#i forgot i had to shove my socks back in..........fear

[shiningstages]

If I ever buy a piece of clothing again, please apprehend me ( aka I finished my laundry / closet cleanout...for now ).

[killzenin]

Dude u should totally make a third part on the sugar daddy gojo/nanami fic but this time its only nanami 😋yum love me some nanami fic what u wrote was delicious i devoured that shit like it was the last meal on earth bro the aftercare was my fave part

ive rewritten this a thousand times as well as procrastinating it bc i didnt think it was good enough, and kinda still don't think it is *dies from impostor syndrome*. though this msg made my day thank you and i hope you like it as well as sorry for the delay.

۫ ⋆ ࣪.afab!reader, implied sexting/nude sending, sex toys, cowgirl position, lingerie, jealousy, teasing, fingering (m→f), Nanami's pull out game's strong here 💪 ۫ ⁎ .

★W0RD C0UNT: 1.5k ★

★𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗧𝗪𝗢★ (i recommend u read them first)

you pressed on the ‘sent’ button on the message app, flipped it on the cafe’s table so the screen was not on display and took a sip of the bitter coffee. awaiting patiently for the shit storm to unfold with a devilish smile on your face.

you sat comfortably in the opulent yet cozy space, scrolling away on your phone. and a few minutes later as if on cue, the blond showed up to the shop agitated. nanami’s eyes settled on you sitting in a corner near the window. your wave at him across the room persuaded him to reach where you sat.

nearing you, he holds your chin, maneuvering it to face him and places a delicate kiss on your lips. even though he ached for more than that, far more than what he's done. “humor me, beautiful, let’s get out of here,” he started, and subsequently leaned to whisper in your ear. “and let me wreck that pretty pussy while wearing that cute lingerie you bought.”

you chuckle, “whatever you say,” holding on to his hand nanami began to lead you out, “bought it just for you.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀     ̟ ˙ ̟ ˙ ˖ ̟ ˙ ˖ ˙

"moan for me more, princess." nanami's thick fingers eased themselves in and out your entrance vigorously and his palm rubbed around your clit just right. encouraging you to be as vocal as you wished, though you were fearful. after a hot make-out session on the ride to his home, nanami was called in for a meeting.

but he did not fret in the slightest, it was through a video call after all. that is why he had your back facing his chest, with your legs spread apart and squirming on his lap as your arousal dripped down on you, creating a small, wet stain on his fashionable pants.

with the camera and audio off his other hand ventured to play around your tits. pinching and teasing around your nipples so that they would perk up to his liking.

your lack of vocality made his face scrunch into a displeased frown, your pleasure was his after all. "you can be as loud as you please, gorgeous, they won't notice. i promise." he pinched around your hardened nipple to get a rise at you. which worked, making you throw your head back on his shoulder and squeal in his ear.

"that's it, pretty thing, love the way you sound." he teased followed up with kisses around your exposed neck. his gaze then fixed itself on the small bag near his laptop. the blond was so hot and bothered that he forgot to put the cute lingerie on you.

he reached for the bag and placed it on your lap. “i wanna see you put it on, darling.”

your mouth curved at his words, shoving your desperateness to be ravaged all the way at the back of your mind. you stood up to undo the little clothes left on your body, taking the set out and shoving your previous garments in the bag.

nanami’s brown eyes glinted in delight, observing as the dark blue began to drape around your figure. proving the live spectacle to be even better than in the picture you had previously sent. classy fabric patterns adorned your skin, barely, but in nanami’s view you were just perfect.

your cunt was exposed only holding itself by the way it hugged your waist and the hook it had connecting to some knee-high socks. a vertical slit ran down the bra cups, letting your nipples on full display.

nanami's dick twitched at such a sight, pleading to be set free and find comfort inside you. “do a spin for me, gorgeous.”

doing as told, you did a full 360 circle on the spot slowly. coming back to your original spot you stretched your hand to him.

the blond yanked you towards him, setting you on his lap to straddle on it. "let me have you, hmm?" the sides of your waist began to be caressed by his touch, easing you as he spoke. "they will never know."

you mimicked his caresses on the sides of his neck, making him feel pure bliss by your touch. "then, how about i take care of you."

nanami’s persuasive speech finally made you give in. his shirt was swiftly unraveled, as well as the upper part of his pants and briefs. the blond's thick shaft bounced towards his stomach once set free, your delicate touch provoked precum to leak uncontrollably from his tip and heavy breaths to drop from his lips.

you observed the mess you made him in delight. your hand smeared around the precum, starting from the top, coating it around as best as you could.

noticing, nanami opened a drawer at the side of his office desk, revealing a variety of sextoys and lube. sparkles reflected in your eyes looking at such a packed drawer with such nasty toy options. "i know how much you love to fuck here." he says.

"i'll never get disappointed with you." you mused, kissing his lips and grabbed whichever lube was closer. nanami took your words to heart and ego, he bet you have not told these or any similar words to gojo. and he'll make sure you will never utter such words to that man child.

you made sure the cold lube was enough for it to fuck with ease. "lay back, baby, i'll do all the work this time." you say hovering on him, nanami liked his chairs to be reclinable as a means to rest in between late-night work shifts. you hovered over him while lying him down and playing around with his tip on your slimy pussy folds.

nanami’s head flew back and held deep moans back at your teases, feeling himself rub against your clit. though he was not patient when it came to getting inside you. he was precautious sliding himself in until he finally reached to be fully installed between your legs. nanami’s mind spiraled by the melody of your low moans, evidencing the pleasure he gave you while slowly grinding and moving your hips in circles on him.

"c'mon baby, if you wanna take good care of me, bounce on my cock." you released a sigh of pleasure as you smiled to yourself. beginning to slide yourself up and down on the blond you felt yourself tighten around him, taking in how he filled every inch of you.

continuing your bouncing motion your calves and thighs began to ache but the gratification of pumping his dick overrode the pain, blending itself with the increasing pleasure. 

though the blond could see your face scrunch in mild discomfort, his hands gripped around the flesh of your hips and with intense motions began to pound you to him. his firm grab on you, as well as his rapid thrust to your cunt blew your mind into oblivion.

the chatter of the laptop faded, thumping and squelching of wet skin and filthy moans engulfed nanami’s office and your minds. not caring for the people displayed on the screen talking of whatever statistics they were on about. 

“na-nanami ughh, m-more. please~ baby more! you're s-so goo~d nana.” more, more, you needed him to the fullest, you needed to reach your sweet orgasm soon. you wanted to gain your high desperately from him. 

listening to your orders, nanami composed himself and reached for the drawer he previously opened with the stash of toys. not forgetting to ravage on your lips as he collected a wand vibrator. 

that vibrator found itself being set to the highest mode and rested in between your legs. “hold it darling, while i fuck your cute cunt.” 

shaky hands held onto the toy, and once you pressed it on your clit and his base, something just snapped. electric shocks reverberated through your bodies and reacted in desperateness to finally orgasm. beads of sweat started to drip on your bodies as his thrusts and your grinding turned sloppy. 

you came after some thrusts, not caring if you lasted too little. your juices began to leak around and settle on the blond’s pelvis. drunk in such ecstasy you continued to ride nanami as the vibrator kept your oversensitive clit going. though as you reached your orgasm your pussy contracted in such a way nanami wouldn't pass the opportunity to piston himself and bury as deep as he could in you. 

but before he could relieve himself, nanami pulled out of you remembering the lack of a condom which should be wrapped around his cock. white strings of his cum shooted out of him to rest on your stomach. 

just as he pulled out you flopped on his chest, relatively exhausted and you could tell he was as well. “love the way you fuck me old man.” you teased, remarking the way he was as tired as you. 

he held back a laugh at your joke. “let’s rest for the rest of the meeting and continue… i want to eat you out with that set.”

“all right, all right.” you say, snuggling close to his frame as you both listened to the boring meeting.

reblogs are deeply appreciated🩵 more works here!

[angelbitezzz]

Now where in the hell did she go?

Prev - Next - First

(more pictures and writing under the cut)

God damn it. Sans had one job—keep an eye on the human, make sure she rested, keep her out of trouble. Now, as he stared dumbfoundedly down at the obviously empty couch on the first floor, he only had one real thought come floating through his fatigued skull.

"i'm gonna kill that girl."

He threw his soiled jacket somewhere in the corner of his room and snatched his hoodie from where it was hung next to his door, slipping it on as he shoved socked feet into slippers, descending the stairs so quickly he may as well have teleported. Far be it from him to ever move that fast on purpose—apparently, that was another thing she was able to do to him without him knowing, damn it all. Frustration simmered at the back of his throat, but even he knew that the feeling was covering a darker, more icy fear that clutched at the inside of his ribcage and froze into a heavy thing somewhere next to his SOUL. She needed to rest. She needed to stay out of sight for now until they figured things out with her magic. She needed to stay safe, fuck, and even just thinking that sent an uncomfortable rattle up along his spine. He didn't bother opening the front door, he jolted through space and found himself outside a few feet away.

"think, sans, think. where would she—"

His pupils settled on the ground. Blue grass and sand mixed together to create an uneven path leading through the village proper. The isles were on the night cycle now—which, didn't look different, but having something of a curfew helped with the constant feeling of nighttime—so nobody was around save for some real night owl types. Sans had excellent night vision, picking out the disturbed sand leading through the village and far to the left, back towards the entrance. He took a step and jittered to the far end, focused on the footprints leading up, until the grass and sand gave away to stone, ascending on a gentle incline that only grew steeper until it led to a cliff overlooking a majority of the Starlight Isles and surrounding territories.

His steps slowed as a silhouette came into view near the edge, an ambient warm breeze tugging the cape pulled around their shoulders. Briefly, he thought he'd stumbled across Count Koffin K doing something...but when they raised their head to gaze upward, he realized he'd found his target.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and resisted the urge to stomp his way up the cliff to her side.

"and what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Angel startled a little, jerking around halfway and flinching. Burning purple eyes met his own, wide and alarmed.

For a second, he felt like they fit right in with the "stars" in their sky.

"Oh! Oh. Sans. Hey."

"answer the question, human."

"Right. Um." Her gaze trailed away, back over the edge of the cliff. "Well don't worry, I didn't fuck off to, uh...y'know. Yeah. Ye—yeah. I'm just, just..."

He didn't speak, recognizing by the tone of her voice that she was struggling to get her thoughts out. She got scrambled like that sometimes—it reminded him of Alphys...when she wasn't putting on a whole fake persona, anyways.

"...Processing. Mhm."

"your near death experience or your magic?"

"Can it be both?"

He inclined his head and slowly stepped forward, moving to stand beside her. There was a very long pause before he spoke.

"well, uh, anyways. asgore said you gotta rest. my brother'll have a conniption if he finds out you're out here."

"Right. Sorry. I just...really needed to get some air. Please."

Frustration boiled behind his teeth, but he sucked back the smoke and smiled anyways. When she glanced at him, whatever she saw in his expression made her grimace and look away again.

"Don't look at me like that. I'm not dying."

"you nearly did." The lights in his eyesockets extinguished, smile thinning until it was nearly a frown. "like, 6 hours ago. unless you forgot. i mean...wouldn't really be surprised, ya did hit your head pretty hard during your little stunt."

"God, Sans, can you just—not? For once?"

"i dunno what you mean."

She whirled on him, a desperate sort of anger flashing onto her features.

"You know exactly what I mean! Don't kick me while I'm down. I—"

"i'm trying to get you back in bed before anyone sees you, but hey, if you wanna keep acting like a babybones, be my guest."

"I'm NOT—" Angel cut herself off and shut her eyes, drawing Sans's cape around her shoulders tighter and covering her face with a hand. "Not...fuck. Fuck. Sans. I–I don't need you to act like my parent. Be all weird and protective over your brother, but don't...let's not pretend. Don't do the same with me cuz you think you have to. It hurts."

He didn't know what to say, for once. There was a quiet swallowing sound while he searched for something, anything to respond to that. Seconds dragged into minutes before she spoke again.

"...I'm gonna die down here."

"hey, you just said you're not—"

"No, Sans." She interrupted, insistent, voice pitching high and broken. "I'm gonna die down here. This place, it's driving me fucking mental. I don't. I don't know what to do."

Her hand slipped away again, a frightened, tight little grin stretching across her face as she looked at him. It looked like it hurt.

"The sun. I miss the sun. I feel like I've been stuck in a damn time loop where it's always night time and I do the same damn shit every day! Yesterday was the first time in weeks that I felt like something new happened and I completely fucked it. I've been having so much fun here that I forgot that—I forgot. I forgot!" She began to laugh, gesturing to her body frantically, trying to get a point across. "I forgot!"

Sans listened to her speak with an increasing feeling of worry, frustration melting into concern the longer she went on.

"kid—" He started, but she cut him off again, her laughter ceasing as quickly as it had come, turning her body away.

"Don't. Please don't. I don't think I could stand if it you started with the pity train."

"wasn't the pity train, was more like the empathy express."

His weak attempt at humor did bring a smaller, more genuine twitch of her mouth than whatever fake grin she'd been trying to keep up. How had she ever managed to fool him before? In hindsight, it was obvious now, all the times she'd been pretending at joy.

Ah, but then, she was the perseverant kind of person. Maybe she was just...used to that.

He didn't want to know why.

"i was just gonna say...you're not alone."

He reached out and set a hand on her shoulder, struggling to find the words. Sun sickness had been a lot more prevalent back during the aftermath of the war—he had no experience dealing with it directly.

"it ain't so bad. you're still here. people down here like you."

"...Do you even like me?"

"huh?"

Angel turned her head just a little, enough to catch his gaze with her own. She looked exhausted, the warm breeze threatening to spill the tears welling up in her eyes.

"I pay attention, you know. You—god, Sans, you only tolerate me cuz I'm friends with Papyrus, right? Sometimes I feel like we get along great, and then something happens and you just...act off. Am I that much of a burden to you? Should I just leave?"

His thoughts flashed back to the day before. The panic that had thrummed through his body at the mere thought of losing her, that same panic that had brought him out here looking for her in the first place.

"i..." He hesitated. "...think it's been a long day, angel. you're tired and homesick and still coming down from the adrenaline high from earlier. you'll feel better in the morning."

Angel just gazed at him for a long, long moment. Those purple eyes searching for something in his expression before they went lax, her face flattening.

"...You're right. You're right. I'm just..." A lump in her throat. The tears began streaking down her face, dripping off her chin. "...so tired."

"hey." His voice was soft now, softer than she'd heard it before. "...i get the feeling, bud."

Her shoulders shaking, she raised a hand and slipped it over the one he had on her shoulder just for some measure of comfort, head ducking and turning away as she quietly hiccuped. He let her hold him there, warm fingers on chilled bones as she anchored herself again in the present.

It was a good long while before she let him take her home.

...

"Hey, Sans...?"

"mhm?"

"I forgot my glasses. You're gonna have to lead me back."

[lupically]

#F40B32 | RYOMEN SUKUNA.

genre | light fluff, light angst, very faint romance undertone 

word count | 2616

warning | mention of death, mention of injury, mention of killing, decapitation 

note | i just wanted to try my hand at writing for a villain that is obviously irredeemable in a semi-realistic way.

what happens when you are irredeemable? you will fall in love anyway.

but ryomen sukuna wasn't in love with you. after all, he had killed you one too few times to claim that he was in love with you.

the first time he killed you was out of instinct. you were an intruder touching his soul the way mahito did, except you barged in without any malicious intention. he had gazed over your fallen body with mild interest then; a mere mortal, yet you emerged from thin air into his locked tight domain without dying?

the second time he killed you was a choice. he gave you not a minute to explain yourself, even though you had wasted the minute asking questions about his identity and the skull-filled area instead of giving him any valuable information about yourself. he had been fed up, he was never a man of patience, so he killed you with a wave of his hand and returned to his dull life alone on his throne.

the third time he killed you—he did not kill you. there was no third time; people liked to say the third time's charm but sukuna believed no such superstition. he killed you twice already and each time, you came back unscathed, both your body and your memories. whether he liked it or not, killing you for the third time would do neither you nor him any benefit, so he kept you alive.

you were afraid of him. he could tell, and he meant for things to be that way until he realized it served as a misfortune on his part. in order to understand this mystery—your sudden appearance into his domain, as well as your inability to leave it and his inability to kick you out—he has to gain some piece of information about you, but you were too shaken up from being murdered to talk to him at all.

sukuna's patience was reaching a breaking point and he thought about torturing it out of you, but he understood that humans are fragile, way more fragile than your typical jujutsu sorcerer. he could accidentally kill you and you would return with no scars and more unwilling to converse with him than before. then it was the waiting game all over again.

he wasn't planning on going through such a dull ordeal again, so he left you be and waited for you to calm yourself down.

the first time you talked to him, you asked him a question.

"are you going to kill me?" you asked him.

sukuna peered down at you from his throne. small, frightened, curled into a ball with no desire to touch the skeletons at his feet, but you looked up at him out of politeness.

he scoffed, displeased. "no, but i always can."

the second time you talked to him, it was to exchange a brief introduction.

"ryomen sukuna," he hummed curtly then he nudged his chin toward you. "your turn."

you shuffled up to your knees and sat down on your heels. your fingers fidgetted at your lap as you timidly peered up at his tattooed, disinterested expression.

"[full name]," you said with a nod, unable to meet his eyes. "nice–nice to meet you, sukuna-san..."

the third time you talked to him, you flinched.

"ma–may i ask you two questions... if i can...?" you asked, for the first time standing up to face him directly.

sukuna leaned away from his propped-up arm. after taking a better look at you, accessing your figure analytically despite having seen you move around slowly for days already, he shoved his hands into the sleeves of his robe and he suddenly jumped down from his throne to stand before you.

you pursed your lips nervously over his looming figure, face heating up with terrible anxiety while your eyes darted down to the watery ground. oh, his presence has been so overwhelmingly deadly that you forgot your white tennis shoes were stained red and your pastel ankle socks remained wet. you did not dare to complain, not even in your head.

"i'll allow it," he said.

"where am i?" you quickly asked.

"an innate domain," he replied.

you have questions, but you decided not to ask. you only nodded after breathing out a soft sigh to calm your nerves. this man constantly sounded condescending, he was kicking open your comfort zone without actively doing anything that would make you uncomfortable.

"okay..." you said, "thank you."

"aren't you going to ask me another question?" he stated with a raise of his brow. "you wanted to ask me two questions."

you gulped, blinking hopelessly at the air as a grimace appeared on your face. "the first question was if i can ask you two questions, and the second one is about where i am... so that makes two."

oh, a meticulously cautious one, and somewhat humorous too he would give you that. sukuna scoffed loudly, but it was less out of annoyance and more out of disbelief of your incredible dullness. however, as plain as you were, he has grown accustomed to your presence; the scent of fear that bounced off of you and the fact that he cannot kill you at will.

"you must be dying to know what this place is, are you not, you brat?" sukuna asked.

when he saw the flashes in your eyes, he knew he had you down through and through. all you were was but someone who was too afraid to say what they want, which was just as he expected from you. you wouldn't cause him trouble, you never could.

reaching his hand out of his sleeve, he stayed silent despite seeing the way you flinched with your eyes shut at his raised hand. his movement had been slow, but that was an involuntary response, an instinct that he didn't craft into you. he wondered what it was.

"you can ask me three more questions," he said as he pushed the heel of his palm against the curve of your head. he was gentle at first, then he clamped his hand down on your head as he bent his waist to meet your eyes. he laughed. "i'll allow it."

he could keep you here. he has no choice but to keep you here, and he would kill you once he realized he has the ability to. but for now, perhaps he could act a little civil, something like a human being but one that people would hate to the core.

except he was met with a little obstacle in the way, which was that you were no bad company.

the first time sukuna gained a liking toward you was when you asked him a peculiar question.

"sukuna-san," you called one time when there was only silence within the innate domain.

you sat on a bed of skulls, one that you tentatively asked the king of curses to make you so you wouldn't have to lean on the rib-cage structure and sit in water for slumber.

he denied it at first. calling you names and threatening you about ever requesting something from him—a bed in his domain? fucking atrocious. but your insomnia was killing you; you hated the blood water and your neck burned whenever you wake up having it arched at the worst angle possible.

he did not grow soft. he just made one so he didn't have to watch you sleep in his peripheral vision.

"hmm."

"why do you think curses exist?"

he raised a brow at you. "did i not teach you that before?"

"you did, sorry," you nodded, "then do you believe in god?"

"where the fuck is this coming from, you brat?"

"from where i came, god is good. but from what i am seeing, whether from where i came from or here, everything goes against that value," you muttered loudly as you pulled at your fingers. "cursed spirits harm people. if i can argue that way, i think cursed spirits are harmful within themselves."

"if god is good, and god is real, why would this happen," you said. "why should we feel negative emotions? why do we have the ability to create cursed spirits? why do curses like you exist?"

he furrowed his brows in irritation. have you reduced him to mere curses? have you reduced him to nothing but a brainless being that only takes joy in the suffering of others? no matter how he approached your words, he felt infuriated that you could minimize his importance to simply being a bad person.

he was much more than a bad person, much more than just a pain! he has ideals, he has goals and ambitions, he has wit and strength! he has anger and malevolence and power beyond which your soul could ever contain and endure! he was ryomen sukuna, the strongest curse in a thousand years and more!

he will fucking kill you.

"i'm really glad you're here, though," you finished off softly, an unknowing smile on your face as you rubbed your thumbs weakly together.

he will kill you.

"for a long time, i was told my anger and hatred aren't real. that they don't and should not exist, and i learned to bury them to the ground so they never appear on the surface again," you said, your innocent smile audible to his ears and making his chest twitch with guilt.

"cursed spirits' existence is proof that my negative emotions are real. they may be a problem, but i am not crazy for having them because they're here. they became something, they're here and alive."

he will... he will kill you.

"i just think it's unfair to put the blame on cursed spirits and cursed energy alone when the society's standard guarantees the manifestation of them," you said. "if my anger got out to the world in the form of a monster and it hurt someone, i'll forgive it. i will forgive myself."

he...

"you don't need to hear this, i wish i had your confidence, but i have to say it," you looked up and smiled at him, "i'm a little glad you're here, sukuna-san."

he will kill–he will ki–

the second time, he went stoic.

mahito was too smart for his own good. the first thing he noticed when he entered the soul within yuji's body was the way sukuna has the collar of your shirt clutched in his hand and your body pulled close to his side. it was a glance, he had one small glimpse of you both before he was kicked out of the domain.

your face was riddled with tears—crying, disappointed, and frustrated, but why? for the transfigured human whose name mahito almost forgot, or because sukuna just had one of the most sadistic outbursts you have ever witnessed.

and sukuna, the king, the lord, the almighty—didn't he look annoyed. well, not annoyed, per se. angry, mad, overwhelmed, knowing, protective. very, very, very protective; glowing eyes that glared at mahito's patched up face, fingers that gripped at your shirt so tightly he could rip the fabric apart, an aura that was ready to spit any moment if mahito so much as reach a finger toward your direction.

you meant something to ryomen sukuna. mahito realized that, so the second time he entered the innate domain, he killed you.

right before his eyes, with a cunning and triumphant smile, your neck cracked and your skin broke, and mahito tore your head off just before he was once again beat out of the domain.

sukuna tried to heal you. he tried to seal your head back to your lifeless body, time and time again pushing your decapitated head against your haphazardly cut neck. but his reverse curse technique wasn't healing you. your skin refused to piece itself back together, you refused to come back to him. time passed and he was getting mad, he was going batshit crazy trying to force himself out of this body.

bastard! bastard! bastard! he was supposed to kill you! he was supposed to be the one to kill you! he would murder that patch-faced piece of shit! he would kill mahito! and he would destroy the whole world, light it on fire and kill all that wasn't worthy of his time! he would jump universes, light-years, the bloodstream of the galaxy to find you and bring you back to him. he would—

"sukuna-san, i'm sorry i took a while! i thought you were fighting–holy shit, is that me?"

the third time, sukuna admitted to himself.

