braced yourself, but he walked past, close enough you could feel the displacement of air.

You were just a ghost to him. That fact didn’t erase the chill that clung to your skin like dread.

The scene blurred and shifted, and you nearly lost your balance. But of course, you couldn’t fall. You couldn’t tell what was different at first—the room looked exactly the same, though there were less people in it. Bucky and the uniformed officer were standing near the chair.

The man opened a silver briefcase while Bucky stood at his side, also gazing down at the contents. IV bags full of blue liquid. You didn’t understand the significance, didn’t even know what year it was, but it felt horribly important.

“Well done, Soldier.”

Bucky said nothing, eyes just as hollow and empty as before. This wasn’t truly Bucky. The looming, dark figure that wore his face was the infamous Winter Soldier.

“Would you like your reward now?”

“Yes, Colonel,” Bucky responded in that same low growl, the one devoid of personality and humanity.

You pressed the back of your hand against your mouth, but nothing came out except a shaky breath. Hopefully that meant you couldn’t vomit in a memory, because you were dangerously close to doing so. After what Bucky had told you, it wasn’t difficult to guess what “reward” this man planned for him.

Being unable to move did not spare you from avoiding the next scene. The air around you shifted again, and this time it truly did change. You sensed it was in the same research facility or bunker—the place had that heavy, underground feel to it—but it was in a smaller, warmer space. Dotted with furniture made of dark wood, electric lamps flickering on the walls, and to the side a large bed draped in a thick green blanket.

A bedroom.

Your stomach roiled violently, but the two occupants were ignorant of your presence and distress.

Bucky stood in the center of the room, his hands placed behind his back. His guise was back in place, his demonic features gone, but it did nothing to make him appear any more human.

“At first, I found this method of feeding to be… inconvenient.”

Your head turned unwillingly toward the source of the voice. Colonel. That’s what Bucky had called him.

“But as time moves on, and you continue to be a faithful soldier…” The Colonel traced a pale finger down Bucky’s jaw, the man’s stare no longer cold. It was interested, predatory. Simmering. “…I can see the benefits of partaking in such a meal.”

Bile rose in your throat, and you curled your hands into tight fists at your side. Your eyes stung so badly you had to blink to keep your vision clear.

Were you really going to have to watch this? This horrible thing that Bucky would never have wanted to show you of his own free will? Where was he? Why wasn’t he with you? Surely he would be just another observer of his own memories, not forced to be a participant.

Something had gone horribly wrong.

“I live to serve you, Master.”

It was the wrong thing to say. The man slapped Bucky across the face, open-handed.

Bucky did nothing but slowly turn his head forward again.

“Do not use such barbaric language,” the man hissed. “It does not become you.”

Bucky dropped his gaze, but there was nothing contrite in his deadened tone.

“My apologies, sir.”

Raising a hand, the man softly patted the cheek he’d just slapped.

“All is forgiven. You are the relic of a bygone era. It is not in your nature to adapt, only to obey and to feed. Isn’t that right?”

Bucky’s downcast eyes focused on the man’s belt buckle as he unlatched it. The hunger was the first sign of life that you’d seen in them so far.

This can’t be happening, you thought. Prayed. Please, no.

“On your knees, Soldier.”

Bucky obeyed without hesitation, dropping into a kneeling position as he stared up at the Colonel expectantly. The man finished unbuckling his belt and opened his pants, pushing them and his underwear down far enough to pull himself out.

You wanted to look away. Turn your head and pretend it wasn’t happening. But it had happened, to Bucky. He’d actually lived this while all you had to do was watch. Witnessing what he’d had to endure was the least you could do, and it wasn’t as if you had a choice, either way.

“Tell me,” the man said as he began to stroke his half-hard cock. “What was it like?”

Bucky said nothing but slightly tilted his head in an unspoken question. The Colonel huffed, a hint of impatience.

“What was it like to kill him?” he clarified. “The great Howard Stark?”

Howard Stark? you wondered, the name fresh on your mind from your recent search on Bucky’s past.

In your confusion, you almost missed it. The flutter of his eyelashes, the flash of tension in Bucky’s jaw. It was a sign you’d seen many times before when Bucky was irritated. Irritated and about to say something scathing.

The motion was quick, subtle, and the man didn’t notice. But you did.

Bucky remained silent, but the man above him, still stroking himself to hardness, kept speaking.

“I wish I could have been there to see it. America’s most brilliant industrialist. The Icon of America’s Strength. Butchered by nothing more than a Soviet ghost.”

The man’s smirk grew and Bucky’s frown deepened. His eyes were no longer staring hungrily at the Colonel’s exposed cock, but past him, far away. Growing darker with every word the man spoke.

“It is almost a shame no one will know the truth. That the boogieman they all fear is quite real and far worse than their deepest nightmares.” The man sighed wistfully, then blinked, seeming to remember what he was doing as he gazed down at Bucky.

“Either way, you served your purpose well. Now… open.”

Bucky stayed motionless. He didn’t seem to even hear the command, staring forward as the corners of his lips tightened.

The Colonel frowned, more perturbed than angry.

“Were you damaged during the mission?”

“No, sir.”

“Then, open.”

Bucky did not. The man scowled, finally noticing the Winter Soldier was no longer willing to take orders.

“Open, Soldier.”

Bucky winced, favoring his left shoulder. A painful punishment, you realized, for disobeying. The mark was compelling him to listen, and yet… he didn’t. He remained on his knees, posture rigid even as blood trickled from the pentagram carved into his skin.

Fingers wrapped in Bucky’s unkempt hair and yanked backwards, forcing him to look up. The Colonel gave him a cruel shake, eyes blazing with the aggression of a dominant figure being ignored.

“Obey me!”

Bucky stared at him. Truly. There was no vacant emptiness in his eyes now. There was only quiet fury.

“No.”

With Bucky’s answer, the air shimmered around him. Wings unfurled, horns swept backwards, tail angrily lashing against the floor.

The Colonel scrambled backwards as Bucky rose to his feet. The man clumsily stuffed himself into his pants, tripping over his feet as he grasped at something on his desk.

Bucky descended on him, raising his right arm and flexing his fingers to extend his dark claws.

The man spun around and fired. The sound was deafening in the small space, but you could still hear Bucky’s howl of pain

Bucky grabbed his shoulder, bleeding profusely from where he’d been shot at the exposed part of his arm. He stomped forward, determination twisting his features, but the man fired again, this time into Bucky’s chest.

A klaxon blared above and you covered your ears the same moment Bucky covered his, and he snarled miserably before stumbling out of the room. He fled down the hall, the tips of his wings brushing against the concrete walls on either side, but there were already soldiers coming after him. From many of the terrified, shocked expressions on their faces, many of them had no idea what Bucky truly was.

They gunned him down, all the same.

Up until that moment, you’d been so enraptured by the memory that you’d nearly faded into it, forgetting yourself and beginning to experience Bucky’s emotions as if they were your own.

Watching Bucky fall, bleeding profusely from multiple bullet holes, changed that. You were very aware of your own mind, of the horror and grief that gripped it as you sank to your knees beside him.

He gasped for breath, eyelids fluttering as he tried to keep them open. And then he looked at you. He looked right at you and saw you.

Blood bubbled up from his mouth, but his expression was… calm. No, more than that. Relieved. The nightmare was over. They would never use him again.

You reached out, tears burning your eyes as your fingertips brushed against his cheek. But he vanished under your fingertips; Bucky’s body collapsed and fluttered away as if dust.

Or ashes.

The latter felt more accurate to you, because the next breath you took was searing. The cold of the bunker was replaced by a barren landscape of red rock and burning, sulfuric air.

The pull you’d experienced earlier, the tug toward something deeper in Bucky’s memory, it was too strong to refuse this time.

When you opened your mouth to cry out, you coughed and gagged instead, and the next breath you took was not your own.

Next Chapter

[zukos-scribe]

Grief

Peter Parker x Reader

Ok this is another one of my fics from my old blog that I edited heavily and am reposting on here. So if you've seen this before don't worry.

Major trigger warning for dying/death/torture/etc.

You were breathing hard, sweat pouring down your face as you tried to gain your bearings. It was hot and dark, only one rickety old lamp hanging high from the ceiling.

It illuminated your face along with the other person sitting in the room with you, Peter.

Peter Parker.

He's your best friend, you were the only person in school that he trusted with his spiderman secret from the very beginning. And he's the guy that you had been crushing on for the past three years.

But alas, he was currently crushing on a really popular senior girl named Liz. You had to admit, she was beautiful. A lot more than yourself. Every time she talked to you or Peter, your insecurities grew.

You considered yourself more of the background friend. Someone that was there to lean on if needed, that friend that would have to step behind the others when walking down the sidewalks.

However, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t a good friend. He was a great friend. He was there when you needed him, listened to you geek out about your interests, made sure to include you in conversations with others.

He was your best friend.

Even though you wanted him to be more.

But it had been harder since he had become spiderman. He was rushing around, he didn’t have as much time for you anymore. Study dates and friend time had become near impossible. Weekend tech and gaming events had disappeared.

It was the night of the homecoming dance, and he had rushed out of the school looking desperate and scared, even ditching Liz after bringing her as his date.

