#grimm hurt/comfort

[klemgrimm]

Quick Dagda drawing I did for the WHA server challenge. I love him and Coustas, can’t wait to see where they go in the story

[imobsessed123]

fun fact!! the first time I heard about kotlc was from a sisters grimm crossover fic (I lost it sadly 😞) and the only thing I remember was puck DESTROYING Keefe's hair

W H A T

I really need to read that now omg

[green5quirrel]

Back to my old fanfiction shit.

[blankdblank]

The White Dove Pt 41 - Fantastic Four

The White Dove Masterlist

*.*.*

Seated on the deck of Eldfalls, having taken your things upstairs and retrieved the pieces for the final chunk of mast tipped in a cone shape to finish it off as the sketches show it isn’t a flat ended mast. Around you bees hovered to capture the steady assembly of the intricately lined up bits to help the process even more. One by one the largest bit yet over several hours was assembled to the end point, “Hey, just in time.” Eddie said making you chuckle at his pop up over the side of the ship.

With him you lifted the part he would keep level so you could climb up the mast and across the unfinished arm beam to guide the piece around the inner straw. To fit snuggly inside the end of the cone tip you measured precisely to not have to cut it again. Possibly a hair too long from what it once was. All the same the hum of the ship spread to the end of the mast while you secured the final internal latches. “That should do it,” you said causing Eddie to lower his arms and you to turn and stand up on the beam to walk back so that you could climb down to the deck so that you could stare up at the mast fully supporting itself and ready to welcome a new sail when you had completed it.

Behind you Eddie moved to loop his arms around your middle, not willing to break this moment of pride at having put so much work into bringing Eldfalls back to life. He did break the silence when you stepped away wiping your cheek to look up at him to ask about his trip at a loss for what to say. “Ready to try the handles?”

“We can,” you said with a nod, “See if it snaps off or actually contracts and pops up again.” To the hatches you moved and both knelt to take hold of the handles.

“On three, one, two,” anxiously you wet your lips fidgeting your fingers around the handle that in time dropped to his push of his own handle, “Three.” There was no time to worry as the hum continued up the mast entirely and from the cone tip backwards into the central mast. That folded inwards to meet up with pieces of the arm both formerly there and replaced from you until it all was tucked safely within the hull of the ship seen through the open hatch doors. Disbelievingly you scoffed and released the handle to cover your mouth. Wide eyed staring at the open hatch doors to Eddie’s proud laughter.

“It actually went down,” you squeaked in the lower of your hands.

“Ready?” he asked and you nodded, lowering an arm again to take hold of the handle for a timed tug this time to have him rush over and scoop you up in a tight hug. Lost for words as the borderline boastful burst of flames erupted around Eldfalls for the first extension of his completed mast. “Oh we are going to celebrate with so much food.” He hummed, making you giggle as he led you to climb down to head inside, saying to Eldfalls, “Rest up buddy, we’re heading to Africa in a few days for a summer of travels. We’ll keep some spare room for you in the bus if you want to come along.”

 …

 Where one medal was expected an entire celebration in South Africa was going on for both Misique and Venom that atop an eagle you dropped in on. Most of the day performances and exhibits of artistry from the joyful countries within the continent elated with all the changes enacted upon its people for the better were savored until a skilful getaway to find Eldfalls sleeping still within the bus. He knew he had to stay behind for this, and at the motion of the bus was excited in the path ahead to start the drive to India. This country, much like its desert riddled neighbors you drove through did not want Misique’s help enabling a free couple weeks of traveling throughout to see all the wonders possible until China’s borders were reached.

Inside the bus use of that hair dye was taken advantage of to keep your minty shade from the videos the followers you had and gained enjoyed the view of the quietest Avenger at your side for a spa adventure all his own. Even more stops were planned within the second country, and made all the more special at the interest Eldfalls brought hovering above your heads. No more than when you crossed the Great Wall where the General Secretary of the Chinese Communist Party and President of the People’s Republic of China Hu Jintao was there with his wife, son and daughter amongst a small group of other officials and their families to welcome the Viscountess of Denmark, her adopted brother and dragon.

Not an official dinner of state, but one to pay respects to an occasion such as this. Dragons in Asian cultures were prized, same as many others, but to have one, even if a magical alien ship disguised as a dragon many simply wished to have the chance to see him for themselves. Hu Jintao rarely gave press and preferred his privacy but for the papers at least he and his family smiled beneath Eldfalls then respectfully guided you to a private dinner. There they wished to talk on the few details of the first round of your trials were published to be so promising that a second round was planned to have you fly back to Sweden to help start the second round of volunteers off. Compliments were given and hopes that the progress would continue to be promising for eventual cures before question of your next stop came.

Pandas had smiles spread and with calls ahead a full private tour of a conservation exhibit were booked to grant you and Eddie a much prized gown, glove and mask donning video clip of you being able to greet and mingle inside a room with panda cubs. The very last stop was to be made certain that you went to get that Alpaca fur blanket patterned after panda fur to go with the rest of your souvenirs from the trip.

For the first part of May all through Mongolia you and Eddie explored. From the monasteries to the nature reserves the President had when word came you entered the country wished to get his own picture with you three planned to meet you at so many secrets were uncovered as well as a love for true Mongolian food.

Tsakhiagiin Elbegdorj, inside of the press message extending a welcome to you and Eddie also shared a mention of welcome unlike other leaders to Misique and Venom to help with any endangered species or landscape they were able. And aside from the Gobi Desert word his message was received came in the form of a glittering yellow mushroom cloud that added a great bounty of creatures and life to the nature reserves and wilds of the country.

Of course you had to dye your hair again inside your bus so that when the meet up the following morning came with the President, his wife and stunning 25 children the press could capture their excitement to meet you and hear of all you had seen of their country so far as well as plans ahead. This bit of travels did have to be your favorite as you got to have several gorgeous pictures on the two day path atop reindeer to a remote part of the mountains and back down again to add a great deal of variety to the scenery. The Gobi Desert was last, as on the edge of it was where the carrier plane set to fly you both and the bus to Sweden was booked to meet you.

.

“Welcome back, Pluto.” Echoed from various people including the King whose young relative who had been part of the trial that was back for a second round as they showed such progress from their illness towards remission. Explosive numbers of visitors flocked to the museums Eldfalls toured once again to boast his completed mast to help spread the pride of all his pilot’s work did not cease as warm weather and ample sunlight coated all of Scandinavia.

.

‘Disaster has struck today as word has been received from Victor Von Doom’s space station shoots straight around the world. A cloud of energy yet to be determined exactly of its components rendered four of the members of the crew unconscious and aid from NASA was required to fly the crew back home to be examined. Their shuttle is expected to touch down off the shore of Corpus Christi this afternoon and we will keep you all abreast of any news as it comes about.’

“Oh that doesn’t sound good,” Eddie muttered as you both looked from the tv on the wall to your meal across the coffee table inside your same red barn like rental in Sweden.

“You know if you were home Jonah would send you off to chase a lead to counter that.” You teased making him chuckle.

“Just glad to be with you, Sis.” He said patting a hand on your leg. “Don’t need a story this summer, loving the free vacation time with you. Do guess Johnny Storm would want some of your summer time to get his new bike ready for him.”

“If he’s not sprouting some new arms or turning green if it was a type of radiation they were hit with.” Making him chuckle.

“I doubt if they did turn green that they would want a second Hulk on earth. Has to be a good sign that they are being brought back.” He joked back.

.

The Thing, seen and still feared by many even after helping with a news covered fiasco on a bridge was now commonly known to be hiding out at friends houses in Brooklyn. Still remaining at a distant phone call limited relationship with his fiancé Debbie to spare her from fear and repulsion, the later he greatly felt himself fueling such routes to avoid spoiling his future with her. Patterns came to a great ploy to lay out to keep that goal and came to use in finding The Thing himself inside a bar down in Brooklyn.

Masked and lit up you found him easily. Silence fell over the bar behind Ben’s back causing him to assume another gawking patron entered and would creep to a distant seat far from his place at the bar. “Ben Grimm, heard you wanted to talk to me.” You said turning his head and causing him to straighten up seeing your petite self at his side.

“Misique,” he all but whispered gravely and cleared his throat lowering his large pint to the bar.

“I tend to be out of town for the best things lately. Mind if I take a scan of your hand?” you asked and he immediately lifted a hand to be eased within the scanner ring you had in hand to map his genes to work from there.

“How’s it look? Reed can’t make heads of how to fix me without recreating the cloud inside a chamber he’s building.” Lower he growled, “Taking his sweet time more like, it seems.” Watching you scour the projection of his genetic code on the back of a bee resting on your wrist.

“How would you take a Hulk situation?” you asked and his face seemed to light up in excitement.

“I could, you could get me out of this?! Even if I have to keep The Thing side as long as I can be me again, please, whatever you can do.”

“I’ll need you lower,” you said making him chuckle and climb off his metal stool to accept a sturdy metal frame chair lower to the ground from one of the tables a neighbor of his brought over to a clear walkway for him to use. Softly in pocketing the ring you let out a breath smoothing your hands together as the bartender called for the door to be locked and everyone to give you both some room to not get in the way. “This is gonna hurt,” you sighed.

“I can take it,” he rumbled.

To which you responded in a lift of your now yellow glittery mist coated palms to hover around his temples, “Didn’t mean for you.”

“What?” he asked and instantly his eyes bled to glittering yellow in the burst of mist coating his rock like body. Groans low and muffled between pops and odd splits of what sounded like soft thunder came from the bubble of light engulfing the both of your bodies until suddenly it was gone.

Blinking out of time both of your eyes containment of your energy to not explode with what had been surging from deep within you any discomfort of your part was unnoticed as Ben panted and laughed in shock at his fleshy shirtless barefoot self he and others praised the one who helped return him to that state. “Whoa,” he said breaking from the elation as in your step back a leg gave out urging him to spring up looping you in an arm to catch your fall. “Let’s sit you down. Hey, let’s get a menu over here, meal’s on me.”

“Whatever you’re drinking rounds are on me!” The bartender said gaining nods from the supportive crowd as Ben sat you down in his own metal chair.

“I’m a minor,” you said in a shake and slow blink that now had both eyes on the same time.

“You’re a what?!” Ben asked in his pull back, both hands on your shoulders.

“I can’t drink. Well I can, physically, but my metabolism burns it so fast it would take a gallon for me to feel a buzz for more than three seconds even if I wanted to. Best to spare your license and good spirits on those who won’t waste it.”

“You’re a kid,” he whispered to himself now in his own realization of an argumentative point on why you hadn’t been caught on surveillance earlier to join the fighting against Thane when the kids were snatched. “How old is Venom?” he asked curiously.

“Venom’s from a planet named Klyntar, they don’t age. Time is irrelevant to his people. But he’s fully grown, why he picked me to bond with.”

“Four burgers sound good?” he asked and you nodded and he looked to the bartender saying, “Four orders of fries too. Double on the fries.”

In wait for the first burger you said, “Mad as it may sound meditation will help you to shift back. Deep breaths and you’ll feel a growling sort of gurgle,” you said making him smirk.

In a second chair with his eyes closed you helped him to sense the feeling in a hover of your hands on either side of his head, tapping his mind to guide his body through the process to both have him back to stone and then fleshy again. “Might be a bit hard at first one way or the other but you will get used to it. Tearing the stone side out fully would have been too damaging for your cells after that blast. You need those atoms to help your body heal itself and remain stable.”

“Reed’s gonna flip seeing me come out of the elevator. I can’t thank you enough. Sure he’ll be keeping me locked up to strap monitors on me all week but it is so worth it.”

Three burgers soon enough and one of your bees sounded off making you grumble at the alarm Stark was inbound to trace the burst of energy luring chuckles from those around you. Inside the paper lining the basket of your final order you folded the food saying around your mouthful. “I gotta go, thanks, for the food. Mind the walk home looks like rain.” Right over the bar you sprung to reach the window inches from the roof over a set of shelves you eased open to dive out of it closing the window behind you in time for a clear sound of the propulsion boots on Stark’s suit cut off to signal his open of the door.

“Evening Stark,” Ben said finishing off the two fries you had dropped out of the paper in your haste causing the billionaire to look him over in the open of his helmet.

“Ben Grimm, you’re looking, you again.”

Ben chuckled saying, “Misique answered my call. Was able to make me like Banner, but without the anger issues.”

Tony nodded asking, “Need a ride? Cap was coming for backup, you’re barefoot.”

“Ride would be nice, ya,” he stood and flashed a smirk to the knowing bartender who accepted the cash drawn from his pocket and handed him his now oversized trench coat he had left on the bar to sling around his shoulders on the way out. And on the back of Cap’s bike he rode to the Baxter building, where like he said Reed and the others poured over him head to toe seeing how he had changed to be able to control this new power.

 .

 Softly a knock came at the door of your subway car on the way back from your shift at the candle shop that had you look up to smirk at Johnny Storm who entered the car to come sit by you. “Wanted to give you a heads up.”

“Is this where I run away in terror?” you joked making him chuckle to himself.

“You could, if you wanted. No one has yet.”

“Oh then I should, you could use a good dose of fear in your daily image to keep you humble now you can burst into flames.” You joked making him chuckle again and look you, especially your freshly re-dyed hair over.

“Mint looks good.”