"what kind of flowers do you like, sukuna-san?" you asked, voice drowsy and your legs dangling after you climbed on one of the bones of the rib-cage structure.

"why does it matter?" he asked from his throne, eyeing you carefully.

your were a clumsy idiot. you could fall anytime.

"it doesn't, but it's flowers," you mumbled with your chin leaning against the bone, eyes threatening to close. "sukuna... sukuna..."

"what?" he snapped.

"i like lilies, the red ones," you said with a silly grin. "will you visit me when i die? sukuna... will you bring... mmm... bring red lilies..."

he looked ahead. your death; your grave, decorated with red lilies, protected and preserved with his curses. your death—he gritted his teeth. he refused to think about it. it was a waste of time.

or maybe he simply hated the idea of your death.

sukuna has not gone soft. he was irredeemable; a killer, a curse, a tragedy to descend upon mankind. he was not good and he never would be, nor did he ever have the intention to be good.

still, from you, there was proof that he could be more. what was left of his being; his anger and his torture, what was left within the gaps of his hell, the rare softness that once was there, belonged to you now.

you were the vessel that pocketed all that he could potentially become if he wasn't born to be ryomen sukuna, a version of him that you have witnessed. within you, there was proof that he did not only exist to hurt people, but also to validate madness and pain, to acknowledge passion in its murderous wakefulness. within you, there was proof that within himself, there are pieces of what it means to be human and alive.

hearing your soft breath, sukuna looked up to find you asleep with your head against the bone. your arms barely supported your weight and you were threatening to fall off as you dozed with faint snores. he stared at you, his fingers twitching, then he finally waved his hand so he could bring you away from the ribcage and to where he sat.

he paid no mind to subtlety when he set you on his lap. his hand supported your back while he kept your head pressed against his shoulder. his other arm went around your body, preventing you from falling off the throne made only for him to sit on. when he was done adjusting to the new sitting position, he relaxed.

brushing the hair away from your face, he stared down at you with disinterest, but his heart pumped and pumped for you to be warm and well, his arms tightened for you to sleep soundly.

"i will bring you all the red lilies you want," he whispered, the back of his finger gliding past your soft cheek. you did not smell like fear when you fall asleep, you did not smell like fear now even when you looked at him. "i will allow myself that."

after all, ryomen sukuna was only fond of you. very, very fond of you. 

[fruitcoops]

Night Changes

This isn't based on an ask, but I've had some early-Cap ideas brewing and think about the first time the team heard him laugh a lot. His and James' friendship is so sweet in SW--the beginning of it must have been such a shock to them both. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

So maybe James had bitten off more than he could chew. It wasn’t the first time, to be sure, but coaxing (read: drag kicking and screaming) his new teammate out of the carefully-constructed mosaic of scowls that made up his entire personality was proving to be a little more challenging than he previously expected. With most rookies, all it took was some elbow grease and overenthusiastic inclusion in group events to get them to open up—with his brand-new soon-to-be best friend, he had to handle things a little more delicately.

Sirius Black was a puzzle wrapped up in one of those freaky code-breaking machines from World War Two Lily liked to talk about. He was one of the best hockey players James had ever seen, but off the ice he seemed to shut down. The intense focus on his face smoothed out into almost perfect neutrality, and in the four months since he joined the Lions, he had never once smiled for real in front of the team. He sat in his stall and padded up in silence, then went out and kicked ass before following Pascal home like a living shadow.

Naturally, James took it as a personal mission to pry Sirius Black’s closed-off persona open like a stubborn oyster. He tried including Sirius in group events—the rookie went along with a quiet “yeah, sure”, but sat at the table and nursed a single drink for the entire night. He tried getting into friendly banter with him on the ice, but it was like Sirius had never joked with anyone in his life. Hell, he even tried finding him a girlfriend, which tanked harder than the goddamn Titanic.

“Rookie!” James shouted down the hallway.

Sirius jumped and turned around, obviously confused. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” James laughed, jogging over to toss an arm over his shoulders. “What’s up?”

“Not much.”

He waited for Sirius to continue, then rolled his eyes and gave him a friendly shake. “C’mon, man, how was your weekend? Has Dumo coerced you into being a stay-at-home babysitter yet?”

Sirius’ frown deepened. “What? I come with him to practice every day.”

Change tactics, change tactics— “Got any plans for Friday?”

James knew the answer, of course; it was always no or not yet or a simple shake of the head. If he was a less observant man, he would have assumed Sirius didn’t actually want to hang out with the team. But the longing looks toward their easy rhythm and the way he always tilted himself toward locker room conversations told a different story. “None yet,” Sirius said with a shrug.

James gave him a friendly slap on the back. “Good, ‘cause I’m having a party at my place and you’re not allowed to miss it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want you to be there, duh.” The bewilderment didn’t fade from Sirius’ face, but beneath it—well, maybe James was just seeing things, but he looked almost hopeful. He ruffled Sirius’ hair and headed for the locker room. “Friday at five, rookie! I’ll be waiting!”

--

The week passed in a slog of practices and cold weather. Sirius clammed up more and more as the party drew closer, but James didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered between the rest of them like he was analyzing a play. He would make one hell of a captain someday, if he could just relax a little.

“Hey, rookie, want a ride?” he asked when the big day finally arrived.

“Don’t you want to go home and set up first?” Sirius’ brow furrowed. For an eighteen-year-old kid, he was awfully thoughtful. James couldn’t wait to see him let loose a little. “I wouldn’t want to get in your way.”

“It’s a yes or no question,” he teased, poking the bit of exposed shoulder through the widening hole in Sirius’ under armor.

“I…” He faltered, then the corner of his mouth twitched up. It was the closest thing James had seen to a smile from him yet. One point for Potter. “Sure, Pots. Thanks.”

“No problem. Meet me at my car in five or so, yeah?”

“D’accord.”

“Oho, fancy French,” James laughed, turning back to unlace his skates.

It wasn’t until thirty seconds after Sirius left the room that he remembered he never told the rookie what his car looked like. Horrible, terrible visions of the poor guy wandering around the parking lot—or, god forbid, thinking James had left without him—flashed through his mind. It would undo everything he had been working so hard to build.

“Shit,” he hissed under his breath as he shoved his gear into his duffel with reckless abandon and hurried out of the locker room. His legs would be stiff from trying to run so soon after a grueling drill practice, but it was worth it to save his friend. “Rookie? Hey, Sirius, you still here?”

There was no response. James cursed again and made a beeline for the door to the parking lot. Please, God, don’t let him get lost. I need him to trust me.

“Oh, thank fuck,” he panted as he burst out onto the half-frozen concrete.

Sirius looked up from his phone with a strange expression. “Are you okay?”

“Thought I lost you for a sec.”

“You said to meet at your car, yes?” He glanced between James and the car in sudden worry.

“Yeah, yes, absolutely, I just—” He made an aborted gesture and dug his keys out of his pocket. “I realized I forgot to tell you which one is mine.”

Sirius blinked at him. “I know what your car looks like.”

“How?”

“Because you drive it here every single day and you gave me a ride three weeks ago.”

‘Dumbass’ went unsaid, but James could feel it hanging in the air. He coughed lightly. “Right. Anyway, you can toss your bag wherever and hop in the passenger seat. My place isn’t far from here.”

Sirius took his duffel as he unlocked the car and settled both in the trunk with more care than James’ poor, battered bag had ever seen in its life. That was another thing that confused him about Sirius Black—he was so careful. He walked quietly for someone so tall, and each movement seemed pre-planned.

Each movement, that is, until he tried to get in the car. “Uh, Pots?”

“That’s m—oh.” James covered his mouth to stifle his laughter as Sirius tried to fold himself into the passenger seat and failed miserably. “I’m sorry, my girlfriend was sitting there last. Uh, there’s a lever on your right—yeah, there, just give it a pull and—”

With a harsh ka-chunk, the seat slid all the way back. Both men froze. It took everything in James’ power not to burst out laughing at the deer-in-headlights shock on Sirius’ face.

“Yep, that one,” he managed. “Nice job.”

They drove in relative quiet—James chattered on about weekend plans and hummed to the radio while Sirius watched out the window with the occasional monosyllable response. It took James a bit by surprise how comfortable he was, even without a steady stream of banter. Sirius might have been stubborn and silent and determined to foil all James’ plans at getting him to socialize, but he was calming to be near, like an anchor on unsteady water. Despite his overall quiet air, he was obviously paying attention to every word that left James’ mouth.

“You’re a good guy, y’know that?” he said as they turned onto his street. Sirius glanced over in surprise. “Most people tune me out within, like, five minutes.”

“I’m a good listener.”

James opened his mouth to respond, then paused. “Was that—Sirius Black, was that a joke?”

Something akin to mischief—mischief!—crossed his face. “Maybe.”

“Were you roasting me?” James gaped at him. “Oh my god. The guys are never gonna believe this.”

“Probably not.”

“You sick bastard. They won’t believe me.”

“You can give it a shot,” Sirius said with a shrug as the engine turned off. Pieces began to connect in James’ head as he stared, incredulous, at the rookie he thought would never even crack a smile. Four months of work had not been wasted, as he had feared; every joke, every one-sided conversation, and every attempt to get Sirius involved had been seen and heard and taken to heart. When he thought about it, he wasn’t sure he had ever seen Sirius actively agree to something unless James asked personally.

“We’re friends,” he said aloud, too surprised and too happy to hold it in. Not friends in the way James was with the rest of their loud, over-the-top teammates, but friends all the same.

“Well, yeah,” Sirius said as if it was obvious.

James unbuckled his seatbelt and socked him lightly on the shoulder, barely suppressing a shriek of excitement. “Love you, man. Grab your shit, we’ve got a party to set up.”

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

As much as it pained James to say it, having someone around who was six-foot-three was a huge help. There was no blow to his pride as he dragged Lily’s stepstool out; no grudging acceptance that he simply couldn’t reach those last two inches on the wall. Instead, he could foist any and all responsibility on his brand-new best friend in the whole wide world and focus on the things that mattered, like putting anything breakable or important far away from the grubby hands of his inebriated teammates.

His success was still ringing in his ears when the guests finally arrived—throughout the evening, James rode the high of accomplishing his mission to pull Sirius Black into his tight-knit circle. Every minute of those four months was worth it.

Midnight came and went, and by one-thirty in the morning James’ cramped living room was packed with tipsy hockey players in a vague imitation of a circle. “Non, non, I’ve gotta good one,” Dumo said, hiccupping. The room fell quiet as he leaned forward. “What do you call a body of water with a chicken in it?”

“What?” Kasey whispered, starry-eyed like a kid at Christmas.

“A swimming pool.”

The room stayed quiet, and then someone started to laugh. Slowly, they all turned to the source of the noise, and James felt a ripple of shock roll through the team as Sirius snorted. “It’s a swimming pool,” he said around a smile, his accent thick from three drinks. He had a nice laugh; James could get used to hearing it. “Like—poule, like chicken?”

His whole face was alight with happiness. James wasn’t sure whether to cry or cheer. That’s what I’ve been waiting for, he thought. That look, right there. Sirius fit in among the group like a missing piece of their puzzle, snickering away as if he hadn’t been stoically silent a day in his life. His laugh was downright bubbly.

“I don’t think they get it,” Dumo said into the rim of his cup.

Sirius shook his head, trying to catch his breath. “D’accord, so—so ‘chicken’ in French is poule, yeah? So a chicken in a body of water is a swimming poule. Do you get it now?”

A few oh’s of understanding washed over them, but several people continued to stare. “Too drink for this,” Sergei grumbled, though James could see the smile pulling at his mouth as Sirius turned to him with bright eyes.

“But it’s funny!” Sirius protested, so earnest it made James’ heart hurt.

“I think it’s funny, rookie,” he assured him with a clumsy pat on the arm. “And it’s my house, so I say Dumo gets a point this round.”

Kasey hiccupped. “Hey, anyone who makes the rookie laugh gets points in my book. No offense, dude.”

“None taken,” Sirius said, though his cheeks were pink.

James nudged him with his shoulder as Talker started a knock-knock joke. “It’s okay,” he said under his breath.

Sirius picked at the label on his cup. “I know I haven’t been very social,” he muttered.

“It’s okay,” James insisted. “It always takes rookies a while to warm up, so we’re just glad you’re happy. I’m glad my best friend is having a good time at my party.”

A heavy silence fell between them as Sirius looked over, eyebrows raised. “Best friend?”

“What, like you didn’t see this coming?” James slung an arm over his shoulder. “Yes, you French-Canadian nerd, you’re my best friend. And that means I’m your best friend, and there’s no take-backsies.”

“What the hell is a take-backsie?” Sirius laughed. “Did you make that up?”

James grinned. He had the feeling this was the beginning of an excellent friendship.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

let me be your ruler.4

Warnings: guns, dubcon, noncon, fingering, treats.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: (dark!mob!) Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: There is no escape but it doesn’t make staying any easier.

Note: Well, I finally got around to finish the chapter I had half done but we finally get some deliciousness.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You didn’t move as the city streets flashed by. You stayed huddled against the car door; paralyzed and petrified. You couldn’t even look at the man next to you as he kept one hand on the wheel. 

You felt his gaze at every stop and his hand lingered ominously between your seats. You touched your chin where he’d pressed the muzzle; a lump lodged firmly in your throat.

He passed through the gates of his extravagant estate that loomed before you like a pale giant. The engine hushed and his door opened and closed. As he opened yours, you nearly fell out, your seatbelt loose and forgotten. He caught you and pulled up straight.

“On your feet, princess,” he lulled and slung his arm around your shoulders. “You got lots of time to get ready for dinner. I just gotta talk to my chef.” 

He led you up the steps and a man in a dark suit moved to open the door. Peter nodded at him and carried on inside. 

“Any problems, my security is always here to help…” he ushered you towards the stairs, “and I can keep an eye out myself.”

His gaze ventured above you and you turned to follow his attention. You squinted and the nearly imperceptible lens gleamed back at you. The camera was set into the wall sconce and was only obvious if one were looking for it. Your imagination stormed as you wondered how many were scattered throughout the mansion.

“Go,” he nudged you back to him, “upstairs. Our room.” He caressed your chin. “I was saving the surprise but the closet just to the left of the bed. Put on something nice.” He leaned in and pecked your lips. “I’ll expect you in about…” he drew away and checked his watch, “One hour, princess.”

Your eyes began to water as you stared back at him. You nodded and turned away slowly. You grabbed the railing and lifted your foot. You climbed in dread and at the top, you looked back to find Peter still watching you. You shivered and turned down the hallway.

You retraced the steps you’d taken the day before. The bedroom decked in black and white greeted you on the other side of the door. You shut it carefully and hesitated as you faced the room. You crossed to the glass doors that opened onto the balcony and looked out across the vast yard. You’d never felt so empty.

After a moment, you turned back and went to the closet. It was a whole other room hidden behind the bedroom. You stepped inside and looked around at the array of dark suit jackets, pressed pants, and steamed shirts. A shelf of carefully folded socks and ties over a set of six narrow drawers. A bench ran below the higher shelves with polished shoes lined up across them and you sat as brighter colours caught your eyes.

A dozen dresses in varying shades of pink, red, purple, and black, made of sequins, prints, velvets. Below, another cubby with at least six sets of heels and to the right, a glass cabinet of jewelry. You sat forward and held your head in your hands. It was some dystopian romance; twisted and terrifying.

When you found the strength to sit up, you were still trembling. The adrenaline remained as hot as ever. You closed your eyes and saw the gun, heard that awful click. You stood before you lost your will entirely. You took the black velvet dress with the tiny gems set like stars into the fabric.

You changed in silence. The dress was snug and hugged your form perfectly. You took a pair of black heels and bent to shove your toes into the pointed shoes. You stood and considered the diamond necklaces, studded cuffs, and dangling earrings. You didn’t touch any of them as you went back into the bedroom.

You swept into the bathroom and startled yourself in the mirror. You saw the fear, the desperation in your feature. Your face felt brittle. You fixed your hair as best you could. There was a finely organized kit of make-up and accessories nestled on the broad counter beside an electric razor and leather zip-up bag.

You thought of keeping your face bare. You thought of Peter and the rage in his eyes as you came out of the station. If he was disappointed, he would let you know. Appease him, that was all you could do. You reached for the mascara and blinked away your terror.

You weren’t certain of the time when you finished. You went back to the bedroom and looked out again onto the green grass. The gates were closed. A dead end. You couldn’t turn back, you couldn’t bypass it, you had to face it. There was no choice. Peter would get whatever he wanted and it would be easier if you just gave it to him.

You winced as the door opened behind you and you turned to face Peter. A smirk slowly spread across his face as he saw you and he raised a brow. He waved you to him and licked his lips.

“Gorgeous, princess,” he said, “dinner’s waiting for us.”

You tried to smile but your face was stiff and your lips quivered. As you neared him, Peter took your hand and pulled you close. He swayed you against him as he looked you in the eyes. His gaze flicked down to your mouth. He kissed you and purred.

“I don’t know if I’ll make it through dinner,” he whispered as he drew away. “you look delicious.”

You swallowed as you searched for your voice. “Thank you,” you murmured.

He winked and parted, keeping a hold on your hand as he tugged you through the door. Down the hallway and the stairs, across the foyer then through to the dining room. The lights were low and the table was set for two. You sat across from Peter and a man in all black offered you wine.

You shifted awkwardly as you waited for your glass to be poured and then Peter’s. He watched you as the man told him that dinner would be served shortly. You took the cloth napkin and spread it over your lap to keep from fidgeting.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said and you glanced at him. “the staff. Usually just a maid to keep things tidy and the chef for mealtimes. Some hired hands occasionally for the garden and the pool…” He squared his shoulders. “You’ll never have to lift a finger… well, in some contexts.”

You pressed your lips together. You were speechless. How had you gone from the certain doom of the alleyway to the luxury of this ridiculous house?

“You okay, princess?” He asked.

“I…” Your lips parts but you stopped as you heard another enter. 

You waited patiently as covered plates were set down and uncovered with some explanation of the meal you didn’t hear. The server left and you stared at the chicken breast drizzled with some fancy sauce. You raised your eyes cautiously.

“You were going to shoot me. Am I supposed to be okay?” You asked.

He laughed, a soft roll in his throat. “I’ve done a lot worse to others for less.”

“So what? I should thank you?” You gripped the edge of your seat and tried not to show how afraid you truly were.

“Princess, I’ve treated you kindly. Dressed you up, taken you out, made you cum.” He winked and looked you over vulgarly, “all I’m asking is for your loyalty.”

You picked up your fork and looked at your plate. There was no arguing; no choice. Only what he wanted.

“Fine.” You muttered.

“Look, princess, let’s not get into all this right now. Let’s enjoy our dinner,” he said, “As far I’m concerned, the slate is clean. I’ve forgiven, but I won’t forget.”

You speared a green bean and took a bite. You nodded and chewed. Whatever kept him happy, kept you alive.

✨

Your skin was covered in goosebumps as you entered the bedroom. Peter’s hand lingered on your low back and grazed your ass as he shut the door and passed you. You stood, frozen, and watched him move around. He shed his jacket and loosened his tie. His eyes found you with a glimmer.

“Ah, princess, I forgot.” He said as he pulled his tie off completely, “I’m still working on your side of the closet.” He unbuttoned his shirt casually, “You can grab one of my shirts to sleep in… unless you’d rather nothing?”

You shook your head and carefully slipped your heels off. You picked them up and went to the closet. Peter followed you inside as you replaced the shoes in their cubby. 

“Thanks,” you said quietly as you went to the row of shirts and looked them over. 

He came up behind you and ran his hands over your shoulder, sliding the straps down your arms. As they fell limp, he reached out and took a plain white shirt from the bunch. He pressed the hanger to your chest and leaned close. “That should fit you nicely.”

You took the hanger and parted from him. You felt him watching you as you shimmied out of the dress and turned your back to him. You unhooked your bra and quickly buttoned up the shirt over your panties. 

You heard his soft footsteps as he closed in on you. His fingers tickled along the hem of the shirt and delved beneath. He grabbed the side of your panties and tore them down your legs. You flinched and stepped out of them. He gathered up your clothes, one piece at a time, admiring the warmth of your body still radiating from the fabric as he did.

He left you and slowly, you crossed the closet. He dumped the heap into the hamper and turned back as he took off his shirt. He dropped it into the basket without looking and continued to undress. You lowered your head and paced listlessly around the room.

“Lay down, princess,” he said as he came around the bed, “you’ll need your sleep.”

You stopped and peeked up at him. You wordlessly approached the bed from the other side and climbed up after him. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him, pressing your head against his chest as he leaned against the plush pillows. You shivered and his hand glossed over the curve of your body.

“I already took care of Halle. As far as she’s concerned, you’re spending the night. Not a lie, is it?” He said coolly as his hand moved up and down your back, “and tomorrow, you’ll forget about your work. Call whoever you need but you won’t have time for all that. Not for a while.”

“I… can’t do that,” you breathed.

“You work from home.” He said evenly.”

“How… yeah but that doesn’t mean I don’t have deadlines.”

“Find someone else to pick up the slack. You’ll have time to do so before we arrive.” He said sternly. “You’re clever, you’ll figure it out.”

“Peter, I-- where--”

“Shhh,” he slid his arm out from under you and rolled over to shut off the lamp. He nestled against you again as he turned onto his side. “It’s taking everything I got not to keep you up all night.”

You let him embrace you and closed your eyes. You found it hard to relax as your body remained rigid and your nerves skittered through you. You let out a shaky breath and grasped for sleep. It was your only escape but it seemed just as unlikely as any other.

✨

Peter drove as you held your phone to your ear and listened to Selene rant from the other end. You rubbed your eye socket and yawned as you nodded along with her complaints. She was right, you were leaving her in the lurch and you would owe her, however your debt to the man beside you was more pressing.

“Look, I’m so sorry and I know I’m asking a lot. I promise, I’ll take care of everything else but I just need you to take the rest of my assignments for the week. Yeah, I talked to Melinda, she’s not happy either. And it’s extra pay, please?”

“This is really short notice,” Selene sighed and you heard the tapping of keys.

“Yes, it is, but so was your spring vacay and I covered you, didn’t I?” you pleaded. You felt bad for bringing up the favour but a work relationship hardly mattered against the steel hidden beneath Peter’s jacket.

“Fine, fine, I guess I owe you,” she resigned, “I’ll let Melinda know.”

“Thanks,” the line died abruptly as Selene grumbled again and you swiped away the window.

“Sorted?” Peter asked.

“Yeah,” you answered quietly and crossed your legs, leaning heavily on the door as you watched the scenery without, “I still have to get some things done myself, I can’t just drop everything.”

“You’ll find the time,” he slithered and reached over to squeeze your thigh then slipped his fingers over your phone. He took it and dropped it in the cupholder, “just relax.”

“You still not gonna tell me where we’re going?” you asked.

“You know, princess, you ask a lot of questions,” he said, “that could get you in a lot of trouble and I think we’ve had enough of that.”

You took his warning and pressed your lips together. You tickled your cheek with your fingertips as you sank into silence. He was headed upstate, you knew that much, but you didn’t know much beyond the stinking city.

You closed your eyes and stifled a yawn behind your fist. He had you up early but you hadn’t really slept at all. After the few hours you managed, you woke up to his hand under your shirt, nestled along your vee. He let you go without venturing further but promised you more by the end of the day.