You didn’t know what was happening so you chased after him.

“Peter!” you called as you ran after him.

“Go back! Y/N! Don’t follow me!” he yelled, changing into his spiderman suit. You continued to run after him anyway. But he was too fast for you now.

“Peter!” you screamed as he took off.

You stood there outside of the school watching as your best friend and the boy that you loved swung off into the night.

“Well, how sweet it is that I found spiderman’s little…. Whatever you are,” a threatening voice suddenly said from behind you.

You spun around to see whoever it was, but a pair of hands reached out to grab you before you could see their face.

Then, blackness. ~~~~ When you woke you were in that darkened room, only the one rusty light on the ceiling. It didn’t shed light on anything other than Peter’s face and an IV going into your arm. Your wrists were gently tied to the arms of your chair with pieces of cloth. The two of you were seated at a table across from each other, with another chair on your right side. Obviously, someone was going to be joining you.

You looked at Peter in fear.

“What’s going on?” you croaked.

“I don’t know.”

You stared at him until a loud mental bang rang throughout the room.

A pair of hands appeared by Peter’s head, wrapping a dirty piece of cloth around his mouth. Peter’s eyes widened in fear and he tried to fight off the man.

“Now, Peter if you want to me to take off that gag you need to listen first of all. Although I think by the end of this you won’t be able to care anymore. I aim to destroy you.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked as he sat down in the chair next to you.

“Well darling, I think that our precious spiderman here is about to lose his best friend forever. That IV in your arm is slowly killing you. But, if you can talk fast enough, you might be able to save yourself. But I don’t know, you’ve never said anything like this to him before.”

“Tell him what?” you asked confused.

“All of those deep dark feelings that you’ve hidden away in the back of your heart and brain. The ones that only come out when it’s late at night and you’re done with the world. The ones that began to appear after Spiderboy here came into the picture So go ahead, get talking. I’ll be one room over.”

The man got up and removed your constraints before leaving the room.

Peter looked at you with worry and confusion in his eyes. He tried to say something against the gag, but nothing coherent came out.

“I’m sorry Peter, I’m so sorry,” you cried, letting your head droop. “I didn’t want you to ever find out about any of this.”

He started to struggle in his chair, trying to loosen his bonds. You reached over to carefully slip the gag off of his mouth. You wanted to help him get free, but he was cuffed to the chair with mental.

“Y/N, what is he talking about? Are you okay? What’s going on? What feelings are you keeping from me?”

“Peter-”

“Please Y/N, just be honest with me.”

You looked at him with the saddest expression that he’s ever seen in his life. Your cheeks seemed hollow, your eyes were empty and sad. You weren’t yourself. How long had you been feeling this way?

“Ever since you became spiderman, it’s been so hard. I constantly feel left behind, you don’t have as much time to spend with me. I just sit in my room now watching the news, hoping that you’re still safe and alive. Then I see you in school the next day and you seem fine, but you don’t tell me anything. Then you go off and-” you paused, a coughing fit coming over you.

“And what?”

“You go and get distracted by Liz. You’re so infatuated with her, you don’t see that I’m standing right beside you, just like I’ve always been. I love you Peter. More than a friend, but you don’t see it.”

Peter stared at you horrified, guilt was creeping into his eyes.

“Y/N I-”

“It’s okay,” you coughed out. “You don’t have to love me. I've already accepted the fact that you never would. I just miss my best friend. We used to tell each other everything. But you've been keeping so much to yourself that I felt so helpless. What if something happened to you and I couldn't do anything about it. Or I never found out and one day you just disappeared."

He started to try and say something but you were hit with more coughs, each one worse than the last one. Blood appeared on your hand. You were dying. You didn't think that it would be so quick.

“Y/n, hang on. I’ll get us out of here,” Peter cried, trying to break free again. He was becoming frantic.

You slumped in your chair. You felt cold, your eyes were drooping, your head was fuzzy. You couldn’t think straight anymore. You looked tiredly at Peter who was trying to free his hands.

“I don’t want to die in here,” you whispered.

Peter froze, his eyes full of panic.

“No. I won’t let you die. You’re going to be fine, we’ll get out of here. I’m going to get you help.”

He managed to break the restraints on one of his hands before beginning on the other hand.

“Just stay awake for me please.”

You shook your head slightly.

“I can’t.”

He managed to get his other hand free and ran over to you.

“Alright, we’re going to get out of here.” He tried to help you up but you fell to the floor. He gathered you in his arms and tried to figure out a way out of the room.

“I love you Peter. I’m sorry.”

“No!” he screamed. “Y/N! Wake up! Please! Wake up, please wake up!” He buried his face into your shoulder.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

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

(does any of this make sense? idk anymore)

[pastelwitchling]

Based on an anon’s lovely dream.

Also, to the forlex anon -- sorry about this. Maybe I’ll post some forlex tonight, or tomorrow morning at the latest.

***

               Of all the ways Forrest had imagined spending his Friday night, sitting on a hospital floor across a closed room was not one of them.

               But this was where Alex was, this was where Alex wanted to be, so Forrest knew there was nothing else for it. He had left to get his boyfriend a coffee and had come back to find him in the exact same position; staring at the closed door with an almost numb expression, as if lost in thought about the man lying asleep behind it.

               Forrest nudged Alex’s arm with his elbow as he sat down beside him, handing him his drink. As Alex’s fingers closed around the hot cup, his shoulders fell slightly and he exhaled deeply as if he’d been frozen this entire time and was only now thawed free.

               “Thank you,” Alex muttered but did not take a sip. The dark circles under his eyes were prominent, his cheeks hollowed out, his hair sticking out in messy – yet somehow perfect? – strands as Alex had run his hands through it more than once. It had been a weird night.

               Forrest and Alex had been having a date in, lying on Alex’s couch, watching TV, Alex curled up on Forrest’s chest. Forrest had just leaned in for a kiss when the phone went off. Alex had said he would get rid of whoever it was, but even Forrest had heard the crying on the other end, had seen the way Alex’s brows had furrowed and his eyes had widened, how he’d put on his prosthetic and threw on his jacket, not bothering to change out of his sweats.

               “Michael’s at the hospital,” Alex had said. “I – I need to go.”

               It was only through sheer determination to go with him did Alex accept to have Forrest tag along. He had to be there for his boyfriend, didn’t he? He had to show that he wasn’t intimidated by Alex and Michael’s past relationship, for try as he might to deny it, Forrest wasn’t an idiot. He’d picked up on who Alex’s long time ago was a while ago. The only problem was that he’d believed it was over.

               Now, however, as he watched Alex clutch his cup tighter, his eyes on Michael’s hospital door, unseeing, an unpleasant reality settled in his chest. An answer to a question he hadn’t realized he’d been asking since the night Alex had stood in front of an entire bar full of cowboys and sang a love song to someone else.

               “Hey,” Forrest tried to keep his voice light, brushing back Alex’s bangs from his eyes. Alex’s eyes fluttered at the touch and Forrest’s heart ached. Bad timing, he thought. We were always just bad timing. “You should go home, get some sleep.”

               Alex shook his head. “No, I – I can’t leave him.”

               “He has Kyle looking after him,” Forrest said. “And his brother and sister are in the waiting room. Alex, you don’t have to be here.”

               Alex said nothing a moment, then, “I can’t leave him.”

               And despite it all, despite the twinge of anguish that washed over Forrest’s heart – because he’d really gotten to like this stubborn airman – he couldn’t help but feel a smile tug at his lips.

               “I know you can’t,” he said softly. “Well,” he sighed, “Alex Manes, it was a fun ride.”

               At this, Alex’s brows furrowed and he turned to Forrest. For the first time in hours, Alex’s eyes seemed to fall back into focus. “What?”

               “I really loved getting to know you –”

               “Wait, what’re you talking about? What’re you doing?” Alex asked.

               Maybe it was just because it was the dead of night, but Forrest felt sad. He really saw a life with this guy, as short as their time was. Something had connected, he couldn’t really explain it, but…

               Bad timing.

               He straightened his shoulders and, with his small smile, said, “I’m breaking up with you.”

               Alex sat up properly, setting his coffee cup on the ground. “W-Why? Did I do something wrong?”

               “No,” Forrest said. “By all accounts, you’re the perfect boyfriend.”

               “Then why are you breaking up with me?”

               Forrest sighed, searching Alex’s face for any hope. And it was there, and that was the saddest part of all. Alex did want him, did truly like him, and yet… there was Michael, always there, in his core.

               He groaned. “This would be so much easier if you weren’t so cute.”

               “I don’t want to break up,” Alex said. “If it’s because we’re here, then… then, I swear, the second he wakes up –”

               “Don’t,” Forrest shook his head. “Don’t force yourself to make that kind of oath. You don’t want it either.”

               “I’m not in love with Michael.”

               “Yes, you are,” Forrest said. “And I knew that, and I thought I could live with it, but… Alex, being apart from him will kill you, and I can’t live with that.”

               “I don’t want to be apart from you!” Alex said, and Forrest fought back the desperate part of him that wanted to surge forward and kiss him.

               Forrest rested his head against the wall and said nothing a moment, then, “Can you look me in the eyes… and honestly tell me that you” – he cleared his throat – “that you would rather be with me than him?”