“Thank you. Bit of a hassle to keep up but it’s a fun summer color. Pick your bike yet?”

“Yes!” he said bringing out his phone to show you pictures, “Got it last week, took some digging, but I found the perfect classic body. Guy wouldn’t give on the engine but I said you didn’t need it and got a deal on the body. I do want a different shape to the tank though if that’s possible around the engine you make.” And out of his pockets he brought folded sheets of sketches he had made explaining each detail he wanted.

 .

 Anomalies all over the planet had been kicking off one after another and fresh out of your shift at the book shop you like others peered up at the grey blob blotting out a good chunk of stars. Apocalyptic level meteor was the go to assumption but all your Beserker allies seemed to assume otherwise by the faintest hints or purple glowing orbs seen inside of it. Fresh off the heels of completing the bike for Johnny Storm sleep was what you hoped to gain only to have a chill run up your spine at the sudden silence that fell around you lowering your eyes to swivel. And all at once he lights began to die building by building closer to you from several blocks over now regaining power gradually in the same intervals.

Reflex only was what you could presume to call it this stupid move your body made, but suddenly for the view of the Human Torch on his chase of the silver streak he had been chasing through New York a tiny body tackled a silver man off a now hovering surf board waiting to be called back to its master.

Blow after blow deadlocked in a try by him to flee and your successful contortions to maneuver his limbs and bring him down again to be hit once more the fight came to a standstill at his hand clamped down on your throat. Pinned to the ground you grit your teeth at the force on your windpipe minutely weakening the blows you could manage into his ribs and chest for the few seconds it took for him to call his board over within reach. Just a touch and into your body a blast of energy surged he imagined would end the mortal who had tried to best him. Only to find in the release of his grip out of the body with streams of light like thick bolts of lightning coursing across it weakly you groaned, “I’ll give you two minutes to run, before I break that arm of yours in twelve pieces.”

“What are you?” he asked to the swell of concern growing in the crowd that had grown to cheer the tiny champion of New York on against this nameless foe endangering their lives. “A mighty herald may yet spare your people.” Over your body his board hovered to sink encasing you fully, trapped inside it. And as he leapt atop his board again the Human Torch lit up in a try to fly faster only to see a portal be opened then shut behind the surfer he could only huff and turn to share with the rest of the Fantastic Four on what he had seen.

.

“Galactus the devourer of worlds is awaiting sight of his new herald,” the words seemed to thud in your ears as you were gripped by a shoulder to be upright once torn free of the board you now were barely able to reach with your toes being suspended by the hand gripping your shoulder. To face a shadowy figure towering over you and the tall creature behind you a steady breath was able to be mustered to not show your fear.

“Pledge yourself to me, useless one, through me you shall know true power to act upon my behest and I might yet spare your planet. Or will you dream to imagine yourself capable of war with one such as I?”

“Such as you,” you said to yourself hoarsely in the ignition of your hair and eyes causing his head and the body of the surfer behind you to shift ever so slightly to eye the glimmering curls laid across your back and part of his hand. “Let’s see just what you’re made of, shall we?” Down to the last atom in an explosion far beyond your might his every last meal was torn apart as up behind you Eldfalls had appeared engulfed in flames, shooting a beam of light from its star core to fuse with your power multiplying it thousands of times over.

.

“How long shall we to wait for the young maiden to awaken. Surely to have bested Galactus and absorb and channel the energy of a star engine one must pop right up?” Fandral mused to Heimdall at his side. “She has been asleep for three days now!”

“As you have rightly pointed out young Pluto has absorbed and channeled the energy of a star engine whilst injured already. There is time, the scans show improvement on her burns.”

“Volstagg I know it is the one to rush a feast, whilst I am here to greet the one who bested a force who former King Vili and Prince Ve fought off and nearly depleted their beings entirely after slaying the first of his serpent heralds! Now this same ship has returned damaged and still was able to cast a beam that this time depleted the devourer to mere atoms across the galaxies! The child does not know what has been won!”

Eddie at your side took notice of a brow twitch, inching closer to your side with the cloth he’d been wringing out to pat the soothing oil across your olive colored bruise across your neck. “Fandral,” Heimdall said lowly to warn the man to fall silent yet could only watch you shoot up and away on your bottom at the collision of his foot mid turn into a copper bowl holding instruments used for moving bandages.

“Right, right here,” Eddie said molding himself around your back so you could tuck up wide eyed at the blonde who turned with palms laid flat onto his chest in a nod of his head.

“I do beg your pardon, young shieldmaiden.” Shallowly you wheezed out a breath in hopes to calm down your racing heart.

“We’re on Vanaheim,” Eddie murmured to you explaining the odd hut like healing bay with a cloud of mist from an arm like contraption that angled to keep you under surveillance as to not break record of its patient’s condition.

Heimdall to your right lowered to a crouch giving you a growing warm smile in the trembling rise of your bandaged hand to brush the mint curls you internally pondered the color being intact out of your face to see him clearer. “Hello Pluto.”

“The big guy, and the little-er big guy?” You squeaked out in a whisper.

Heimdall answered clearly, “Eldfalls came to your aid, and as former King Vili and his brother Ve, he aided with use of a beam from his star core enabling the complete evisceration of Galactus across several galaxies. Midgard is safe. The herald who took you was cast into the far reaches of space on the shock waves of your blast.”

You nodded and Eddie said, “You also took out twelve satellites, so earth is a bit out of touch enabling Heimdall to have come get me after he guided Eldfalls here.”

Heimdall, “You sustained mild burns from the charge of the core, all will heal and your throat will mend entirely with an herbal tea,” he said to Fandral who turned frantically.

“Yes! The tea!” rushing out to whistle and flag down a person to brew up some hot water for him.

Gesturing at him you got Heimdall to chuckle as you asked, “Thor’s friend?”

“Fandrall was on another realm before the bridge was broken and wished to meet you. I have taken the liberty of whispering in the ear of certain SHIELD members this was the act of Chickadee and that you and Eddie are on a drive for a story. Should anyone test your door or garage. We shall return you by morning the day after you were taken by Midgard time.”

“Why, does that sound like we’ve been gone for a while?”

“Three days, nearly four nights now.” Fandral said in his return to the hut with a pitcher of hot water and a mug loaded with herbs he poured to fill for you. “Sip this slowly, not all at once or it tends to upset digestion.”

Slowly you sipped on the burnt butter like tea, that like they said began to coat your throat causing it to tingle between more sips. “Eldfalls knew,” you said, realizing what the ship had done simply out of reflex against the formidable foe as you had no clue who you were shoved in front of atop that surf board shaped temporary prison cell. “Galactus, he came before?”

Fandral laughed heartily and crouched to say to you proudly, “King Vili and Prince Ve nearly spent their entire beings in besting the former herald of Galactus and used a final blast to scare the fiend off. Eldfalls was presumably lost and nearly our ruler and his heir. Here you are! Alive and with a fine ship to defend Midgard from such foes! A mortal, no less!”

Hogun entering the hut had you lower the mug from your next sip in the bow of his head to you. “Welcome, officially, to Vanir Shieldmaiden Pluto. Your injuries have healed greatly and we are pleased Heimdall has entrusted us with your care. Mortals would have had little ability to ease your suffering.”

“I don’t know how I would repay this.”

Hogun shook his head lowering down to a knee to be closer to your eye level, “You owe us nothing. Warning us of the actions of Svartalfheim, reminding us of our oaths and now saving Midgard yourself, we are in your debt.”

Simply quiet you listened as he filled you in on the arm scanner monitoring your status and helped to fold back the bandages so Eddie could help glide the oil coated cloth over your bruised neck and exposed arms and legs, once your sleeves and pant legs were pushed up, that appeared to have lightning strike burns. Those dark pink burns faded to a soft white that stood out against your tanned skin and then in a second swipe blended to your usual skin tone. To match what he was able to get when he eased up your shirt to expose your belly and back to get the most of it they promised to send with you to complete the process with a bath soak later.

Anything and everything you could learn and tour was done with Eddie not far away as Venom inside him could feel how uneasy you still felt about this attack and unsettling awakening on a new planet injured. The feast lasted hours with only admiration for how much you were able to eat to regain strength necessary to be able to get back to earth. Not empty handed either, as Hogun was proud to grant you an classic Asgardian book of fables at your far reach of a request to be given or loaned a book from their people no matter the topic they wished to share. Though upon inspection you contained your confusion as for the contents as it was in runes you couldn’t recognize as anything but close to Asgardian in a few symbols you’d have to consult the Beserkers on later.

Inside the garage eventually you were back to hear through your bees Stark in his team of Iron Man suits was known to be launching several satellites to help get the lost capabilities and actions the former ones had been carrying out. A bath was more than necessary to be paired with another mug of that tea you were sent with, and across half of your bed Eddie laid out only to feel his heart sink as you burrowed with back to his chest to almost hide inside his larger frame to regrettably answer your body’s urge to sleep to finish healing.

You hadn’t talked about what you had faced, he knew the basics, but what you felt and the commentary playing inside your chest you hadn’t shared yet. When you did wake up he coaxed that out of you, keeping you still in the safety of your hiding place as he helped to unwind that knot lodged inside of your chest to loosen the tension inside your body.

From just tackling an unknown creature who set off a second sense they were dangerous, then nearly strangled and taken prisoner to be presented to a massive being to be blown up in an excruciating atomic blast. Even waking up to a strange place and people compounded the fearful news you had been treated with hair re-dyed as you slept for three days. You didn’t know 90% of the figures involved over the past few days off planet and the only thing you had to cling to was that Eddie was there for the time you had been incapacitated and nothing unsavory had happened during that time as you were there without any of your hive who usually kept watch.

Clearly you needed a few clingy days, which he was more than willing to stay with you or leave Venom to do in his absence when you both had to work again, and until you could calm down he tried to have mini adventures to lure a space of safety around you again.

And to the day of the new semester Harry Osborn was back in town to split the news on the replayed reels of the ghost story who saved the world with your face but clearly wasn’t you as she was seen with dark hair and yours was still clearly mint. In the press he confirmed he was returning to Midtown, as apparently per order from his locked up father who wanted the best for him to continue the repairs to his academic file. And for that return a lunch of course was ambushed out of his usual habit to talk about what could be the best plan for the enrollment to come.

Pt 42

@devilishminx328​. @theincaprincess​, @lilith15000​, @jesevans​, @jiminapickle

[alternity01]

Violet Hands & The Vermilion Masks of Pale Men

Chapter II. "Blood in the Garden."

Leonardo-Nawa escapes the unconscious grip of Aidan by rolling out and falling onto the floor into a plank. Instead of nudging him awake, he decides his best course of action will be retrieving a steel folding chair from the corner of his room and placing it at the end of the bed. Kicking off of it, he soars through the air and lands on top of the redhead below. His ass lands square on Aidan’s chest, and his face lands by his lap.

With his hearing aids now absent from his ears, Leo-Nawa is forced to turn around and sit up, signing “It’s eight in the morning, I’m not in the mood to shout.”

Instead of signing back, despite being more than proficient, Aidan has him read his lips. “Exactly. It's eight in the morning. Why jump?”

Looking down at him, hair obscuring his vision, he gestures for them back. They return to his hand and then his ear.

Satisfied with the fact that he can finally let out his voice in all its melodic baritone goodness. “Wake up”—

“Already am.” Aidan yawns.

“We’ve got to train, we’re starting Silenzio today.” Leo shimmies from side to side.

“Right. Please get off of my chest.” Aidan gives light taps to the outside of Leo’s left thigh.

He rolls back, lands on his lap, rolls back once more and lands on the floor. From there, he continues on his way to the door before getting up. He’s barely outside of Aidan’s bedroom door, and likewise his own, when he slides the glass —tinted and untinted, transparent, translucent and opaque all at the same time—open.

The gym behind them is on par with some of the finest private establishments in Ncana. In the centre of the room are the grounds for many forms of combat: a mat primarily used for amaetur wrestling, a boxing ring, a professional wrestling ring, and a cage for mixed martial arts. All alphabetised and categorised by which muscle group they're meant to target. Their exercise equipment line the mirrorless walls, only broken by the entrance to the locker room and adorned with their athletic achievements.

Standing on the standard regulation mat, acting as referee despite being dressed in the least appropriate attire—silk pyjamas—is Leonardo-Nawa’s dad, his ndate. His big salt-and-pepper beard is a bit wet from the drink he holds in a mug with ‘Big Boys Drink Coffee’ written opposite the handle.

“Good morning, Ndate.” He hugs him.

“Morning, Little Lion.” His ndate wraps his barrel arms around him, tapping his back no more than three times. “Did you sleep well?”

“The Champions of Kuatoñembe would be jealous of my rest.”

“Then you must win like they did.”

“Yesterday didn’t count.”

“It did to me,” Aidan says from the doorframe.

“Aidan, my boy. How did you sleep?” He goes over to embrace him and they meet in the middle of both of their strides.

“I slept well, Uncle.” He releases the hug.

“I hope Leo didn’t keep you up too long last night.”

“No, but he tried to make sure I woke up worse.” Aidan gives him a sideways glance.

“False accusations.” Leo lets his tongue slip through his smile.

“Regardless, you two should get ready.” He says. “Especially you, Little Lion. Aidan’s been on a streak.”

“I’ll make you proud, ndate.” Leonardo-Nawa says on his way into the other room.