He packed a bag for you from the spacious closet and as you descended, he was presented with several shopping bags from which he picked a few more pieces to add to the haul. He drove you to your apartment to grab your toiletries and allowed you your tablet for work purposes. 

You explained to Halle you were going away and she listened with envious curiosity as she watched Peter. She slipped in an “I told you so” and you withheld your bitterness. It was all her fault and you could at least be glad that you’d be away from her.

You mind lingered as you wished to be anywhere but in that car. You looked over at your keeper as he drove, his brown eyes distant as he watched the road. He didn’t wear his usual tailored suit, instead a button-up with a few buttons undone and a pair of pale slacks with some expensive loafers. A gold chain peeked out around his neck and his large gold ring caught the sunlight.

You sat back and closed your eyes. You were uncomfortable in the short lilac skirt, the flare of it had it slipping up often. Your top was pure white and nearly see-through over the bubblegum coloured bra. It wasn’t your style but Peter had been meticulous in his selection. The chunky heels were better suited to someone at least a decade older but he insisted they suited the look. 

You wrinkled your forehead as you pondered on his eye for detail; likely he only went for what showed the most skin. You hated that. Even when you were a care-free co-ed, you never had the courage to flaunt your thighs so openly. You planted an elbow against the door and the seat belt strained across you.

“Tired?” he asked above the low hum of the radio, “I think a nice glass of wine will help when we get there.”

“Just a little,” you murmured and stayed as you were. He had to keep reminding you he was there, that you were trapped with him.

“Another hour,” he said, “then we can settle in and relax.”

You nodded and his hand trailed along the hem of your skirt again. He squeezed your leg and growled. His hand remained even as you shifted and he pulled your legs down from over the other. His fingertips tapped along your inner thigh and traced circles along your skin. You trembled and he chuckled.

“I know, I know,” he said, “I’m having a hard time waiting too.”

✨

The beach house stood above the shoreline, a short deck stretched over the water and a balcony opened up to a sparkling pool at the rear. It was unlike anywhere you’d ever been before, even that cottage you’d stayed at for your sister’s bachelorette. It was the type of lifestyle porn you saw in magazines or in those reality shows about wealthy old wasps.

Just like his house near the city, there was a staff ready and willing to tend to your every desire. You wanted little but that you knew you couldn’t have. Peter kept his arm around you as he showed you around the exorbitant interior and ended the tour in the bedroom. Your bags were already waiting on the bed.

“How about a swim?” he said as he unzipped the Louis Vuitton duffle and pulled out a red one piece and laid it out on the mattress, “I’ve been waiting to see this on you.”

You reluctantly neared and flipped it over. There was no ass, only a thin strip that would have your skin burning with embarrassment. You picked it up by the thong and squinted.

“You don’t have anything… with a bit more fabric?”

“You’ve got a nice ass, you should show it off,” he purred as he pulled you to him and stretched his fingers across your skirt, “princess, I like a little… bite but I thought we came to an understanding.”

You gulped as you stared into his eyes. The naturally warm brown had turned dark and foreboding. His jaw squared as he held you against him.

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds and all that,” he lowered his voice and his breath tickled your lips just as he drew you in for a hungry kiss, “let’s not have this conversation again.”

He parted and left you to stare at the red bathing suit. He rolled his shoulders as he went to the door, “I’ll meet you by the pool, I gotta make sure everything’s running smoothly.”

“Sure,” you muttered and lowered your chin.

He left and closed the door lightly. You undressed and laid out the disposed clothing on the bed. You shimmied into the scanty bathing suit. You felt almost naked as there was almost no back at all and the high vee threatened to show more than you wanted. You checked yourself in the slatted mirrors that hung along the wall and cringed. He would be able to see everything you tried to hide.

You took a towel from inside the attached bathroom and wrapped it around you. You ventured out through the hallways and found your way to the sliding doors that opened onto the mosaic patio. You inched over to one of the sunbathers and sat on the edge as you picked at the top of the towel.

You flinched as a shadow appeared in the open door. A man in a pale blue shirt and white cotton slacks greeted you with a tall cocktail with fruit bubbling from the bottom.

“Miss,” he set it down on the table, “compliments of Mr. Parker, he would like me to inform you he will be out shortly.”

“Thank you,” you said awkwardly and gave a weak smile.

The man left and you reached for the glass. You smelled the sweet alcohol and sipped. It made your cheek twitch and you stirred the concoction with the little plastic stick that twisted at the top.

“Princess,” Peter’s voice startled you and you looked up. You set aside the drink as he strode through the door, a silky black robe hung open over tight swimming briefs.

His stomach was tightly muscled and as he shed the extra layer, his arms were thick but wiry. He was in good shape, much better shape than you, and you tried not to stare so obviously as he tossed the robe over another chair and turned to you.

“So, you just gonna watch the water or… you gonna have some fun?” 

He neared and took your hand. He pulled you up and tugged the towel down so that it fell to your feet. He eyed you as he backed away and took you with him, turning you to check out the back. He slapped your as and laughed as you squeaked and reached back to shoo him away.

“Please,” you turned to face him, “it’s a bit…” you looked down at yourself, “it’s not much.”

“I’d rather nothing but the staff is still here,” he clung to your wrist and urged you towards the pool, “maybe later.”

You followed him down the curved steps that led under the water if only to hide your bareness beneath the surface. He guided you deeper and spun you against the wall of the pool. The tile was cool as the water swayed around you. He kept you trapped against him and brushed your nose with his.

“You really do look amazing, princess,” his hand dipped under the water and he felt along the vee of the suit, “last night…” he exhaled and pecked your lips, “it was so hard to… I was so hard.”

“Peter,” you pressed your palms to his chest.

“I wanted to wait but seeing you like this,” his fingers slid under the suit, “I can’t…”

He shoved his hand under the fabric and cupped your cunt. He held two fingers against your cunt and swirled them. You gasped and clawed at his chest. His eyes were smoky and his touch determined. He kissed you again, this time longer as his fingers slickened along your folds.

He pushed his legs between your and spread them wide as he pushed along your entrance. You clenched as he poked around and slid his finger into you. You pulled back and bit your lip. He bent his head and his mouth explored throat. You trembled and whispered a soft, ‘please…’ but he either didn’t hear you or didn’t care.

He slipped in another finger and kept his thumb firm against your clit. The swimsuit crumpled to one side and he rocked his hand as he grinded against your body. He nibbled the flesh along your neck and purred as you tensed around him.

“Princess,” he murmured and nipped at you, “you’re perfect.”

He curled his fingers and squeezed, the pressure building between his thumb and his index. He pushed the heel of his hand against your bud as he lifted you off the pool floor. He sped up as quiet mewls flew from your lips. As much as you didn’t want it, you couldn’t stop him and your will to resist dwindled as he plucked at your core.

Your hands crawled up over his shoulders and you gripped him tightly as you felt an orgasm blooming. You bent your legs and arched your feet as your eyes rolled back and you pushed your head back into the tile. His deep groans made you quiver and as the water moved vigorously between your bodies, the tension snapped.

You cried out as you came and your walls rippled around him. He tickled your neck with his nose as he eased you through the afterglow and you winced as he lingered in your cunt. He lifted his head and slowly slipped his fingers out of you, dragging them over your clit.

He grabbed the back of your head and kissed you, shoving his tongue into your mouth roughly. The sloppy noises set you alight as he pressed against you and his other hand crept along his bottoms. He wiggled as he pushed down the elastic and you felt his warm tip poke against you. 

You moaned into his mouth as he lifted you higher and his tip glided along your wet folds. You went rigid and tried to turn your head away. He grasped your chin and eased you down onto him. He growled into your mouth as he sank into you. Your lashes fluttered, your eyes damp as you were all too aware of your body’s betrayal.

“Oh, princess,” he dragged his lips over your cheek, “you’re so precious.”

He began to move against you, slowly as the water rippled with each tilt of his hips. His breaths were long and ragged. Your chest burned as your heart pattered and he pulled down the straps of your swimsuit and freed your arms. He bent to bite at the top of your breasts as he played with your nipple.

You whimpered as his pelvis rubbed against your clit and the flames licked at your thighs. Your arms fell over him as you hugged his head desperately and his motion grew more frantic. His breaths turned shallow and humid against your chest and he lifted his head again to kiss along your chin and throat.

“See how good I can be to you,” he hummed, “all you have to do is be good, princess. So good.”

He fucked you until you were witless and wild-eyed. Another climax crashed down over you but he gave you little time to recover as he kept writhing against you. You reached back and gripped the edge of the pool and he took a step back, holding you at an angle from the wall as he pounded into you, the water stirring around you.

He stared down at the water and watched how he slid in and out of you. He snarled and sped up as he covered your clit with his thumb. You moaned, a steady drone as he forced another orgasm from you and shivered as you clenched around him.

He bared his teeth and gritted them as his eyes roved up your body and clung to your dazed face. He didn’t look away as the muscles in his neck tensed and he grunted through his own climax. He growled as he emptied himself into you, a warm deluge amidst the cool water.

He pulled you down onto him entirely as he drew you away from the wall. He threw your arms over his shoulders and hugged you against him as he carried you through the pool. You felt fuzzy and fiery as he stayed inside of you and spun slowly. His breaths steadied and he cradled your face as he jerked his hips. He smirked as you gasped and your walls twitched.

“You understand now?” he rasped, “what I can do for you, princess?”

Your head lolled and you nodded dumbly. You hunched forward and rested your head on your arm as it hung over his shoulder. His hands ran up and down your back and he nuzzled your hair.

He walked you back into the wall. He thrust and slapped his hand against the tile and you felt him growing hard again, “I can make you my queen.”

[13uswntimagines]

Her Mess (Christen x Reader)

Request: Christen x reader where reader is younger and in college and reader meets the team

It was safe to say that you had always been a bit of a mess. You would argue that you were an organized mess, but Christen would disagree. If the gay mess you turned into the first time Mal had ever introduced you to her was anything to go off of. Yes, you were a mess, but you were her mess, and she took great joy in helping to keep you on track. 

From the very beginning, she had helped you with your schedule. Made sure you ate and gave yourself time for studying and soccer. She never overstepped, she was your girlfriend not your mother after all, but she was definitely the organized one in your relationship. 

It was why the prospect of traveling without her was incredibly daunting. She was already at camp with the rest of the national team (who you would be meeting for the first time) and you would be meeting them there with Mal after the two of you finished finals. To say you were nervous was an understatement. It was your first call up, and though your girlfriend and best friend had assured you it would be fine, you weren’t so sure. You had quadruple checked the list of things Christen and you had made, but even as you left the plane you were sure you had left something important. You were going to meet the team and you didn’t know if you were supposed to be meeting Christen too, or if you two were going, to be honest. 

You sighed, running your hand through your messy hair, before slipping your beanie back on. Your knee jumped up and down impatiently, and you bit your lip. You didn’t like waiting. Why did this car ride have to be so long?

“Do I need to call Mama Press or are you going to chill out on your own?” Mal said finally, her hand coming down to still your leg. You grinned sheepishly at her. 

“I just-... What if they don’t like me, and what if they’re weirded out by the age difference?” You rambled, your fingers tapping on the car window. 

“You’re like the funniest person I know. The team is going to love you! And I’ll be honest, It was a little weird at first for the person who was like my sister to be dating someone who was basically my mom. But after watching you two together, it’s obvious that you were made for each other,” Mal said softly, her hand running soothing circles on your thigh. You frowned. 

“What if she doesn’t want to tell them that she’s dating me because she’s ashamed of the age difference?” You asked softly, staring intently at your lap. Sure, Mal was cool with the age difference now, and so we’re your parents, but you knew that there were a lot of people out there who weren’t. Plus Christen was the Christen Press, and you were just a disorganized rookie. 

Gentle fingers tilted your chin up, and your Y/e/c met Mal’s brown.“Christen is a lot of things. I don’t think ashamed is one of them,” 

You nodded, returning your attention to the city passing by. You loved Christen, and you hoped that Mal was right. 

******

Most people would hate getting off a plane and stepping directly into practice, but you were grateful for it. The field was your happy place, a place you didn’t have to think about all the what-ifs. A place where you could simply showcase your skills. 

By the time you and Mal made it to the locker room, it was nearly empty. (Barring your girlfriend, who had stayed back to give you a tight hug and kiss, and Tobin who just sent you a small smile). 

“You ready for this cutie?” Your girlfriend asked, settling down on the bench beside you, nudging you with her shoulder, and placing a kiss on your pink cheeks. 

You stuck your tongue out at Mal who made a gagging sound. 

“I think so,” You shrugged, rooting through your bag to find the last items of your gear, things you were sure you had put in this morning. Your eyebrows furrowed as you shoved your shin guards aside in search of your socks. 

“Is it true you have the sprint record for UCLA?” Tobin nudged your other side. You nodded, not taking your eyes off of the contents of your bag. Had you been paying more attention, you probably would have freaked out that the Tobin Heath knew who you were. 

“Don’t forget the juggling record either,” Mal added, smiling. You had quite the reputation for putting defenders on their asses, and it was going to be entertaining watching you work your magic with the national team. 

“Damn,” Tobin mumbled wide eyes. She was going to have to call dibs on you for the scrimmage. You barely spared her a glance, groaning as you continued to dig for an item you were beginning to fear wasn’t in your bag. You took a deep breath, trying not to panic. Of course you had forgotten something important on your first camp with the national team.

Christen rubbed your back, her head tilting to the side as you ignored one of your heroes (your hero being her best friend was something she found immensely entertaining), her hand coming up to rub your back. “What are you looking for my darling,” 

“I forgot my socks,” you huffed, shoving your bag to the floor pouting. Christen’s lips ticked up slightly as she leaned in to kiss your pink cheeks. 

“That’s alright. I have an extra pair for you in my bag,” 

Your blush deepened as you took the extra pair, slipping them on your feet. You nodded in thanks, she simply winked in return. She knew you’d forget something. You always did. 

******

Meeting the team was an… experience. Kelley had immediately jumped on top of you, squealing about a new baby to corrupt before she was pulled off by Alex. Ashlyn and Ali had argued with Becky and Alyssa about who was going to be your team moms. The youngins had bombarded you with so many questions that it felt like your head was spinning. But through it, all Christen’s hand remained firmly in yours. 

Standing in line, waiting for the forward vs defender drill to begin was a surreal experience for you. You watched with a keen eye as Mal went first and nearly navigated the ball past Becky. You kissed Christen’s cheek before she went and cleanly got past Kelley. Tobin took the next spot, pulling a clean nutmeg off on Abby. You were going to have to one-up her. 

You took a deep breath, trying to settle your nerves, waiting to see which defender you would be up against. 

“You good kid?” Megan asked, bumping your shoulder with her. You blinked, fighting the urge to squeal that The Megan Rapino was talking to you. 

“Hm, excited!” You smiled, biting your lip as Sonnett took her place at the front of her line. Sonnett was good, but you were better and your desire to make a good first impression meant that you were really going to have to put on a show. There would be no better partner for the dance you had planned. 

“Think you can best Sonnett?” Carli smirked, tapping you the ball. 

“Definitely. Cant let a Cavalier get one over on me,” You winked, beginning to juggle the ball. Yeah, this was going to be fun. 

******

“Holy shit, how are you so fast,” Emily panted, catching up to you after you’d made another shot at an unsuspecting Alyssa Naeher. It speared just past her fingertips, making the goal rattle as it made contact with the net. 

“I ate lots of fudge striped cookies when I was younger,” You nodded, wiping the sweat from your forehead and heading towards the sidelines for your water break. From the time you were little you had believed wholeheartedly that the cookies made you run faster. 

“Fudge stripped what?” Emily asked, her eyebrows furrowing beside you. 

“Made by the Keebler elves. They’re magic,” You shrugged, glancing around for the greenbottle with your name on it, entirely unaware of the odd looks the team was giving you and the loving smile your girlfriend was sporting. “Where did I put my bottle?” 

“It’s over-“ Mal started, only to be cut off by Christen’s elbow being lodged in her ribs. 

“Take mine babe,” She laughed, passing you her bottle. You nodded in thanks, squirting the liquid into your mouth. What would you do without her? Mal smirked over your head at the green-eyed forward. Maybe part of your forgetfulness was her love of coming to your rescue. 

“Sick ball skills Ducky,” Tobin clapped you in the back. 

“Thanks!” You squeaked, the stream of water missing your mouth and spraying Christen in the chest. “Oops,” You giggled. 

“If you want me to kiss you, you did it have to get me all wet, you could just ask,” She winked and you felt heat wash over your cheeks, all your previous confidence evaporating. 

 Mal covered her ears and shook her head fast. “Please don’t answer that with the comeback you’re thinking of,”. You smirked, shaking your head. You wouldn’t force her to bear her best friend and her team mom flirting. 

“Hmm, I love your kisses,” 

Christen giggled, wrapping her arms around your waist, and pulling you into a quick kiss. You pulled away when the team wolf-whistled, burying your face in your girlfriend's chest. 

“Told you she wasn’t embarrassed,” Mal said, patting your back. 

“Yeah, how could she when you put everyone on their ass,” Sonnett cackled. Your groan was muffled by your girlfriend's soft skin. Her fingers found their way under your chin, coaxing you out of your favorite hiding place. You Y/e/c eyes met her green ones. 

“You thought I was embarrassed?” She asked softly, and you gave her a slight nod. How couldn’t she be? She was the Christen Press and you were just a bumbling college student who would lose her head if it wasn’t attached to her body. 

“You’re you, and you have everything together, and I’m me and I forget everything,” You mumbled, shrugging. 

“Well, I love you, even when you forget stuff. Plus, You look really cute in my clothes,” She kissed your nose and your cheeks before landing on your lips. You smiled into the kiss, enjoying the way her soft lips felt against yours. 

It didn’t matter that you were younger. You would prove yourself to be an asset to the team and Christen loved you. 

“Did they forget we’re here?” Emily’s whisper read followed by a slapping sound and Lindsey’s voice. 

“Way to ruin a moment Sonnett,” 

Yes. You were a mess, but you were Christen’s mess and you’d fit right in. 

[starcrossedkaiju]

Kingslayer AU: Chapter Four

I would say this is where the plot really kicks up. Especially next chapter.

\\ Warnings: blood, violence, guns //

Home was quiet under the overcast winter sky. A blanket of snow covered everything in sight. Scott shoved his hands in his pockets and shivered away the chill creeping down his back. It was beginning to snow more heavily as the evening set in on the server.

Winter never faired well with him, it made his hands and knees weak, and stuck him with a near constant headache. Most ailments rendered him bedridden if it was cold enough outside. He hoped he wouldn’t get sick.

Jimmy had hurried them into Scott’s home quickly after entering the walls. It wasn’t really Scott’s anymore as both of them had been sharing the space for quite a while. There was evidence of each of them strewn about.

It could do with some cleaning but the clutter made it feel more natural.

Safer, perhaps.

Scott took his shoes and jacket off. He left them near the door so no muck would get tracked into the house. It was cold inside from a week of being neglected, not a lamp had been left on after he went to see the Sand People.

One glance at his bed proved to be the nail in the coffin. He climbed into the loft and lay down, his head hit the pillow and he was out.

*****

Water trickled across the ceiling. It dropped down and landed on Scott’s cheek. Plunk Plunk Plunk.

Scott blinked into awareness and looked for the source of his awakening, only to find that it was completely dark. Panic surged through him and he sat up quickly only to hit his head on a hard surface. His hands flew out in surprise and hit two stone walls.

“What,” he breathed.

The floor beneath him was damp from perpetual rain seeping into the cell.

“No,” he whispered repeatedly.

The darkness was suffocating this time, he couldn’t calm down, he knew he’d run out of air eventually. Maybe the lack of oxygen was finally making him go crazy, imagining the walls were getting closer and closer. Scott pushed himself up against the corner and hugged his knees to his chest.

The water that woke him up seemed to flow more like a waterfall now. It hit the jagged floor and slowly approached the corner Scott had decided to glue himself to, but it didn’t stop. The water only grew deeper and deeper. He was too tired to even care. Death seemed like a more peaceful option then trying to escape.

He would drown in his tomb alone, and they would get away with it.

*****

Scott’s eyes flew open. This time not to a completely dark stone tomb, but a softly moonlit bedroom. His bedroom.

A weight from behind him made itself known.

Jimmy must have gotten into bed with him earlier that night. The covers were pulled over both of them.

Scott turned around and leaned into his sleeping husband’s arms, taking a few moments to assure himself of his surroundings; and that he was safe at home.

Sensing that his night of sleep had been cut short, Scott meticulously unwrapped himself from Jimmy’s arms and replaced himself with a pillow.

His socks masked most of the noise he made as he exited the room and partially closed the door behind him. It was deathly silent when he unhooked his coat (the one he didn’t ruin) from its place on the wall, equipped his boots, and slipped outside.

The contrast of warmth from inside to outside made Scott’s eyes water. His hands were safe inside his mittens when he brushed some snow off his front steps and sat down.

It was a bit windy outside, breeze funneled through the valley and into the Hobbit town. It bounced off the hills and dissipated into the air. Scott wished he’d brought his telescope so he could admire the sky, which was clear at the moment. A lonely band of the Milky Way sliced across the cosmos to the west.

Stargazing always filled him with a feeling of yearning. He couldn’t remember why, or even when it had started, but ever since he found himself on this server with borders and rules he felt out of place. Not just in the way he looked, but being grounded for so long. Scott had trouble understanding the ways of this world. It was obvious that he didn’t quite fit.

The snow had died down since they arrived hours earlier, nobody had cleared it for a while so it was near shin deep. Every inch of the landscape was buried, including the entrance to their enchanting room, and all the flowers that would typically adorn the forest floor.

Something was wrong.

Scott couldn’t put his finger on it. Coming to alertness, he scanned the scenery like a hawk until he saw it.

Footprints.

Fresh. Footprints.

Directly in front of his home, they came right up to the first step and no further. There was multiple sets fanning out across the lawn area. He could see all three sets from his perch.

Scott froze with fear. Someone had paid a visit in the middle of the night while they were asleep. He wondered why, but he knew.

He was about to get up and lock himself inside when he felt something step on the creaking stairs right behind him. Scott’s eyes flicked to the side for a split second before he instinctively stood up and attempted to flee down the remaining steps, but he didn’t make it.

A hand instantly wrapped around his forearm and wrenched him backwards, he fell into an armored torso. A gloved hand clapped over his mouth, and an arm snaked under his own to render them paralyzed.

“It would be in your best interest not to scream Major,” a terrible Scottish accent made itself known. Scott nearly rolled his eyes.

Of course, this dramatic fool had to come and ruin his night. One thing was for certain, he was not getting kidnapped again.

A sharp object poked at his ribs.

“Just a precaution,” someone said in a falsely apologetic tone. No doubt it was Skizzle.

That meant that he was being immobilized by Martyn. He should have known really, that man followed the Red King anywhere. Upon the ladder’s orders, he escorted Scott down the steps and across the snow stricken grounds, just next to Jimmy’s “house” that they’d mainly been using as storage for the odds and ends that didn’t fit in Scott’s place.

The hand was removed from his jaw and he jolted his head away with a mirthful expression. He fixed his eyes directly where he assumed Ren’s were beneath his sunglasses; which he was wearing in the dead of night. Asshole.

Skizzle stood next to Ren with an imposing posture, as Martyn had a free hand to hold his own weapon with. The weapon being an enchanted diamond axe which he held with a sort of pride.

“You know,” Ren began, “I must give it to you Major, that escape you pulled off was impressive,” he spoke in an unbothered manner and ground his foot upon a rock somewhere under the snow.

