#i tried to bring the vibrance down as low as i could without making it greyscale

[chrysalisim]

[starshiningsirius]

Our adorable little junior (Yandere Vice dorm heads x reader)

The dorm heads aren't open to compromise as much as the vice dorm heads who are more civil. Surprisingly I can't find any yandere fics with all the vice dorm heads simping for one darling. Despite them being more scary, manipulative, and having more husband material.

I thank @writer-akihiko for the inspiration I had in the middle of the night to bring you this.

Color coded speaking habits are based off dorm colors and what tumblr had, so keep that in mind.

💝💗HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY 💗 💝

It all started with you wobbling through the courtyard only to bump into someone. They held on to your shoulders to keep you from falling to the floor immediately.

"Woah there! Y/n? What's up with you? You were weaving back and forth through the courtyardwith every step. Your not sick are you?" A slightly worried or rather maybe that was in your head to call it slight, maybe that was a illusion in your mixed up head.

You looked up to see a tuft of green hair with a pair of glasses that reflected golden eyes, and an unmistakable clover on his cheek.

"Ah Trey, no I was just studying for magical history a bit too late last night and now I'm --" Has Trey always felt this warm and soft? What ever the case it made him the perfect pillow as you slumped over toward him, which startled him for a second before he heard your soft snores and he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Geez don't scare me like that, it's rather worrisome that you'd fall asleep like that out of nowhere." He held her up a bit more to have her leaning on him as support. He was able to see the calm sleeping expression you had on your face.

"Still so naive though, if it was any other guy how do you think they'd react to such a vulnerable girl in this situation." He had a faint blush on his cheeks as he pushed up his glasses and made his way to Heartsbyul with you in tow before lunch would be over.

Thankfully he made a few sweets yesterday giving you one would give you a bit more energy not to mention the look on your face that would light up would be worth it.

The next day Rook had approached you after classes. Before you could say any sort of greeting he dragged you off to Pomeifore without providing an explanation. When you both arrived tea was already made for some reason, and small treats like macaroons were set in the lounge.

"Mon chérie I heard from Rose Chevalier that your in need of some assistance in magical history, I could be of aid to you." She contemplated his words, wondering who he was talking about before immediately assumed Trey. That made sense as they were both in the science club.

The offer he made did sound very tempting, she needed as much help as she could get.

"Yes please I'll be in your care Rook-senpai!" That short phrase did send a few butterflies in his stomach.

She was just as cute as when she slept at night. He did take a few pictures without your knowledge and managed to distribute them out to the others but there were these other expressions he saved in his head that were exclusive for him to see.

The radiant smile and look of triumph you showed toward him when you understood the concept he told you about. It was much more lively, he couldn't choose what he liked more the vibrancy of your smile or the vulnerability of your sleeping expression. Either were just fine afterall you were such beautiful person one that could do anything and would still have shown its beauty in his eyes.

That ended another day for you.

The next had you struck with some bad luck. As your pocket had gained a hole in it. Whatever money you had for lunch had been lost too. If you traveled back to your dorm all the good stuff would be gone, but it would be better than starving so you left the cafeteria. On the way in the halls you saw Jade who inquired where you were off to when lunch just started.

You told him your dilemma and he told you to follow him. After walking all the way to Octanivelle in silence and entering the Mostro Lounge you thought if he was going to try and convince you to sign a contract, but he only asked you to sit at a booth and wait for him.

20 minutes into lunch and he came back with some food for you both.

"Ah, Jade you didn't have to do that! I can pay you back just tell me the cost and I'll-" He leaned over a little bit and held a finger to your lips with a closed eyed smile on his face.

"It's fine, why not enjoy the meal? I made it with your tastebuds in mind. Afterwards preferably after class I can sew up the hole you mentioned." He removed his finger, but it didn't stop your face from heating up and turning red to the tips of your ears.

The reaction was cute in Jade's eyes seeing you nod obediently and take bites of the food he made with an embarrassed expression. It was all too entertaining for him, such entertainment made his heart rate accelerate rapidly and he'd keep sneaking glances while he ate himself. For it was always wonderful to bask in your presence.

Yet another day came to an end and another began. It was on this day that you didn't have to worry about lunch either. Jamil handed to you a bento box. You thanked him with a big smile on your face.

Your bright smile radiated so much energy, it looked like you genuinely appreciated his effort he put into making this. Such a smile made him pull down his hoodie a bit more to hide his blush taking over his face.

"It's not anything impressive, but since you like it just ask and I'll have lunch prepared for us everyday. It's no trouble." For you was what he meant to say. If it meant seeing such an expression again it certainly would be well worth the effort.