In it are lockers, a row of showers, an ice bath, and a sauna. Leo-Nawa turns left into the lockers and left again to come face to face with what’s been his locker for as long as he’s remembered. Private instructors, friends and lovers have come and gone through this space. He taps on the translucent screen that forms its door and swipes past all of his sports attires: wrestling, basketball, volleyball, boxing, judo, and jiu-jitsu. Once it's open, he pulls out purple and silver trunks with a matching pair of trainers. Turning around, he takes a moment to look at Aidan as he dresses, already completely stripped down from his awful shirt and average shorts. They’ve practically eaten and trained the same since puberty, but damn does that muscle look better on Aidan than it ever has on himself. It doesn’t help that he’s half a head taller than him. His eyes dart between his own attire and his friend changing, although he knows he doesn’t have to focus on himself to change properly. Regardless, they stretch together and make their way to the mat.

“You both have read the rule book, but just in case you’re a little bit rusty, I'll say everything. Show respect before and after the match. Each match has two five minute rounds. You win by making the other person submit, pinning both of their shoulders to the mat, or by gaining the most points by the end of both rounds. You gain points via takedowns, reversals, exposure, penalties, escapes, and if your opponent gets fouled.

“We all know what gets you fouled, but it must be said that there will be no scratching, no pinching, no pulling tails; and no biting ears, noses, lips, necks or balls. Leo.”

“That was one time and I was five, ndate.”

“It wouldn't be the last time you've had balls in your mouth,” Aidan comments.

“Aidan,” he responds in shock.

“One time too many.” Ndate says before taking an exaggerated deep breath. “Got all that?”

They both nod.

“Wakule!”

Their fists touch, becoming open palms and gliding past each other. With the proper respect shown, they trace an ill-defined circle within the larger circle of the mat. Never letting the other leave his gaze, Leonardo-Nawa sidesteps in-sync with him for a few seconds more, before cinching him in a collar-and-elbow tie-up. An attempt to hook his leg and drop him to the ground fails. He moves as if shoved back and drops into a squat-walk, manoeuvring behind him. With his arms around Aidan's waist, he attempts another sweep. Aidan falls. He’s firm behind the redhead now on his hands and knees. A quick shift brings him to his front where he’s a hair’s width away from getting him within a guillotine choke. He’s dropped onto his back during an attempt to get up. His leg is trapped, and he turns and flips.

“Round one is over,” Ndate calls out. “Take a minute to rest.”

They hug and sit down before sitting down in different corners of the mat.

“Close but no cigar.” Leonardo-Nawa taunts in-between breaths.

“I’ll be smoking that Ngela-Machiavelli pack.” He wipes his sweat through his hair.

“You can try.”

“Back to the centre, boys.”

Doing as they’re told, they perform a second handshake. Afterwards, they sidestep across from each other in another ill-defined circle. Aidan attempts to grab him by the shoulders. Leo shoots under and slithers behind. With a tight grip around his waist, he attempts to hook his leg. He shifts it right before he can, pushing the offending appendage to the side and further lowering his stance. His grip remains. In retaliation, he pushes his arms under and spreads them out to break it. Once again, they face each other. Another circle, another attempt. This one from Leonardo-Nawa, dropping to one knee. He clenches his right leg and attempts a sweep with the other. Aidan falls. He mounts him to stop any attempt at getting up, before transitioning into an armbar attempt. Disappointingly, Aidan moves his forearm down his torso and tears it from his grip. Once off his torso, he runs it up his thigh and grabs hold of Leo-Nawa’s ankle. He turns him onto his stomach from that anchor point. Aidan's legs wrap around his, ending at his lower back, and he secures the hold. He can feel his ankle twist past natural points, and as much as he doesn’t want to, as much as he wants to work his way out, the pain becomes too much. He’s forced to tap. One. Two. Three. One. Two. Three. Finally, he releases.

“You’re off your game, champ.” Aidan smirks at him.

He sucks his teeth and says “Fifty to forty-eight now. You’re catching up.”

“And you’re still standing.”

He flashes him a smile and shakes his head, looking down.

His ndate chimes in with “You two have been training thirty-two/eleven; eleven days a week after graduation. I’m proud of you boys.”

“Thank you, Ndate.”

“Yeah. Thanks, uncle.”

“No problem, boys. No problem. Now go hit the showers.” He pats them both on the back and leaves with his never ending supply of caffeine in hand.

In the locker room, already stripped down to everything the Greater Pantheon supplied them with, Leo-Nawa runs his water hot, but Aidan runs his scalding. He lets his hair cover his face for a few minutes and lets out a post-match groan.

“Should I get your tail?” Aidan asks.

He holds out the shampoo bottle. “Thank you, darling.”

He flicks his hair back.

“Ptuh. You hit me in the mouth.” He pulls his hair.

“Ah! Fuck you,” Leo-Nawa responds.

“Mhm.”

Aidan slides his hands around his tail, holding it outside of the reach of the water to allow a lather to form.

“Do you think Bri’s going to make us watch the Drifter franchise again?”

“Probably.”

“I can’t wait, honestly. It never gets old.”

“Together… anything is possible.” Aidan does a purposefully scuffed impression of Street Queen, Aroa Rico.

“It’s shlock, but it’s good shlock.” He receives the shampoo once again. “Turn around for me, darling.”

“Sure,” he responds.

With Aidan’s tail in his hand, Leo-Nawa gives it a tug before asking “What about Ayesha?”

“Ngh. Playing through Capsule Creatures again.”

“As usual. Looking at her posts on Thought Bubble, it's four again.”

“You've memorised?”

He hands him his fluffy bicoloured tail back. “We've all known each other for what? Twenty odd years? Of course.”

They make their way outside and onto the large stretch of concrete typically used as a parking lot.

“We’re ready to start, Ndate,” Leonardo-Nawa says.

“Wrong daddy, mate.” Ash turns around, machine gun in hand.

“Chi”—

Foam pellets fly at them at speeds immeasurable at the moment. Nevertheless, platinum bends and links together around his neck. Before the chain can close, amethyst grows crystalline structure by crystalline structure before him and slides onto it. He accumulates a percentage of excess potential energy into his feet and propels himself forward, moving Aidan a metre away before reaching Ash. The gun is in his hands. He presses it onto her neck.

“Good job, Nardo.” She gives him a handshake. “Looks like you’re still fast at everything you do.”

He chuckles as he responds “And it looks like you’re still a shit shot.”

“I’d rather miss than shoot blanks.” Ash ruffles his hair.

“Good to see you, Ash.”

“Same to you, cunt.”

“Hey, Natasha.” Aidan waves at her.

“Aidan, you tall bastard. How's the weather?”

“Good. You?”

“I’ve been alright.” She takes the gun back and puts it away. “Are you fuckers ready to start?”

They both nod.

“Good. Nardo’s already used his zeka, so now it’s your turn. Stand four metres away.”

Leonardo-Nawa watches Aidan do just that, standing back himself in case he’s sure of what comes next. Natasha pulls out a large, red flamethrower.

“Is that new?” Aidan asks.

“Yeah, I just got it. Absolutely ace, ain’t it.”

“Very, very nice. But… not as good as my lighter.” He flicks the metallic-blue gift Leo’s father got him open.

“It’s all about firepower.”

“Good things come in small packages.”

Natasha turns her head to Leo, asking him “When did you start calling him ‘Good Things’?”

He tilts his head slightly to the right. “Apparently the second you assumed I was ‘Small Packages’.”

“Don’t worry, mate. It’s not about your dick this time.”

“Good.”

“It’s ‘cause you’re short as shit.”

“Oh.”

“Anywho, Lucky Liu. I need to burn Aidan alive.”

“Aren’t you a sniper?”

“Yep.”

“Have you used that beforehand?”

“Nope.”

“Yet you’re aiming and firing that directly at Aidan?”

“Relax. Your pet won’t get hurt too bad.”

She pulls the trigger and a ball of flame bursts out from the muzzle. Although it may look like Aidan’s been burnt to a standing crisp, upon further inspection and half a sidestep, Aidan’s spread the fire away from him. In an instant, the flame dulls despite Ash’s ever-insistent trigger finger, and she lets the flamethrower leave her hands. “Good job, boys. Next it's yumbu.” She puts the guns into a duffle bag behind her. “Follow me to the big, fuck off maze your dad made you.”

“You’ve been here for a while, haven't you?”

“Just long enough to put shit in there.”

Together they stroll through the floral rainbow known as the bushes and hedges comprising the garden of the Machiavelli Estate. It’s a death trap for anyone with a pollen allergy, but Leonardo-Nawa loves it all the same, spending time to stop and smell them as they make their way to—as Ash described it—the ‘big, fuck off maze’ his ndate had constructed for his tenth birthday party. Unlike the rainbow of everything else, the structure at the centre is formed from nothing but different shades of his favourite colour.

Ash sits down on the ground. “You really like Zalunga violets, don’t you?”

“It’s all purple in general,” Aidan comments.

“It helps that grass is violet too,” he admits to people who've known this his entire life. “Zalunga violets are just more so.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What are we doing?” Aidan looks over to her.

“Team-building, boys.”

“With a catch?” Leonardo-Nawa asks.

“Yep. Catch.” She tosses objects at the both of them simultaneously.

“Aren’t these”—

“Shitty walkie-talkie toys I took from work? Yes.”

“Is this how you teach your students too?”

“Less swearing, but similar.” She mentions. “Anywho, Aido runs around in there, puts his messages, leaves and directs you from outside.”

“How many?”

“However many you really want, honestly.”

“And how does my yumbu come into play?” Leonardo interjects.

“This is more about your zeka, but you’ll see.” She explains. “Are you ready, Aido?”

He nods. Prior to entry, all the components necessary to make a gas mask float onto his face.

“Contact me when you need me.” Aidan adds.

“Got it.”

It’s not too long before he returns, maskless.

“Your phones, boys.” Ash sticks her hand out.

“Natasha.” Leonardo-Nawa protests.

“That's Mrs. Blackheart to you, mate,” she says in the tone she doesn't even use with her students.

“Who made you a Mrs.?”

“If you keep talking, it'll be your boytoy over here.”

Aidan turns to her and squints.

“Don't act like you weren't thinking it.”

Leo-Nawa sighs and slaps his phone into her hand, followed by Aidan doing the same.

A single step in, he hears the first message.

Audio Checkpoint: “One.”

Leonardo clicks the button at the side of the toy, saying “What’s first, darling?”

“Left.”

Audio Checkpoint: “Now two.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Right, forward, left.”

Audio Checkpoint: “Three. Keep going.”

“You’re on your own by seven,” Aidan explains.

“Perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

“Prep your head to take everything down; double right.”

Audio Checkpoint: “You’ve found four. Nice.”

“I’m going to give you the first half, Leo,” Aidan warns him.

“Go ahead, darling. I’m ready.” He makes small bounces from left to right.

“Forward, right, left, forward, left, forward, right, left, and triple forward.”

Audio Checkpoint: “Five. Third of the way.”

“Here’s the second half: double left, forward, double right, double left, double right and forward,” he explains further.

“Wait… what was the first one again?”

“Leo, are you—”

“I’m only joking, darling.” He laughs to himself. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

Audio Checkpoint: “Six. You’re doing good so far.”

For the first time this entire challenge, Leonardo-Nawa has been untethered. The only memories he can allow himself to draw on are those of a few seconds ago. He breathes—truly breathes—in the air around him. It’s untouched now. He dare not light a cigar here—not anymore. There is too much this place holds for him to sully again. He steps.

Audio Checkpoint: “Seven. I should still be connected now.”

“Are you still there, darling?” he asks into the toy.

Static.

“It was worth a shot.”

He puts it back into his pocket and follows instructions, segmenting and throwing away any previous movements to make it easier for himself to go through. Run? Walk? Jog? He has to go fast, but he must remain measured and without mistakes.

Audio Checkpoint: “Eight. I hope you’ve found these in order.”

So far, so good. He moves with the grace and elegance he carried in his ballet days. Not a foot out of place. Not a breath misplaced. He can see the faint remnants of streamers and decorations, riddles even. They fade from his vision like a guide out of a video game. Ndate put too much love into this.

“Left, forward.”

Another section to be deleted.

Audio Checkpoint: “Nine. I wonder what the others are doing now.”

Music from times long past entered his ears, repeated many times before.

“You live, you laugh

Your time won’t pass

Today’s your day

(It is your day)

Only your day

(Only your day)

So we are here to say Happy Birthday.”

He hums it to himself, taking a small break to dance. There’s no point in escaping the memories.

Audio Checkpoint: “Ten. You are now two thirds of the way in.”

He never knew he’d be this tall. Halfway up the walls that looked like vine monoliths chose to rest beside him not too long ago. Tall enough to reach the top shelf, but not tall enough to dwarf his ima like he wished to and made joking threats about. Tall enough to hold someone, but not tall enough to stop being held. He runs his hands against them as he makes his way over. Up and down as they touch them, making invisible zigzags. High knees, and exaggerated lean and swaying to entertain him as he goes. His hair flows through the wind alongside the tassels on his jacket. Throughout, Aidan’s instructions sound far shorter than they feel. One third left. What will he find in the middle?

Audio Checkpoint: “Eleven. I wonder… Am I running out of words of encouragement?”