               Alex held Forrest’s gaze daringly, his chin jutted out in that stubborn way Forrest had come to like a little too much, and opened his mouth to answer. Nothing came out.

               Forrest tried not to feel disappointed, but the thought of not spending anymore nights with Alex, of not waking up to his dark eyes and tousled hair after accidentally falling asleep together, of not being able to kiss him anymore or pick his brain or make him laugh or see his smile – it all kept the sad look in his eyes more than anything else had in a very long time.

               Alex’s shoulders fell, resigned, his expression grieved. He shook his head. “I… Forrest, I…”

               Forrest cupped Alex’s jaw and leaned in, kissing his lips softly.

“Yeah,” he said. “Me, too.”

               *

               Michael opened his eyes to white walls, white sheets, and a needle in his hand.

               “Look at that,” someone said, and Michael looked over to see Kyle. “Sleeping beauty’s finally awake.”

               “Screw you,” Michael croaked, and went into a fit of coughs.

               “Serves you right,” Kyle said, even as he helped Michael sit up against his pillow.

Michael took in the IV strip, the monitors, and raised a brow.

               “You know this is all useless for someone like me, right?”

               Kyle sighed, writing something down on a clipboard. “It’s to keep up appearances. You have any idea how many nurses I’ve had to warn out of here? I did a blood test on myself to help your sorry ass stay secret, so how about a little gratitude?”

               “Blah blah blah,” Michael rolled his eyes. “You got any nail polish remover?”

               Kyle scoffed, and pulled out a small bottle from his pocket that Michael just knew had been left for him by one of his siblings. “I wouldn’t drink that right now if I were you,” he muttered.

               “And why not?”

               “Oh no reason,” Kyle returned the clipboard to its place at the foot of the bed. “Isobel and Max are in the waiting room. They’ll want to see you.”

               “They’re still here?”

               “They’re not the only ones,” he said, and nudged his chin at the door. “Alex is right outside.”

               Michael had just uncapped the bottle in his hands, but before he could take a single sip, he froze. “Alex?”

               “Yep,” he said. “He’s been sitting out there since you were brought in. Hasn’t moved.”

               Michael swallowed. “If you’re messing with me, Valenti…”

               It was Kyle’s turn to roll his eyes as he opened the door and stepped out. A few seconds later, Alex came in, looking exhausted but thoroughly relieved. Michael slowly set the acetone bottle aside, not daring to make any sudden moves in case it scared the airman away.

               “Alex,” he said, and came up short.

               Alex was in his sweats, a hoodie thrown over his Air Force t-shirt, his hair a perfect mess, his cheeks rosy and his hands trembling. In other words, he was beautiful.

               “Uh – Isobel called me,” he said, hugging himself tightly. Michael wondered if it was because of the cold or something else. “She and Max are –”

               “—in the waiting room,” Michael finished. “I know.”

               “They’ll be up soon,” he said. “You – uh – you want me to wait outside, or –?”

               “No, stay,” he blurted without thought, almost rising in his bed. He sat back down and cleared his throat. “I mean, if I want to.”

               For a second, Alex looked as if he might just offer to head back home, now that he’d seen Michael was okay, but he nodded instead. “I want to.”

               He sat in the small armchair next to Michael’s bed, knees pressed together, still hugging himself.

               “Are you cold?” Michael asked, and Alex shook his head.

               “Does it hurt? Your head?”

               “A little,” Michael admitted. “I’ll get better at it next time.”

               Alex pursed his lips. “So you’re gonna try again?”

               “I have to,” he shrugged. “I gotta access other parts of my powers, like Max and Isobel did.”

               “It didn’t hurt them like it hurt you,” Alex noted, his brows furrowed. “I wonder why.”

               “Beats me,” Michael said, though secretly, he had a feeling he knew exactly why.

In trying to use his abilities, he’d been less focused on getting to know himself and his powers better, and more on being able to impress Alex, on getting him back, on his anger at Forrest – his mind had been troubled with too many thoughts, too much frustration, too much desperation to focus. In the end, he’d only hurt himself. Alex didn’t need to know that though. Michael’s troubles didn’t need to become his.

               Still, it looked like Alex had enough troubles just looking at Michael sitting in a hospital bed.

               “But you’re okay now?” Alex asked, his voice small. “You’re not in too much pain?”

               Michael watched his eyes fill with tears and everything fell into place; his hesitation, the way he held himself, the way he sat – as if terrified that any slight move might shatter the cowboy.

               Instead of answering, Michael held his arms out. Alex followed his movements and he huffed a cry before he stood and fell into Michael’s arms, wrapping his own around Michael’s shoulders.

               Michael held him tightly as he cried into his shoulder. “Shh,” he whispered. “Baby, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

               “Isobel was crying,” Alex breathed, “when she called, I – I thought –”

               Michael held onto Alex’s waist more tightly, his other hand in Alex’s hair. Alex smelled of wood and maple syrup, just like he always did, but it felt like a millennia had passed since Michael had gotten to hold him like this. He buried his face in the crook of Alex’s neck, pulling Alex’s whole body in against his.

               To feel his chest, his arms, his skin, his warmth – Michael felt so dizzy with his longing and desire that he thought he might faint again. When Alex pulled away, it felt as if Michael’s very soul was leaving his body, desperate to follow.

               Alex wiped his face, sitting on the edge of Michael’s bed instead as Michael held onto his wrist, forbidding him from moving too far away.

               “I’m sorry,” Alex said hoarsely.

               “Don’t be,” Michael said. “I’d pass out a hundred times if it means we got to do that every time I woke up.”

               Alex ducked his head. “Michael…”

               Michael squeezed Alex’s wrist once before forcing himself to let go. “I know,” he said. “I shouldn’t talk like that. You have Forrest…” he faltered at Alex’s expression. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

               Alex looked away, hugging himself once more, though Michael was relieved that he wasn’t hurting himself this time. “He came with me,” he said, and Michael tried not to let his heart fall into his stomach.

               “Y-Yeah? He’s waiting outside then?”

               Alex shook his head, wiping at his face roughly, and Michael understood. He was happy, so happy, and he felt guilty for it, because at the same time, nothing seemed worth Alex’s tears.

               “Was it because of me?”

               Alex scoffed and sniffed. “Yeah, it was,” he said, and Michael felt himself crumble only until he saw the airman’s smile. “Once again, Guerin, you’ve ruined my life.”

               Michael felt himself smile as he searched Alex’s face. There was no hostility there, no hatred, no blame – there never was. And Michael loved him. He loved him like he could never say.

               “I’m always doing that,” he said instead.

               Alex shook his head, and Michael hesitantly reached for him again. Alex bit his lower lip only for a minute before he complied, leaning into Michael’s embrace, his head on Michael’s chest as they lay in bed together. They held each other for the longest time, and Michael wondered if Kyle had taken his time getting to Max and Isobel, or if they all purposely decided to give him and Alex their time alone.

               Michael was tempted to run a hand up Alex’s shirt, to pull him under the covers with him, to kiss every inch of him right here and now, but something in the way Alex sniffled and wiped at his face every so often told Michael he just wasn’t ready for that kind of intimacy.

               Still, that didn’t keep him from running a hand up and down Alex’s back, from pressing his lips to the top of Alex’s head, from sending his other hand down Alex’s side.

               “Stop touching me like that,” Alex breathed against his collar. Michael’s hand instantly stilled.

               “Does it bother you?”

               Alex shook his head and moved closer to Michael so that he was completely curled up against the cowboy. Michael’s own heart hammered so painfully he thought it might jump out.

               “I just… want to be here with you,” he confessed quietly. “Can’t I?”

               Michael clenched his jaw, his eyes burning. If this is a dream, he silently begged, please don’t ever let me wake up.

               “Yeah, Private,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms tightly around Alex. “Yeah, you can.”

[thewildomega]

Star in the Sand Ch.10

The journey to Sabaody seemed to take twice as long as it actually had. For the two day sail he had stayed in his room, watching over her. She had developed a fever and her body trembled in his bed. Twice daily he sat her head in his lap while he tried to get her to swallow down the tea Maverick had made to help keep her alive. It was nothing but herbs that they had on hand but it was something. Not having a choice he had removed her clothing but kept her covered with his blankets and sheets to help hide her nudity. She looked so tiny and frail in his large bed, her skin flushed of color and a cold sweat covering her brow.

 He had been dabbing her bruised face with a wet rag when Daz had spoke outside his door, telling him they were at the Archipelago. Tossing the rag aside he put on his boots and hook. Walking over to the bed he made sure she was wrapped up tightly before lifting her into his arms again, her head lolling back like a rag doll until he adjusted her. His back was stiff from having slept in his chair for the past two days but he ignored it. Holding her in one arm he grabbed the corner of the blanket and covered her face from view. Walking to the door it was opened for him and he looked towards the Mangrove forest and silently prayed there would be a doctor there that would be able to help his soulmate.

...................................