“Why are you doing this, Ren?” Scott cut to the chase. He was uninterested in games.

“You aren’t even a red lifer. You can’t kill me,” he added.

Ren scoffed. He adjusted his glasses, “and who exactly is policing that rule?” he said with a knowing quirk of an eyebrow.

“Grian?”a beat passed, “you?!” he began to laugh to himself. Skizzle and Martyn joined in momentarily.

“More green lifers have killed people than red at this stage, so don’t get on me about that,” he said.

“These are my walls,” Scott pointed out.

“That’s funny, you didn’t seem to have much respect for our walls earlier did you,” Martyn said close to Scott’s ear. He pulled away.

“Can I at least be let in on why you’re picking on me of all people?” Scott asked with no enthusiasm.

“Don’t tell me you went on and forgot that Timmy dearest is responsible for the deaths of myself and Skizzle,” Ren shot back, leaning into the other’s personal space.

Everyone looked between each other, “among other things,” Ren added.

Skiz nodded in agreement and sent a meaningful glare towards Scott’s house, where a dim light was on in the bedroom.

Scott’s mouth hung open in rueful shock, “that’s what all this is about? It was an accident,” he shouted. Which earned him a light punch in the side.

“Be quiet,” Martyn warned.

“You know he didn’t mean it! He was sorry and you know it. The only reason you’re even here right now is because it was an accident. Don’t do this to him,” Scott half pleaded but he was more angry.

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot. You’re buddy buddy with the people who want to kill us too. Hmm, maybe you are familiar with the term ‘covering our bases’?” Ren added.

“This isn’t all about your perfect little life Major,” Ren dropped the accent and took Scott by the front of his jacket.

“Things are going to change around here for all of us, and it starts with your Timmy paying his dues,” he said.

Scott’s face pulled into a scowl. He thrust his head forward vigorously, the plastic CRACK of Ren’s sunglasses on impact split through his ears as he saw the “Red” King stagger backwards.

Before his goons could decide their next moves Scott lifted his foot up behind him quickly, glad he’d decided to wear his heavier boots on a whim as they collided with an unfortunate set of unmentionables.

The owner of the unmentionables keeled over. He all but threw the axe out of his hands, which Scott graciously took for himself. He tore himself free and swung around, bringing the back of the axe down on Martyn’s bowed head. Purposefully omitting the sharpened blade from the equation.

Skull met stick with a loud THWACK; and Martyn’s body went limp. The Hand fell on his side into the snow with a muffled thump.

Scott admired his work for a moment and considered it even for the lingering purple bruise still on the side of his own face.

There was no time to waste though, he turned back to the remaining members of Dogwarts with a new feeling of control.

Ren’s face was still buried in his hands. No doubt sporting a wicked nosebleed from being head-butted. His glasses were nowhere to be found. Somewhere in the deep snow.

Scott’s attention turned to Skiz now. Who was in battle position.

It was not a fair fight by any means. The Red Army was decked out in their signature crimson dyed armor (not great for sneaking around but they weren’t much into that) and their iconic shields which Scott thought were a bit ugly.

Nobody was immune to quick thinking though. Even with all that armor, a man can’t be immune to a kick in the nuts.

Skizzle made the first move. He pushed off his heel and swung his sword vertically in Scott’s direction. The ladder, shieldless, jumped out of the way. Skizzle regained his composure and ran after him like a blood sniffing shark. Scott ran away from him in as dead a sprint that can be achieved in knee deep snow, letting his pursuer gain some momentum before he sharply turned around and plunged his axe blade into the thick wood of Skiz’s shield.

The aforementioned momentum caused Skiz to keep moving while his Sheild was ripped from his arm attached to the sharp blade of Scott’s (new) shiny axe. Both of them fell over in the snow.

Wanting to get the jump, Scott staggered to his feet and sat on top of Skizzle to keep him on the ground. They pushed back and forth with their respective blades until Scott was thrown off the other, who immediately slashed his sword at him but missed by a hair.

Scott rolled away clumsily with the shield on his arm and used the handle of his axe to stand up just in time for another barrage of slashes that audibly cut through the air. Scott blocked them with his shield and with the hilt of his axe, managing to repel his opponent for enough time to get his share of hits.

“You’re using the wrong side of the axe, man!” Skizzle pointed out after being beat a few times with the non-lethal side of Scott’s weapon, which he was using his armored forearms to fend off.

“Would you rather me use the other?” Scott replied.

They went back and forth in a struggle to gain control of their respective fights, of which had seen them travel to the corner of the Hobbits’ walls where two hills flattened out and created an amphitheater with a perfect stage in the center.

The metallic clashing of weapons filled the area, Skizzle managed to wrap Scott in a chokehold, the shield had been thrown to the sidelines amongst the struggle, with a blade growing ever nearer to his throat. Scott held off the oncoming sword by brute strength alone, his hand braced against his opponent’s forearm and shook with the effort.

“This is it for you,” Skizzle strained, “no more games,” he said.

Scott answered with a war cry. He knocked the other’s chest with his elbow and threw both of them forwards a bit, just enough to wriggle free and get away from the blade. While Skiz wasn’t guarding his midsection, Scott jabbed the handle of his weapon into the space between Skiz’s chest plate and armored leggings.

A breathless cough was all that came from the man behind him, followed by a drawn out whine, then a satisfying thud and the clunking of armor as it fell into the snow.

There was no place to celebrate his victory however, when a very angry, bloody nosed king strode up to the crime scene. Ren’s expression told Scott that he wasn’t a fun target to play with anymore. Tougher than he looked, perhaps.

The leader of Dogwarts trudged menacingly up to Scott, who made to raise his weapon but instead was greeted by a fist in his face. The force threw him to the ground, where Ren’s heavy red boot descended upon his chest. A blade sliced into the hard ground next to Scott’s ear. His axe was yanked from his hands and thrown somewhere behind them by Ren.

“Alright Major. Perhaps I underestimated your capabilities,” Ren practically spat, “It’s a shame really. You would have been such an attractive addition to the Red Army,” he said with a mocking sadness.

“That was supposed to be your sales pitch?” Scott strained.

Scott could feel rivulets of blood flowing down his face from his nostrils, it seeped into his mouth and tasted like he’d eaten iron shavings. His hands were clasped around Ren’s ankle and foot, trying to alleviate the stress that was on his rib cage. He liked being able to breathe after all.

“You’ve clearly proven too much for my army to handle,” Ren jerked Scott by the front of his shirt, as if he was the one to blame for his army’s failure.

“But I digress. I guess I’ll kill you now,” the Red King smiled down at him with a devious grin, and shoved him harshly to the ground.

Scott could see that his eyes were a striking yellow, set back in his head a bit so that they were perpetually shadowed by his eye sockets. Strands of white and brown hair fell around his face, and his right ear twitched upon his head.

His vision was swimming dangerously close to blacking out as Ren hoisted his weapon, a glimmering diamond axe with a gold accented handle, above his head. Scott shut his eyes and prepared for the cold hard inevitable when a loud POP ricocheted off the amphitheater walls. Followed by a dull plunk.

The axe fell from Ren’s hands like it was knocked away. He jumped like he’d been startled. His eyes were blown wide, and Scott thought he might look scared.

Ren raised a shaky hand to his right shoulder, turning it a bit so he could see, he gently touched the surface of his arm. His fingertips came back covered in a layer of blood.

He began to slowly turn around, Scott sat up on his elbow to follow his line of sight.

Standing in the entrance to the amphitheater, in the snow that had been disturbed by the previous altercation, was a furious looking Jimmy.

His hunting rifle was still raised and aimed at the Red King, smoke poured from the barrel and floated into the frigid air.

Ren stood up and faced Jimmy, an out of place smile gracing his countenance.

“Well! Looks like we have a full party now, I was wondering when the special guest was going to show up,” he teased.

“Your little friend here put up quite the fight,” Ren took Scott by the back of his hood and lifted him out of the obfuscating layer of snow.

“You just don’t stop talking do you,” Jimmy said sternly. He didn’t move an inch, and his finger was poised on the trigger of his father’s old gun.

Ren had stopped talking. He resorted to staring down his nose at the other man.

“Get out of my walls, Ren,” Jimmy demanded.

“Now hold on dude, we’re not finished here,” Ren prefaced.

“No, I think we are done here!” Jimmy raised his voice.

“You’re going put him down right now,” he ordered, “take your men, and leave my home,” Jimmy yelled.

“Or what?” Ren asked, although it was more of a last ditch effort than a promise of more to come.

“Or I aim for your head next time,” Jimmy deadpanned.

Ren chewed his bottom lip pensively, seeming to consider his options before rendering himself rightfully defeated. He nodded curtly, and tossed the battered Scott at Jimmy’s feet. He strode over to Skizzle and kicked him encouragingly in the side, gathering him up and then going to retrieve Martyn, whom he had Skizzle sling over his shoulder.

The Red Musketeers vacated the Hobbit’s walls, going through the door they broke down on the way in. Jimmy kept his rifle trained on them until he was sure they weren’t coming back. Then he turned back to Scott, shakily flipping the safety of the rifle back on.

“Scott,” Jimmy called out, “hey, can you hear me?” it was too familiar.

“I’m fine,” Scott assured; but his husband wasn’t having it. He took the other’s face in his hands gently and assessed the damage.

“I think you have a concussion,” Jimmy observed.

“I think I could have used your help a bit earlier,” Scott joked, but Jimmy didn’t smile, “I mean I knew you were a heavy sleeper but this is ridiculous”, he added.

Jimmy helped him up and he wobbled a bit before taking in the scene he’d made. A clear path of action stretched from the front door of Jimmy’s house to the Western Wall where the amphitheater was. Some of the snow was red with blood.

Jimmy took Scott’s arm and pulled him into a half embrace, “let’s go back inside. You’re freezing,” he whispered.

“Wait,” Scott said.

He started sifting through the snow, eventually pulling out the axe he’d stolen from Martyn. Ren had retrieved his and Skiz’s weapons before leaving. He held it up and flipped it over in his hands a few times gleefully. Then, he trudged over to Jimmy’s front door and found Ren’s discarded shades under some red stained snow. The right lens was cracked down the middle, hairline fractures branched off of it.

He held the sunglasses up for Jimmy to see with a proud grin, waving them around in the air.

“How’d you manage that?” Jimmy asked, dumbfounded.

“I went like BAP!” Scott articulated as he pretended to head butt Jimmy to demonstrate, “and they must have come right off! Look at that, a perfect trophy,” he bragged.

“You know, I didn’t question why he wasn’t wearing them because I didn’t think that even he was enough of a dick to wear sunglasses in the dead of night,” Jimmy said.

“Now, inside,” he pointed to the door.

[janetbrown711]

“   it’s  okay ,   i’m  here .   i’ll  always  be  here .   ” Wakko yakko dot

Wakko wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this. 

He was barely holding on as it was, always trying to keep on a happy face for his sibs, make them believe everything was okay. Dot was a lot easier to trick than Yakko, but even he could be swayed with very little effort. After all, it was very clear that their parents were never going to come back...

It had been almost a year. Wakko still missed them every day. He missed their protection... Yakko was trying, that was true, but even he could get distracted. Sometimes he’d be studying off in the library when Wakko needed food, so he’d have to figure it out on his own because God knows he couldn’t ask his grandmother for anything. Wakko figured it out for the most part, but it was easy to say he missed quite a few meals over the years because of fear of disturbing Her. 

Wakko knew she placed his room by hers for the specific purpose of making his life a living hell without his sibs. After all, she hated him. The only reason she’d want to be near is if she wanted to keep an eye out, or if she wanted to hurt him somehow. Well- she succeeded on that end anyway, though perhaps the better word was torture. 

Sure, sometimes Wakko could manage to sneak past if he crawled on his hands and knees and put socks on his feet and hands, but he was filled with anxiety that simply wouldn’t leave him the whole time. He was terrified of getting his sibs in danger- a trait he knew he shared with both of them. 

They were all putting on a happy face, he supposed. 

He couldn’t say it was all bad... he was getting better at reading. Dot read easy stuff which helped him boost his confidence, while Yakko read more difficult stuff to make sure he was actually learning, which- while Wakko kinda hated it- he couldn’t deny worked. He was getting better- he was actually learning things, which felt nice. 

Though they had had a few close calls here and there...

Wakko wasn’t sure what would happen if they got caught, but he was pretty sure they’d get into serious trouble. For whatever reason, Angelina really hated the fact Wakko was stupid but hated him trying to better himself even more. It was like she wanted a bug under her shoe to squish just for fun... the thought made Wakko shudder. 

So... the year had its good moments, but... a year had really taken it’s tole. The only major good part was that Angelina stopped wearing that stupid veil and pretended to be grieving. Now you knew what she was thinking and saying, which... well... good and bad. 

Good and bad. 

“What’s this word, Wakko?” Yakko asked, pointing to a particularly long one on the page in front of Wakko. He frowned at it. 

“I dunno,” he shrugged. 

“You’re a smart kid, sound it out,” Yakko said. Wakko winced a little and looked at the page. 

In truth, he sometimes debated with himself whether it was better to be stupid or to be smart. He wanted to know things, but at the same time knowledge seemed like a burden more than anything. At least- that’s what he got from observing Yakko. Yakko always had something on his mind, something big, while Wakko hardly ever thought about things other than food or some imaginary story he likes playing on repeat to keep himself busy while his sibs were gone. 

“in... for...ma...ti..own?” He looked at his elder brother. 

“Close. Information. Tion sounds like shun,” Yakko pointed out. 

“Right, that’s information,” he nodded. He knew the words, he was nine after all, but reading just make them look unfamiliar. 

Yakko was then going to make him read the full sentence again, but a familiar shout was heard right outside, and the boys froze as the door swung open. 

“Yakko- calm this child down,” Angelina shoved Dot, who was crying, towards Yakko, when her eyes feel upon them. 

“What on earth is going on here?” She glared at Wakko, and he felt his heart beat faster. 

“W-well I-i was just-” Yakko tried to think of what to say as Dot went to him, but Angelina yanked Dot back, before going to Yakko herself and slapping him across the face and he slammed into a bookshelf, books spilling out onto him.

“What did I tell you?! You are not to educate that bastard creature, lest you and him face serious consequences,” She fumed. 

“No!!! Don’t hurt him!!!” Dot continued to cry. Wakko growled and just about lept out of the chair, but Angelina grabbed him by the ears. 

“This is on you,” She spat, and began to drag Wakko out of the room. 

“No! It’s my fault! I forgot the dress type! Please! Punish me instead!” Dot insisted, stepping out in front of Angelina. 

“Oh Angelina,” The queen shook her head, placing a soft hand against Dot’s face. Dot froze.

“If you get in my way again I assure you his punishment will be increased ten fold.” She whispered harshly. 

“Now be a good girl Angelina, and run along now. You have much to study,” She smiled sweetly. 

“My name is Dot,” She muttered to herself, bearing her teeth.

“Dot, no,” Wakko pleaded with her. Angelina tightened her pull on his ears. 

“It’d be wise for you to listen to him for once,” She smiled more. Dot growled again, but stepped backward, and looked back at Wakko. 

“Angelina. Move,” She ordered. Dot looked at the arm holding Wakko, a very obvious thought popping into her head. Angelina growled. 

“I expected more from you,” She said, before kicking Dot to the ground and moving on, giving Wakko’s ears a massive tug before continuing on. 

Wakko heard Dot get up from behind, trying to keep her distance, but her tears made her noticeable. 

Quickly and painfully, they turned around halls and owners of the castle, before Wakko realized she wasn’t going to be putting him in his room, and he was filled his dread and terror. 

“Wh-where are you taking him?!” Dot shouted at her, once she had the same thought. 

“That is none of your concern, Yakko.” She said coldly. “I’m teaching you three a lesson.”

“Let go of him!” Dot shouted again as Angelina started to go up the enormous stairwell. The queen ignored her, climbing higher and higher. 

“I said let him go!” Dot shouted, pulling on her dress like she had a year ago. Angelina froze, before turning around, dangling Wakko off of the stairs above the at least 20 foot drop below, only holding him by his neck.

“Shout at me again young lady, and I will,” She threatened. Dot gasped, covering her mouth. 

“Wait- please! Don’t hurt him-!” She begged, and Wakko did his best not to be terrified for his life but uh- 20 ft drop. 

“Go back downstairs, Angelina. You’ve done enough today,” She spat in her face. Dot wanted to protest, but the queen lifted Wakko higher and Dot backed down, lowering her head in shame as more tears streamed down. 

“Good girl,” The queen smiled, and patted her head, before turning around and continuing to drag Wakko up, Dot’s sobs echoing as they went all the way to the top. At this point, Wakko was pounding and kicking against her best he could, but she proved herself to have gotten wiser about that, as her long silk gloves prevented scratches or bites to her skin, and her pure gold bracelets also didn’t help. 

Eventually, she reached the top of the familiar tower, and she tossed him in like an animal. She closed and locked the heavy iron door and the sound made Wakko’s head hurt. 

“How long do you plan to leave me here, huh?!” He demanded, running to the door. However, to his horror, she left without a word to him. He listened closely to the door, still hearing Dot’s cries when he heard her yelp in pain. Wakko pounded on the door, but since it was no longer wood, all that ended up doing was hurting his hand. Wakko cringed in the pain, but knew there was nothing he could do. 

He was locked in here... for who knows how long. Could be days, weeks... months...

If she even bothered to keep him alive, which was something she was clearly starting to debate more and more as time passed. Wakko didn’t want to die-

At least... not yet. 

Perhaps it was foolish, but he did still have a shred of hope for his future, though it only got cloudier and cloudier as days passed. He tried to remember the advice and optimism of his dad, but that only brought up the painful feeling of him being gone. The same thing happened when he tried to imagine his mom comforting him too. 

After awhile of him just sitting on the cold and filthy floor in shock and pain, he heard pounding on the door. 

“Wakko? Wakko? Are you in there?” Yakko called from outside. 

“Y-yeah!” he replied, wiping his eyes. 

“We-we’re gonna get you out Wakko. I promise,” he declared. 

“Yakko, you can’t promise that,” Wakko frowned. 

“Yes I can Wakko. We’re going to get you out,” He asserted. 

“She’ll kill you- she’ll kill me if you try,” Wakko pleaded. 

“I know... but... w-we’ll escape. Run away to a far off town where no one will find you two. We’ll be safe,” Yakko said, becoming more and more desperate.

“You’ve said it yourself: a place like that doesn’t exist,” Wakko crossed his arms, leaning against the cold door.  He heard Yakko do the same. 

“We... we could...” Yakko tried to think. 

“Yakko... you should just forget about me. You and Dot would be fine without me, I hold you two down. I should just- stay up here and- and die,” Wakko pulled his knees to his chest. 

“Wakko!” he gasped. “Don’t say that!” he said, much softer. 

“Grandma will never care about me, a-and mum and d-daddoo are gone s-so... it would just be easier for me to stay here... away from you two... just like she wants,” He suppressed tears best he could, but choken on the lump in his throat. 

“Wakko, no.” Wakko heard him turn around to face the door again. 

“No matter what happens, we are not going to give up on you. I’m here- I’m always gonna be here, Wak,” He spoke softly. 

“Mum and Dad said they’d be here too...”

A painful silence hummed through the air. It hurt to even breathe after he spoke. Wakko gave in and cried. 

“Wak... I-i... I don’t know what to say...” Yakko said. 

“Just go away- before you get locked away too,” He sobbed. 

Yakko didn’t respond, staying there for a long, long time. 

Wakko didn’t say anything either. 

“We will rescue you Wak... I promise,” Yakko repeated, before standing up and going. 

Wakko stayed on the floor the rest of the day. 

.o0o.

Angelina hadn’t been sending servants to give him food, only water. 

Wakko had been up there for three days and it was easily the most miserable he had ever been in his life. 

He knew his mother had been sent up there at least once. He could see her carvings in the wall, and scratches on the floor, which he traced over his finger and slowly read. 

“Yakko? Slacky? Wacky?” and “Harold the 9th” were written beside the bed. There was a tally for what he assumed were days next to the broken mirror. Other random words he couldn’t quite read were sprawled all around. 

Yakko came up to talk every now and then, but he never could stay long. Wakko kept meaning to ask him for food, but he knew Angelina was strict on eating hours, so it was unlikely he could sneak into the kitchen to grab anything anymore. It just... wasn’t that simple any more. 

He also promised he was thinking of an escape. Wakko thanked him for the effort, but his hope wasn’t high.

Dot came at one point too. She cried and apologized and explained how it was her fault their grandmother got mad, saying how she hadn’t read the page she was supposed to the night before and didn’t know the types of dresses and she got mad, which made her cry, which made her take her to Yakko, which caused everything else. Wakko told her not to blame herself, but he knew that wasn’t going to resinate. Just another way their grandmother tightened her grip around them. 

But for the most part, he was alone. Utterly and perfectly alone...

He had his little imaginary games in his mind, but even those ran out eventually, mostly due to the cold. Stupid early winters...

One particularly cold night, Wakko said “screw it” and went to the window an looked out at the stars. 

They shined a lot better all the way up here, at least that was nice...

As he looked up, a chill ran through him and he was reminded of just how hungry he was. He cringed in the pain, and looked up at the stars, having run out of tears days ago. 

“I... I wish mum and dad were still here... If they were alive everything would go back to being okay...” he whispered weakly to the brightest star he could see. The stars twinkled back. 

Wakko sighed, lowering his head, continuing to look when he noticed that the star appeared to be growing larger- that wasn’t normal, right? And if it’s not, was it actually happening, or was he just seeing things because he was hungry?

It also appeared to be growing closer- that wasn’t good. Too close and it’d probably destroy the whole castle. Wakko scrambled back from the window and pounded on the door for help, but nobody heard or came. Wakko braced himself as the light got brighter and brighter and eventually filled the dark tower. 

However, nothing crashed or burned or turned him into goop, so Wakko slowly turned around and opened his eyes, and he saw a glowing figure in a really poor looking rope, cheap wand, and wings. 

Well- that was interesting. 

“Uh- who are you?” Wakko asked, really uncomfortable with the idea of a stranger popping into his prison out of nowhere. 

“I’m your desire fulfillment facilitator, Pip,” the desire fulfillment facilitator said dryly. Wakko blinked. 

“Uh- hi, Pip,” he said. 

“Congradulations Wakko, you did it. Out of all of the stars in the night sky, you made your wish up the wishing star,” He said, so monotone Wakko wanted to tears his ears off despite the fact that he was saying good news. 

“The Wishing Star? I’ve never heard of a Wishing Star,” He frowned. 

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you stories?” He asked. Wakko shook his head. 

“Hm... doesn’t matter. You did it anyway. It was your request for a wish that brought me here,” he said. 

“Wait- so- you can bring my parents back?” Wakko realized. He nodded, and Wakko almost passed out. 

“You’ve decided on your wish?” He asked. 

“I just said-”

“Right, right. Welp- here it goes,” Pip snapped his fingers, and ball of green light shot across the sky, and crashed far, far away- behind the mountains in the horizon. Wakko frowned. 

“Hey, what gives? It couldn’t be any closer than that?” He frowned. 

“Oh whoops, too late to fix now,” Pip scratched the back of his neck. Wakko gave him a look. “Looks like you have quite the trek ahead of you.”

“Yeah... I guess so,” Wakko couldn’t be sour for long, now entranced by the bright light. 

“And you better be going if you don’t want competition to build up,” Pip added. 

“What?! How am I supposed to reach it if I’m stuck in this tower! These rules are completely unfair,” Wakko crossed his arms. 

“Don’t worry Wakko, your siblings will be coming to get you soon, you’ll just have to tell them where to go,” Pip explained. 