“You’re doing great, darling,” he responds.

Even though he knows for a fact that he can't hear him, it’s nice to hear his voice. With all its expressionless worth. It’s like a still life piece from a beyond talented artist. Although, it could easily be from his own deep infatuation. Some would call the two of them brothers, but he doesn’t like that. It isn’t true, nor is it favourable. They’ve lived with each other since they were two, yet his parents never adopted him. He never wanted them too. They never wanted to. Maybe he knew he’d fall in love with him, and maybe there was an instance or two over the years that he did too. His parents said it was to make sure he never forgot his original ones—they were close—so their interests aligned.

Audio Checkpoint: “Twelve. I don’t think I am. You’re doing really well so far.”

“I know you aren’t, darling. Thank you.”

He strokes the cigar in his pocket with his thumb to resist the feeling. He’ll smoke when he’s done. When’s done with both halves, he’ll smoke. Maybe he won’t. He shouldn’t. A drink? Maybe. Nice and cold, sweet too. One over rocks and a low alcohol content. Something that goes good with a brownie like some Maula. A reward for himself.

Audio Checkpoint: “Thirteen. I have definitely been disconnected at this point. You’ve got this, Leo.”

“Yes you have, darling.”

He’s tempted to stand still, he’s so close. No doubt it won’t affect his time. His passive use of his zeka no longer impresses him. It’s all natural. Until the next fever—provided that it comes.

The inside of his head becomes a forest after a fire. Not a single thought can live anymore.

“What did he say? What did he say?” he whispers to himself. “Which inconsequential words left his beautiful lips? Speak to me, darling. Speak to me.”

“Left, right,” his memory responds.

Audio Checkpoint: “Fourteen. You’re too close to turn back now. There’s a surprise in the centre.”

The final stretch. There are no drums or shouting in near-forgotten tongues. Instead, he hears snoring. It’s not even there, he’s sure of it, but it also is. Leonardo-Nawa is unsure of whether he’s a centimetre away or a kilometre. Even if, he knows exactly who it is. Why is she here? The fact that she’s sleeping is the most normal thing about this scenario. This reality he’s in.

“Right, forward.”

He walks in accordance.

“Ayesha?” Leonardo tilts his head, standing outside of the arc.

There she is, sleeping on a marble bench in the centre of the maze. Before he can say anything to her, another message begins to play.

Audio Checkpoint: “Fifteen. Congrats. You found all the checkpoints. Pick up Ayesha and get out. Be careful.

Having heard this, he moves further into the centre. After a flutter of her wings, she sits up and yawns.

“Oh. Hi, Nana.”

“Eesh? What are you doing here?”

Picking up her Ricochet Fusion, she replies “Sleeping.”

“Of course you were.” He hands Ayesha her custom walking stick, squatting down in front of her.

She hops onto his back. “Go, Nana!”

“Do you want to go on my shoulders instead?”

“They’ll see me over the things.”

“You’re tiny, and who are they?”

She covers her mouth as if she wasn’t supposed to say a word.

Leonardo-Nawa tosses Ayesha up and she lands onto his shoulders. Asking her to fly around would be a useless endeavour, even though after all these years he's always the first to consider it. With her cane in hand, he knows why. It would be up to him to navigate in either case. In his head, he's traversing the treacherous landscape that is his own mind, hoping to step on a memory as he makes his way out. Everything seems to be going well in his opinion: he's retrieved his kundo care package, and she's safe playing video games on the top of his well cared for curls. Leonardo-Nawa’s search has yet to bear fruit. After all, it's just started. He assumed the process would be a bit faster. Mainly because he already passed the centre where he used to stare into the sky and think of nothing. There it is, fading in the rearview. If only he could speed up his brain power with his zeka. Maybe if he's lucky, he'll have a zeyugo fever during the downtime between missions. Although, that does mean he would've changed significantly. For better or for worse.

“Ah shit,” Ayesha blurts out.

“What’s wrong?” asks Leo-Nawa, turning his gaze towards the gremlin on his shoulders.

“Wild encounter, and I can't run.”

When he turns back towards the trail, he’s met with a low energy scare in the form of a “Boo.”

His face contorts into a horror beyond his own comprehension via involuntary use of his yumbu. The living afro below him smacks him upside the head repeatedly with a shotgun he prays is empty around five hits in.

He leaves the hideous mask it formed behind in favour of his zeka, so he can maintain consciousness for long enough to finish the maze. “It's gone, Bri.”

“What did I say about using that shit on me?” Brianna asks, staring daggers at him from her wheelchair.

“I didn't know it was you.”

“Who did you think it was?”

“Sentient black truffle?”

“That's new.”

Leo-Nawa and Brianna hug in greeting, Ayesha waving from his shoulders as they do. On their way out, he steps on a memory—or more a collection of them. Countless nights where Aidan and himself would run away from the aunties and the uncles and his parents to avoid going to sleep at reasonable hours. They hid in the exact spot Bri popped out of in fact. Too many years ago. Whether it was after events which ended late enough as is, or a little four day period officially starting the second their seven day school week was through known as the week’s edge. One day it was them, next cousin Luna was added whenever she came to visit, and more typically it was the entirety of a group readying themselves to undertake the name of Silenzio. The sounds of Capsule Creatures 4: Through Wind & Water comprise the soundtrack of their short journey. He whistles along, finding solace in how it interacted with the breeze around them. Nothing else seems fitting. Her choice to play the 15-year-old game reminds him of simpler times, harder times, and just last month. He holds out a purple stuffed cigar between his finger tips, yet he neglects to light it for now.

“Rah,” shouts a voice deep beyond comprehension.

As Leonardo-Nawa’s face contorts, he’s pulled into someone's chest, ceasing the process entirely. “Okay, Gi-Gi, I missed you too. Now, please let me out of the black hole that is your chest.”

He's released and meets the smiling face of Giueseppe, a person who couldn’t be described as less than a mountain that can hug. A warm mountain, a caring mountain, being the joint youngest in the group, an innocent mountain as well, one that asks “How was your holiday?”

“It was great. Did you manage to get your licence?”

“Driving or temple?”

“Both licences.”

Giuseppe nods in response as Ayesha flies onto his shoulders and hugs his face.

In the next section, whatever it may truly mean, he sees the spots where he got pinned down by and pinned down former partners and lovers. A paradise away from paradise. Scraps of protection and contraception all cleared up by now. It's truly as clean as the first day. If he listens over the soothing melody for just a moment, his mind can bring their voices back to him. A mixtape he's burnt through too many times before. Even the worst of them were always good at what they did. However, when his parents were away, he barred off his floor and found the sheets more fitting for the role. Those and the locker room. A movie of his own making—seldom with lights, never with cameras, and never ending action.

A question knocks on Leonardo-Nawa’s mind, and he must let it in: “When did you guys get here anyway? Ash wasn't clear.”

“09:00,” responds Brianna, polishing one of Ayesha’s knives as she rolls.

“Rehearsing your little, spooky song and dance, I assume.”

“Napping,” Ayesha.

“She was. Giuseppe and I were talking to Ash about how we're doing this.” She sheathes the blade.

With his question answered, he scurries back into his mind, finding footing on the far more wholesome memories of ‘Dr. Leonardo-Nawa & Dr. Aidan: Explorers of Everything!’ A multiple season adventure drama they constructed all with their own minds. It's a proud achievement: using their imaginations so effectively. Their toys and plushies comprised the cast, and it aired between once their homework and lunch was done and way past their bedtimes. Sometimes they'd talk to their friends about it as if it was something they actually watched. Anything for the sake of a good story. They made their first ansi that way. A picture they took of them holding their earnings sits between all of Silenzio being each other's prom dates and him wearing his first pair of hearing aids.

“Sorry if I scared you guys a bit too much.” Leo-Nawa snaps back to reality.

“Eh. Your dumbass didn’t know we were here anyway,” Brianna replies.

“I managed to avoid it.” Giuseppe beams.

“Yes you did, big guy.”

He jumps up to pat him on the head, before continuing with their walk through memory maze. Having them all around him—here, after so long—reminds him of his first arrival in this place. His tenth birthday. It was wonderful. The secrets hidden in every crevice this place holds, the race to the finish, the bouncy castle waiting for him and friends long forgotten at the end. All of it is just wonderful.

Aidan and him got a little tent of their own—set it up themselves too. It’s what inspired them to start their stories in the first place. One day, a storm raged on in less time than it took either of them to blink. Ndate and ima called out their names, having started off into the maze to find them. Leo-Nawa clutched his hand and they ran towards his parents together—they were sick for the week after, but it was worth it.

They’re reaching the end, he can feel it. Memories are coming to an end. The spots where he used to drink outside of his parents' view, maybe a little too much, stare at him on their way out. Sanctuary.

It’s only now when he considers how long it’s taken for them to make their way out. They’ve kept a good pace so far. No running, but a good stride.

Aidan and Ash stand out in front of them. He tosses the walkie-talkie over to her.

They’re out.

“Congratulations, Nardo.” She starts a small applause for him. “You did well. You got five minutes.”

“Is this when the whole class gets snacks?” Leonardo-Nawa snickers.

“Well, you’re the leader. Do we?”

“Snacks sound good.” Ayesha yawns.

“First, we complete the first mission Ndate gives us. Then we can eat.”

“Group hug, everybody,” says Giuseppe in half a suggestion and half a command.

They find themselves in a warm, albeit brief, six person embrace where Ayesha makes sure to wrap her wings around everyone’s heads, giving his ears a light crushing.

While still inside, Leonardo-Nawa asks “Would you guys like to stay the night?”

“Yeah. That would be great.” Giuseppe sets Ayesha down from his shoulders.

“Sure, but I get to pick the movie.” Bri adds.

“It’s drifting time. Vroom.” The blind kundoba runs circles around the group.

“Should I order some food? I’m fucking starving.”

Aidan flicks his lighter from one hand to the next. “Meeting first.”

“Right, right, number two. The meeting.”

Leonardo-Nawa’s ndate, Don Machiavelli, sits at the head of the table. Rather than his robes from earlier, he’s placed himself in his favourite piece of formalwear: a black pinstripe suit with notch lapels over a white dress shirt and paired with black suede shoes that he bought back in Avitura. His olive skin is yet to truly feel the effects of wrinkling. A trait that—if he wasn’t his son—would be quite intimidating to him, knowing how old his ndate really is.

“Good afternoon, Silenzio.” He raises a glass of ice cold water.

“Good afternoon, Don.” Ash and Aidan.

“Good afternoon, Don Machiavelli.” Giuseppe.

“Afternoon.” Brianna.

“Good good, Uncle A.” Ayesha.

“Afternoon, ndate.” Leo-Nawa.

“Rise.”

They all do.

“Reach into the centre.”

Together they wash their hands in the bowl placed on the palm of the violet hand pyrographed into the centre of the table. One by one they grab plates loaded with a pillowy lump of nshima, imperfect cuboids of golden–brown meat drowning in their own personal oasis of thick gravy, sitting next to some diced cabbage. Silenzio feeds each other, only ever receiving from the plates outside of their control. They’re done before they know it, stacking their plates and washing their hands in new water.

“You can sit now. From now on, you have become Silenzio. A brilliant name, if I do say so myself.”

Once they’ve all sat back down, he continues “In front of you, you will see dossiers with your roles and information on your first mission. Everything should play into your strengths.”

Ayesha raises her hand.

“Yes, yours is in braille, sweetie.”

It goes back down.

“You are looking for two people: Nosiku and Mukatimui. A kundoda and kundotu who—while they look very similar—are not related. They’re members of Cielo indaco, made-women. Publically, they’re very close to Ardito and Boniface. You may not remember but they were once members of Viola Mano. We have reason to believe that they cut a deal with them: information for money. Those pieces of trash decided it was a good idea to spit in the face of me and my family, this family, by doing so. You must figure out where they are. And… if you need any extra motivation, they’re nothing more than filthy perverts. Grabbing whatever and whoever they deem fit.”

“That’s immoral,” Giuseppe cries.

“Exactly, Giuseppe.” Ndate raises his glass.

“Scum,” Ash comments.

Brianna lets out a low growl.

Aidan huffs.

Ayesha shakes her head in disapproval.

“They will be dealt with accordingly, Ndate.”

“Any questions, Silenzio?”

“Well, guys? Anything?”

They don’t respond.

“Anything else you may need is there in the dossier.” He drinks more of his wine. “Now, please, read out your roles.”

Leonardo-Nawa reads his role out loud. “Kutalifa Machela, a little known but very rich and lonely bachelor with hands in various businesses around the world. He searches the hottest spots for his next fairytale ending.”

“Samhradh Kearney, an underground fighter with a flame zeka and an undefeated streak.”

“Lan Su Chen, a silent waiter with a maroon ponytail, a pension for emeralds and a strawberry pin.”

“Lola Avia, a flashy bartender at Maids & Mugs.”

“Liam Silver, an intimidating yet friendly bouncer at Maids & Mugs.”

“Lea Cruise, a university student who finds silence in even the loudest places, choosing to study and work from clubs and parties to avoid noise complaints from neighbours. Despite this, she’s a quiet person, keeping to herself.”

Ash raises her hand.

“Yes, Natasha?” Ndate looks over to her.

“With all due respect, Don. You really want me to be quiet?”