He paced the hall outside of the room, the floorboards soon to have a permanent track in them. Lighting what had to be his fifth or sixth cigar he shoved the lighter back in his pocket before lifting his hand to rub his face, brushing back his hair. Another loud scream made every muscle in his body tense and his teeth bite down on the butt of the rolled tobacco in his mouth. Daz was there, sitting in a chair with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes closed. As her agonizing sob rung through the halls he growled and snapped his eyes to the door. Just what were the doing to her?! Moving to take one step towards the door he heard Daz speak.

"If you interrupt them it will only make her pain last longer."

Freezing he snapped his eyes to the man, a deep frown on his face but he saw his eyes still closed. Looking back towards the door he sighed and stood back straight before walking over and sitting in the chair beside Daz. Crossing his legs and arms he puffed on his cigar and sighed. "Why are you here?" he asked. The rest of the crew had went along to do their own things but his second had willingly come with him. "You don't have to be."

"I care for her well being. Once I know she is stable I will leave." Daz answered honestly.

Knitting his brows he looked to the man and saw him open one eye to meet his stare.

"I was questionable when you first showed up with her but she quickly grew on me. Y/n is a kind woman, too kind to be around people like us but one can not help who they are destined to be with."

Breathing out a lung full of smoke he let the man's words sink in. "Have you found your soulmate?"

Sighing he closed his eyes once again. "Yes. We grew up together and married young."

"You never asked for leave to go visit her..." he said, furrowing his brows.

"Because she is no longer living... She passed in childbirth, along with my son."

Blinking he watched the man's face remain as stoic as ever and felt his brow twitch the slightest amount. "My condolences." he said in a low voice. Seeing him nod he turned his head back to stare at the door. A few more hours went by before the door to the room opened. He watched as two nurses walked out pushing a cart with bloody equipment on it, a shiver running down his spine before he saw the doctor stand in the door and look to him. Tapping out his cigar he stood and walked over to meet the man, trying to peek inside the room but only managing to see the end of the bed. Looking down at the older man he saw his face tired.

"I don't know what happened to her and I don't care to but I will say this, if you hadn't gotten her here when you did she wouldn't have made it another night. Along with multiple deep cuts and bruises she has at least four broken ribs. Her body is littered with welts, the bottom of her feet were embedded with glass as well as a few larger pieces in her thigh and calf. She has a concussion and was shot in the right shoulder. The bullet shattered when it hit her shoulder blade but we were able to get all the pieces out. We have her on some medicine to help with pain and infection and we will monitor her to make sure her fever goes down. She is doing better, she will need time to heal and she will need to take it easy for a few weeks but you should be able to move her in a day or so."

Nodding his head he glanced to the room again.

Understanding he opened the door and stepped out of the way. "If you need anything let one of the nurses know." was all he said before he left.

Shutting the door behind him he turned towards the bed and slowly walked forward. Standing over her he looked down at her small bandaged body and frowned. The sheet was pulled up to the top of her breasts but he could tell her entire upper half was wrapped in bandages along with little ones on her cheek and jaw. Her breathing was steady now and she didn't look like she was knocking on death's door. Although dark circles did surround both of her eyes, blending in with the bruises. They had been separated a total of five days and he had been told by Maverick that even days prior she hadn't eaten. More than a week she had been without a proper meal, her slightly hollowed cheeks told him she was becoming malnourished. When she woke up he would get her anything she wanted, he didn't care what it was as long as she ate something. Lifting his hand to her cheek he brushed his fingers over her skin, trailing his hand down her neck and over her collarbone. He wanted to see her soulmate mark again, wanted to stare at the proof that they belonged to one another but he wouldn't disturb her. She needed her rest and as much as he wished to stay awake he hadn't slept much since all this happened either. Glancing to the lounge chair he let out a sigh, his back would be ruined when this was all said and done. Tugging the sheet up to her chin he removed his coat and walked over to the thing, pulling it towards the bed a little more so he would be able to hear if her breathing changed at all. Getting as comfortable as he could he looked to her, staring at her until his eyes finally slipped close.

....................................

Were you dead? No there wasn't supposed to be pain when you died, well not unless you went to hell... Voices... they sounded familiar. Fluttering your eyes open you blinked a few times, the light in the room making you wince a little. Your head hurt. Looking up at the wooden ceiling you glanced to your left to see a window and a chair with a familiar fur coat laying in it. Furrowing your brows you brought your right hand up to your face, noticing how heavy the limb felt . Rubbing your eyes you pulled it away and looked to see your wrist and knuckles wrapped in bandages. Looking down your arm you saw more bandages here and there. Finding a IV line stuck in your arm you furrowed your brows and took another look around the room. It was a medium sized room with white plaster walls and wooden floors to match the ceiling. Other than the bed and chair there wasn't else in the room, a small table between he two. One of the two doors were closed, the voices coming from behind it. The other one you tilted your head and saw it was a bathroom. Licking your dry lips you tried to get some kind of moisture into your mouth but there wasn't much to be found. Lifting your head to look down you saw you were covered by a white sheet, lifting it you saw you were naked, other than the bandages. Blushing you looked again to the fur coat, then the door and knit your brows. Was he here? Why was he here?

Biting your lip, you painfully moved to sit up in bed, feeling like your chest and head were getting hit with a bat. Thankfully your bandages covered your chest completely. Slowly turning to drop your legs over the side of the bed you just sat there for a few seconds. Your feet were wrapped up as well making your huff, you felt like a damn mummy. Pulling the IV from your arm you stuck the needle back in the line. Holding the sheet you eased from the bed, breathing heavily when a sharp pain struck the soles of your feet. Your hands shook and your fingers gripped the bed so hard your knuckles were white. Taking a deep breath you pushed your foot forward attempting to take a step towards the bathroom and almost loosing your footing. Closing your eyes you kept going, holding the sheet around you. When you were close enough to grab the door frame you heard the other door open and then a woman gasp.

"No, No miss you can't be out of bed yet!"

Hearing the nurse's frantic words he stopped mid sentence and snapped his eyes towards the room y/n was in. Pushing the door open he saw as the nurse ran over to a stumbling y/n. He didn't even know she was awake. Taking a step closer he saw y/n quickly slam the door to the bathroom close.

Quickly locking the door you heard as the nurse tried the knob and then knocked. Leaning back against the door you closed your eyes and tried to even out your breathing.

"Miss you really shouldn't be in there alone, you could fall..."

Glancing sideways to the mirror over the sink you grimaced at the state of yourself. Your hair was mated with what looked like blood... you looked like death. Pushing off the door you reached over to turn on the shower and dropped the sheet.

"If you would like a bath I can help yo..."

"I am more than capable of bathing myself." you told the woman. Moving your hands to start unraveling the bandages you froze when you heard a deep voice speak.

"Y/n open the door so she can help you." he said in a low voice.

"I can do it myself." Dropping the bloody bandages to the bin you swallowed hard, the sound of his voice making your heart ache. You didn't understand why he was here.

Sighing he looked to the nurse and tilted his head to the door, telling her to go. Once she was gone and the door to the room was shut he leaned against the door that his soulmate was behind. When he heard a muffled cry he tried the knob. "Y/n..."

"Go away." you whimpered, trembling as you held onto the shower wall. Turning under the water some to wet your hair you watched the water turn a murky red. When you heard a thump and then a sliding you knew he was sitting on the other side of the door and felt tears brim your eyes. "Why did you come back for me? Why..why didn't you just let me die?" you asked, feeling your lip tremble and tears roll down your cheeks.

Closing his eyes he let out a deep breath, resting his arms on his knees and dropping his head. He had been thinking about what he would say when she woke, what he would say when he saw her again. He had never been good with emotions, he never cared about anyone enough to express the way he felt... until now. Looking down at his hook he licked his lips, "You know about this world, more than I know and probably ever will but there is one thing I do not think was in your books... The tattoo you saw on my hip, it's not really a tattoo. I have had it since the day I was born, everyone born in this world has one, they are all different, different placements, colors, shapes, sizes, every one is unique. They have many names, some call them bonding marks, others soulmate marks but their purpose is the same, a clue to who ones soulmate is." when he heard nothing he lifted her locket from his pocket and opened it, watching as the arrow spun around before pointing behind him, towards the woman currently taking a shower. Reading over the words he felt a small tug at his lips. "You are my soulmate y/n..."

You didn't say a word as he went about explaining everything to you. He told you about the night he was sent to your world, he told you about the witch who he now knew to be fate and how she had intervened when you were about to take your own life (Something you had never told him yourself). Hearing him mention the pull he felt towards you you closed your eyes, having felt the same thing but thinking it was all in your head. When he told you about how you were from this world, how you had been sent here through a mirror like the one in your dreams you closed your eyes tight.

"I know none of this sounds real y/n and I know I have done nothing to show you my words are true but I believe you know the truth. You know you never belonged there, you felt it. You told me that you were drawn to the one piece books that my world always called to you and that's because this is your home. I am..." Lifting his chin he closed his eyes, "I am your home."

Having moved to lean back against the shower wall you bit your shaking lip. "Y..you don't want me...I'm a burden, pathetic...."