“Huh?” He tilted his head when he heard footsteps not far away from the door. 

“I must go now- just remember this: the one who touches the fallen star first gets their wish. If you aren’t first, you don’t get it,” He said.

“What’s the point of me wishing on the star then, if it’s just up for grabs? that’s lame,” He crossed his arms. 

“Whoops- I gotta go, bye,” He waved and turned to star dust before disappearing completely, right before he heard a knock at the door. 

So much for that guys help. 

“Wakko?” It was Yakko. 

“Yakko? What’re you doing here?” Wakko asked. 

“We’ve come to break you out,” Dot chimed in, and a very, very, very long rope made of several sheets was pushed through his “meal slot”. 

Wakko didn’t know what to say. 

“Tie one end to the hook by the window and climb down- my advice is to not look down and pretend like it’s just training with Dad. Plus, me and Dot will be waiting for you at the bottom,” Yakko explained. 

“Wait- I have to tell you,” Wakko interrupted. 

“What?” Yakko asked, surprised Wakko wasn’t protesting. 

“I-i made a wish at a star tonight and well- apparently it was the wishing star so now we have to go- like... really actually go so I can make my wish and then everything will be okay and happy just like it used to be,” Wakko said. 

“The... wishing star? I thought that was just some kiddy bedtime story...” Yakko said, mostly to himself. 

“Well- apparently not,” Wakko said, taking one end and tying it to the hook like Yakko said. Yakko sighed. 

“We’ll talk about this once you’re down. Me and Dot are gonna wait at the bottom,” He said. 

“Okay... see you on the other side,” Wakko said, making the mistake at looking at how far away down was, but was surprised the rope actually went all the way down. 

That was a lot of sheets. 

“You got this Wakko!” Dot encouraged, before he heard the two of them go. 

Right. He had this. 

He may not have been very smart, but he was a good climber. He could do this...

At least, he hoped anyway. 

He promised right then and there that if he was going to make it out of this alive, he was definitely going to go to the Wishing Star- it couldn’t be more dangerous than climbing down a 50 foot rope made of tied sheets, 

...Could it?

.o0o. 

Lena despised being in recovery more than anything. She had been rendered practically immobile because of her broken leg, and her weakened muscles took months of physical therapy to rest and recover. 

Every day she thought of her children, and missed them dearly. She knew when all of their birthdays were and was overcome with grief as each passed. 

She was supposed to be there, with them. Celebrating, laughing, protecting.

Instead?

Now she was in William’s hometown, mooching off of their generosity because of her title, feeling utterly and totally useless. 

After months and months of healing and resting and physical therapy she was finally back to semi-functionality. Sure, she could now go for strolls at night with William (it was part of her physical therapy- stupid leg injuries), but she knew she still couldn’t actually do anything- she still couldn’t go back to the castle and put an end to her mother’s reign. They’d be caught- called imposters and possibly be killed. 

Lena couldn’t imagine making her children go through them dying twice. 

“Lena..? What are you thinking about this night?” William asked softly, and Lena remembered where she was. 

“Just... everything,” she sighed. William kissed her hand. 

“We’ll figure it out, I promise,” He said. Lena closed her eyes and tried to believe it. 

“A year William... My mother must’ve done numerous unspeakable things to them by now...” She looked away at the plaza. He squeezed her hand. 

“I was thinking of the same thing...” he said. Lena put her head on his shoulder. 

“I miss Wakko’s jokes... I miss Yakko’s wit... I miss Dot’s smile,” Lena said, smiling a little at the memory. 

“We’ll figure it out soon, i promise,” he kissed her head and closed his eyes as they sat on a bench outside the hospital.

“Soon...” she echoed. 

Soon her ass. 

Soon was a ridiculous unit of time. No matter how much time had passed, everything seemed to be “soon”. The word drove her mad. 

She was going to say something about this, when suddenly a bright green shooting star suddenly soared through the sky, grabbing her attention as it went all the way down before suddenly crashing down behind the Acme Mountains. 

“William- did you see that?” Lena tugged on his arm. 

“See what?” He tilted his head. 

“That star- it crashed just behind Acme Moutains,” She shook him so he opened his eyes and he quickly saw it. 

“That’s- no... that couldn’t be..? Could it?” He squinted at it. 

“I think it is...” Lena said. 

“You think the Wishing Star could actually be real?” He asked. 

“My father taught me about it when I was a little girl, the books are still in the library. My mother never approved of fictional books- it has to be true,” Lena quickly stood up. 

“Careful Lena, you’re still-”

“Oh hush William. Don’t you know what this means?” She asked. “This is our chance- we reach the wishing star we can reunite with the kids- and take down my mother for good.” 

“And everything would be perfect again...” William couldn’t help but smile. He stood and kissed her. 

“C’mon- we haven’t a moment to waste,” Lena said. 

“Woah, woah, woah. Lena, it’s very late. We need to go to sleep,” He said. 

“But- William- it’s right there,” She frowned. 

“Yes, but we’ll have to get a horse or two to share and it’ll be a long and treacherous journey- those mountains aren’t exactly easy to get through,” William warned. Lena sighed. 

“But... it’s right there... Our kids...” She looked at it. 

“I know... but I promise Lena, it’ll still be there in the morning. Wishing Stars aren’t common knowledge, and we’ll have the distance advantage,” William said. “So please... let’s get some rest before we go out, alright?” 

Lena sighed. “I hate when you’re right.”

“You love me,” He teased. 

“I know,” She rolled her eyes and kissed his cheek. “But.. tomorrow?”

He nodded. “Tomorrow. We’ll head out first thing in the morning.”

“To the Wishing Star...” She smiled. 

They were going to see their kids again after all. 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

[hyunsracha]

4419 — seo changbin

word count: 1.7k

summary: you couldn’t help but notice the intimidating boy at your bus stop.

a/n: this is.....bad. but happy birthday changbin ! i love u king

You saw him every day. He sat on the same spot on the bench every day, earbuds shoved in his ears. The music he played was loud enough to hear, but not loud enough to understand. It sounded pretty intense, though.

Everything about him seemed pretty intense. His dark hair that brushed over his eyes. Nearly black eyes that stared at the pavement blankly. A tightly set mouth that looked like it would spit curses at you if you said the wrong thing. The boy was overall very intimidating, and as much as he intrigued you, you were too afraid to speak to him. 

So everyday you would watch him from your post next to the bench, one of your earbuds playing the newest TWICE album, trying desperately to rid yourself of your fear. You didn’t know why you wanted to talk to him so badly; to befriend him. He didn’t look lonely...but maybe you did. Maybe you thought he would be able to see right through your colorful socks and My Melody lunch box and see just how lonely you were. The puffiness surrounding your eyes from nights of crying over your nearly empty contact list.

And every day, you were snapped out of these thoughts by the sound of the bus pulling up to your spot. Bus 4419, the one the both of you took every day. You took it to school, obvious by the uniform you wore. The boy didn’t go to school, or at least you didn’t think he did. He didn’t wear a school uniform. He liked to wear black, you noticed. 

The boy always sat in the back of the bus, in the last row with the extra seats. And he always took the window seat. Maybe he liked to look out the window and pretend he was in a movie, you thought. You always took the window seat, too. You especially liked the window seat on rainy days, when you were able to watch the drops slide down the window. 

On one of those rainy days, you started thinking. Does the boy in the back of the bus ever think about you the way you think about him? Does he notice the cheerful tunes blasting from your earbuds? Does he notice that you only wear yellow socks on Mondays because Mondays are difficult and you appreciate the pop of sunshine covering your ankles? Part of you wished that he did. The part of you that was lonely, searching for someone that could understand you. And something told you that he would understand. 

You got your answer the very next week. You were sitting on the bench, back hunched as you scribbled down chemistry answers from a picture on your phone.

“Rough weekend?” You heard the voice, but you assumed it was a pair of friends seeing each other after the weekend, so you didn’t react until a black shoe reached out to gently kick at your white tennis shoes. You jolted, lifting your head so fast your earbud fell out. The boy was staring at you blankly, not bothering to repeat himself.

“Oh, m-me? What makes you think that?”

“Well,” he started, “you’re doing homework at the bus stop before you go to school. And your socks are green today.”

“What-” you looked down at your feet, a little gasp escaping your lips at the sight of neon green socks, “I was running late today...I guess I forgot to put my yellow socks on.” You looked up at him again, starting to blush at the realization that he knew. But you decided not to bring it up, instead you cleared your throat and began to speak, “Where does the 4419 take you? I assume you don’t go to school…”

He startled a bit, seemingly thrown off by your question, “I go to the JYP building. I’m a trainee there…” He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding making eye contact with you.

“Oh! That’s really cool! Judging by the music you listen to, you’re a super hardcore rapper, right?”

“Y...You pay attention to the music I listen to?”

Without even thinking, you responded, “I pay attention to everything you do.”

And that was the start of your relationship with Changbin. You learned his name at the back of the bus that day, having followed him back there in the middle of your conversation about what being a trainee was like. He shared his earbuds with you, seemingly in an attempt to make you go deaf with how loud the music played. You would snatch his phone and play a song from your playlist in return, having to cover your mouth to stifle your laughter when he started doing the choreography to Cheer Up. You would let him sleep on your shoulder during rough mornings, when he had stayed up too late practicing and only slept for 2 hours. And he would help you study for tests, flipping over flashcards you had made the week before. 

Your friendship worked so well because you both noticed the little things. When you approached him at the bus stop, standing in front of him with your toes touching, he knew you got a good test score that you wanted to boast about. And when he waited for you impatiently, his eyes looking everywhere except for the pavement in front of him, you knew that he wanted to talk about his latest evaluation. It’s like the two of you didn’t even need words to communicate. 

Which is why you knew exactly when he started to develop feelings for you. You had already embraced the love for Changbin you held in your heart, and you would admit to it if he asked. But he never did. 

It was a simple thing, really. The two of you stepped onto the bus, quickly walking down the aisle. You were in front of him, and you went to take the second seat from the window like you always did. But that day, he shook his head, “You can take the window seat. It’s raining.” You stared up at him, noticing the difference in the way his eyes looked. Usually, when the two of you made eye contact, he would keep his steely gaze or smile broadly at you. But this time, his eyes were soft, like he was cooing over a video of a puppy greeting their owner after a long day. 

You shifted over one seat, not taking your eyes off of Changbin as he took the seat next to you. You inhaled slowly, trying to calm your racing heartbeat. At this point, it was obvious that he liked you, and you were sure he knew of your feelings. All that was left was...to make a move. And maybe letting you have the window seat was Changbin’s idea of a first move, but that wasn’t direct enough for you. You turned your head to gaze out the window, admiring the grey sky and the sea of umbrellas on the sidewalk below. Your hand raised from your lap to fall onto Changbin’s hand, lacing your fingers together without any signs of timidness. You heard the quiet, “Oh,” that he whispered before squeezing your hand.

Your relationship worked so well because you didn’t need words to speak to each other. There were no official dates and nobody asked the other to be their partner. It just came naturally to the two of you. You both understood what the other wanted, and gave it to them without asking questions. 

One rainy Thursday, you approached the bus stop, locking eyes with a pacing Changbin. Once he saw you, he rushed over, pulling you under the awning and handing you his phone. Looking down at the screen, you noticed it was open to the music app. A song called Hellevator was loaded up, and there was no cover art.

“What is this?”

“I’ve got a group now, (Name). That’s our song.” 

Your eyes widened as you looked from Changbin to the phone, then back to him. He had never said anything about a group. Sure, you’ve heard about all of his friends in the company, but he never said how close he was to debuting. You put in one of the earbuds, but didn’t press play.

“I never said anything before because I didn’t know if the project was going to fall through or not. But look, it’s real! It’s here! Listen to it.” 

So you did. Of course Changbin was good. You had listened to many a 3RACHA song during bus rides. But this was something else. It was more polished than anything 3RACHA had done before, and there were more people, more voices.

During the bridge, you made eye contact with Changbin again, and you could see just how badly he wanted you to like the song; there was a sort of desperation in his gaze. You couldn’t help but to nearly launch yourself at him, arms looping around his center as you squealed praises into his chest. You could feel in the way he held onto you that he was relieved; that your opinion was something he had worried about.

When you finally let go, you spoke again, “I can’t wait for you to be a hotshot K-pop star. Promise you’ll buy me tickets to all of your concerts?”

He chuckled, an arm around your shoulders, “I’ll make sure they’re front row seats, so I can always look down and see my pop of sunshine.”

Your relationship with Changbin somehow managed to work after his debut. You didn’t need to see each other all the time to stay happy. Whenever the two of you would meet up, you’d be able to see it in his eyes that he still loved you. That was good enough for you.

And you would show up to all of his concerts and fan meetings, a pop of yellow in a sea of fans. He would always see you; how could he miss you? The ray of sunshine in his life standing in the front row, waving a slogan around and staring up at him with adoring eyes. That was good enough for him.

[plaidbooks]

Asthma

A/N: This is a Sonny Carisi x reader fic and as the title may suggest, it’s about asthma! I have asthma, and something like this happened to me (thank god for friends who know how to use inhalers). Please be aware that not all asthma works like this, and it’s highly specific to myself and how my asthma is. anyways, hope y’all enjoy.

P.S. I have a headcanon that Sonny switches to Italian when stressed/upset/scared because it calms him down

Tags: asthma attacks/lack of oxygen, near-death experiences

Words: 1722

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @barbasimp @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31

Translations: Merda = shit

Fanculo = fuck

Stai bene? = are you ok?

come funziona di nuovo? = How does this work again?