He sips on some wine before saying “All complaints should be directed to your caporegime. He wrote all of that down.”

“Nardo, mate. Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Talent Never Dies ‘92.”

“You know what? Fair.” She sits back down.

Leo-Nawa leans forward before asking “Anyone else?”

A collective silence is their response for him.

“Good. Do we need anything else, Ndate?” He sits back.

“Everything you need is there, little lion,” he responds before adding “Weren’t you all theatre kids? This should be nothing for you.”

“We were, and we can all handle this. We’re done for the day, Silenzio.” He stands.

The rest of them follow suit one by one, his ndate remaining seated. They deliver their byes to him, before heading out of the door to watch all ten Drifter movies. Leonardo-Nawa is the last, his mind already trained on the intricacies of the mission.

[grimm-pitch-salisbury]

What if they never went to America and Simon got a lost worse?

This is story of perseverance.

About how baz views simon’s struggles and tries to help him.

inspired by “I will” by mitski

[gremlinbehaviour]

guess who’s back in her Grimm era

(it’s because of Truble)

[marchtothefuckingsea]

Ace of Clubs: Chapter VIII

Series Masterlist 

My Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4k 

Warnings: Canon violence (if any).

“Hey, I think I’m going to go back to my apartment and get the rest of my books and things.” I said over breakfast. It had been several days since I had come home from the hospital, and though I still felt horrible, I felt even more horrible just lying around.

“Isn’t it a little too early for that?” He frowned. 

“I’ll be fine. That’s what they said to do at the hospital, right?”

“I’m sure they didn’t mean less than a week after you left.” He argued. “And you never made that follow up appointment.”

“Because I don’t need it.” I sighed. 

“Well, I think you do.” He said, standing and gathering the now bare plates. “Besides, I don’t want you going back to your apartment alone.” 

I smiled, knowing I won the argument. “I’ll have Nick with me, don’t worry.”

“Fine,” He agreed reluctantly. “Call me if you need me.” He shrugged on his jacket, picking up his briefcase by the door. He opened the door before pausing and turning back to me, a frown on his face. “Be careful.” 

“Thanks for meeting me here Nick.”

"Yep. What's going on? I thought you already got all your things?"

"For the most part. I have some..Grimm things here. I know this is a lot to ask, but do you think I could store them in the trailer?" I asked. "It would just be until I can find another apartment. I just didn't want to drag all this around with me. If not, I totally understand-" I said quickly.

"No, that'll be fine." He reassured me, smiling. I nodded, climbing the steps carefully with Nick on my heels. I juggled the doorknob before unlocking the door, almost surprised to find it still locked. 

"They really did a number on this place, didn't they?" Nick breathed out as he entered the room behind me. 

"They did." I agreed, bits of broken glass crunching under my feet. I carefully picked one up, inspecting it for god knows what.

 "Where are you staying?" Nick asked me suddenly. 

I hesitated. "With uh..with Renard." I answered awkwardly. I wasn't sure why, exactly, but I had the feeling there was some kind of tension between the police captain and the grimm standing in front of me.

"With Renard?" He repeated cautiously. 

"Yeah. Why?" 

"He's a zauberbiest." He said in a flat tone.

"I'm well aware of that. Look, I don't know what's going on between everyone here but I don't want to get involved. I don't care." I added when he opened his mouth to say something. "All I know is I trust you, and I trust Renard; And really, if it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have known there was another grimm here at all. That's all I care to know." 

He nodded briskly. "Fair enough. Just.." He paused when I glared at him. "Be careful, Ace." 

"I will." I replied, bending down to pick up a box of books. Nick hurried to my side, gently shouldering me out of the way.

"Woah woah, I've got that." 

"Thanks." I said appreciatively. I moved to pack another box, sliding it closer to the front door. I moved slowly and carefully, but I still felt my side and ribs twinge in pain every once in a while. I didn't dare to breathe deeply–or even normally–and so my breaths came in shallow little pants. I thought regretfully of the painkillers I had always been adamant against taking.

When I reached the trunk that specifically held my father's grimm things, I resisted the temptation to check in on it. It was held shut by a lock, and although I had the key strung sound my neck, I didn't dare to open it; I  simply slid it into the living room and waited for Nick to return.

"I'll help with this one." I told him as he approached.

"You're still hurt." He argued. 

"It's heavy."

"Even more reason you shouldn't be helping with this one."

"These are my father's things." I sighed. "Let me help. Just this one, I promise." He nodded hesitantly in understanding, settling onto the opposite side of the trunk. I did the same, noticing his concerned eyes watching me carefully. We shuffled awkwardly out the door, heaving it into the trunk of my car with a visible wince from me. He eyed me worriedly as I grit my teeth, but said nothing. 

“Is that all?” He asked, trailing behind me back into the apartment and glancing around at the emptiness. 

“That’s it.” I leaned against the wall and nodded. Fatigue dragged at my limbs, reminding me that I was still supposed to be recovering. 

“You feeling alright?” He gave me a sideways glance.

“Yeah, why?” 

“You don’t look like it.”

“Damn, thanks Nick.” I rolled my eyes.

“I’m serious. You should be resting, it’s pretty soon for you to be up on your feet like this.”

“I know.” I waved him off, pushing off of the wall and staggering forward.

“I can take this back to the trailer myself, if you want to get some rest.” 

“No, I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with.” I muttered, fiddling with the key in my pocket.

“The landlady was supposed to meet me here by now to take the key back.” I sighed in frustration. 

“Do you want to wait for her?”

“Hell no, she was supposed to be here half an hour ago.” I paused. “Ah, fuck it.” I muttered, tossing the key onto the coffee table. “Good enough, let’s go.”

I pulled up beside Nick in the storage lot. I slumped into my seat briefly with a tired sigh before straightening up and pulling the door open when he came around to my window. He glanced at me, turning and unlocking the trailer. The door swung open behind him as he came back to meet me at the trunk of my car. I was already heaving a box into my arms, ignoring the dirty look he gave me. I dropped the box onto the floor of the trailer with a grunt.

“Where do you want me to put these?” I asked, wiping my hands off on my jeans. 

“You can just stack them in that corner over there if you want.” He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. “Or you could unpack them, but I’m afraid we’re going to get everything mixed up.”

“True. I’ll just leave them in the boxes, I guess. You’re free to go through them if you want.” I offered. He nodded in thanks, climbing back out the door to retrieve the rest of the boxes. I brought in a couple more as well before I had to rest. My ribs were killing me. It felt like it was getting harder and harder to breathe. I tried to suck in a deep breath but whined quietly, a sharp, stabbing pain making me stop. I was suddenly aware of the warm burning sensation in my bicep as well. The wound must have re-opened. I cursed under my breath,

“Ready for the trunk?” Nick ducked inside the trailer.

“Yeah.” I said tautly, climbing to my feet with great effort. I didn’t miss Nick’s concerned glance as I stumbled past him. "Where do you want it?" I asked, fitting my hands underneath the opposite side. 

"Just over by the boxes." He grunted. I grit my teeth as I felt the deep wound in my bicep tear as we shifted the weight of the trunk between us. 

I couldn't hide the strangled noise of agony I made as we set the trunk down on the floor. I stumbled forward, my arms out to brace myself. Nick caught me before I could hit the floor, gently kneeling down with me and allowing me to lean back against the wall, panting. I squeezed my eyes shut, my breath hitching in my throat. I felt Nick rest his hand on my shoulder uncertainly. He drew back when I instinctively flinched against the wall, mumbling a sheepish apology. 

"Do you need painkillers? I might have some ibuprofen in my car-" He began to offer.

"No. Just," I grit my teeth, sucking in a shaky breath and leaning my head back against the wall. "Just give me a second." I stayed this way for several moments, trying to calm my breathing and ignore the pain. Once I finally had myself back under control, I slowly drew in the deepest breath my rib cage would allow me. 

"I'm good." I reassured him shakily, gathering my feet beneath me. He gave me a disbelieving look,but he didn't allow me to attempt to stand by myself. He gently slung my uninjured arm over his shoulder, staggering along with me to my car and helping me into the driver's seat at my insistence.

"I can drive you to Renard's, if you want. I'll bring your car back."

"I'll be fine." I insisted. He sighed, but didn't argue. "Text me when you get there, alright?"

"Yes mom." I huffed jokingly. He gave me a playful glare before waving and slamming his own car door shut. 

A woged figure suddenly appeared behind Nick, in the backseat of his car. 

“Nick!” I screamed at him. His head shot up from the steering wheel before he whipped around. The Hasslich lunged forward at him. He had already buckled his seatbelt, and he struggled to get it off. I raced to the driver side of his car, tugging on the door handle to no avail. 

“Open it!” I shouted.

“I can’t!” He yelled out in reply, still struggling against the Hasslich. He somehow managed to hit the unlock button, and I fell back as the door swung open, gasping out in pain. I hastily struggled to my feet, staggering forward and grabbing Nick by his collar. I tugged him out of the car, sending both of us tumbling onto the ground. I balled up onto my side momentarily, white hot pain coursing through me. 

“Ace run!” 

“No, what do you mean-” I was cut off suddenly, a horrible sound of shock escaping my throat. Nick stood between me and the reaper as he yelled out the order, his back facing the horrible creature. Before he could turn back to it, the reaper extended its scythe. A strangled, desperate cry clawed its way up my throat, but it was no use. The grimm’s head fell to the ground, his body following a heartbeat later.

I woke up later that night, scrambling to my forearms and breathing heavily despite my body protesting. The now vague images of the dream flashed in front of me in the dark. A quiet noise of distress left my throat, and I fell back onto the mattress with a whimper. That felt entirely too real.

I suddenly reached over to the nightstand, fumbling for my phone in the dark. It fell onto the floor with a clatter and I cursed under my breath, leaning painfully over the edge of the bed. I needed confirmation. I just barely grasped it with my fingertips, pulling it towards me. I ignored the 5:27am on the lock screen, urgently swiping to my texts. 

'I made it back alive.' My promised text to Nick from earlier read.  'Good.' Nick had replied less than a minute later.

I sighed in relief before flopping back onto the mattress. I squeezed my eyes shut, groaning quietly. It wasn’t unusual for me to be up around 6am, but I didn’t want to bother Renard; I had no idea what time he usually woke up. I’d be quiet, I told myself.

I swung my feet over the edge of the mattress carefully, hissing quietly in pain as my ribs protested. My head throbbed as I dressed and stumbled out of the room, down the hallway. I quietly opened and closed various cupboards in search of coffee. I couldn’t help but feel like I was intruding.

Once I found it, I quickly made a strong pot of it with Renard in mind. I sat at the counter tiredly, resting my head on my crossed arms and shutting my eyes with a shallow sigh. 

“Ace?” A voice woke me. My head shot up to find Sean standing opposite of me by the counter with a concerned look on his face.

“Sorry. Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you-” I apologized hastily.

He raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t. It’s seven am.” I looked to the clock on the stove. I straightened up in my seat, 

“Oh. Well,” I paused awkwardly. “I made coffee. It’s strong.”

His face softened. “Thanks.”  I rose to my feet, leaning against the countertop slightly. 

“Are you feeling alright?” He asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee before pouring one for me as well. 

“Thank you.” I said as he handed it to me, simultaneously avoiding the question. I sat at the counter opposite him. He gave me a quizzical glance, and I sighed in defeat before smiling half-heartedly. “I always wake up early.” It wasn’t necessarily a lie; it just wasn’t the full truth, I told myself. 

“It didn’t look like it.” He sipped.

“Just tired.” I looked down into my cup, stirring it mindlessly. I could sense his skeptical gaze on me, but didn’t look up. 

“You moved out of your old apartment yesterday.” It was a statement, not a question. 

“Yeah. There wasn’t much to move.” I said cautiously. I knew he would get on me for not resting. “Nick was there.”

“Mhm.” He uttered, narrowing his eyes at me over the cup.

“What?”

“Somehow I don’t believe that.”

“Nick did most of it. Happy?” I knew it was lighthearted on his end, but I couldn’t help myself from becoming defensive. 

“Relax, Ace. I’m kidding.” 

“I know.” I sighed. “I’m just not used to..” I hesitated, unable to find the right words. “..This whole thing.” 

“Having to explain myself, someone caring, I don’t know.” I continued in frustration, downing the rest of my cup. 

“Don’t worry about it.” He reassured me. I poured myself another cup of coffee, stirring the cup again. My attention was caught by my phone buzzing on the far side of the table. I reached over for it with a slight wince. 

“Nick?” I asked, meeting Renard’s gaze before turning away. “What’s up?”

“You’re not going to believe what we found.” 

[neil-gaiman]

Hey I'm sort of curious. I haven't read the book, but I'm a fan of the show and was genuinely disappointed that the phrase "going Native" had an exclusively negative connotation when I watched. Idk if this occurred to you or not, but that's pretty blatant racism. It's especially tone deaf considering this is a show about angels and demons - which have been a tool to commit genocide against us for upwards of 500 years.

Why not just use "human"? It's accurate and doesn't frame an entire demographic as inherently bad or undesireable.

Not trying to garner any ill will, it just rlly bummed me out bc I'm Native and it's an identity I wear with great pride bc ppl have tried countless times to rip it away from me. To see it treated with such disdain was very hurtful.