She was crying, her voice soft and shaky. He had never seen her cry, not when she got hurt or even when he yelled at her but hearing her now he knew how much his words had wounded her and it made him feel horrible. It wasn't even like she was just repeating his words, reminding him of what he had said. It was like she was stating obvious facts, like she truly believed all of that. Clenching his teeth he swallowed down the knot in his throat. "No. You are wrong y/n. I never meant any of that, I was angry, I was trying to deny my feelings towards you. I searched for my soulmate for many years y/n and I am not ashamed to say I gave up hope. I'm almost forty five years old. Most find their destined love in their twenties, I thought my time was over but then I met you." Smiling he laid his head back against the door. "You, some woman I had never met took me in and you were so kind, even knowing all of my sins, you never said an ill word to me, you didn't even ask for anything in return. You make me happy and you make me smile and laugh and feel things that I had given up hope of ever feeling and..." Tightening his fist he closed his eyes. "... and I apologize for the way I treated you and the things I said to you. I was cruel to you and you didn't do anything to deserve it. When you said you didn't have a tattoo I lost all hope and I became angry. I thought if I avoided you and pushed you away then I wouldn't fall for you, that I wouldn't fall for someone that wasn't my soulmate."

"Son of a bitch.." you hissed through clenched teeth

Feeling his lip twitch he looked down, "Well I can not say I blame you for calling me names..."

"What? No...No I wasn't calling your that I got soap in my wounds." you told him, wincing and trying to quickly rinse the soap from your body. Choosing to bite you lip to keep anymore bad words from flowing out.

Tilting his head towards the door he rose a brow, "Are you sure you wouldn't like some help form the nurse? I mean I am paying for their services."

Looking down and frowning you blinked, "I... I'll find a way to pay you back..." you said in a soft voice, feeling guilty now.

Dropping his brows he pinched the bridge of his nose, "I didn't mean it like that." he grumbled. She wouldn't be here in the first place if he hadn't said what he had. She had gotten hurt because of him, even when he had gave her his word that he wouldn't let anything happen to her. Seeing how her hands had been tied and her shirt and bra had been ripped open it didn't take a genius to put together what that man had tried to do to her. The thought alone made his blood boil. How he wished he had had the time to make him suffer, he would have enjoyed listening to him scream... No she owed him nothing. He knew there was no point in telling her that though, she was caught on the idea that she didn't deserve things being done for her, that she didn't deserve the kindness she gave him to be returned. She had spent way more money on him with food, clothes and everything else she had bought him than he had her. It was something he was determined to change. She was his, his destined one and as such he would care for her, no matter how difficult she made it. After all her mother had asked him to do as much.

Rinsing off completely you sighed and grabbed the handle to turn off the water. Although you felt much better after washing and having a quick shave your body was still injured and your heart although not feeling shattered was still tender. Crocodile had never lied to you, at least not to your knowledge and so you believed what he said. You felt the pulling and strong connection he had told you was apart of the whole soulmate thing and he was right you had never felt like you belonged to your own world. It was a lot to take in though and you didn't know how much more you could take today. You were so tired, wither it be because of your injuries or the words he had spoken... probably a good mixture. Seeing a comb on the counter you picked it up and started taming your wet hair, deciding to leave it down to help hide your beaten face. Glancing up into the mirror you looked at your reflection and furrowed your brows. Your face wasn't swollen at least, a purplish stain along your cheek, under your eye and along your jaw that faded into a greenish yellow. There was even a healing cut along your cheekbone where that guy had kicked you. Your lip was busted as well. Looking down at your body you swallowed hard, some sight you were, he was likely to regret being linked to you once he saw you. How were you ever supposed to be enough for the warlord, Sir Crocodile?

The water had cut off some time ago and although he had heard her moving around quietly she had said nothing. "Y/n..." he said in a low voice and heard a dull hum. "Are you finished bathing?"

Dropping your eyes form the mirror you looked down at your feet. "Yes." There was a noise from the other side of the door before you heard his footsteps moving away from the door. Licking your lips when you heard him call for the nurse you took a deep breath as her soft knock sounded on the door. Reaching over you unlocked it.

..................................

Sitting in the waiting chair in the hall he sat patiently until the nurse finally opened the door.

"She is decent sir. I asked if she wanted to eat but she didn't respond. She really needs to eat to recover properly. Is there anything you think she might like, she can only have broths and such right now. "

Standing he sighed and looked down at her, "Bring her something and I will make sure she eats it." he told the woman and saw her bow her head a little before walking down the hall. Opening the door he saw her laying in bed, her back to him as she looked out the window. She was dressed in the gown the small hospital provided but he could still tell she had bandages wrapped around her. The sheet was pulled up to her waist, covering her legs from view but he could tell they were pulled up to her some. Her damp red hair fell around her to the bed, now clean from all the blood and dirt. Closing the door he slowly walked over to her, her lidded eyes stayed focused on the window, exhaustion clear on her face. Rounding the bed to take a seat in the chair he glanced to the IV line and saw they had put her back on her medicine again, her left arm now laid beside her with the line disappearing into the nook of her arm and taped down. "You take that out again and they will have to put it in your wrist or hand, it is much more painful." he told her, her eyes looking to him.

"Where are we?"

"Sabaody." he said and saw her raise her brows some. "I take it you have heard of it?"

"Yes. Since you want to go to the New World I am taking it you are here for coating?" when he hummed and gave a small nod you sighed. "You do know that 70% of all ships that are coated don't make it to Fish-man Island, the bubble pops and the ship is crushed by the pressure of the sea."

Tilting his jaw he hummed. "I don't suppose you know of a specialist?"

"I do but I don't know if he's here right now." you said.

"And who might he be?"

"Silvers Rayleigh, Gol D Roger's first mate. He's an expert in coating, he's the one that does it for Luffy."

"You said he may not be here right now, why?"

"Well I know sometime during the two year time skip he finds Luffy on some island and teaches him Haki. If he is still here though you will find him at his wife's bar, Shakky's Rip-Off Bar. Make sure you make a good impression otherwise he won't do it for you, no matter how much money you offer to pay him." you said.

Thinking on her words he looked down in thought but shot his eyes back up when he heard her moving. Seeing her try and move to lay on her back he furrowed his brows at the pained look on her face that she was trying to turn away from him. Standing he stepped over to her, "Lay still or your ribs will never heal right." he told her in a deep voice. Turning his hook away form her he pushed his hand under her upper half and his hook under the sheet and under her knees. Lifting her with ease he helped move her to her back, grabbing the pillow on the end of the bed and stuffing it behind her to help her sit up. Once she was situated he saw the sheet was revealing the top of her thigh, a large bandage wrapped around the area where some bigger pieces of glass had been. Pulling the sheet back over her he moved to sit on the bed by her legs. Glancing up he saw her eyes were focused on her hands as she tried to straighten out the IV line. Untangling it and laying it out of the way as much as possible he took her small hand in his huge one, noticing that the nurse had left her knuckles and and wrists un-bandaged. Frowning at the sight of where the rope had rubbed her skin raw he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "I failed to protect you, both from others and myself but perhaps you could find it in your heart to offer me a second chance." he said in a low, deep voice. "You will never want for anything, I'll take care of your every need..."

Keeping your eyes down you looked at his hand holding yours. It was so warm and big. His fingers were calloused a bit, contrasting with the smooth metal of his rings. Those ring, those expensive rings that reminded you of how plain you were yourself. What could he possibly see in you? You thought and swallowed hard, "You can have anyone you want, why would you want me?"

Furrowing his brows he gently lifted her chin with the curve of his hook, forcing her eyes to meet his. "There is no one like you my dear. I have been searching my whole life for you darling, for my soulmate.... I was not disappointed by what I found." he told her with a grin and saw her sea blue eyes look up to him, a small bit of shock in her beautiful orbs. Flickering his eyes to her lips he felt a warming in his chest and leaned down before finally claiming her lips.

Stiffening when his lips pushed themselves to yours you felt his hand move from yours to gently grab your hip while his hook stayed under your jaw, keeping you in the position he wanted. Soon you felt your eyes close and your body relaxing as much as possible with your injuries.

Restraining himself from snatching her into his arms he held her hip in a gentle grip. Her lips were so soft, even if he could feel were her lips was busted at. He wanted more, so much more but he couldn't right now. Hearing a small knock at the door he ended the kiss just as the nurse opened the door. "Time to eat."

Looking up at him you glanced to the nurse bringing over the tray and then back to him. Opening your mouth and giving a small shake of your head you saw him look down at you with a firm look that told you you had no choice in the matter.

[nitannichionne]

Luna IV, Chapter 4: Dinner and Dessert (Cavill Syverson Fanfic)

You take your time cooking. You investigate the kitchen slowly as you go, giving yourself time to acclimate and hopefully get a better grip on your feelings. You can hear Sy stirring about the house, though you don't know what he is doing or where he is inside it, for that matter. You take deep breaths to soothe your nerves, allowing the smell of food to relax you and waft through the house. You are suddenly thankful you spent time with the cook growing up; you can make a meal for two or for a party.

Tears fill your eyes. You never dreamed your imprisonment would be this way. You are ready to fight other women. You are ready to protect poor soul like Gabrielle. You are ready to be in solitary confinement. You are ready for a lot of things, but not this. You simply are not ready for him, your private jailer, your private warden to “train” you.