Non farlo di nuovo! = Don’t do that again!

~~~~~~~~~~ 

You had been running around all day in the New York City heat and humidity, your lungs burning as you finally made it home. You’d think after living here for so long, you’d be used to the oppressive air by now, but you still had breathing issues. Which is why you had two albuterol inhalers for your asthma—one in your purse and one on the counter in the kitchen. Your kitchen was in the middle of your apartment and made the most sense logistically as to where to keep it—it was the perfect distance whether you were coming from the bedroom or the living room.

You had only really had a bad asthma attack once before, and you knew that you had a good 5-10 seconds before you’d lose consciousness. But that was also dependent on how much you panicked; if your brain went into overdrive, then you’d start breathing harder and you’d run out of air faster. It was all about mind over matter, but sometimes, even with mild attacks, it was hard to not panic. It was the natural response to not being able to breathe.

Collapsing onto the couch, you turned your laptop on, hoping to just relax with some funny videos on youtube for the night until your boyfriend, Sonny, came home. Since becoming an ADA, he was coming home earlier than when he was a detective. Though he usually brought cases home with him, working on the coffee table until late in the evening. You didn’t mind; at least you could sit with him, keep each other company, even talk when he wasn’t super invested. Plus, you loved when he’d stand in front of you, running you through his closing arguments or his cross as if you were a witness.

 ***********************

You lost track of time as you laughed heartily at a video, your laughter erupting out of you. You clutched your stomach in pain, tears in your eyes as you laughed. Then, you went to suck in a lungful of air. But nothing happened. You tried again and got a weird rasping sound in your throat. Your eyes went wide as you realized what had happened; you had laughed so hard, you were having an asthma attack. Panic swept through you and you sprung to your feet. But it had been a while now—seconds, though they stretched on—without air, and you were suddenly light-headed. Your lungs burned and it was like a sledgehammer was being pressed upon your chest. You gasped for breath but got nothing in return. Glancing through your fading vision at the kitchen, you took one step, then another, your senses slowly turning off before darkness overtook you.

***

Sonny walked down the hallway to the apartment he shared with you, whistling a tune. Today had gone surprisingly well, and he was off much earlier than he expected, with the weekend stretched before him. He even left all his case files at work, not bothering to work anymore once he left the office for the night.

Digging his key out of his pocket, he went to unlock the door. There was a loud thud from inside the apartment, and Sonny froze.

“Doll?” he called out. He pressed his ear to the door, his hand fumbling for the keyhole. There was no response, and it made his panic rise like bile in his throat. His hand was shaking so badly, he had to steady it with his other hand to get the key in. But in his hurry, he turned it too hard, snapping the key in the keyhole.

Sonny took a step back, braced himself, then kicked the door open, the wood splintering. He rushed in, glancing around until he found you, laying on your side, unmoving.

“Merda! Stai bene?” he asked, making his way over to you. Sonny knelt down, rolling you onto your back. Your chest was barely moving, and you were rasping with every breath. He knew about your asthma, but he had never seen you like this and had not expected it.

Sonny hurried to the kitchen, snatching your inhaler off the counter. He rushed back to you, your breathing much more shallow now, even after a few seconds.

“Fanculo, fanculo…come funziona di nuovo?” he muttered to himself, shaking the inhaler in his hand. He’d never needed to use it before, and you showed him how so long ago…. He ripped the cap off, placing it gently in your mouth. Feeling like he was hurting rather than helping, he plugged your nose as he pressed the cylinder with the medicine down, hearing the spray go into your mouth.

He waited, counting in his head to ten, all the while mumbling, “merda, merda, merda,” over and over again like a mantra. Once he hit ten, he released your nose and took the inhaler from your mouth. Slowly, you started taking deeper and deeper breaths, and your eyelids fluttered before opening.

***

Your chest was on fire and your throat burned as you came to, groggy and disoriented. Though, your mind was rushing, in the way that only your asthma medication did to you—it was a breathable steroid/adrenaline. When your eyes focused, you saw Sonny leaning over you, looking worried to death. But when he saw your eyes opened, a wide grin of relief spread across his face.

“Fanculo! Non farlo di nuovo!” he said, helping you to sit up.

You winced at the motion, giving him a look. “W-what? You’re speaking Italian, Dom.”

“I-I know…I do that when I’m scared. It calms me.”

You chuckled lightly, but grimace as pain broke through your chest. “That’s not helpful when I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Never mind; can you get up? I need to take you to the hospital—”

“No,” you replied. “I’m fine—I’ll be fine. Just…help me to the couch.”

Sonny gave you a hard look before he helped you stand, guiding you to the couch. “You should still go to the hospital; who knows how long you were on the ground without air?”

“Was I still breathing when you used the inhaler?” you asked. You held out your hand for it, and Sonny passed you the little piece of plastic that had just saved your life.

“Y-yeah, but barely—”

“Then I’m fine.” You glanced at Sonny, who was gearing up for an argument, and you sighed. “If I were to go to the hospital right now, they’ll either do nothing or just give me another dose of albuterol, Dom. Honestly, I’m fine, okay?” He still looked willing to argue, so you added, “I know it must’ve been…bad, seeing me on the ground like that. But I promise you I’m okay.”

Sonny let out a long sigh, rubbing his face with both hands. “Okay. I trust your judgement with your own medical issues.” He sat down on the couch next to you. “But run me through how to use the inhaler again—I wanna make sure I did it right. And please explain to me what the hell happened.”

You chuckled, raising the inhaler—you were going to take a second dose, anyway, to get rid of the pain in your chest. Sonny watched intently, happy to find that even in his panic, he had, in fact, done it correctly. As you held your breath, letting the medication work its way into your lungs, your eyes travelled to the front door, still ajar, the frame in pieces.

“Sonny, what the fuck?” you coughed out.

His eyes followed yours and he swallowed. “I, uh, I forgot I did that,” he replied, smiling sheepishly.

“Well now what do we do? We can’t leave our place open like this,” you glanced at the time; it was late, and no hardware store would be open for new doors. And you were pretty sure your landlord was going to be pissed.

“It’s fine; I can make it so it looks closed. If you don’t feel safe, we can go to a hotel until I fix it tomorrow,” Sonny said, standing. You nodded and he was off, packing an overnight bag for you both.

 *******************

By the time you were at the hotel, you were exhausted. The effects of the medication had run its course, and you just wanted to sleep. Sonny, of course, didn’t allow you carry anything as he led you to your room. He swiped the keycard, letting you in first, and you all but collapsed onto the bed.

“You okay?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

Your voice was muffled as you replied, and he asked again. Turning your head to the side, you mumbled, “fine, just tired.”

“It’s late; let’s get in bed.” Sonny stripped quickly, then helped you stand, gently pulling your shirt up and off. Once in just your panties, you crawled under the covers, curling onto your side. Sonny got in behind you, wrapping himself around you. “I love you,” he murmured, kissing your shoulder.

“I love you, too, Dom,” you whispered back. Mercifully, you fell asleep almost instantly, the long day wearing you out.

But Sonny hardly slept, afraid that he’d wake up to you no longer breathing. Instead, he laid there, cradling you in his arms, listening to your soft breaths, the sound music to his ears. He dozed off and on, but mostly, he just held you, trying not to tear up as he thought about what might’ve happened if he had worked his normal hours, staying late in the office. He also thought about the other thing he packed in the overnight bag, hidden deep underneath everything else, for fear of it being stolen from your apartment as well as the fear of your finding it.

Inside a sock, rolled up and shoved underneath everything else, was a little box. And in that box was the most perfect engagement ring that Sonny knew you’d love. He’d been planning to propose around your birthday, but now, with that near-death scare, he was thinking that he should just do it now. He was off the next two days, and you were already planning to do dinner tomorrow night. Would it be weird timing now? But at the same time, life was short; today proved that. As the sun came up, streaming through the drawn curtains, Sonny made up his mind.

[mikkomacko]

Sweet As Honey 17

Harry's anxious again. Not in the excited kind of way that pumps him up before a fight, and not in the sick, nauseous way that hits him after he has a nightmare. This is new. Instead of fearing the past like usual, he's fearing the future. Because the future he sees is one he never imagined before. He likes it a lot more than the one he used to picture. Instead of endless nights in the ring and girls whose faces he'll never remember, he sees a house. A cute little two story house with a fenced in yard for a dog to run around in. Hopefully being chased by a baby or two. And on the front steps stands one girl who's face he'll remember for the rest of his life. It's y/n he sees, with a wedding band on her finger that twinkles in the sunlight as she scolds Harry for letting their babies get dirty right before dinner.

It's a nice dream, but Harry hates to break routine. Breaking routine means something unplanned has happened, something spontaneous. Something out of the blue. Like getting thrown out of your home on the night you were just supposed to be studying. It scares him. Terrifies him so much he can't sit still. Which is how he ended up sending a text to y/n telling her she didn’t have to come to his fight tonight. Because if she does they’ll end up celebrating after, her on his arm and showing him off to everyone in the bar. And he’ll go home with her and probably have sex with her, and he’ll keep doing it over and over again until he's got this whole new, unfamiliar routine. Until he undoubtedly falls in love with her while she sees him as just a hot boxer who's good company.

"Fuck," Harry curses, tears burning his eyes and throat. Not even two months ago he was arguing with her about her attendance at his matches, and now he's changing his mind. No not changing his mind, because he still wants her there, he just doesn't want what comes after. It's too much, too fast. He's falling in love with her way sooner than he ever thought possible.

Y/n: What are you talking about Harry? I already cancelled plans with Kate to go with you

He winces as he types out his response, knowing it's going to make him an asshole, but he can't think of anything else to say. It's like those dreams in which he's running on buildings and he knows he's going to reach the end and fall but he can't stop.

I don't know. Maybe ask her if she's still free? I just don't want you there tonight

Growling in frustration he throws his phone onto his bed, digging his elbows in his thighs until it hurts. He's got a headache building in his skull, pushing his fingers into his hair and squeezing until the knots send tingles across his scalp. He can't believe he just said that. He can't believe he lied to his y/n and in the worst way possible. It wasn't even a lie to protect her or keep her happy. It's a lie to keep him safe. Even with the regret squeezing around his heart he can't bring himself to apologize or take it back. Not even when her reply hurts more than the panic.

Whatever Harry. Don't call or text me. I don't want to be around you either right now

~

"Guess who's on baby watch today!" Harry cheers, scooping a bite of mashed bananas into Arlo's waiting mouth. Smacking his lips and letting out a refreshed sigh, Arlo parts his mouth for another bite, tongue falling sloppily to his chin.

"Meeeeeeee!" Y/n sings, dipping a celery stick into her blueberry yogurt and crunching loudly. Harry tries not to scrunch his nose up at her breakfast but it's hard. She's getting a lot of different and odd cravings this pregnancy as opposed to the ones with Arlo. All she ate then were burgers and hot chips. Now she's on a celery and yogurt kick, last week being the end of the artichoke rein, and of course she's still enjoying hot Cheetos, but now she eats them with cheese.

"Mumma's so loud, huh?" Harry whispers, turning his nose up at her as another crunch rings out. She sticks her tongue out at him and Harry’s dramatic gasp at the action makes Arlo giggle. “We’ll be nice though because she’s feeding our mate,” he feeds another bite between Arlo’s lips. “even if she does mean things like stick her tongue out at daddy.”

Arlo hums around another bite, eyebrows pinching together as he looks between Harry and y/n. Head tilted to the side thoughtfully, he settles on Harry. "Daddy."

A smile stretches across his face. "Tha's right bug." Arlo smiles proudly, accepting another bite. Sock covered toes kick Harry's knee when he takes a bite of the baby food, and Arlo's nose scrunches dejectedly.

"Oi!" Harry pinches his little foot, "share with me! M'the one that bought this!"

Arlo turns his cheek to the next bite, stubbornly not wanting the food after Harry’s eaten it. Sighing, Harry twists the lid back on the jar of baby food before rising from the table to put it away. Walking back to the high chair, Harry peels off Arlo's dirty pajama shirt, wiping his face clean with the stained fabric. Arlo grumbles and glares at him, pushing Harry's hands away.

"No!" Arlo shouts at him, eyes welling up with angry tears. By the time Harry's got him clean and the shirt in the laundry room Arlo's crying and trying to wiggle out of his seat. Harry picks him up, patting his back to soothe him but Arlo continues to squirm until Harry puts him down.

Frowning, Harry watches the bub waddle to y/n, arms reaching for her. She grins proudly, setting down her breakfast and happily scooping him up. He curls into her chest, dramatically wailing until y/n pecks his wet cheeks. "I know baby, m'sorry daddy's mean." She coos, pouting but her eyes shine with amusement when they briefly meet Harry's. "S'why you're my favorite boy."

Arlo sniffles, a pleased grin curling his mouth up as he looks over at Harry. Harry scoffs, glaring at Arlo like a child. The baby returns the look, nuzzling into y/n's shoulder as if trying to rub it in Harry's face that he's the favorite boy.

"Tha's not fair," Harry grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. Y/n giggles, rising from her seat and adjusting Arlo to her hip. Harry continues to pout as she pads over to him, cupping his jaw with her free hand.

"You're my favorite man." She comforts, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before heading towards the stairs. Harry's lips turn up, smiling proudly. That is until Arlo peers over y/n's shoulder at Harry and slurs just loud enough, "my mumma."

Today's going to be a long day for Harry.

~

Harry's fucked up. God he's so fucked up. And he feels bad, really he does, because he's ruined everything for y/n. He can tell by the forced smile on her face as she says goodbye to the last of the guests, a couple guys from the gym, before closing his apartment door behind them. She looks utterly heartbroken as she rips down the birthday banner from the ceiling and throws it to the ground, followed by the streamers. The front door of the complex opens, and Harry waits for his mates for disappear down the street before pushing up from the bench and dragging his feet into the building. The second floor is too short a ride, he thinks bitterly, stomach flipping with nerves. He feels shitty but he made this happen.

Y/n is stabbing at balloons with a knife from his kitchen when he opens the door, the loud pop making him jump. He hangs his hoodie and kicks off his shoes and avoids looking up at the party decorations that y/n is angrily destroying.

"Hi," he mutters quietly, standing in the entryway like a new visitor. A visitor in his own apartment because that's what y/n does. She comes in and she takes over everything he's ever known. She leaves her mark with every step. In every corner of the gym, on every bench by the ring, on every thread of his bed sheets, on every tissue of his muscles, on every fiber of his heart. Maybe that's what he loves most about her, her ability to take over. He's always had to be in control because when he's not he fucks up and does something stupid, but maybe it'd be a nice change in pace to just hand himself over to her. Not that he really gave himself the chance. As soon as he started to give into her, he took it all back and now he's hurt her.

'Better her than me,' he tries to remind himself when she comes to stand in front of him. She's wearing a pretty pink dress that she knows he loves, and she might even be wearing something prettier under it as well, but he's fucked up all chances at seeing it. His chest aches but he repeats his mantra. 'Better her than me.'

"You're late Harry," she says emotionless, arms crossing over her chest. "like three hours late"

He hums, scratching the top of his head as if he forgot. "S'really that late? Fuck me." The laugh that leaves her lips is cold and mocking.

"Yeah fuck you Harry," she steps close enough to shove something into his chest "you knew about tonight. I've been planning it since December and you just skipped it? Do you know how humiliating that was?"

She walks away from him, disappearing around the corner into his bedroom. Harry takes a minute to examine the "birthday boy" sash and party hat she threw at him. His knees tremble as does his resolve. He hasn't had a birthday party in years. Not since his father died and y/n knows that. That's why she went out of her way to throw one for him. "A good birthday memory for you baby," she had said back when he first told her about it, and he had blushed and accepted her tender kisses like a child in desperate need of attention. Or care. In desperate need of someone to care for him.

"I mean," he clears his throat when she comes back, her coat thrown over her shoulders. "s'just a birthday. My birthday. Not like I missed yours or anything."

She pauses, fingers freezing on the buttons of her jacket. "Are you serious Harry? Are you really fucking saying that to me?"

He shrugs, tossing the items in his hand onto the dining table. Trying not to look at the sash, he focuses on her.

“Is this some scheme for attention?” She sighs, and her shoe taps against his floor anxiously. She’s trying to hold herself back from yelling at him, and the thought makes him want to cry. Even when he’s hurting her, she won’t do the same to him. She really is too good for him.

"What are ya talking about?"

"You fight with me to go to your matches and then tell me you don't want me there. You complain about your birthday, and being the dumbass that I am, I care enough about you to try and actually give you a good day, and you don't even fucking care. After you practically sobbed at the sight of the invitation! What do you want from me Harry?" She's begun to lose her resolve, eyes watering and lip quivering. Her shouting actually gives away the hurt she was trying to hide from him, and he wishes he hadn't pushed her this far. He hates hearing her hurting especially when he's the cause.

Dropping his gaze to the floor, he gnaws at his bottom lip. He knows what he needs to say, what he needs to do. He's been thinking about it for a week and a half, but the words still get stuck in his throat. He should take it as a sign that it's because he doesn't actually want to say this. Instead he uses it as a reason to push himself. It hurts because she's come in a changed him. She's going to hurt him if he doesn't hurt her first. "I want to break up."

The silence that follows weighs heavy on his chest. Peering up through his eyelashes, fully prepared to see y/n crying or glaring at him, he bawks at the sight instead. She's not trembling with rage or melting with tears, no, she's smiling. A cruel, twisted smile but still beautiful. Harry looks up at her, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Isn't she going to yell at him? Scream? Hit him? Tell him to fuck off again?

"Is that really what you want Harry?" She asks softly, voice not matching the painful grin on her lips. He wishes he knew what she was thinking. He wants to know what part of breaking up has got her lips curved up because he feels like he just stabbed himself in the chest.

He opens his mouth to reaffirm his words but he's cut off by her. "Don't lie to me either Harry. I can handle you lying about not wanting me at your fight, but not this."

That lump is back in his throat, catching his lie and holding onto it for dear life. He doesn't want to break up. He wants to see her every day, kiss her before every fight, wake up next to her every morning. But he doesn't want to get hurt. He's so scared of being hurt, and now he's mad because of course she knows when he's lying. She already knows him better than anyone else does.

"Stop saying my name please." He requests quietly, because it hurts to hear it from her. It falls out of her lips comfortably, rings softly with a tenderness no one's ever spoken it with before, and he loves it. Love to hear her say it.

"Than stop running away from me."

He breaks a little at the truth, tears rimming his eyes and jaw clenching to keep from sniffling. She knows exactly what he's doing. She always knows, and he has no excuse so he stays silent. With a quiet sigh, she continues to button her coat and throw her purse over her shoulder. Her footsteps echo throughout the apartment as she walks over to him, stopping a few inches from being in his arms.

"I just want you to be happy Harry," there's his name again, sounding so loving in his ears "so you come find me when you're miserable, okay?" Harry's knows that's exactly what he'll do but he denies it, shaking his head softly. "You better have a really good apology too." Her lips press a soft kiss to his cheek, free hand cupping his jaw for a mere second. Then she's walking around him, slipping out of the door, and leaving him by himself.

With a cement-like weight on his ankles, Harry drags his feet to his bedroom, crumbling to his knees with sobs as he takes in the room. She's decorated it with dozens of candles and roses, petals sprinkled romantically on the bed. Sitting among the forgotten petals, Harry can't help but think about how much he loves her.

~

Gemma is really nice to be around. With Harry and Anne gone, and the tension of trying to keep everything civil forgotten, y/n realizes that she could be really good friends with her. Maybe even actual sisters. And she really loves Arlo.

“I can’t believe how much he looks like Harry.” She breathes out, shaking her head in disbelief. Arlo, who was walking circles around the coffee table, freezes, looking around expectantly after recognizing his father’s name. His disappointed frown falls on y/n when no sign of Harry comes up, and he's stumbling over to her with his arms outstretched.

"It's a bit freaky huh?" She laughs, lifting Arlo up onto her thighs. He squishes as close as he can to her, his tummy pressing into her swollen one and head dropping against her chest.

Gemma nods, smiling softly at the little boy. His frown deepens, dramatically whimpering and turning to hide his face. "Harry used to do that too," she comments "but with our dad. He was always really clingy and attached to our mum. He'd whine and be grumpy whenever we were left without her."

Y/n strokes her fingers over Arlo's little back, giggling when he shivers and gurgles into her tee-shirt. "This one's always a little grumpy," y/n says, "even when he's with Harry. If Harry does something he doesn't like he'll be so hurt with him."

"Really?" Gemma asks, eyebrows raising in surprise. "I didn't think Arlo could ever be mean to Harry."

"He likes to guilt trip him," she explains, goosebumps rising on her skin when Arlo's tiny fingers begin to rub over her belly, tickling her. "Like the day after fights if Harry's a little beat up Arlo gets mad and will fight with him when he tries to ice bruises and stuff. He's getting into a hitting phase now so he'll smack Harry too."

"And then give him those big green eyes huh?"

Giggling, y/n nods. She thinks Arlo's realized how affected Harry is by his baby having his eyes and he definitely uses it to his advantage. There's a reason Arlo's been eating nothing but bananas and peas this week and it's that puppy look he's perfected.

"Speaking of Harry's fight," Gemma clears her throat quietly, "do you think it'd be okay if I brought someone to the match tomorrow?"

Taken aback, it takes y/n a moment to respond. "Of course. I think Harry would love that actually." He'll feel like Gemma's showing him off, bragging about him and y/n knows that will really make him happy. "Who is it? If you don't mind me asking?"

Gemma's cheeks blossom pink, and her lips curve up shyly. "This boy that lives in the building with us. We've talked a few times and I really want to ask him out. Heard him mention how much he loves sports so I figured this would be cool."

Y/n can't help but beam, being a hopeless romantic. There's just something so sweet about seeing someone blush over their crush. She's about to grill her for more questions when the baby presses against her tummy, wiggling around and Arlo let's out a shocked grumble. His head flies up from where it was resting on her, eyes wide and curious as he glares at her belly.

"That's the baby Arlo," she tells him, peeling up her shirt so he can press his hands against her skin. Tentatively, he rubs his fingers into his brothers temporary home, tilting his head when he feels more movement. "he's just saying hi."

"Oh that's so darling." Gemma mumbles, giggling when Arlo presses his face into y/n's belly and grunts nonsense at the baby. This time he doesn't move away when the baby kicks at his palm, instead just mumbles again. Then he looks up at y/n, nose scrunched up in annoyance.

"Baby." He murmurs to her, struggling a bit on the a, but still pronouncing the word Harry's been working on with him for a few days. She's not sure if he's letting her know that there's a baby in there or if he's complaining about the baby, but either way she leans forward to kiss his nose. Just like Harry does when she kisses him on his nose, he shivers and then the pinch on his nose melts away and he smiles at her.

"You better not be complaining mister," she warns him, "because daddy will be so hurt if you get mad at him for this." Gemma laughs, and Arlo gurgles, and y/n hopes Harry's feeling as happy as she is.

~

It's weeks before Harry can drag himself to y/n's apartment. He told himself to stop counting the days since he last saw her, yet he knows it's been exactly 17. 17 days of him sitting like a corpse in his apartment, doing the bare minimum at the gym, and doing even worse at fights. He got used to seeing her at them and knowing she wouldn't ever be back unless he went to get her really threw him off. After losing three fights, the latest of which actually ended in him blacking out, he knows he was stupid to break up with her because it hurts a lot more to not have her with him than it would if she broke his heart.

Which is how he found himself on Saturday afternoon in front of her apartment door, sitting on the doorstep because she's not home and she hasn't answered his calls or texts. Fifteen minutes of knocking and pleading for her to open the door, followed by her neighbor popping out to tell him to shut up because she went out, and he's been huddled against the wooden door for about a half an hour, shivering in the cold.

It feels like a mirage when he finally spots her climbing the cement stairs, head shooting up to look at her and his sore neck prickles in pain. She's wrapped up in the same coat she was wearing the night of his birthday party, a maroon beanie he used to steal from her on her head, and a pair of knee-high boots that echo throughout the platform. Harry scrambles to his feet, stumbling when his eyes go temporarily black and his head pounds.

Her eyes meet his, and if she’s surprised to see him, it doesn’t show. "You look awful." Is her greeting, eyeing the split above his eyebrow and the dark bruises littering the expanse of his face. Harry takes the cardboard pizza box from her hands, the warmth of it's contents soothing his frozen fingers.

"Had my ass handed to me last night," he murmurs in explanation, grateful when she finally gets her door open and let's him follow her in. Even after how terribly he treated her, she's still willing to let him in. "deserve it though." He closes the door behind him, toeing off his Nike's in a hopeful move that she'll let him stay long enough to not need them.

Y/n makes a noise of agreement, removing her jacket and beanie and tossing them into a heap on the couch. She fits herself into a chair at the small dining table, unzipping her boots and Harry takes that as a chance for him to set the pizza on the wood top and sit next to her. Once her boots are off, she leans back and crosses her arms over her chest, waiting.

Harry can't bring himself to look at her as he speaks. "I got scared," he admits shyly, "and I know that's not excuse to hurt you but I didn't know what else to do."

"You could've just talked to me," she replies, her previously emotionless tone opening up to show hints of compassion. Harry frowns, upset at how easy it sounds. Speaking. Simple. Actually doing it? Not so much. Y/n must sense this, because she changes the subject. "What were you scared of Harry?"

He knows the answer to this. He's practiced it all day knowing he'd need it to win her back. "How I feel about you." Glancing up at her, he’s relieved to see a bit of warmth radiating off of her. Fueled by her understanding, he continues. “I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re on my mind every minute of everyday. And night.

“I can’t even fight anymore without you there. If I’m not fighting for you, what’s the purpose?” Y/n has uncrossed her arms, leaning forward on her knees to be closer to him.

“Because it’s something you love.”

Harry shakes his head. “Not like you. Got my ass kicked last night because I couldn’t stop looking for you. When I didn’t find you I just gave up.” In a bold move he tentatively reaches out for her hands, eyeing her for any signs of discomfort. Her gaze remains warm as he intertwines their fingers.

"Is that why you're here?" She asks incredulously, "To give you?"

Harry immediately shakes his head, scooting closer to the edge of his seat to be near her. "M'here to fight for you. I made a mistake, a big one, and I want to take it back. I want you back...if you'll have me." He doesn't shy away from her intense stare, ignoring the nerves fluttering around his stomach. He can trust her, he doesn't need to hide from her. "I won't ever hurt you again, I promise darling."

"Pain is a part of life Harry," y/n murmurs as her hands release his to cup his face. "it's going to happen whether we want it to or not. We're going to hurt each other but it doesn't have to be heartbreak and it doesn't have to mean the end of us.

"We'll fight, and we'll piss each other off, and we'll hurt each other, but you're the only person I want to fight with."

His heart leaps in his chest, and despite how hard he tries to stop it, his lips curl up. "You still want me?"

Y/n presses a sweet kiss to his lips, not protesting when he swiftly pulls her into his lap. "I'll always want you Harry Styles. Always."

~

One truth. One honest truth. Harry feels like he has a million but they all get caught in his throat when he tries to speak. He just needs one though, one that'll make him feel a little less heavy.

Dr. Wells waits patiently, a kind smile on his lips while Harry racks his brain for something meaningful. It's Anne's fidgeting next to him that finally spikes his thought process. Clearing his throat, he eyes her out of his peripheral vision.

"I feel like I can't trust you."

The words hang heavy in the air, but Harry doesn’t regret them. He already feels lighter, relieved to have finally admitted it to her face. Letting out a pleased sigh, he relaxes back into the couch, unable to stop the tiny smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Anne nods, looking to Dr. Wells for help. “Very good Harry,” he compliments, “Anne, trust is very important to Harry. I believe the first step to him welcoming anyone into his life, is absolute trust. If you would even like to hope at healing the relationship with him, you need to show him that he can trust you.”

Anne murmurs something else and Dr. Wells expands on his statement about Harry as if he weren’t there. He doesn’t mind it though. It gives him time to detach, to just think. Trust. How did he learn to trust again? He thinks of Nick, who fed and housed him. Liam, who trained and supported him. And y/n, who’s always loved him, mended him after fights, held him when he cried, stood by him when he felt like he was falling. Reliable. He’s always been able to rely on them. Even when he did all he could to push them away, they stayed with him.

His heart sinks to his stomach at the revelation, dejectedly looking at Anne. He trusts those that stand by him, even in his lowest moments. And she didn’t do that. She left him when he needed her. No matter how much he wants to trust her, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to.

For some reason, that insight takes more off his chest than his truth did.

~

Y/n's fingers are familiar and soothing as they stick tape around his knuckles. Harry watches her fondly, elbows dug into his thighs that are parted around her own. Liam and Nick are chatting behind her, but Harry can't bring himself to listen. Placing a delicate kiss to his pinky, she moves to grab his other hand. Harry flexes his fist, testing out the tape and nodding in approval when he realizes it's been perfected. Not that he'd expect anything less from her.

"Feels like it's been awhile since we've been here." Y/n says softly, eyes meeting his for a brief second through her eyelashes. "Just you and me."

Harry smiles cheekily. "And our unborn child of course."

She chuckles. "Of course," tearing the tape around his middle finger, she smooths the edge down "but you know what I mean."

Harry does know what she means. Despite Gemma and Anne being gone for a few weeks, they've had few moments where it felt like Harry and y/n again. Nodding, he pulls his hand from her hold, cupping her jaw tenderly. Pads of his thumbs brushing over the soft skin of her cheeks, Harry whispers, "I love you so much, ya know that?"

Y/n wraps her fingers around his wrists, pressing her lips against his inner forearm. "I love you just as much, if not more Harry." He leans forward to slot his lips against hers, their kiss being brief but lingering, even after they've separated. "And m'so fucking proud of you."

His lips curl up cockily, eyes twinkling, and if it weren't for the weight of the wedding rings around her neck and his baby in her stomach, she'd be back in the day they first met. "Mm how proud of me?" Harry whispers teasingly, nosing along her jawline. "Gonna show me? Show me how good I am?"

"You know how good you are."

Her words pull a deep chuckle out of his chest, pulling back to grin boyishly at her. "Could use a reminder darling." Simpering she pecks his mouth and cheeks, working her way up his jaw until her lips brush his ear.

"You're gonna have to earn it."

Harry's eyes flutter shut, eyebrows knitting together almost painfully and his fingers dig into her waist. "Yeah?" He murmurs gruffly, "gonna make me show off for you darling?"

She hums, vibrations tickling his sensitive skin. "You used to love showing off for me baby-"

"Still do." He cuts in, chuckling.

"and there's a big crowd out there. Show them who's the best, Harry. And then I'll spend all night reminding you."

A shiver runs up his spine, Harry blinking heavily and a tremor in his breath when y/n pulls back, smiling sweetly at him. "I am the best, huh?"

"Always."

He gives her that shit eating grin, contrasting the wicked curl of his mouth with a tender kiss to her forehead. "Should get out there," he mumbles, "gotta make sure I'm good enough to take home the prettiest girl in this joint."

Y/n nods, and Harry rises from the couch, taking her hand as he pulls her up from the coffee table. He locks their fingers together, pulling her towards the door but she tugs him back. Looking over his shoulder at her, he quirks a confused eyebrow.

"You're more than good enough Harry."

~

Y/n loves Gemma's date, so much so that she's considering inviting him to every match rather than Gemma herself. From the moment y/n joined them in their seats as Harry took the ring he's had this explosive energy that typically isn't present at these matches. He shook her hand with a beaming smile and a quick rush of "Nice to meet ya love, I'm Niall! Heard a lot about that Harry of yours! Saw him on TV once..." and he's been chatting about Harry ever since. Not that she minds of course. She loves talking about Harry.

And she's not the only one enjoying Niall's hype. By the way Harry's fighting, bouncing on his toes, ducking and diving around his opponent with ease, throwing hits packed with more strength than she's seen from him in awhile, she knows that Harry's buzzing from the praise. Every move he makes earns some shout or cheer from Niall, who then either high fives or lightly chest bumps y/n. Of course their celebrating brought Nick to his feet as well, hollering at Harry as well. And the rest of the crowd followed, including Gemma and Anne.

She knows Harry's buzzing with it. She can feel it radiating off of him, pulsing through his veins as he moves around the ring with grace. Like usual, he lives for the praise, the smirk on his face growing with every holler of his name. Harry gets his opponent pinned in the corner, rapidly firing punches against the man's shielding arms. Over the man's shoulder she can see Harry's face, flush cheeks and creased forehead lined with sweat. The chant of his name grows louder, rattling the stands as Harry's hit grow even more ferocious. Hands clasped in front of her, gnawing on her lip in excitement, y/n is bouncing with nerves when Harry catches the man's jaw, sending him to the ground in a heap of bruised and sweaty limbs.

The crowd around her is deafening, and through the chaos of Niall and Nick wrapping her in a hug while they sob with pride, she meets Harry's pleased gaze and smug smirk. Even when the ref throws Harry's fist into the air, his eyes remain on her, always on her.

[yoditorian]

you are and i am - 1

frankie morales/reader

an official continuation (or beginning, i guess) of a couple of my recent works, close to what and prompt 15 of my follower celebration. so many of the same warnings apply. information on local addiction help in your area can be found online, please don’t be afraid to seek help💛 @bee-dameron​ gets a special mention for being my enabler and also love of my life

main masterlist

word count: 950 // warnings: addiction, reader is in recovery, therapy, mentions of hospitals/treatment/clinics/withdrawal, food mention, brief anxiety, extremely unusual setting for a meet cute but a meet cute it is

It’s a cosier room than you were expecting, that’s for sure.

There’s none of the clinical, impersonal charm that the hospital next door boasts. No, there’s a whole world of plush red carpet and three big bay windows overlooking a field behind door number four. It’s tempting to ignore the stack of plastic chairs along the wall altogether and just lie down on the floor.

You’re early. Not early enough to be the first person here, but definitely earlier than you should be. Still, the receptionist had given you the room number and waved you by with a smile. So you’re definitely in the right place at least. It doesn’t quite shake the tension from your shoulders, though. You’re not sure the group is what’ll help you the most, but it’s sure as hell what you need. At least nobody had wanted to send you away for treatment. Sitting in a circle with a bunch  of strangers while you all fight the same part of yourselves is a small price to pay to get to sleep in your own bed at night. The only letdown is the lack of free grippy socks. Or any grippy socks at all.

An older woman in a pink cardigan is setting out trays of sweets on a table below the middle window. Little bite sized brownies and cupcakes that make your mouth water just looking at them. You’d been a little too anxious to eat breakfast this morning, and understandably so. But now, you’re starting to think that maybe you should have at least grabbed a piece of fruit to make up for all the sugar you’re about to indulge in. 

“Hey.”

Your inner monologue about the list of snacks you’re definitely going to swipe from the table once the meeting starts is interrupted by a set of brown eyes, looking at you curiously from under the brim of an old cap.

“First time?” The man asks after a moment, and it takes you a second to realise that you haven’t responded.

“I, uh, yeah. Is it that obvious?” You’re sure you look terrified, lingering in the doorway like a crazy person, and you’re sure he knows as much. But something about his easy smile tells you he’s too polite to point it out.

“Not at all. I’m Frankie.” He sticks his hand out to shake, but steps further back into the room when you reach out to take it. You look back up from the little tattoo between his thumb and his index finger to meet his eyes, confused.

“Getting in the door is the hardest part, but I think you have it in you.”

The breath catches in your throat, because he’s right. You’re still standing in the hallway, looking in. Are you even ready? Did anyone ask you if you were okay enough to take this next step and leap right into the abyss? Because you don’t know what comes next. You’ve endured the tests and the doctors and the clinics and the random searches and the arguments. Your hands still shake from withdrawal, just a tiny bit. Does any of that qualify you for this?

There’s a challenge in Frankie’s eyes, sure, but there’s a kindness in them too. A gentleness. You know he won’t think anything bad of you if you decide today isn’t the day. And that’s all it is. Your decision.

You step forward.

The carpet really is as soft under your scuffed up trainers as it looks.

The smile you’re greeted with when you finally shake his hand and give him your name is blinding. Even if you decide that this isn’t for you, even if you choose another depressing clinic over this support group, it will have been worth it to make this random guy smile like that.

“So, do you like, run this thing?”

“Me? I am definitely not smart enough for that.” He laughs and shoves his hands into his pockets, a little bashfully. But it doesn’t feel like he’s making fun of you for assuming he runs the show. He’s probably been asked that before.

“I just get here early to help out, and get the corner pieces of the brownies.” Frankie winks at you conspiratorially, as though you’ve known each other for years instead of five minutes. It all goes a long way to making you feel a little bit more at ease about the whole thing.

“That’s why I make extra, Morales.” The woman by the snack table pipes up without sparing a glance at him. Instead, she adjusts one last tray of goodies and turns to you with a warm smile. You spot the staff badge pinned to her cardigan, so she must be Dr Edwards.

She excuses herself to the front desk with a soft pat on your shoulder as she passes. Honestly, you’re beginning to think these sessions might now be as bad as you feared.

You turn back to Frankie with a smile, a lot less nervous than the one you’d given him initially. It makes his heart skip a little to know that he could help you feel a bit more secure, even in a situation like this. It sure doesn’t hurt that you’ve got one of the prettiest smiles he’s sure he’s ever seen, either.

“You up to giving me a hand with these chairs?” He must have noticed the lingering tremor in your fingers as you pick at the hem of your sweater. You almost forgot, just for a moment, the whole reason you’re here in the first place. But with Frankie looking at you the way he is, you find you don’t mind. Not one bit.

“Yeah, yeah I can do that.”

TAGLIST (add yourself here):

@bee-dameron​ @keeper0fthestars @thevoiceinyourheadx @firstofficerwiggles @1800-fight-me @ew-erin @chatterbean

[thesith]

THE DEATH OF ME - DARTH VADER

Chapter 3: 

Each mechanic was given three pairs of shoes. 

Two for working, one for other purposes like after work when getting food to eat. 

You only wore two of your three pairs. The third pair of books gave your feet blisters, which is why you opted for leaving your lightsaber in there. 

Lord Vader wouldn’t look in there, right? 

You’d previously hidden your lightsaber in a drawer, but there’s no point in that anymore. Who knew what inspections Darth Vader would hold. 

You shoved your metal alloy and carbon hilt through the top of your shoe, hiding it by putting a pair of socks on top of it. 

If Vader discovered you were a Jedi, you’d be a dead woman. 

You barely slept through the night. You were worried Vader could sense your dreams. 

Nightmares, more like. 

A few times during the night you felt prodding around your head. 

‘Damn,’ You thought, ‘Anakin’s a persistent one.’ 

Your mental shields never halted for a second. 

‘Why?’ Ran through your head. For hours on end, you tried to compile a valid reason Anakin would’ve turned to the dark side. Was it stress? Was he sick of the war and was willing to do anything to end it? Or did somebody push him to the point where he was going to destroy himself and everything he loved?

You never met the man, but you’d seen holo-reports of what he’d done in the war for the Republic. He was the poster boy. 

Now that you thought of it, maybe it had to do with the Chancellor who deemed himself Emperor. Anakin was seen with him quite a bit, wasn’t he?

Once your alarm went off, you stared at it. You were so caught in your thoughts that you didn’t realize it was already oh-four hundred hours. You slammed your hand on the button for the chimes to cease. 

Now that you were moved into Vader’s block, you had your own refresher and didn’t need to trek to your female stormtrooper friends’ quarters to use theirs. 

You grasped your new uniform which instead of being a navy-blue shade was black and red. Now you were going to stand out even more than usual. Lovely. You sat the uniform on your bed and walked to the refresher. 

You stripped your nightclothes from your body and entered your personal refresher. 

You bathed yourself, mind wandering to Jedi. 

Obi-Wan. 

Poor Obi-Wan. Your parents had told you many stories of their adventures with the young Padawan and his Master, Qui-Gon. 

It was awful that he was killed by his own Padawan. 

At least they were both at peace in the Force.

You then started thinking about the entire order. Could Anakin have been powerful enough to destroy Master Yoda? 

In your youth you had the pleasure of meeting the Grand Master. He taught you quite a bit about the Force. 

You wished the best for him. Though you’d only met him once, you could tell he was very passionate about teaching the youth. 

Even now you still kept some of his advice in mind. 

“Try not. Do or do not. There is no try.” 

“How can you do something without trying?” Eight-year-old you asked. His words confused you. 

He then proceeded to whack you with his gimer stick in the shin, knocking you off balance. 

You laughed at the memory. At the time you thought it wasn’t funny, but now you thought that entire interaction was hilarious. 

You raked your hands through your hair, washing out everything that could’ve possibly gotten in it yesterday. 

You were one of the few people in the Empire that took showers that were as cold as ice. The stormtroopers were grateful for that, as they liked theirs steaming. 

You continued your frigid shower until you were sure every single speck of dirt was off of you. You were always thorough.

You wrapped a towel around your torso and a smaller one around your hair. 

You’d gotten out of bed three hours before you were required to attend your new job, which gave you extra time to yourself. 

You sat on your bed and started using the Force to levitate random objects. You hadn’t used the Force to move things in so long, you started to wonder if you forgot how to. 

You started with the brush sat on your dresser. You brought it to your hand and placed it on your bed. You unraveled the towel in your head and brought the brush up to your Y/H/C locks. 

The brush struggled to go all the way through your hair, but with some vigorous strokes your hair complied, leaving your hair absent of any knots. 

When you finished brushing every part of your hair twice, you stood and released the towel from your body. You slid on your underwear and trousers. 

Luckily this uniform was much more comfortable than your last. 

You put on your bra, then your white tank top that goes under your jacket. 

There was a knock at your door. 

“One second!” You threw on your black jacket with red stripes down the sides. The front of it has a red Empire logo. 

“The Republic logo looked much better.” You muttered to yourself, walking to the door. You were met with the same hooded figure as last night. 

Even though these were your quarters, you kneeled. It was only proper as he was your superior. 

“Lord Vader.” Now that you knew his true identity, the words dripped like poison off your tongue. 

“You may rise, Miss Y/L/N.” He used your last name. Surely he detected the distaste towards his name in your voice, yet he ignored it. “I wanted to confirm you were awake and ready.” 

You rose from your knee and kept your eyes everywhere but him. He was a betrayer.  You opted for not speaking. You thought anything that left your mouth would be disrespectful. You just nodded your head. 

“It would be wise of you to use your words.” His voice was barely recognizable. It’s no wonder why people didn’t know he was Anakin Skywalker. From the reports he gave to the news after a battle or mission, this voice was almost completely different. 

You cleared your throat. The prodding came towards your head again. He was trying it. Again. 

You rolled your eyes. This time, you forcefully pushed him out. 

“Yes, my Lord.” You sarcastically spoke those words. It was almost as if you were trying to get yourself killed. 

“Tell me, Y/N, where did you learn such strong mental shields? Is there something you’re trying to hide from your superior?” He emphasized his title. 

“We were taught in our training in case we were captured by Rebels for information, My Lord.” You slickly lied. You disguised the lie as the truth through the Force. 

“Very well. I expect to see you in the hangar soon.” With that, he walked out of your room. He believed it. 

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. That was close. 

You finished getting ready and pull your hair into a bun on the top of your head. You walk from your quarters to the private hangar next door. You enter the hangar to be met by Anakin. 

“Miss Y/L/N, I would like some adjustments to be made to my fighter. I’d specifically like a new hyperdrive as well as adjustments to my navicomputer for a widened range. And also, a new targeting computer.” 

A new hyperdrive? The one he has currently isn’t even a full rotation old!

“Yes, Lord Vader.” The name dripped like venom. 

“Good. I will return to see your progress later.” He spoke before exiting. 

You had no clue where to start. 

The hyperdrive and targeting computer would need to come from an outside source, so you decided to start with adjusting the navicomputer. 

You had to take the panel off of the technology inside of the fighter, so you climbed up and jumped into the TIE Advanced x1. You used your screwdriver to remove the outward panel from the top of the wires. 

Some of the wires were on the verge of tearing, so you also needed to fix those too. 

‘Wait... Jedi don’t need targeting computers. They- we use the Force.’ You thought. Maybe his usage of the Force sucked more than you thought. 

Also, you thought Anakin was a good mechanic. Maybe better than yourself. So, why doesn’t he do this himself? Is it because he’s superior and doesn’t want to do his own handiwork?

So many thoughts ran through your head as you adjusted his navicomputer for a wider range. You rearranged the wires as well as added some new ones to account for the new space that was being added. 

You also put new protectors atop the wires that were close to becoming exposed. 

Before you knew it, Vader was back. You felt him through the Force. 

You decided to ignore his presence. You continued rewiring and cutting unneeded wires. 

You bent into a squat to adjust the remaining wires. You felt a jolt on the TIE. Soon, there was a sound of boots hitting the floor of the fighter. 

Vader bent down to look at your work. “That wire’s wrong.” 

You rolled your eyes. “No, it’s not. You see this?” You pointed to part of your work. “I added that for the extra range. This wire supports it for the screen, which I have yet to adjust.” 

He was appalled by your disrespect, yet he respected how you didn’t fear him. It was a nice change. 

“Miss Y/L/N, are you sure you didn’t cross any wires?” His low voice spoke, radiating through the TIE. 

“Once I place the new screen on the panel, we’ll know for sure, but no, I did not. I’m positive.” 

You moved from your position and placed your hands through the top hole on the roof of the tie. You couldn’t use your normal tactics, as they required calling upon the Force. 

You used your upper body strength plus your quads to lift yourself out of the Tie and jumped down to the ground. You walked to the metal table that held the new screen. 

Once you acquired the technology, you reclaimed your old position in the fighter. You placed the panel back where it belongs, used cutters to make a larger place for the screen, and shoved it into the panel.

You tried to remove old bolts from the panel but they wouldn’t budge. You kept pulling and tugging, but they were relentless. Eventually, one came out. You weren’t expecting the sudden change, so you stumbled. 

Vader placed two hands atop your hips to keep you from hitting your head on something. 

“Thank you.” You spoke once you were stabilized. He lifted his hands from your hips and turned on the navicomputer. 

Luckily for you, the technology booted right up, showing an enhanced screen that was much larger than his last. 

“I have to retrieve a new hyperdrive and targeting computer. May I leave the ship to get them?” 

“What ship are you planning on taking, mechanic?” He emphasized your title. He thought just because you’re a mechanic means you can’t pilot as well. 

“Lord Vader, I am an excellent pilot. I can take whatever ship’s available for use.” You told him. 

“If you’re an excellent pilot, why are you a mechanic?” He questioned. 

“I enjoy fixing things. I think it was a pastime I had when I was younger. I fixed droids, especially Artoo units.” You replied. 

He looked taken aback at the mention of Artoos. “Very well. We may take a small shuttle. Where are we going?” 

“We?” 

“Yes, Miss Y/L/N. We. Where are we going?” 

“Um, I was planning on Naboo. Thats where the best vendors are located.” You said. 

“All right. We leave tomorrow.” He spoke before he left to return to his personal quarters. 

Maybe this would be okay. Maybe you’d finally be able to come to terms with the fact it was Anakin under that hood. 

“Oh, Y/N?” He asked, turning back. 

“Yes, Lord Vader?” You respectfully said. 

“I will have someone bring a cloak to your quarters tonight. I would prefer us not to be recognized by locals and people of authority.”

That’s right. Senator Amidala was there. You’d recalled seeing photos of the two together. 

“Yes, sir.” 

With that, Anakin left the hangar. You were stood there staring at where he previously was. 

You were going with Darth Vader to another planet where his former best friend resides. 