I understand your concerns, and do not wish to minimise them, or your hurt. Obviously the phrase has colonial roots. However, it's a lower case N, and isn't intended to talk about Native Americans. When the angels talk about Aziraphale "going native", this is the meaning they are using. It may be negative for the grumpy angels, but it's positive for humanity and for Aziraphale and Crowley.

From Mirriam Webster online:

go native

idiom

: to start to behave or live like the local people

After a few weeks, she was comfortable enough to go native and wear shorts to work.

Example Sentences

Recent Examples:

But dogs that go native make bad guards, hunting companions, and friends.—David Grimm, Science | AAAS, 29 Oct. 2020

Let your yard go native: The Cuyahoga Soil & Water Conservation District is offering seven native plant kits for sale that are adapted to the local climate and do not require excess watering or fertilizer once they are established.—Joan Rusek, cleveland, 6 July 2020

[daytaker]

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[green5quirrel]

Chapters: 5/? Fandom: Grimm (TV) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Rosalee Calvert/Monroe, Nick Burkhardt & Monroe Characters: Monroe (Grimm), Rosalee Calvert, Nick Burkhardt, Juliette Silverton Additional Tags: Show level violence, Injury, Hurt/Comfort, hurt!Monroe, Comforting!Nick, Comforting!Rosalee, discussion of past drug addiction, discussion of group therapy, discussion of therapy, Monroe!Whump, ambiguous timeline, Guilty!Nick, Guilty!Monroe, I don't really know how to tag very well but I'm going to keep going, made up wesen, Monrosalee - Freeform, Adorable Monroe and Rosalee flirtation-ish, Season 1, I just want to push them both together and make them kiss!, Caring!Juliette Summary:

When Monroe and Nick go after a new Wesen things don't go very well for our fair Blutbad as an otherwise docile Wesen has a traumatic history with Blutbaden and takes it out on poor Monroe. Now Monroe has to, first, admit how badly he's been injured and, second, accept the help that's being offered.

Rosalee: One of the most consistent traits of Blutbaden is their thick-headedness. Both literal and figuratively.

I wrote this because there's not enough Monroe Whump and I needed more adorable interactions between Rosalee and Monroe. And I needed to see Nick more aware of his relationship building flaws and humbled by them.

***

I’ve posted chapter 4 and 5!

Thank you, both, for reading!

And a big thank you to “praecurokatwrites“ for commenting! Your comments keep me ALIVE! 

[pin-k-ink]

COVET ⋆✦⋆ grimmjow jaegerjaquez ft. nnoitra gilga

synopsis ➸ grimmjow’s been secretly in love with you for ages. when you show up upset after a rough night with your new boyfriend, he’s ready to prove that not all affection has to hurt

tags ➸ friends to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, dub-con (from nnoitra… kinda), degradation (also from nnoitra), he is mean, dirty talk, asphyxiation, cheating(?), choking, mentions of bruises, body worship, pet names, nipple play, teasing, unprotected sex, praise kink, begging

wc ➸ 6.4k

Grimmjow tried his best to keep his expression neutral as you twisted this way and that in front of the vanity mirror, fussing with your hair. But it was getting harder by the second to mask the muscle twitching in his jaw or the way his fingers dug restlessly into the mattress beneath him.

You looked goddamn incredible as always - face flushed with excitement, those big eyes shining, glossy lips parted slightly as you scrutinized your reflection. The sight of you so dolled up and radiating pure joy over some asshole coming to sweep you off your feet again made Grimmjow's chest constrict painfully.

He hated it. Hated watching you put so much effort into chasing after these douchebags who couldn't possibly appreciate you properly. Not like he—

No. Grimmjow cut that dangerous line of thought off before it could fester into something uglier. You were his best friend, his whole world, and he refused to become that cliché "nice guy" who secretly resented you over unrequited feelings. Better to suffer in silence than risk poisoning what you had with bitter jealousy.

Still...the thought of Nnoitra's wandering hands all over you, his smug grin as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, made Grimmjow's stomach churn acidically. That prick didn't deserve to even look at someone as radiant and full of life as you, let alone take you out and try to charm his way past your clothes later.

"You about ready yet?" he found himself rumbling, partly to distract from his darkening thoughts. "Or did you wanna powerbomb your hair with a few more hours of fussing before your date rolls around?"

You shot him an exasperated look over one shoulder, rolling those big expressive eyes in his direction. "I want to look nice, okay? Is that a crime now in the kingdom of Grimm?"

He snorted at that, trying for an indifferent shrug and missing by a mile as you continued fidgeting with your appearance. Goddammit, you were so fucking beautiful when you got like this - all adorably insecure and earnest in your desires without realizing how breathtaking you looked already.

How many times had Grimmjow stood frozen on that same damn mattress over the years, watching as you attempted painstaking ritual after ritual in pursuit of some unattainable standard of perfection? Each time you'd twist and fuss, utterly oblivious to how every tiny adjustment made his mouth go dry and insides twist with the effort of staying silent.

Of course, you had no idea just how devastating your presence and effortless allure was to him these days. No clue that your best friend had been fighting an increasingly losing battle to keep things platonic despite the fact that you made his heart race and palms sweat like some lovestruck idiot.

"Hope this douche at least remembers to open doors and pull out chairs for you tonight," Grimmjow heard himself muttering, unable to help firing off another sardonic aside in hopes of grounding himself. "God forbid you have to waste breath reminding him how to be a basic respectful dipshit after so many dates."

You paused in the middle of smoothing an errant strand of silky hair, brow creasing in that adorable little wrinkle he loved so much. For a brief, dizzying moment Grimmjow wondered if you'd somehow developed telepathy and sussed out the bitter envy churning through his gut.

Then your bemused voice cut through the stifling tension knotting his shoulders as you replied:

"Someone sounds awfully salty for a guy who swore up and down he wasn't gonna give me any grief over Nnoitra."

Grimmjow winced inwardly at the piercing insight, tamping down the instinctive urge to look properly chastened. Sure, he'd promised to stay out of your dating choices this time around - go so far as supporting you even - but how the hell could he when you kept bringing home these undeserving pricks one after another?!

A bitter chuckle nearly escaped his chest at the thought. Like he had any room to judge your romantic entanglements when he was the biggest philandering asshole of all. Always leaving a trail of broken hearts and bruised egos in his wake wherever he went because none of those casual flings could ever truly satisfy the deep, gnawing ache in his core.

At the end of every sweaty, tangled night spent chasing fleeting pleasures, Grimmjow inevitably found his lust-hazed vision seeking out some glimmer of your essence reflected in whichever warm body writhed and gasped beneath his ravenous attentions. Maybe it was the way their hair splayed across the pillows in thick waves, so reminiscent of when you lounged about lazily on weekends snuggled up watching dumb movies. Or perhaps the smattering of freckles dotting their shoulder blades reminded him of the sun-kissed constellations spanning your back and shoulders from summers spent outside together.

No matter how petty or delusional it felt each time he found himself pathetically projecting pieces of you onto another nameless conquest, Grimmjow couldn't seem to stop himself from instinctively searching for those fleeting echoes. Because in those hoarded fragments, as superficial and masochistic as they may have been, he could almost pretend his restless, traitorous heart was finally sated for once.

Almost convince himself that the plush curves and silken skin bared so wantonly beneath him belonged to the one woman who simultaneously gave his life meaning while robbing him of all peace entirely.

Once or twice he'd even slipped so deeply into those maddening delusions that your name had spilled from his lips in a shuddering groan against heated flesh. Only to be jolted brutally back to harsh reality by the stricken revulsion twisting their expressions - punctuated by the harsh sting of an open palm leaving his cheek smarting in shameful reprisal.

So yeah...maybe Grimmjow had zero ground for casting aspersions on your romantic choices when he'd sunken to such utterly pathetic lows in his own debased pursuit of any scrap or temporary solace available. All because doing the right thing and simply letting you go to find happiness felt more agonizing than sacrificing what little soul and dignity he had left clutching at pale imitations.

Before he could wrangle the impulse into some sardonic retort designed to deflect, your thoughtful gaze shifted back to drinking in his sprawled form with that same unconscious appreciation. Grimmjow instinctively straightened under the intensity of your stare, electricity prickling down his nape and shoulders at the weight behind those warm, guileless eyes...

Then you beamed at him - just a soft, radiant smile that lit up your whole face - and Grimmjow felt his heart stutter in his chest all over again like it did every damn time you looked at him like that. Like he was the only person in the world who mattered in that suspended breath.

"You know you'll always be my best friend, right Grimm?" you said simply, voice brimming with sincere affection that robbed him of air entirely.

He blinked dumbly, mesmerized by the ethereal glow of pure sunshine radiating from your expression as you regarded him with that same open, vulnerable adoration he'd never quite grown accustomed to after all these years. Grimmjow felt himself leaning towards your orbit helplessly despite his best intentions, like a man dying of thirst finally stumbling upon an oasis after ages adrift.

"No matter who comes and goes, you're the one constant I can count on," you continued softly, ducking your chin a little with a tiny self-conscious tuck of hair behind your ear. "My truest partner in everything, y'know?"

Grimmjow's throat bobbed convulsively as he fought to swallow past the lump swelling there. God, how did you always manage to disarm him so completely with just a few hushed syllables and those big, earnest eyes of yours? He opened his mouth, desperate to return the sentiment somehow though any actual words failed him utterly in the wake of your sincerity bowling him over once more.

Then your smile widened into that brilliant, achingly familiar grin he'd somehow fallen deeper in love with every year you two spent practically glued at the hip. You rose from the vanity in one graceful, effortless movement and drifted over to plop down on the mattress beside him - movements radiating that wholesome, utterly pure aura of joy he cherished like a sacred flame amidst the world's cruelties.

Before Grimmjow could properly recalibrate his restraints, you leaned over to loop one slender arm around his shoulders and press the gentlest kiss against his cheek in a sweet, platonic embrace. His entire body went rigid, every muscle taut as his jaw clenched to stifle the growl threatening to rumble free as the ghost of your warm breath and plush lips seared themselves into his senses.

"Love you to the moon and back, you big grump," you whispered against the heated line of his jaw, completely oblivious to the smoldering inferno blazing behind his hooded stare now. "Even when you're being a stubborn jerk about me dating again."

The urge to turn and capture those honeyed words straight from your glistening mouth in a soulfire of a kiss nearly overpowered Grimmjow's faculties entirely. He could already envision the rapturous slide of claiming your velvet lips and sipping down those blissful sighs escaping around each searing caress.

Only the sudden, jarring chime of your phone vibrating across the nightstand jolted him back from that delirious precipice at last. You pulled away with a start, glancing towards the caller ID in clear dismay at the intrusion.

Then your expression shifted, lips curving into a bright, anticipatory grin as you registered who the incoming call was from. "Oh! That must be Nnoitra letting me know he's here!"

You bounced up from the mattress with a renewed burst of youthful energy, all but vibrating with poorly contained excitement. Grimmjow watched through his lashes as you hurried back over to the vanity, straightening your outfit and running deft fingers through your hair one final time.

"Don't wait up, okay?" you tossed over your shoulder with a wink that twisted the blade in his heart effortlessly. "Could be a late one depending how charming Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome is feeling tonight!"

A hollow chuckle punched past Grimmjow's defenses before he could bite it back. "When isn't that jackass on his A-game trying to sweep you off your feet?" he rasped out with far more bitterness than he'd intended.

You simply giggled at his sarcasm, utterly missing the jagged undercurrent fueling it as you whirled back towards him with that megawatt smile of yours.

"You know me, sucker for a pretty face and silver tongue, Grimm," you sighed dramatically, hands fluttering up to cradle your radiant features. "Just pray one day I learn some taste to go with this weak willpower!"

With that final teasing remark, you strode over and pressed another sweet, painfully chaste peck against his cheek that nearly unmade Grimmjow entirely.

"Love you, grump!" you murmured, breath fanning over his already flushed skin in deliciously intimate waves. "Don't wait up, but do lock up behind me if I'm not back before morning? You're the best, bye!"

Before he could unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth, you bounded from the bedroom and out through the front hall in a whirlwind of perfumed vibrancy. Grimmjow remained upright on your bed, back rigid and fists clenched against his thighs so hard the knuckles strained white as bleached bone. The thunderous cadence of blood roared in his ears until finally...the front door clicked shut behind your whirlwind exit.

Then, and only then, did Grimmjow allow his forehead to sag forward into his upturned palms with a groan torn from the deepest hollows of his soul.

"Fuck..." he rasped out around the bitter ashes of loss coating his tongue once more. "Love you too...so goddamn much it hurts just to keep breathing without you here..."

He stayed that way for several suspended eternities until the furious pounding of his pulse ebbed enough for higher cognitive functions to trickle back hazily. But even as Grimmjow finally slumped backwards onto the rumpled bedding you'd occupied so recently, consuming your lingering warmth and scent like a dying man's oxygen, he knew the desolate ache hollowing out his core would persist until your inevitable return once more.

Just like it always did whenever you drifted from his side to chase empty dreams with these superficial pricks unworthy of so much as basking in your radiant light. But Grimmjow would stay, would continue craving and pining after you in aching silence rather than risk shattering your bond entirely.

Better to watch you pursue wholehearted fulfillment despite the endless, gnawing torment scoring fresh wounds into his battered soul with each breathless farewell. At least this way...he could still bask in your light and cherish the scraps of intimacy you allowed him rather than lose you completely to the howling void.