You assessed Sy even as you bucked against him earlier. He is not a violent man, at least, not toward women. He is a no-nonsense man; you smile, noting your warden's similarity to your father, missing him so, but immediately steel the warm feeling that comes with it. Sy is shorter than your father, smaller, but he looks just as strong...perhaps because he is younger.

You didn't miss that body—Sy looks battle ready even if he hasn't seen it in some time. His eyes are very blue, and you watched the tint change with his mood-steel calm, glints of gray with concern, electric blue when he was lighthearted, a storm at sea when he takes you...stop it, you tell yourself. Don’t drown in those eyes, just learn to interpret them so you can find ways around them, you tell yourself, no matter how beautiful you think they are... That stupid system you hate had picked your jailer, and you have to mentally give them credit: They picked right.

You are plating food as Sy enters the kitchen, reminding you of a beast led by his nose. He stands behind and almost over you as you go about your task, seemingly inhaling the meal that promises to be delicious, but you feel like he is also sniffing your hair.

“Jasmine?” he murmurs.

“What?”

He shakes his head, and swallows hard. “Nothing.”

Your whole body tingles with awareness. He was sniffing your hair. They allowed you to pick your scented soap, which you thought was ridiculous, but now makes sense. And he was right-you used jasmine…and he likes it.

He sits down and looks at the food as you bring it to him.  “You can cook.”

“My father had a chef.”

“This will be quite a pleasure then,” he says, still looking at the food. “I have not had a trainee in some time. I am usually in charge of the others to make sure they are not abusive, but they asked me to take you on.”

You have nothing to say to that. You go to the cooling unit and see quite a few choices to accompany the main course. You turn and put your hands behind your back in “at ease” position. “What would you like with this?”

He recognizes the military stance, and tenses.

That’s right, you got more than you bargained for, you tell him with your eyes. You don’t know who you’re fucking with.

His gaze roves over your body and again, the sets the unwanted sensual tension between you. You lift your chin, telling yourself not to care, and await his answer. "I don't care, really."

"May I suggest you eat first, and wait a little on drinking?" you ask as you turn to the cooling unit to make a selection.

"To speed my digestion."

You turn with a fruity but light wine. "Yes."

He smiles slowly. "Thank you, I'll take your suggestion." He gestures for you to sit.

You warily do so, hoping to eat alone, but now you realize he expects you to eat with him. Your gazes lock, neither taking eyes off the other. You realize he is going to be the most formidable opponent you’ve ever had in your life, mostly because he is compatible with you. You work to not allow your gaze to waver. This was a staring contest, but he is already playing dirty, allowing his eyes to smolder as if he has more on his mind than food. A small smirk crosses his features and you realize the flush of your cheeks might have been visible. Damn!

He lifts the plate to rotate and sniff it. He gives you a look of approval that doesn't surprise you and takes his first forkful. The food melts in his mouth and he closes his eyes for a moment to enjoy it, then opens his eyes and frowns. "Where is your plate?"

"I can eat now?"

He suppresses a chuckle at your sarcastic tone, and you are disappointed that he is not easily irritated. "Of course. I'm no brute." You do not move, and he whispers your name to make you lock eyes with him again. “I’m not.”

That remains to be seen, your glare tells him. Maybe if you stay this way, watch him eat, you will eat alone--

"If you didn't make enough, I will share with you."

Your eyebrows rise at that.

"Yes, I think that's a good idea," he smiles, seeing your discomfort.

You take a deep breath, and close your eyes briefly. He is amused at your struggle to control your temper. You have been trying to prick his and got nothing but amusement from him. Your words are slow and measured: "I assure you—"

“I don’t mind feeding you, pet.” He voice is smooth, seductive, letting the double meaning sink in fully. “Not at all.”

You go and get your plate, almost slamming the platter down, but slowing just as it touches the table. You sit and look up at him, burning with frustration. He had won this round. He raises his fork in salute and you begin eating.

He keeps looking at you as if he wants to say something, ask something, but doesn’t. He is giving you time to adjust and you wish he’d get on with it, give you reason to hate him. "I want you to know that I am not a cruel man, and have never been a cruel warden. I meant what I said: you will determine how difficult things get."

You tense. This whole system is bullshit, you want to tell him.

He doesn’t miss your expression and takes a deep breath as you avert your eyes. "What is it?"

"That may be true, but you are part of a cruel system."

"That may be true, but you killed someone."

Your head snaps up, your eyes sparking. He looks like he wished he hadn’t said that, but he made that mistake-his first. "One that you know of." You swallow hard; there was no victory in that.

He takes a napkin and dabs at the corner of your eyes and you snatch it, angry at yourself for one drop of emotion escaping you. "I realize you seem to have deep seated anger—"

"Seem?" You laugh, but now you feel floodgates threatening to open. The death of your father, being under scrutiny, having everything taken from you, being offered like a piece of meat to a man you barely know and don’t want, only to be convicted for not allowing him to claim you, being humiliated, convicted, jailed. NO! He is part of that system, you tell yourself. You look at the plate, and drop your fork.

"What?"

"I'm not hungry."

"You must eat," he says softly, slowing his eating with concern in his eyes. "You have not eaten in over twelve hours."

"I am not hungry," she smile with a sneer, your voice a whisper. You don’t care if the tears are in your eyes.

He sighs heavily and avert his eyes, only to raise them to you again, his expression soft and pleading. "Please...I want you to stay as healthy as you are now."

Your smile fades. You are conditioned for certain kinds of combat, of punishment, but not kindness.

He pours you a small glass of wine, and leans closer. "Please."

He watches and waits for your reaction. You were going to fight him and the moons?! If he came any closer, it wouldn't be just food you would have to try to fight your desire for. You pick up your fork again, and avert your eyes.

“Thank you.”

Sy finishes his dinner, and you expect him to get up and leave.

He doesn’t.

He watches you eat.

You are nervous, and your stomach probably can't take more than a little at a time right now. Every time you take a bite, he licks his lips. Every time you drink, he stares at your body in building appreciation and lust. You become a bundle of nerves under his gaze. When you finally finish eating, he drinks the last of his wine, and rises from his chair. You exhale heavily, thinking he was going to walk by you but he grabs your wrist, and leads you back to the lounger.

He settles you back against the pillows, taking the dress off you again. "That was delicious."

You squirm under him, unsure if you are trying to get closer or find the chance to escape.

"I trust you can make desserts...with the same skill?" He begins kissing the hollow of her throat, and murmurs your name, urging you to answer.

"Y-yes,” you breathe, the sound of your name from his lips stroking your nerves in a delicious way.

"Good." With that, he kisses you slowly, and you both release a small sigh of pleasure at tasting wine in each other's mouths. He lowers his head to your breasts, gently taking turns on suckling each as he thrusts his fingers inside you, making you gasp and whimper at how wet and ready you are for him, how the ache leapt within you and spread. He uses a slow rhythm on you, calming you yet helping you learn to revel in the satisfaction he can give you. You arch and gasp as your wetness flows over his fingers. "Good..." He lowers his head between your legs, his fingers still in place, and works you again, his fingers thrusting in a slightly faster rhythm as his tongue sucks and laps at you.

You pant and twist, clawing at the pillows around you. He reaches up with his free hand and brings your hand to the back of his head slowly, and you bring the other down to him, cradling and caressing his head as your hips come off the lounger. He moans in response to your cries drinking you as you feel lightheaded. Finally he climbs over you and thrusts into you again. You arch to him, reveling in how he stretches and fills you, and your body instinctively clasps to him as he begins a hard quick rhythm that would satisfy you both.

He begins pounding harder as your body yields everything to him and he holds you in place. Your arms and legs embrace him as you scream. He keeps his piston-like rhythm going, and you pulsate around him uncontrollably as your head fall backs back feeling his seed heat and coat your inner walls as he growls in your ear and then bites your neck softly, drawing small tremors from you.

Sy picks you up, and carries you to bed. He lays you down on your side and positions himself behind you, his hands stroking your limbs to soothe you. "Sleep now," He purrs, kissing your hair. "rest." You want to stay awake to spite him but with all the events of the day, sleep takes you in minutes.He could tell she wanted to stay awake, but with all the events of the day, sleep takes you in minutes.

Let me know if you want to be tagged for this story! Thanks.

[f0rever15elf]

I Just Need Five Minutes: Part 1

Part 1 of the Maxwell Lord “I Just Need Five Minutes” Series: Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4, Part 5 (Coming soon) Pairing: Maxwell Lord x f!reader Wordcount: 2,325 Rating: G  Warnings: Death mentions Part 2 (Coming soon...)

Summary: Lord Corp has become the top business contender on the global stage, lead by none other than Maxwell Lord IV. His rise to glory has taken him from the lives of those he once loved, and you can only watch as he slips further and further out of reach. You had to stop it, before it was too late. You had to get inside. 

A/N: This story is going to call a little bit on the comic book backstory of Maxwell Lord IV, most of which can be found in his wiki article, if you’re interested. I’m excited to write for Maxwell, his character has so much potential. And hopefully this will tide me over since the movie release has been delayed again.