~~~~~~~~~

TAGS: @rogerinasthong @liziihorta

[doc-pickles]

the storm & the wind

Brooke is running and Alex happens to meet her along her journey. Their brief encounter might just change everything for her.

hey hi hello I am DOUBLE POSTING for some god damn reason. (i updated treacherous on AO3 for the the first time in 20 years) this was in my drafts and I felt the sudden overwhelming need to finish it today. I love this piece more than I can say and it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy so I hope y’all enjoy it.

also the title comes from this quote from Little Women: You are the gull, Jo, strong and wild, fond of the storm and the wind, flying far out to sea, and happy all alone.

+

The snow crunching beneath her feet soaks into her worn Converse, a chilling reminder that she should’ve thought to grab something warmer. She makes a mental note to throw her now soaked socks over the heating vent later as she walks into the diner. It’s an old rundown place, but the gust of warm air that brushes over her face as she enters is a more than welcome feeling. Sitting at the counter she knows she should order something to eat but she can’t bring herself to ask for more than a cup of coffee when an aging waitress comes by and asks, her fingers greedily clutching the mug as she takes a sip.

“You’re not really dressed for the weather.”

The voice startles her, her grip around the cup tightening as she turns to her left. The owner of the voice can’t be much older than her, his chiseled jawline dotted with stubble and his dark hair cropped close to his head. He looks grumpy, an expression more at home on someone twice his age but the glint in his eyes keeps his youthful appearance.

“Your shoes are practically soaked through and you have a sweater on in 13-degree weather,” the stranger continues to share his thoughts, his comment prompting her to pull her cardigan tighter around herself. “I’m guessing you’re not from around here Blondie.”

The observation reminds her that the thick braid hanging over her shoulder is a bright bleach blonde instead of her natural brunette coloring. She’d hastily dyed it in a rest stop somewhere in Ohio, desperate to wash away any traces of him that she could.

“I’m from New Jersey. Well… Kind of. I’m originally from Pennsylvania.”

The words slip from her mouth before she can second-guess them. Normally she would worry about giving any identifying information out, the fear of him being able to find her consuming her mind. But she knows now that she’s far from New Jersey and the life she left behind.

“You’re from the East Coast and you didn’t pack a winter coat?”

“I forgot… I was in a rush.”

That part isn’t a total lie, she had been in a rush when she left. She had shoved as much as she could into her suitcase while he had been working, not wanting to face his anger at her sudden departure. Now though she wishes she had put more thought into what she grabbed, she’d been freezing since she left.

“Here, you look like a wet dog shivering like that,” the man slips his thick red flannel off, holding the garment out to her with an expectant look. “Cmon, I don't have fleas or anything.”

She takes the proffered jacket, only because she’s shaking just as much as he says she is. The heavy material settles on her shoulders instantly warming her. The man looks at her for a moment before turning back to his coffee, speaking as he stares at the dark liquid, “If you're from Jersey what the hell are you doing out here? Middle of nowhere Iowa isn’t exactly a tourist destination.”

“I’m starting over, running away from… something. At least I think I am. I’m not quite sure,” she toys with the sleeves of his jacket, finally looking back up at him after a moment with an accusing tone. “Why do you care anyways? Are you just trying to make sure I don’t have any concerned family members that will come looking for me after you kidnap and murder me?”

There’s a momentary pause before a peel of laughter erupts from the man, a glint taking over his dark eyes as he speaks, “Jesus, you’re really paranoid or something, huh?”

“Or something,” the words are barely a whisper, but they’re loud enough for him to hear and stop his laughter. She looks up and meets his eyes, noticing how he looks her over as if trying to figure out exactly what she’s thinking.

“I’m not trying to kill you, just trying to make conversation,” as if to prove his point he holds his hand out towards her. “I’m Alex.”

She hesitates only for a moment before settling her hand into his much larger one.

“I’m Brooke.”

+

The conversation seems easier after that, Alex talking about bringing his younger brother home after he had visited him in Seattle and Brooke talking about how she just finished her pre med degree at Princeton. They actually had a lot in common, an almost comforting feeling for her since Paul had isolated her from all her friends.

Paul.

She didn’t dare bring up her abusive husband or the horrors he had dragged her through. No, today she’s not poor defenseless Brooke Stadler whose husband can’t control his temper. Today she’s just Brooke, recent college grad who’s eating breakfast with Alex, the cute doctor with a charming smile.

“So why’d you say you’re starting over,” Alex finally broaches the subject as they both finish their meals. “I mean you just finished pre-med, that means you’re starting med school in the fall right? What are you running from? ”

Brooke shrugs, eyes falling to her now empty plate and she avoids Alex's piercing stare, “I’m supposed to start at Princeton med but now I’m not so sure. A lot has happened lately… It's complicated.”

Alex‘s hand reaches out for her arm, the move causing her to jump slightly. An embarrassed blush paints itself on her cheeks as Alex searches her eyes, almost as if he knows what she’s thinking about. He seems to brush the thought off quickly though as he continues to prod at her.

“Well… Did you get in anywhere else? It’s not too late to change your mind,” Alex shrugged as if sensing Brooke’s discomfort with the situation. “I was supposed to do my residency at the hospital down the street before I switched to Seattle at the last minute. Best thing I probably could’ve done for myself.”

“Well… I got into Harvard too. But I’m not sure,” there’s hesitation lacing her voice when she knows there shouldn’t be. Her mind is swirling, thinking about the fact that she could always go back to him. “I don’t know, I was thinking about going back home.”

Alex scoffs, the small noise causing Brooke to stare at him intensely, “You're not going back home, that’s a load of crap.”

“What makes you so sure about that? You don’t know anything about me.”

There’s a pause as Alex takes a sip of his coffee, a deliberate distraction as he attempts to string together the right words, “Well that black eye isn’t hidden as well as you think it is. And you jumped about a mile in the air when I first started talking to you. So I’m assuming you’re not running from something but someone. Did I get it right?”

Brooke’s fingers froze around her mug, eyes watering as she stared blankly at the dark liquid swirling inside. She pushes down the uncomfortable lump forming in her throat, trying to convince her nerves that Alex was just observant and not a threat.

“My husband… he has a temper,” eyes still focused on the coffee instead of Alex, Brooke found it marginally easier to talk about the real reason she was sitting in a diner in Iowa. “I just knew, the last time he… I just knew if he did it again he would kill me. So when he went to work I grabbed as much as I could and I got in my car and I drove. I don’t think I stopped for almost five hours, not really knowing where I was going. I just knew I had to keep going, that I couldn’t live like that any longer.”

The sounds of the diner around them are all Brooke can hear as her truth settles in the air, Alex taking in everything she’d ungraciously word vomited out. When he finally does speak again, there’s no tell tale tone of pity in his voice that she’d been anticipating.

“My dad was the same way, but my mom never had it in her to run. She was pretty messed up herself,” Brooke looks up at the stranger next to her as a small chuckle breaks through his serious tone. “She wouldn’t run so I had to raise my siblings, I had to make sure we all stayed alive. So I get it, why you’re running. And for what it’s worth, I think you should keep running.”

Swiping at the tears that had collected under her eyelashes Brooke thought about Alex’s words, “He's gonna find me, I know he will.”

“Screw him,” Alex scoffs, taking a swig of his coffee before continuing. “Go to Harvard, change your name, live your life. I promise you, you’ll regret it if you turn around and go back. You have a chance, a real chance, to change your life. Don’t let that slip away.”

There’s a beat of silence as Alex’s encouragement settles deep within Brooke’s chest. The man was a stranger in every sense of the word but somehow his whole hearted belief in her encouraged her to keep moving forward.

“Think of it this way, you get to start a brand new life, no strings attached,” Alex continues. “You can pick something cool! Something that means something. Like… One of those sisters from the book where their dad is away at war?”

“Little Women?”

“Yeah that one,” Brooke laughs at Alex’s statement, causing him to roll his eyes. “Oh shut up, my sister was obsessed with it and made me read it like a hundred times. But all those sisters were badasses, you could use one of those names. Like Amy or Beth. Well no she dies… How about Jo! You definitely look like a Jo to me.”

Brooke’s nose scrunches up at the names, causing both of them to laugh as Alex comes up with ridiculous suggestions. A flood of relief washes over Brooke as the two continue to talk. It had been a long time since she’d let her guard down around someone and just been herself.

A while later she excuses herself to the bathroom, a flash of disappointment striking her when she comes back to an empty seat. Her bill that had been sitting on the counter was paid, the receipt turned over and messy scrawl covering the back.

‘Keep running.’

-

So she does, Brooke keeps running and running and running and she doesn’t stop. In fact, when the running doesn’t feel like enough anymore she takes up actual running to calm her mind.

She runs every morning, at least two miles to clear her head and to keep herself sane. The days she misses her run are filled with overwhelming thoughts and anxiety that courses through her veins so quickly that it feels like a river crashing over her nervous system. She changes her name, cuts her hair, goes to Harvard and graduates top of her class. Every movement, every breath feels like she’s just moving towards the end of a never ending trail. But she keeps going, she keeps running because it’s all she can do.

When she gets accepted into Seattle Grace, one of the best hospitals in the country that puts thousands of miles between her and her past, it finally feels like a breath of fresh air, like relief is on the horizon. So she leaves Boston, leaves the east coast and everything familiar and finally feels like she might be able to stop running.

Seattle is different, it’s new and unexpected and perfect. It’s the first place where her name feels like it’s truly hers even though she’d lived with it now for almost seven years. Her first morning in her new apartment she goes for a run and finds herself looking over the Seattle harbor with a wide smile on her face. She’s a doctor now, something she’s worked towards her whole life it seems, but now it seems so real.

And then she gets put onto a Peds rotation and her heart seems to stop beating in her chest. Because her attending, Doctor Karev, is someone who’s appeared in her mind almost everyday since the first time she met him. His face, albeit a bit younger, is the one that appears when she thinks she can’t go on any longer.