So he waited...and endured...and loved you with every faltering fragment of his shattered being until the next rapturous reunion finally granted him fleeting solace in your orbit once more.

The ride back to Nnoitra's place passed in a heated blur of wandering hands and heated make-out sessions whenever they hit a red light. You thrilled at the shiver of delicious anticipation lacing through your veins as his calloused palms roamed over your exposed thighs and up under your skirt teasingly.

A giddy thrill raced through your veins as Nnoitra's car pulled up to his place - a sleek, luxurious apartment building that practically oozed opulence. You'd had such an incredible night together filled with romantic candlelight, sumptuous food, and that dark undercurrent of heated tension you lived for.

Things were still relatively new between you both, having only progressed to intense bouts of heavy petting and dry-humping in the backseat of Nnoitra's car after dates so far. But tonight, after weeks of building tension, you sensed a shift in his usual aggressive yet restrained approach to pursuing you physically.

All the subtle hints radiated off him in smoldering waves from the moment he opened your door and pulled you flush against his powerful frame. The ravenous way his mouth never left your skin for longer than a few scorching inhales. How those large, rough fingers dug into the supple flesh of your hips and ass with undisguised possessiveness.

"Fuck you look so goddamn gorgeous tonight, babydoll," Nnoitra growled against the fevered hollow of your throat between molten kisses. "Been drivin' me crazy thinkin' about strippin' you outta that little number all evening..."

You shivered at his words, the blatant masculine lust saturating them sending heat zinging through your core deliciously. As he guided you backwards into his apartment with that same single-minded focus, you couldn't quite stifle the giddy thrill of anticipation mounting higher still.

This was it - the moment you'd been breathlessly awaiting ever since your first flirtatious exchange with Nnoitra and the undeniable spark of chemistry igniting between you. The night everything finally reached its crescendo and you both surrendered to the ravenous passion simmering for weeks on end. You were practically vibrating with pent-up need and arousal by the time the backs of your thighs hit the mattress and sent you toppling backwards into the rumpled bedding.

Nnoitra loomed above you like a conquering force of nature given human form - eyes glittering with unveiled hunger and those full lips curled in a predatory smirk you couldn't tear your stare away from despite your thundering pulse.

"Ready for the main event, princess?" he rumbled out in a tone dripping with dark promise that made your thighs clench involuntarily.

"God yes..." you breathed out in a throaty rasp, hands already tugging at the collar of his fitted shirt impatiently. "You have no idea how bad I've wanted—"

But the rest of your breathy declaration trailed off in a choked gasp as Nnoitra abruptly seized both your wrists in a bruising grip and pinned them over your head in one forceful sweeping motion. You struggled on instinct for one heart-pounding second before registering the white-hot heat of pure, undisguised possession blazing in his heavy-lidded stare.

"Not tonight you don't," he hissed out in a tone laced with something that set off warning bells in your hind-brain instantly. "Tonight that greedy fucking mouth and the rest of your hot little body are mine to do with as I please..."

You frowned, opening your mouth to protest the hostile phrasing dancing along your instinctive aversion, only for Nnoitra to silence you roughly with a bruising crush of his demanding lips. His free hand wasted no time delving between your trembling forms, shoving past your flimsy panties and underwear to grip your sex in a vicious squeeze that punched the breath from your lungs in a strangled keen.

"That's right, slut," he growled against your parted, gasping mouth as rough fingertips parted your folds with uncompromising insistence. "Make all the sweet little noises you want while I get that worthless pussy nice and sloppy for what's coming..."

The cruel, dehumanizing words landed like a physical blow, igniting a fresh blaze of panicked adrenaline that made you thrash against his restraining bulk in a desperate bid for space. But Nnoitra only chuckled darkly in evident relish, baring down with his full, unyielding weight in wordless reprimand while his calloused knuckles continued their ruthless ministrations between your thighs...

You barely registered the salt tracks of tears streaming down your face as you slowly extricated your quivering form out from beneath Nnoitra's dead weight on the mattress. You slid free of the tangled sheets and quickly pried open the drawer beside the bed to yank on the first clothes you could find despite your raw, aching skin howling in protest.

Hot tears stung your eyes as you allowed Nnoitra's parting sneers and contemptuous dismissal to rattle around your numb psyche. Stupid slut...pathetic cocktease with no follow-through...wasted his goddamn time like every other desperate whore...

Your entire body thrummed with secondhand humiliation and regret. How could you have been so blind, so utterly naive to think this vulgar, domineering man might harbor even the slightest consideration or care for your boundaries?

No...you knew better, deep down. Perhaps not the full, ugly extent of Nnoitra's penchant for degradation and savagery, but enough to sense the ugliness lurking beneath his veneers all the same. All this time you'd simply chosen willful blindness in hopes some idealized version of him might take root if only you persisted hard enough.

Only once you were fully redressed and upright again - legs trembling violently yet somehow still holding your weight - did you chance a furtive look back over your shoulder at the sprawled silhouette of your boyfriend.

He was utterly unconscious in the aftermath of his merciless savagery, the slow rise and fall of his chest barely perceptible in the dim light creeping through the blinds. You couldn't discern if the wet trails bisecting his sculpted features had been your tears or his own sweat dripping down, nor did you particularly care at this point. All that remained was the hollow ache throbbing through every inch of your ravaged body and psyche pulsing in a dull cadence.

"Shouldn't have pushed me so hard, you cheap-ass cumslut," Nnoitra's mumbled slur reached you from the darkness, chilling you anew. "Now look...totally fucking blew my load and wasted it because your needy ass couldn't relax and take your medicine like a good girl..."

Any further cruel taunts dissolved into thick, whistling snores as he succumbed to the heavy pull of slumber anew. You simply stood there amid the settling ashes of your last remaining illusions and shattered boundaries, struggling to cling to the final fraying threads holding you together at all.

Then Grimmjow's face swam into focus behind your eyelids - that rakish grin and those penetratingly sincere azure irises that shimmered with so much fierce loyalty and adoration whenever he beheld you. It was like a lighthouse piercing through the fog of your unraveling despair and guiding you back towards salvation at last.

Without further hesitation, you turned on your heel and fled from the blood-tinged battlefield of Nnoitra's apartment with the few remaining dignity-preserving scraps you had energy to salvage. Away from the desolate, mocking silence now suffocating the eerie stillness in your wake.

Grimmjow barely registered the muted drone of the TV flickering before him, gaze glazed and thoughts adrift as he idly channel surfed. Some old movie rerun flickered across the screen but he couldn't muster enough focus to follow the plot if his life depended on it. His mind was too preoccupied wondering just what fresh hell you might be enduring at that very moment with Nnoitra...

The sudden jarring trill of the doorbell made him jolt upright, frown creasing his features as he glanced towards the entryway in confusion. Grimmjow definitely wasn't expecting company this late. Unless...

His pulse kicked up a traitor's cadence as he rose and padded towards the front door, something like grim anticipation weighing in his gut. Sure enough, one sweeping glance through the peephole revealed your familiar silhouette hunched on the front steps in the dim glow of the porch light.

Steeling himself for whatever emotional turbulence awaited, Grimmjow undid the locks and tugged the door open carefully. The sight that greeted him stole what little breath remained, bitter resignation curdling through his veins like acid.

"Hey Grimm..." you rasped out in a voice utterly devoid of your usual sunshine and warmth.

Then you lifted your bowed head just enough to reveal the fresh bruising purpling along your throat, the swollen split in your lower lip, and more incriminating evidence scattered across your ravaged features...and something inside Grimmjow simply cracked irreparably.

"[Y/N]..." he croaked out numbly, body moving on horrified instinct to surge forward and gather your trembling form against his chest in a crushing embrace. "What did that son of a bitch do to you..."

At his impassioned whisper, the dam finally broke and you dissolved into wretched, hiccuping sobs against his heaving chest. Grimmjow could only clutch you tighter, teeth grinding in sheer impotent fury as the warm trails of your anguish streaked over his skin in scorching brands far worse than any physical wound.

That worthless pile of shit Nnoitra had HURT you - harmed you in ways that made Grimmjow's most merciless nightmares seem trite by comparison. His eyes squeezed shut as you continued keening into the hollow of his throat wordlessly, entire frame practically vibrating with the force of your raw devastation laid finally bare.

Grimmjow had witnessed you mourn other breakups over the years, yes. But never in such undiluted, soul-searing fashion as this. It was as if the very essence of your brilliant spark - that endless fount of effortless joy and resilience he'd cherished for so long - had finally been scoured out through unimaginable torment until only the bitter, haunted ashes remained in its wake.

A snarl began building in his chest, low and guttural until it threatened to burst free in an incandescent blaze. Every simmering thread of restraint Grimmjow had worn like shackles holding back the urges to simply seize and ravage you as he so desperately craved came apart like smoke dissolving on the wind. The need to find Nnoitra and utterly annihilate him down to his very core suddenly blazed with the intensity of a dying star finally going supernova in one apocalyptic conflagration.

But just as Grimmjow began turning towards hunting his prey down no matter the consequences, your quavering rasp reached his ears and paralyzed him in his tracks.

"Don't..." you whispered in a broken cadence against his thundering pulse, hands feebly clutching his shirt with the last vapors of strength. "Please Grimm...I just want to be done...to stop hurting for a while and just...rest here with you..."

And just like that, all the smoldering bloodlust and wrath simply evaporated, leaving Grimmjow feeling utterly deflated as he turned back to gather you closer. You wound enfeebled arms around his midsection, clinging to his hulking frame with unconcealed desperation as he simply swayed in place, murmuring wordless reassurance against your disheveled hair.

How many times had he wished to declare his love in that heated silence, to reveal the aching depths of devotion roiling in his chest for years? Too many to ever recount as the seconds stretched into eternities under the leaden weight of your private anguish exsanguinating against him...

But somehow, in that suspended purgatory, Grimmjow also felt the stirrings of hope threatening to bloom impossibly through the bitter soil of his longstanding resignation. As if your hollowed vulnerability offered an oasis out of the howling void you'd both been trapped in since the beginning...

He pulled back just enough for your bleary, bloodshot eyes to find his, one hand tenderly cupping the curve of your jaw where the first telltale bruise blossomed. Grimmjow studied your ravaged features with something approaching reverence despite the wounds etched there.

To think your radiance had finally broken and started to cool towards ashen despondence...the reality sliced deeper than any physical torment. Yet also revealed an untold strength residing in those battered depths that threatened to rob Grimmjow of his composure entirely in a different way. He thumbed over your split lower lip with trembling care, utterly transfixed by every hitched breath shuddering through your lungs.

Unable to resist the swirling undertow any longer, Grimmjow surged forward and captured your parted lips in a searing, infinitely tender glide. The contact was barely there at first - a mere whisper of reverence and restrained longing scorching his senses. But then you whimpered softly against his mouth, and like a drowning man gulping life-giving air, Grimmjow deepened the kiss with a rumbling groan.

You both seemed frozen for one suspended eternity, bodies locked in a molten clinch as his tongue traced the plush seam of your lips in unspoken entreaty. When you finally parted them with a shuddering sigh, Grimmjow felt something primal and ravenous unfurl in his gut with blinding intensity.

He cradled the nape of your neck with infinite care, angling your faces impossibly closer as his tongue delved past your lips to explore every slick, velvet crevice with aching leisure. Each sweep of his velvet muscle elicited the most blissful, broken little sounds punching free from your core that stoked the banked embers in Grimmjow's own into an insatiable blaze.

"Sweet girl..." he murmured against your swollen mouth between heated, indulgent kisses. "Let me take care of you properly this time..."

You keened softly in response, hands scrabbling up the firm musculature of his back and shoulders as if seeking purchase against the tidal wave of sensation threatening to bowl you both under entirely. Grimmjow could only growl in dark approval, trailing open-mouthed worship down the slender column of your throat while gathering you against his powerful frame.

With a leonine heave, he surged to his feet and carried you through the living room without breaking his sensual cadence. Your thighs parted instinctively to bracket his hips like a lifeline, shaky gasps ghosting over his fevered skin with each lush undulation of your tangled forms.

"That's it..." Grimmjow husked out in a rumbling purr laced with sinful promise. "Stay right here with me, let me show you how good it feels to be handled right..."

By the time he lowered you reverently onto the rumpled sheets and covered your pliant body with his own, the weight of unrequited yearning and hunger etched in every etched ridge and hollow had reached a fever pitch. Yet despite the unmistakable claiming energy thrumming through each vein and sinew, Grimmjow retained an unhurried, almost meditative pace as he worked to rid you of your clothes.

Hands roamed and mapped every lush curve and quivering hollow, thumbs skating over feverish skin with aching tenderness even as he blazed a path of devouring kisses along the slopes of your breasts. You arched into him helplessly, lost to the sublime rapture of touch and being so thoroughly adored by someone who saw your radiant essence unveiled before anything else.

Your legs fell open wider as Grimmjow settled firmly between your splayed thighs, the firm swell of his cock straining his boxers against your molten core. Your hips canted upwards to grind against the welcome friction, hands scrabbling up and down the flexing contours of his muscled torso with unrestrained wantonness.

"God, so fucking perfect for me, babygirl," Grimmjow groaned against the valley between your breasts, one hand delving lower to cup your soaked sex and thumb your swollen clit. "Never gonna let anyone mistreat you or take this precious pussy for granted again, sweetheart..."