Masterlist  |  Ao3

He was a genius. Shrewd, cunning, and charismatic. His way with words had everyone coiled tightly around his finger; he could sell holy water to the Pope if he wanted to. And with that silver tongue, that guise he wore to stroke the egos of those who ate from his palm and were none the wiser, he continued to climb higher and higher. More and more power fell into his grasp.

But a glass can only hold so much, and as his brimmed and spilled over with power and influence, so did he lose his humanity.

“Maxwell...what have you done?”

~~~~

The sun shines brilliantly in the summer sky over the wide yard in front of the Lord estate. In the lush green grass, two children play, no more than five or six years old. A boy and a girl, giggling and laughing over jokes and stories told in funny voices. It is the picture of innocence, purity. The little girl picks up a flower from the small pile they had collected, tucking it behind her ear before finding a matching one, tucking it behind the boy’s.

“We match now!” she beams in a way only a child can. “It means that you and I will be together forever!” The boy blushes at her words, soft blonde hair blowing gently in the summer breeze. His face is gentle and kind, shy even as he watches her with bright brown eyes that shine in the light. Tentatively, he sticks out his hand to her, pinky finger extended.

“You gotta promise! It doesn’t work if you don’t promise!” His serious voice makes the girl giggle before she makes a serious face, wrapping her pinky around his tightly.

“I promise! Forever and ever.” The boy smiles and nods as she says so, repeating her words back to her before they both erupt into giggles. From the balcony, the mothers of the two children look on fondly over their cups of tea. The sound of the children laughing danced on the warm breeze, pleasant in their ears. If only things could stay like this forever.

~~~~

Your pinky twitches as you stand before the gilded doors of the Lord Building, looking up at its windows, blinding in the sunlight. You would get in. You had to. Things had been put into motion that you need to stop, but the only way to do so is from the inside. With a shake of your head and a sigh, your turn on your heel, heading down the street towards home. It seems that nearly every screen you pass on your way has Maxwell’s face on it, selling empty promises and loaded bargains. And every time you see his eyes, they look a little less like the boy you use to know.

~~~~

“Max can’t meet you today, dear,” your mother says, petting your hair. To an adult familiar with grief and loss, the tightness in her voice would betray the tumultuous emotions she feels. To you, she just sounds uncomfortable, and you tilt your head in confusion. Fourteen years doesn’t provide much time to become familiar with the concept of loss, so you shrug, saddened you wouldn’t get to see your friend today.

Gone were the days of sitting in the grass to play, tucking flowers into each other’s hair. Maxwell was always busy helping his father to run the family business, and you would go months without so much as a word from him before he would show up at your door with a lily, smiling that dimpled smile at you. Promises always poured from his lips that it wouldn’t be so long next time before he came to see you.

But today… Today would change everything. Today, Maxwell’s father died.

~~~~

The door to your apartment slams shut behind you with a thud, shutting out the hustle and bustle of Metropolis. It’s small, but cozy, filled with your plants to bring a little life to the drab living room and kitchen. Taking a seat in the living room, you pull out your computer from your bag as you flip on the TV. It’s Maxwell’s face again, smiling at you with the look of a used car salesman who swears he wants only the best for his favorite customer. You know it’s not a real smile. Maxwell has a dimple when he smiles, and this charade didn’t. You shake your head as his promises of whatever you want in this perfect future fill the room, your eyes refocusing on your laptop, refreshing your emails. One meeting...that was all you needed.

~~~~

You let out a frustrated sigh as the door slams closed, your mother letting out a cry of surprise at the sound before coming to find you, resting a concerned hand on your shoulder as you throw yourself onto the couch.

“He still won’t see you?” Her gentle words just cause your heart to ache further and you nod.

“His mom greeted me, invited me in and made me tea. We chatted, but as soon as I asked about Maxwell, she stood up and ushered me from the house, asking me to not come by anymore since I couldn’t seem to stop asking for him.” You turn to look at your mother, tears in your eyes. “Why won’t he see me, Mom? Did I do something wrong?” Your mother’s heart shatters at the broken light in your eyes. She knew how much Maxwell meant to you, and that having him refuse to see you was tearing you apart.

“My sweet, you’ve done nothing wrong. Maxwell has a lot of responsibility to take on now that he’s running his father’s company. He’s very busy and doesn’t have as much time to see friends as he use to.” She brushes your hair behind your ear with delicate fingers. “I’m sure he still cares about you.”

“I miss him, Mom. I miss my best friend. It’s been three years since I’ve seen him...” Seventeen years of life and you still struggle with keeping your emotions in check, especially when it comes to Maxwell.

“I know sweetheart...When the time is right, you will see him again…”

~~~~

The alert from your inbox pulls you from your reverie, your eyes refocusing on the screen. As they do, your heart stutters in your chest

‘To Whom It May Concern,

We graciously thank you for your interest in Lord Corp. Mr. Lord has personally reviewed your product and would like to arrange to meet you on Wednesday at 3 p.m. You will have thirty minutes to make your sales pitch and answer any questions he may have. The front desk will direct you when you arrive. Please bring a valid photo ID and copies of your pitch for convince. Do not be late, Mr. Lord’s time is incredibly valued.

Cordially,

Sam Preston

Personal Assistant to the CEO’

You had gotten it. That moment you needed on the inside...you had finally gotten it. A relieved smile graces your lips as you begin to amass your files. You had one shot at this, it had to be perfect.

~~~~

You stand alone in the cemetery as you watch the caretakers laying new sod over the fresh grave. Your heart feels hollow, and only the black lace veil conceals the tears streaming down your cheeks from the world around you. Today was beautiful; cool and still with the birds singing in the trees as the sun warmed the earth. It was too beautiful for a day filled with such grief.

As the caretakers pack up their tools, one stops to rest a hand on his shoulder, passing along his condolences before continuing on his way. You nod gratefully before kneeling beside the headstone. It is modest, small and simple with a delicate engraving of a singular rose by your mother’s name. Black-gloved fingers trace along each petal and letter, your shoulders shaking with silent cries. You were now well and truly alone.

You shouldn’t have had to be alone. He should have been there with you, you had made a promise to one another. You were there when his father passed, and his mother. He didn’t even have the time to attend his own mother’s funeral, but you did. You mourned for him as they lowered a woman close enough to be your second mother into the ground beside her husband. So why were you alone now?

Where are you Maxwell?

~~~~

Your hands work to smooth the front of your dress down before you enter the lobby of Lord Corp. Slate gray with a simple black belt that held nicely to your figure but didn’t reveal too much. Professional and classy, with a dash of sexy. Nothing beyond anything any self-respecting company owner would don. Head held high and the bag you specifically reserved for important business trips and meetings over your shoulder, you make your way inside, up to the front desk.

“Welcome to Lord Corp, where the future is yours, do you have an appointment?” The intern who greets you sounds like every last bit of his soul has been sapped from him, and you pity him. Giving him a sad smile, you nod, pulling out your ID.

“I do, at 3 pm with Mr. Lord.” You give him your name as he takes the card, looking you up in the system before nodding, handing you back your ID and a visitors badge which you quickly put around your neck.

“Lily Solutions, you’re still on schedule. I’ll have you head down the hall. Take your first left, you’ll find the elevators. Take it all the way to the top and have a seat on the bench outside the double doors at the end of the hall. Sam will come and get you when Mr. Lord is ready for you.” You smile sweetly at the young man, thanking him before following your instructions. Your ears pop on the way up and you grimace, pulling out the folder with your ‘sales pitch’ inside, flipping through to make sure everything is in order. As the doors slide open and you make your way down the hall, you sigh. This floor was so much more opulent than the ground floor and you feel so out of place. Floor to ceiling paintings like the walls, depicting grandiose battles. Priceless vases and sculptures sit along marble pedestals. It’s like walking through a museum rather than an office, and your jaw clenches as you think about how he had come to acquire some of these items. When you reach the bench, you take your seat and cross your ankles to wait, trying to calm your racing heart.

“Lily Solutions?” The voice that calls out for you immediately grates on your nerves, high pitched and nasally. Looking to your right, so you a man in a pressed navy blue suit make his way towards you, and you stand to meet him, taking his extended hand. “I am Sam Preston, Mr. Lord’s personal assistant. Did you bring your requested documents?” The way he looked down his nose at you makes your blood boil, but you paste on the sweetest smile you can, nodding as you hand over the folder.

“You’ll find copies of all requested articles inside, neatly labeled for yours and Mr. Lord’s personal convenience.” Sam makes a disinterested sound in the back of his throat, snapping the folder shut before checking his watch.

“Very good. This way.” He strides past you and as soon as he is in front of you, you drop the sweet smile. Maxwell, why hire someone like him? You shake your head as Sam opens the door at the end of the hall, getting your salesman smile in place. “Mr. Lord, your 3 o’clock is here from Lily Solutions.” Sam ushers you inside and you are taken aback once again at how over the top the design of the office is. Floor to ceiling windows line the whole back wall with arguably the best view in Metropolis and the curtains that hang every so often are of a rich red velvet with gold filigree.  The marble tiles cause the click of your heels to echo as you make your way to the center of the room beside Sam, your eyes locked on the man sitting at the large mahogany desk.