“You mind?”

Alex’s voice brings her back from her daze, the same one that echoes her footfalls as she chases an adrenaline high every morning. She shakes her head in a futile attempt to clear it, “Sorry.”

“Why are you following me,” there’s an annoyed tone to his voice as she mimics his brisk pace down the hallway. She’d heard horror stories about him, about how rude and mean he was but she never would've guessed it was him.

“I'm your intern for the day.”

“Oh. Well, hello, intern,” Alex side eyes her, not really taking her in. “You have a name?”

“Jo. Jo Wilson,” it’s probably the fiftieth time she's said her name out loud since coming to Seattle but this time it feels different.

There’s a pause and Alex turns to take her in once more, as if he had missed something the first time he’d looked. She almost thinks he’ll say something, but he just shrugs and returns to tying his trauma gown, “Oh, nice. I like chicks with boys' names.”

The moment that she thought was there was gone and she stared at her shoelaces as Alex and Doctor Torres prattled on about something. She figures she should be grateful that he didn’t recognize her, that the seven years and the constant self improvement she’d put into herself had paid off. Still, her heart sunk as she realized that the man that had pushed her to keep running, to change her life, didn’t remember her.

-

Their story isn’t easy, in fact it’s one of the hardest things she’s ever been through. But there’s not a single ounce of hesitation or regret in her body when she wakes up every morning next to him. She’s always up before him, solely so she can get her run in before he wakes. By the time she comes back and showers, his eyes are sleepily staring up at her and his arms are reaching out for her like she’d been gone longer than a quick jog.

Alex is the person she’d needed, the one who pushed her to be better and made her feel like she didn’t need to change anything about herself. But the need to run, to keep running still hammered in her chest right under her heartbeat. She figured it would always sit there, the constant anxiety that her past might catch up with her if she stopped running.

When Paul shows up, all she wants is Alex. Before Seattle she would've run, would’ve been gone before anyone could blink to miss her. But now she wants nothing more than to curl up in Alex’s arms and never leave. She knows there’s more that needs to be done though, knows there’s more to the fight and that she needs to keep running this last little bit.

It’s not until she sees her ex husband laying in a hospital bed brain dead that Jo finally feels like she can breathe again, like she can stop fighting and just be. The breath of relief that washes over her as Alex runs his hand down her back feels like a thousand pound weight being lifted off her shoulders.

“I was pregnant.”

There’s a pause and she can feel Alex tense next to her, his hand on her back slowing as his eyes bore into her. She wishes she could stop but the words have been dying to slip out for the past six years that she’s been with him.

“The day we met, I was pregnant,” she turns to look at him, tears shining in her eyes. He doesn’t look shocked, not as shocked as he would’ve been if he didn’t know too. “I almost turned around and went back to him and raised a baby with him but I didn’t. The only reason I didn’t was because of this cocky asshole I met in a shitty diner who convinced me to start over. You’re the reason I kept running, the reason I didn’t go back. Whenever I doubted myself I heard your voice, the voice of a complete stranger mind you, in the back of my head telling me to keep running. You... you’re the reason I’m alive.”

Alex keeps his gaze on her for a minute, not daring to look away as they both realize that the other has known. Through the years of their relationship, since their second meeting in the very halls of this hospital they’ve both known exactly who the other is.

“You did all of that by yourself, you just needed a little push,” Alex brings her close again, his lips brushing against her forehead as she folds herself into his side. She’s crying full on now, her chest shaking as she finally lets herself stop running and lets the pent up emotions of the past few days wash over her. “I knew you could do it, I’m glad you did.”

Her tears don’t stop for a few days as she comes to terms with the fact that there’s no longer a need for her to run. In fact a few days later as she’s on her morning jog she stops and takes the deepest breath she feels she’s ever taken. As she leans on her knees she takes in the feeling of air freely flowing through her lungs, the exhilaration coursing through her body akin to what she thinks completing a marathon must feel like. Her eyes scan the Seattle harbor, taking in the sunrise as she breathes heavily and lets the day settle in around her. She'd run her race, she’d run it longer and faster and better than she’d thought she was capable of and finally, finally, she had finished.

[crystalgirl259]

The Flame and the Dragon Chapter 29

Chapter 29: Brotherly Advice

Cole had to face it, making out with someone was not the worst thing the staff had caught him doing, but that didn't make him or Kai feel any better. Harumi had already left with little Nelson, trying to salvage the boy's remaining innocence while they still could. Shade groaned, crossing his arms with mock annoyance, completely unaffected by Cole's incensed glare. After he had heard Neuro screaming, he took a risk and abandoned his post in the kitchen.

He was shocked to find Neuro and their friends screaming along with Kai and Cole who were both in an awkward position on the bed.

It didn't take him long to figure out what had happened. Neuro just slouched in his seat and pressed his fingers to his lower temple. Across from them, Cole was growling like a caged beast. Jay, Echo, Tox, and Ronin all looked at the floor or off into space, unable to look anyone in the face without blushing. Kai buried his mortified face in his hands, refusing to even meet the perverse chef's smirk. After the incident, Kai had practically kicked everyone out of his room, grabbed the clothes they had bought him, and locked himself in the bathroom.

Though he could still feel the chill of his recent illness, Kai felt an instant relief being fully clothed.

If he simply been naked when everyone arrived he wouldn't have worried. He would have changed into the clothes just as calmly as he had since the day he arrived. However, being caught with his captor, the very Master of the Castle no less, in such a compromising position that shattered the youth's entire demeanor. Though he might be naïve in matters of seduction, he didn't deny that he had enjoyed his time with Cole before they had been interrupted.

Now Kai just wanted to curl up and hide until he forgot this was over.

Despite the thick sweater, warm overcoat, pants, gloves, and socks, Kai felt naked and exposed in front of everyone's awkward eyes. Unable to take anymore, he stood on wobbly legs and headed back to bed. He almost groaned when he saw everyone was still here. He might hide in the library until everyone forgot about this. He wouldn't delude himself into thinking there was any chance Shade wouldn't tell the whole castle about this if they didn't already know.

Shade interrupted, scooping up the abandoned teapot, poured the dark green liquid into a cup, and shoved it into Kai's hands.

"I fixed this for you and you better drink the whole pot while it's still hot 'cause I'm not bringing you another one." He warned and Kai opened his mouth to protest but after a hard look from Cole and Shade and looks of concern from the boys, he sipped the hot tea. Heat immediately filled his being but he grimaced and stiffened at the strange combination of bitter, mint, and sweetness crafting an unpleasant blend. He gasped after swallowing a large gulp and shuddered.

"What's in this?" He asked, pleadingly. The chef plopped onto the edge of Kai's bed, ignoring the teen's disgruntled scowl.

"Just something that should knock that chill right out of your system, and you better drink all of it, or you'll just break my heart." He shrugged as he refilled Kai's cup with a wink. Kai sank into the pillows and downed the cup quickly. His mouth and throat burned from the hot liquid and he felt heat suddenly flood into his system but the bland taste in his mouth made him feel sick.

"Ugh, this tastes awful."

"Most things that are good for you are awful, like staying in bed and getting plenty of sleep." Cole teased lightly. Kai glared and opened his mouth to protest but was instantly silenced when Cole tilted his chin and kissed his cheek. Kai forgot to breathe. For a moment, he forgot everyone else was there. Cole stepped away and fished the comforter off the floor and draped it over Kai's body that was now propped against the pillows. He then took a thicker fur blanket Harumi had left out from the previous night and added that as well until his flame was safely tucked beneath the warmth.

"I'll be checking on you every so often, so don't even think of getting up." He warned, kissing Kai's forehead and ushered his staff out the door. Neuro smirked and dragged Shade behind him back to the kitchen before he faded. Jay, Tox, Ronin, and Echo were not far behind him. Once gone, Cole handed Kai a second teacup. "Make sure you drink that as well, I don't want you dehydrating either; I'll ask Neuro to fix you something but I have no doubt the whole house will know you're awake by the time I get downstairs." He chuckled.

Monetarily breaking his trance, Kai shook his head and pulled on the neck of his thick sweater suddenly feeling very hot.

"Can I at least open the curtain? Get some light in here? It's too stuffy," He complained; the thick air felt hot and bothersome. Cole pondered for a moment before shaking his head.

"I'll put the fire out, but that's all; your immune system is still too weak, and the last thing I want is you catching pneumonia, too." He said as he got up and opened the fireplace across from Kai's bed. With a flap of his wings, the air blew out the flames. The resulting back wave sent a refreshing wind across Kai's front.

"Thank you." He said but glared at the teacup.

"Glaring at it won't make it go away you know," He chuckled and Kai growled in response.

"I really think this is all too much," He sighed as h looked away with a turn of his nose and set the tea on the nightstand.

"Maybe, but I don't like taking chance with someone I care about." He smiled warmly as he removed himself from the fireplace and swept to his flame's side and kissed his forehead. Before Kai could answer, the prince pulled away and left the room, a small smile on his face and he closed the door. Kai touched the cheek Cole had kissed and hissed at how cold his fingertips felt. A sudden lump in his throat made him cough violently until he grabbed the tea and downed as much of it as he could without coughing.

Maybe the tea wasn't such a bad idea.

Kai grimaced and set the empty cup next to the still steaming teapot. Kai pulled off the thick sweater, leaving himself in just his shirt, and gently tossed it to the end of the bed. Then he settled down beneath the thick covers and lied on his flat stomach. He rubbed his shoulders more out of confusion than cold. That had been the first time Cole had shown him any open displays of affection, let alone in front of his staff. Before, anything they had done together had been in the shelter of the library or Cole's room.

The most open they had gone was probably the dining room or outside, but even then it was only when Cole was positive they were alone.

Kai assumed that was for the sake of the servants. It must have been uncomfortable seeing their Lord partake in such open displays of affection, let alone with another person, no matter how much they encouraged it. A flush of heat darkened Kai's face when memories of that morning flashed before his mind. Embarrassment flooded his being at the memory of being caught. What they were about to do suddenly hit him with the blunt force of a sledgehammer.

He buried his face in his pillow dug one hand beneath the pillows, and another through his sweaty bangs.

Shade's bitter tea was working after all, and the crimson blush of the morning's events only made his body heat up unnaturally fast. He didn't know what he was going to do. The brunette released a muffled moan and collapsed as if sleep would erase all his confusion...

****************

True to his word, Kai had obeyed Cole's orders and reluctantly remained on bed rest until Neuro and Echo firmly agreed that he was fully recovered, but by the end of the week, the lack of movement and being trapped in his room had driven Kai to the last of his nerves. He would have left the room if he didn't fear the wrath of the gossiping staff. That and he was worried Cole would get upset if he disobeyed him again. Fortunately, despite Cole's insistence that Kai needed as much rest as possible, Kai had had lots of company since the entire castle had been more than ecstatic when Shade flooded the staff with news of his awakening.

That and the buzzing with gossip about what had occurred in his room after Cole had forbidden the chef from speaking a word.

Ultra Violet and Harumi had come to check up on him occasionally while Neuro and Shade would bring him food. Echo would check his health and on more than one occasion Nelson would be with him, making sure Kai ate or drank all of his medicine he had been given, though most of the time he would just talk to him. Kai had been extremely grateful for the conversations since on more than one occasion he swore he would go insane from lying in bed all day.

Thankfully the boy didn't seem to affect by seeing Cole and Kai making out.

When the brunette thought about it, with what that child and everyone also had been through, seeing two people kissing would be the least of their trauma. Nelson was not much older than Lloyd and Kai could cry at the thought of his little brother and sister going through anything like that. Then again, he could cry just thinking about them at all. He hoped that they were settling into their new normal, without him. Perhaps if things keeping going well for him and Cole, Kai might be able to convince the prince to let him visit them from time to time.

But with what happened the last time Cole thought he would leave, Kai didn't think it would be wise to ask.

That didn't mean he didn't miss them every minute of every day since he was imprisoned in this castle. He also missed the boys always barging into his room asking to play games. He didn't blame them for keeping their distances at first, knowing full well he wouldn't be able to look either one of them in the eyes without blushing. Fortunately, however, on an occasion when the staff was currently occupied, they had been charged with keeping Kai entertained as it was Jay's profession.

That didn't mean it was uncomfortable at first.

After a few awkward stares and embarrassing questions, they confirmed that he was fine. The four servants were happy to finally see with their own eyes that Kai was alright. They were so happy that they all sprang onto his bed and hugged him tightly. Kai thought he would burst, but he just laughed and didn't complain. For the rest of the afternoon, they had done nothing but play games. Since then the quartet made it their personal job to see that Kai was kept happy and entertained while he recovered.

During their time together, Kai admitted that he had been scared about doing the deed with Cole.

He did care about Cole, more than he had anyone other than his siblings, but he wasn't ready for that stage of a relationship. Maybe when he was a little older and dated Cole a little longer he would be ready. They would have to see how things played out between them. However, it didn't solve one problem that had been on Kai's mind for well over a week. Cole hadn't come to see him since the morning he had awakened...

****************

Cole sighed happily as he walked down a familiar hallway, a large bouquet of bright, crimson red roses and Griffin's newest lace creation tucked securely under his arm. His razor-sharp claws were extremely careful not to damage the delicate red petals. Once he concluded that the lace was simply for decorative persons and that the tailor was not attempting anything, he had gladly agreed to bring it to Kai. He had felt insanely giddy when Echo had come back from his daily check-up on Kai.

He confirmed that Kai was finally healthy enough to be up and about but that it was still best he remain indoors and continue to dress appropriately for the Winter to be safe.

Griffin, in his excitement, presented Cole with a new outfit he and the girls had been stitching in their spare time while the others kept Kai company. But at the same time, part of him felt extremely nervous. An emotion previously deemed unthinkable for the Dragon Lord. Yet for all his confidence and arrogance, Cole honestly felt like he had rather face an army than carry on down the hallway to his captive's bedroom. But still, he pressed on.

After all, it would be the first time he had seen him since the morning he and Kai almost slept together.

At least he believed that was the modern term for what it was. The memory made him growl in anger and shame at his own stupidity. How could he allow himself to lose control so easily? In this form with its superior strength, sharp claws, rough scales, and powerful muscle structure he could have easily damaged or severely hurt Kai with his brutality. Never mind the fact that Kai had just woken up from a coma and was recovering from freezing death.

Both of which Cole had caused thanks to his own paranoia.

Cole paused for a bit to cover his face, but his sharp claws gently poked his skin causing him to pull back. He glared at it with a mixture of hatred and disgust. He didn't have fingers, just curved claws that furled and unfurled according to his whim. His palms and hand was nothing more than a paw coated in rough scales and soft underpads. His scaled tail twitched almost arrogantly at his side. His disappointed wings hung limply about his back and he exhaled an exasperated sigh.

He had been very grateful Jay and the others had taken the liberty to keep him informed on Kai's reaction and feelings about what happened between them.

He knew he shouldn't have been surprised by them though. Kai was roughly the same age he was when he had first become interested in physical intimacy. Over the years, curiosity and loneliness had compelled the young king to seek relationships that branched beyond emotional commitments. It didn't surprise him Kai had the same urges. But Cole had to keep reminding himself that Kai was still young, compared to him. He was young enough to be his grandson, even if Cole's personality hadn't evolved much beyond his twenty-one years.

It didn't surprise him that giving himself to someone probably still scared Kai.

Again, he was grateful the others had taken upon themselves to keep Kai company and trusted him with the information they had received. Cole wasn't naïve. He knew even without his dragon form he was an intimidating figure. With it, it only made things more difficult. He knew even if his and Kai's relationship had been healthy and prosperous, and built on their mutual affection and trust in one another rather than the lust for physical contact, the desire was still there.

The emotional attachment only made the need much stronger, and that much more terrifying.

But it didn't change the fact that Kai was still human and he was a dragon and the physical difference created another problem. Cole wasn't about to deny that he wanted Kai, but he had known for a while it was much deeper than lust. He wanted Kai in a way he had never wanted anyone or anything else. Want couldn't even begin to describe what he had felt. Need didn't sound right either. He wanted Kai in mind, body, and soul, but at the same time, he had also wanted Kai to want him in the same way.

Just being near Kai was enough to heighten all of Cole's senses.

Kai's smiles and laughs and clever wit were enough to make him smile, even laugh for the first time in decades. Kai's fiery spirit and temper both challenged and delighted him at every turn, but Kai's kindness and gentle, fun-loving nature never ceased to amaze him, and though his hot-headedness and obstinacy annoyed him to the bitter end, there was simply nothing to dislike about his flame. The fact that Kai was by far the most beautiful person he had ever met.

He possessed gorgeous amber eyes that left him breathless with every gaze was only a bonus.

His flawlessly tanned skin looked like it had been carved by the very sun and glowed in the right light. Kai truly was a gem, and in the past, Cole's arrogant self would have said such a gem should only be his, but now he wondered if he even deserved the right to call Kai his. Not when he had taken so much from him. Not when there was so much he couldn't give him, even if Kai willingly gave him everything. Kai deserved so much more than what Cole could give him.

He deserved everything.

He deserved to live his life as free as a bird. He should be surrounded by everyone that cared about him. To be loved by someone who could love him more than anything else until the end of time. Not a prisoner to the man who tore him away from everything in hopes of using him to break the curse still looming over his head. Even if Kai did return Cole's feelings it wouldn't change anything. Cole swore that come spring the cruel mistress known as fate would return to reap his soul.

Kai deserved better than that.

"Are those for Kai?" A familiar voice suddenly asked and Cole was immediately taken out of his depressing thoughts by the innocent question, but the tone held ulterior motives. Cole stopped and followed the voice of his Steward. Zane leaned against a pillar with his arms crossed over his chest. Instead of his stoic expression, he sported a sharp, proud smile and confidence, almost arrogant eyes. Cole matched the steward's smirk with one of his own.

"As a matter of fact, yes they are, I thought he'd enjoy them, and Griffin was just begging me to let him try them on," Cole said with a confident flare and continued his quest. Zane didn't answer. Instead, he waited. When Cole walked past him he finally replied.

"He's pretty spoiled for a prisoner." He said, causing Cole to stop in his tracks, and whirled around.

"I beg your pardon," He spoke dangerously low. Zane's expression faded in an instant. His neutral mask returned.

"I'm only stating a fact."

"You dare jest about this?!" Cole accused, exasperated.

"I never jest." Zane cut him off and turned around to meet Cole's dangerous eyes with his own grave icy ones. "Think about it Cole, even though no one would dare even think of him as such, and he possesses an extraordinary amount of freedom, he is technically still your prisoner." He explained. Cole wanted to scream, protest, yell, and scold and dismiss his steward in a way that would ensure he never dared to disrespect him again.

Instead, he was silenced by his own anger.

Not at his steward, but at himself. There was no denying the truth in the man's words. He had just confirmed it not moments before. But hearing it from someone else, having that fact that the boy he dared call his own was, in reality, his captive, sent him into such a state of anger and remorse he couldn't speak. His body could only shake in fury. Zane said nothing to that but waited patiently for his Master to regain control of the emotion raging within him.

He watched Cole's trembling paw move to cover his face and run a hand grip his raven locks.

He watched Cole exhale and his posture become that of a man graciously accepting defeat.

"What would you have me do then, Zane? Though I am bitter to admit it, you're correct, Kai is still my prisoner, so how do you suppose I go about fixing it?" He asked.

"I thought that would be obvious; how else? Set him free." Zane chuckled. The words hit Cole like a hurricane knocking him off his feet. Each word dropped like a stone in a well. He had to set Kai free? Send him back to where he came from, away from his side, possibly forever? The thought clutched at his heart like a deathly cold hand squeezing the breath from his body, filling him with a viperous terror he couldn't see.

"How can you even suggest that? You were the one who suggested he might be my key and now you're telling me to send him away" Cole asked, his words were all breath. Zane raised an eyebrow, unaffected by the prince's outburst.

"You misunderstand, I said you should set him free not send him away."

"There's a difference?" Cole hissed.

"Let me finish; first, you should set him free, assure him that he is no longer a prisoner, then ask him to stay with you." He asked but Cole was dumbfounded. "Ask him to stay, not as a prisoner, or captive, or hostage or guest or even as the key; simply because you want him to stay with you, not out of any obligation, but out of his own free will," Zane answered his master's unasked question, his confident smirk more evident.

"You think I should ask him to remain with me, purely because I don't ever want to be parted from him?" Cole asked, bewildered.

"Don't you?"

"More than anything."

"I'm glad." Zane smiled as he removed himself from the pillar and leaned forward against the banister of the hallway. "Everyone in this castle cares for you Cole, we more than just respect you as our Master, we all want you to be happy and Kai makes you happy, and I have little doubt that he's the one for you; all you have to do is accept it and we'll accept you," Zane spoke with the purest of loyalty. Cole nodded, grateful for his Steward's words.

"And what of you, Zane?" He asked, his turn to flash the smirk of a cat with all the cream. Zane's eyes narrowed.

"I don't know what you're talking about," He replied, but in his voice, it was a lie.

"Come now, Zane, I know you're not naïve, nor are you oblivious, I severely doubt you haven't noticed your own brother's intrigue?" He smirked but Zane said nothing, choosing to close his eyes. His face was a cross between a pout of annoyance and a scowl of defeat. "How long have you known?" Cole asked, crossing his arms.

"I've known before he did." He answered, knowing it didn't exactly answer the question. A chuckle escaped him. "Back when they were too young to know what it was they were feeling; ironic how romantic feelings are obvious to everyone but those experiencing them."

"Perhaps, but perhaps that's the nature of love, it doesn't see with the eyes," Cole smirked as he leaned against the banister, next to Zane.

"That's true." Zane agreed though he sounded reluctant. Cole gave him a sympathetic smile.

"You do know no one can love him more than Jay does, I think that is more than clear."

"He's the one for Echo," Zane admitted, grudgingly. "I've known that for a while, too."

"You know he's not the child he used to be, Echo, I mean, I remember when he used to be a timid little boy who would follow you everywhere but was always exceedingly shy around you; I always thought that was because you acted more of a father to him than a brother, but not everyone has chosen to remain stoic this last century as I have, some of us have used this time to mature, evolve, and become stronger," Cole explained.

"Yes, Echo doesn't need a father anymore, he needs a brother and not one to take care of him, he has Jay for that, and he's mature enough now to know exactly what that means and what it entitles and to be completely honest," Zane spoke like he was irritated but there was legitimate respect and pride in his voice. "I truly do believe Jay is the one for him, and that just annoys me even more!" He growled as he gripped the banister. Cole couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh come now, Zane, you knew Echo would grow up eventually? That's no reason to treat Jay like he's trying to take Echo away from you."

"He is!" Zane snapped, before regaining his composure. "In a matter of speaking." He sighed and Cole laughed again.

"It's no wonder they've found it impossible to tell you?" He asked with another light laugh and Zane snorted.

"I really do hate being right sometimes." He huffed as he regained his composure and lifted himself to meet the prince. "So, will you be taking my advice then?" He asked and Cole remained still. His face neutral and his eyes betraying no emotion.

"I'm not sure." He replied and it was Zane's turn to smile.

"Do you doubt he will say yes?" He asked, catching Cole off guard. He pondered them for a moment, then turned on his heels and continued towards Kai's room.

"I appreciate your assistance, Zane." He called over his shoulder.

"That is my profession." The Steward nodded as he watched Cole disappear down the hall. A moment later, Cole found himself strolling down a familiar hallway. Zane's words continued to run around in his head. He smiled when he found himself outside Kai and room and shifted his clothed burden to open the door. He already knew Kai's answer...