Then his face dipped lower still, and all coherent thought fled your mind as his full, pouty lips closed over one aching nipple and began suckling in earnest. You whimpered and squirmed beneath him, the wet heat of his mouth and teasing scrape of his teeth driving you wild.

Grimmjow merely growled around the pert, glistening bud and switched to its neglected twin, alternating between long, slow laps and gentle nips. His calloused fingers continued their torturous dance around your dripping slit, sliding over your folds and circling your swollen clit in unhurried, dizzying spirals.

The air grew thick with your combined panting breaths and the sinful, slick sounds of his relentless ministrations. All the while, the insistent throb of his rigid shaft grinding against you in steady rhythm built the pressure of unbridled need higher and higher still until you were sure you'd be swallowed by the rising tide entirely.

"Please...Grimmjow, please I can't take it anymore!" you sobbed, hands fisting in his tousled cerulean locks and yanking. "I need you inside me, want you to fuck me and make it better, please..."

At your breathless, broken entreaty, Grimmjow's head reared up from your flushed chest with an almost feral snarl. The blistering heat radiating from his piercing cerulean gaze was enough to scald you to the bone, igniting the molten embers simmering through your veins anew.

"Fuck, I want to, baby…so goddamn much," he bit out, teeth gritted as he loomed over you with one forearm braced on the headboard. "But you've had enough rough treatment for a lifetime. Gonna be real sweet and thorough when I make you mine at last, gorgeous."

He dipped his head low and sealed his mouth over yours in another soul-searing kiss, tongues tangling and breath mingling. You felt the blunt, silky head of his cock nudging your drenched folds aside and gliding through your folds to graze your sensitive bundle of nerves. Then the fat, velvety tip began prodding at your entrance, and you were certain the delicious pressure might very well undo you before you'd even felt him sink fully inside you.

"Gonna take it real slow, babygirl, so just breathe for me, yeah?" he husked against your parted lips.

Grimmjow punctuated his gravelly command with a shallow roll of his hips, the thick, bulbous crown stretching your tender walls with agonizing tenderness. Your inner muscles clenched instinctively, the initial burn of intrusion giving way to the delicious fullness that promised so much more to come.

"Yes, fuck yes Grimmjow, keep going, don't stop..."

The raw, pleading notes of your voice only served to spur him on, and he buried his face in the crook of your shoulder with a hoarse curse. The powerful flex and coil of his sinewy form above you as he sank deeper inside you inch by aching inch was an utter thing of beauty.

Every twitch and clench of your walls drew out a different sound from his lips - a ragged gasp or breathy groan, or something more akin to a guttural snarl. The overwhelming intensity was unlike anything you'd ever experienced, and yet felt like the culmination of all the shared yearning and desire built up for so long.

When the rigid girth finally bottomed out, your legs hooked instinctively around his waist and you let out a keening cry, overwhelmed by the delicious pressure throbbing within. Grimmjow merely let out a shudder exhale, lips brushing your sweat-slicked brow and jaw.

"Fuck, you feel like pure heaven around my cock, princess," he groaned, teeth grazing the shell of your ear as his hips began a slow, deep thrust. "So goddamn good, never wanna leave this sweet pussy now that I've had a taste..."

His words sent a fresh thrill zipping down your spine, and your back arched up to meet the sinuous roll of his body in a languid counterpoint. Your fingers carded through the coarse azure strands tumbling around his handsome features, the sheer intensity of his adoring gaze searing into your soul and sending shivers through your writhing frame.

Grimmjow pressed impassioned kisses along the line of your jaw and collarbone, all the while murmuring soft words of praise and endearment. His tempo was a measured, unhurried glide that kept building the pressure within you to an excruciating fever pitch.

The heady friction of his velvet length massaging your inner walls in the most sinful way soon had you babbling incoherently. His name fell from your lips in broken, reverent litany as if invoking a sacred prayer - the only truth that mattered in that moment.

"H-Harder, Grimm...please..." you gasped, the coil in your belly drawing tighter and tighter with each exquisite slide.

"Uh-uh, babygirl, not this time," he rumbled back, one hand skimming over the smooth plane of your torso to cradle the crest of your hip with unflinching tenderness. "Wanna show you how good it feels when someone loves you like they're meant to..."

With those gravelly words, Grimmjow's pace slowed further still until each thrust was a languid, almost agonizing pull out followed by a torturous press in. His lips closed over yours in a drugging kiss, tongues gliding in unhurried, sinful caresses that only stoked the inferno of your mutual desire into an inextinguishable conflagration.

You keened helplessly, utterly at his mercy in the best possible way. With his strong, broad body braced above you and his unyielding cock filling you completely, the rest of the world fell away to insignificance. It was as if you'd finally found the home and shelter you'd sought so desperately in that shared, silent space - in the warmth of his arms and the searing heat of his touch.

Grimmjow broke the kiss suddenly, a deep shudder coursing through his powerful frame as he buried his face in the hollow of your throat with a ragged, drawn-out groan. You could feel the telltale flutter of his swollen member against your tender inner walls and knew his own release was near.

"Fuck, I-I'm close, sweet girl..."

His strained voice seemed to drag you out of the haze of ecstasy you'd been swept away on, and the sight of him above you nearly undid you completely.

His cerulean locks tumbled around his fevered expression in disheveled tendrils, eyes blazing with pure adoration and devotion and the strain of unyielding restraint holding back his climax. His arms quivered on either side of you, muscles rippling and bunching as he fought to maintain his torturous pace and draw out the bliss for just a little longer.

You wound your legs tighter around his lean waist, angling your hips up and letting out a high, breathless gasp as he sank impossibly deeper inside you. Grimmjow cursed darkly, teeth grazing the column of your throat and hands fisting the sheets until his knuckles blanched.

"I-I love you, [Y/N]...fuck, I love you so much," he groaned, voice cracking at the end and betraying the depth of his emotion. "Please say it back, let me hear it at least once, please..."

Your heart stuttered at his impassioned, whispered plea. The raw, naked longing etched on his features threatened to overwhelm you entirely. But in the end, there was no doubt left in your mind about what you needed to do, and no fear at the idea of exposing the tender, fragile parts of yourself in turn.

"I love you too, Grimmjow," you whispered back, hands reaching up to tenderly cup his cheeks and bring his feverish, desperate gaze back to yours. "You're the only one I've ever loved like this, and the only one I want, I promise."

And just like that, the leonine man above you seemed to collapse with a shuddering exhale, burying his face in the valley between your breasts as his powerful body went taut as a bowstring. A few more deep, hard thrusts and the pressure within you snapped, sending you both hurtling over the edge into blissful oblivion.

Your back arched off the mattress, eyes squeezing shut and mouth falling open on a choked sob as the first waves of pleasure crashed through your frame. Grimmjow's answering snarl and ragged exhale signaled his own release, the molten heat of his essence flooding your core and filling every inch of your quivering channel with his seed.

He continued rocking into you as you both rode out the last echoes of release, hips twitching and muscles shuddering with the aftershocks. Your legs fell bonelessly to the bed, thighs quivering and chest heaving as he rolled off you at last, his spent cock slipping free from your quivering sex with a lewd squelch.

He gathered you against him, one powerful arm looping around your waist to pull you flush against his firm, sinewy torso. The other stroked and smoothed over the sweat-slicked strands of hair clinging to your temples and forehead, fingers trailing tenderly over your features and pressing a reverent kiss to your parted lips.

"[Y/N]...my precious girl, don't know how I'll ever let you go," Grimmjow mumbled against your temple, nuzzling his cheek against the crown of your head. "You deserve so much better than what I have to offer, but I'm still not letting you leave. Never."

A fresh swell of emotion threatened to break loose, but this time, it was not borne of heartache or despair. You turned your face up to his, pressing a chaste kiss to his sculpted jaw and reveling in the possessive squeeze of his arms around you.

"Then I'm not going anywhere, Grimmjow."

He let out a satisfied rumble and nosed along the slope of your throat and jaw, pressing lazy kisses wherever he could reach. The soothing motion lulled you into a pleasant, boneless haze, the rhythmic rise and fall of his broad chest lulling you deeper into the depths of slumber.

The last thing you heard before slipping away was the soft, reverent whisper breathed against the crown of your head.

"Love you, [Y/N]...more than I ever thought was possible."

[alternity01]

Violet Hands & The Vermilion Masks of Pale Men

Chapter I. "Auf Wiedersehen, mein Freund."

“This is your special day, Leo. I have one last gift to give you, but you’re going to have to be patient,” Aidan whispers into his ear, eyeing him in the mirror. “Can you do that for me?”

“Anything for you, darling,” Leo responds, his grin stretching across his temples.

It’s a shame. He can almost hear Leo’s heartbeat through his teeth. Nevertheless, he mimes a kiss a hair’s width away from his cheek. Turning around, he slides out of the room. The door shuts with silence so absolute it almost causes a vacuum to form around it. Whatever unnoticed faint smile Aidan may have had on his face disappears, replaced by something unknown. He makes a sharp turn left into his own room—its door already open—and attempts to enter their shared bathroom. The door shakes and scratches and fails to move. He taps his pockets. Their bathroom keys. His wallet. His phone. The remote. His bedroom keys.

Under his bed rests a duffle bag of woven darkness, unzipped. The one time he can afford to be so sloppy, the one time every last ounce of security other than himself is dried out. Out of it, he retrieves faux-leather gloves as black as the bag it came from. Click. His whole body turns stiff, and he turns his head at a speed of one skin cell per second. He swears he can hear the disks of his spine grind together as they do, barely dulling the sound of his heart.

Aidan tiptoes to the door, pressing his ear against it.

Leonardo-Nawa almost whispers the words to himself;

“You live, you laugh

Your time won’t pass

Today’s your day

(It is your day)

Only your day

(Only your day)

So we are here to say Happy Birthday.”

“You live, you laugh

Your time won’t pass

Today’s your day

(It is your day)

Only your day

(Only your day)

So we are here to say Happy Birthday,” sang Aidan, Aunty Ciseko and Uncle Fernando.

“Happy birthday, Leo.” Aidan gave him the tightest hug he’s ever given anyone.

“You’re finally ten, Little Lion. That’s a very big age to be. Are you ready to take up the responsibilities that come with it?”

“I think I’m ready, ndate.”

“You two can talk about responsibility later. What did you ask The Greater Pantheon for, Nawa?”

“I asked if they could let Aido stay with us forever and ever and ever.” Leonardo-Nawa kissed him on the cheek, a childish gesture.

“Well, what do you think, Aidan?” Uncle Fernando asked him.

“Yeah, Aido. What do you think?”

“Till the end,” Aidan whispers to himself.

His heartbeat slows to a crawl once again, allowing him to zip the bag up and take it with him. With the room secure, he tiptoes across the hallway he could’ve sworn was shorter just last night. And while Aidan knew his eyes weren’t going to stay closed, he knows he’s going to stay in there one way or another. He turns left onto the staircase with the precision of a gymnast performing their greatest feat to impress the judges. No wasted breaths, no wasted movements. His feet are muffled across all fifty of the steps in the Machiavelli Estate leading from the second floor to the first.

Aidan enters a room with screens from floor to ceiling. All of this only to impress a single control console meant to have three people in front of it. Refusing to sit down, he pulls a USB from his glove and inserts it into the tower. It doesn’t take too long before five days of video are erased and the cameras force a reset that typically takes up to an hour to complete. All that, within five minutes.

‘Thank you for never changing,’ he thinks to… who? Himself? Leo? Aunty Ciseko and Uncle Fernando? Ayesha? Natasha? Giuseppe? Brianna? It doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that now all will—

“Bu~urn.

I feel everything around me burn.

Are you the heat that I have earned?

Will this lesson ever be learnt?

I will never discern

between the pleasure and the pain when you watch me burn,” sang Aidan to a crowd of his peers.

“Aido! Aido! Aido!” They chanted back, half of them in a variety of inebriated states—high, drunk, tripping—and the other half excited in the confines of the furnished 20x20 room.

Eventually, the instrumental faded out and the wall-sized screen behind him went black.

“That was amazing, darling, but I wish you would use your real voice more often.”

Leonardo-Nawa commented in-between bites of biltong.

“Don’t listen to him, Aids. You keep doing what you’re doing. Nothing wrong with a little secret.” Ash’s words were a slurry but the meaning held.

“Nana knows a lot about secrets.” Ayesha bursted into laughter that years ago he would’ve thought only existed in fiction.

“Shush, Eesh.”

“What’s wrong, Mr. Mafia?” Bri rolled over to ask. “Afraid it’s going to”—

“Blow up in your face.” The more he chuckles the more bitter his mouth tastes.

He leaves the room without a trace, taking his time in the elevator to lean into a corner. It opens on a rarely visited section of the house with nothing more than that to make it particularly notable in any way. Despite the bitterness in his mouth, he neglects to enter the kitchen at all, instead walking outside. Awaiting him is what can only be described as an armoured family minivan. He makes sure to drive it out faster than Leo can realise something’s up, but slow enough to keep all suspicion at a bare minimum. The house is now a mere smudge within his rear view mirror, and the remote finds itself in his rigid hand.

“I’m sorry; I love you.”

All it took was a single click.