It’s been seventeen years since you last saw Maxwell, and your heart ached for the man who appraises you with shrewd and cunning eyes. With a wave of his hand, Sam nods, leaving the folder on the desk to make his way out of the room. The large oaken door closing echos ominously through the room as Maxwell stands, coming around his desk to face you, hands in his pockets. If he recognized you at all, he didn’t show it.

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me, Mr. Lord. I realize your time is very valuable, so I won’t keep you long.” Maxwell chuckles humorlessly at your greetings, leaning back against his desk.

“You say that, but you bring me this fake, garbage company in an attempt for a sales pitch?” His voice is rough and hard as flint, no trace of that gentle sound he once had. “What game are you playing?”

“No game, sir.”

“I don’t believe you.” He pushes off of his desk, walking back around it. “Everyone has a game they play, and if you’re not going to tell me yours, I’ll have you escorted out.” When he picks up the phone, your heart leaps into your throat and you dart forward pressing down on the receiver, cutting it off. He glares at you in disbelief. The audacity, he thinks, is astounding and he would make sure you suffer for it.

“Maxwell, please.” His eyes flash at the use of his first name, something in the way it sounds in your voice bringing him to pause. “I just need five minutes.”

~~~~~

Taglist is open!  Requests are open!

[sunmoontruth-stiles]

Hello!! I saw you take prompts for TW and I couldn't resist. I was wondering if you could work some magic with the pairing Erica x Boyd? Berica is my second fav ship (after Sterek) and I feel they need more love. I don't know if you have specific themes/tropes you like to write but would love anything fluffy. A marriage proposal or love confession perhaps? Whatever takes your fancy :) Thanks heaps!

Did I get so excited when I saw this ask that I sat and wrote this immediately? Yes. Absolutely. Berica!!! Ok so this kinda takes place after 3A, but they lived!!! ~1600 words

———

After the alpha pack, Erica and Boyd were inseparable.

Erica had been near death after fighting Kali in the vault. Boyd stayed by her hospital bed for weeks as she slowly healed. He slept in the wooden chair, that was just too small for him, night after night. Erica had always been so animated. She always had a snarky comment, or she was starting a fight. Boyd was never much for conflict, happily fading into the background. Now she was silent, and her expression was softer than he'd ever seen. The others tried to coax him away, asking for his help with the various attacks on the town, but he'd always refuse. Boyd was adamant. He would never leave her alone in that horrible white room. He knew how much time she'd spent in the hospital growing up, and he would make sure she wouldn't wake up alone this time. Erica was his only true friend. Even Issac, his fellow beta, was a stranger to him. He'd sided with Scott, probably the smart move considering his new true alpha status. Their alpha, however, he'd been demoted to beta like them. Boyd wasn't sure if he and Erica even had a pack anymore, but he knew they had each other. She kept him sane in the vault. Her strength amazed him, so Boyd stayed. He stayed until the day she woke up.

The day she woke up was one he'd never forget. After almost three weeks, Erica slowly stirred awake around five in the morning. The steady rise in her heart as she woke up caught his attention from his slumped position beside her. He raised his head and studied her face as her eyes opened with slow, heavy blinks. Erica had looked down at the heart monitor and IV with a hollow familiarity, but then she met his gaze. They just looked at each other silently for a moment, but when her lip began to quiver, he was out of the chair without another second. Boyd just held her. Erica's grip tightened around his large frame with the strength that would crush a normal human's bones. They just stayed like that for a long time.

After her release, Erica wanted to see Derek. She was still loyal to their alpha, even if she hadn't spoken to him since they'd tried to run away in search of a new pack. Boyd explained that Derek was no longer an alpha, that he'd given up the power to save his sister, Cora. Erica just looked at him with those big brown eyes, and he was already on his way to the loft.

When Derek saw her, Boyd could see the guilt and relief wash across the man's face. Their alpha had been so clearly distraught when he found her in the vault, bloody and barely alive. Boyd knew he cared about them, even if he wasn't always a great leader. He made them to increase his own power, but pack is pack.

Erica wanted forgiveness. She wanted Derek to accept that as pack again. Boyd thought he looked physically pained when he told her that Scott had to be the one to accept them as pack. She understood, but she still starred at him. Boyd knew what she wanted. Maybe he wanted it too. They wanted Derek to tell them he didn't resent their past mistakes. What they got was a stiff smile, but for Derek, that meant a lot.

Erica and Boyd weren't quite ready to go to Scott. They knew they'd need a pack, an alpha, but they needed time to heal from what they'd been through. Putting off talking to Scott was like ignoring the rest of the world for awhile. They just drove out to the woods and laid on the hood, starring up at the sky. The clear night let the stars shine brightly overhead. Boyd looked over to Erica, her blonde curls surrounded her head like a messy pillow. He'd seen her face every day for weeks, but it was like she'd finally become herself again. The warmth in her skin and the way her lips twisted up in the corners, like she was mocking the world, were a welcome change to her recent cold, lifeless state. Erica glanced over at him, her eyes sparkling with the reflection of the stars.

"Boyd, we're omegas now, right?" Erica asked, though it sounded more like a statement.

"Right," Boyd nodded. Erica seemed to ponder this for a minute.

"We have each other though, right?" Erica asked quietly. Boyd smiled.

"Right," he repeated. He'd never felt so close to anyone else, even feeling like a stranger to his own family most days. Erica smiled.

"Boyd, you know I love you, right?" Erica turned to him, her blonde curls falling to the side. He turned to face her.

"Right," he said softer this time. She watched him for a moment. "I love you too, Erica," Boyd returned her feelings without any doubt. He felt like he'd said it a million times before, and he knew he'd say it a million times more. Erica beamed up at him, and she leaned over quickly, grabbing his face and pressing a kiss to his lips. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he melted into her, wrapping an arm around her waist. She was all the pack he needed.

— 5 years later —

Boyd unpacked the last of the boxes from the truck. They'd had been moving in all day, their collective belongings from each of their college housing filled the moving van almost completely. Though, Erica's things probably took up three quarters of it. The pack came together to get them moved into their new apartment. Scott, Issac, and Derek helping with most of the heavy lifting. Stiles, Lydia, and Allison decided their skills were better suited for directing them, while they sat off to the side and watched the wolves do all the hard work.

"Hell ya! Take your shirt off!" Stiles shouted at their former alpha, causing Derek to roll his eyes. Lydia and Allison just dissolved into laughter. Erica smiled and shook her head behind a large box. Boyd came over, lifting the box from her hands.

"Hey, what's the big idea?" Erica jumped up, trying to reclaim the box. Boyd smiled and laughed.

"I got this. You go hang out with the girls," he said gesturing over to the trio of humans. Erica pouted and glared.

"I'm a werewolf. I think I can handle a heavy box," she pursed her lips.

"I know you can, but there's only a few boxes left. We got this. Go have fun," Boyd leant down and kissed her head. A smile broke out across her face. Erica gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before taking a seat on the counter beside Stiles. Boyd smiled fondly over to her before going back outside to the truck.

"So, when are you doing it?" Issac popped up beside him, asking in a hushed tone. Scott came up behind him and raised an eyebrow.

"Later," Boyd smiled and grabbed a box.

"Very specific," Issac rolled his eyes.

"How are you doing it? Are you gonna take her out to dinner? Go somewhere special?" Scott, ever the romantic, flashed his lopsided grin.

"Here. Down on one knee. What can I say? I'm a traditionalist," Boyd smiled before heading back up the stairs. Issac and Scott sighed, hoping for more theatrics, Boyd assumes. That wasn't his style though.

He got back upstairs and found Erica laughing with Lydia and Allison, while Stiles and Derek bickered. Boyd rolled his eyes. Derek never was much help when Stiles was there to distract him.

They finished unpacking the truck and got the boxes sorted into the right rooms. The pack went their separate ways, and Boyd and Erica fell into their couch with a exhausted huff.

"Pizza?" Erica prompted.

"Pizza," Boyd nodded. She smiled and pulled out her phone, ordering it to their new apartment.

They ate the greasy food and watched their favorite movies. The boxes could wait till tomorrow. After a few hours, they were resting comfortably, Erica leaning into his side, and his arm holding her close. The sun was slipping under the horizon, and the glow from the TV and kitchen lit up the room with soft, warm light. Boyd glanced down at Erica. Her hair was in a messy bun, with random blonde curls poking out in various directions. Her black eyeliner was smeared at the edges from the long day. He smiled down at her and caught her eye. Erica glanced up at him, returning the smile with a questioning look.

"What? What are you thinking about?" Erica leaned up a bit to get a better look at him. She paused the movie, studying his coy smile. Boyd shifted to face her.

"You know I love you, right?" He watched her lips hold back a large grin. She nodded.

"Right," she answered firmly.

"You know you're everything I've ever wanted, right?" Boyd said with great fondness. Erica smirked.

"Right," she repeated cockily. Boyd just smiled wider. He reached in his pocket and pulled out the small black box. Erica's eyes got wide, and her confident expression fell to surprise.

"Will you marry me?" Boyd was never one for dragging thing out. He never wanted to waste time, when he knew how quickly it could be taken away.

Erica was nodding before he even got the words out, "Yes! Oh my god, Vernon!" She grabbed his face and tackled him in a kiss. They toppled to the ground and laughed against each other's lips.