"Thank you Jamil! Kalim always says your food is the best I can't wait to try it!" That caught him off guard, hearing his own heart pound and feeling his face rise in temperature he thanked the great seven he wore a hoodie.

He put it over his face and waved it off saying the same response he'd have for everyone else downplaying his own capabilities, but she eagerly denied it causing even more embarrassment on his part. God another thing Jamil couldn't stand about Kalim was when he ran his mouth.

* * *

That very same day that started with luck had dropped significantly and took an opposite turn to bad. The misfortune of bumping into a few Savanclaw students whom find simple reasons to get angry whether they started it or not.

Luckily before they could throw a punch they suddenly started fighting each other for some reason. From their conversation it didn't sound like they were in control of their bodies in the first place. As soon as it started they suddenly stopped and ran off with anger for one another after embarrassing themselves.

A voice came from behind her that startled her for a split second before she recognized it.

"You've got to be more careful, Savanclaw is the dorm to avoid picking a fight with, Y/n." Ruggie came from around the corner twisting his magical pen in between his fingertips before placing it in his pocket.

Before Ruggie could chastise his junior a bit more she ran up and hugged him.

"Thank you Ruggie! If there's anything you need then I'm at your service!" He didn't hug back. For one is was abrupt and when his mind actually processed feeling your warmth radiating off you on to him, his face flared up.

His ears twitched and he tried to occupy his mind with some other thought to preoccupy which only led him to recall your words.

'Anything? Doesn't she know that prey like her shouldn't just say whatever.' He wasn't denying the fact that the offer sounded so sweetly tempting to take her up on, but with the others taking their chances with you and him low on the food chain out of the five others he knew the risk wasn't worth it.

"No it's fine just watch yourself next time. I may not be here to help all the time."

How many times had a student helped you now?

The next morning Lilia had joined you.

The thing is while Lilia was regailing an enchanting tale of his past it kept you occupied in not noticing the five other pairs of eyes that had set themselves on watching mainly you. Whether it was them keeping an eye on their dorm heads, or on their way to their own class they kept their eyes trained for as long as they could before she left their sight.

Lilia had heard the details from Ruggie and out of all the vice heads he was the most free as the others were commanded to do things by their dorm heads or were their unofficial babysitters. Lilia of course was the strongest and most capable by far out of all six of them. So he had jumped at the chance of being able to brighten up your day with many of his travel stories.

Seemed like you were spending more time with the vice prefects more than usual. Though Savanaclaw had none Ruggie was pretty much the unofficial for it.

They were reliable, more so than their dorm heads at times, that could be said for mainly Jamil, Ruggie, and Lilia. But some had proved their skills far exceeded their position and it was known to other dorms as well, like Jade, Rook, and Trey.

But with all these people who adore one so much to the point of doing anything for her, it had to go bad at some point. Obsession festers for many reasons, like worry, denial, or paranoia.

In this case its deemed worry.

The very next day you were offering sweets you made yourself to the six of them to thank them for their aid the past couple of days. They were all so happy, nothing would damper their mood for the rest of day, knowing you appreciated how much effort they put in for you. Well of course it didn't last long it didn't matter who you went to see last, mainly either Jade or Jamil, or Rook too. They were the type to pay attention to the little things. Though this time they were a bit preoccupied with their own deeds. You had found Jamil last as you assumed he'd be busy with Kalim the majority of the day. He was in the kitchen as usual fixing tomorrow's lunch for Kalim and him, and her too.

He was happy to accept the treat until he noticed how you looked. You looked like you were spent. He noticed your smile, one they adored to the point of insanity looked forced. Not to mention it looked like you were wearing make up under your eyes, in which he assumed you were tired and had to hide your eye bags.

He tried to tap you on your forearm before you could go and leave, but when you froze and winced with a petrified look, that's when he began to notice something had been wrong than what he already had imagined. He was worried seeing as the state of your expression was slight fear, but it didn't look to be of him.

When he asked her to tell him what's wrong, you asked to first be brought in private to hear the dilemma. He decided his room would be best seeing as the desert of Scarabia at night got cold.

When they both entered she immediately broke down. Usually she always seemed so positive but this was the complete opposite. He tried comforting and coaxing you into telling him what happened, so he could eventually inform the others in their group chat and eventually you did. Though it made whatever self restraint he had held back within his life snap.

You told him of how yesterday a student came up and flirted with you. You politely disregarded him, but the student didn't get the memo. He had gripped your arm tight enough to cause a bruise. That's when you kneed him in his gut and once he let go, used your leg to make his head hit the floor with a blow to the neck, successfully knocking him unconscious. You ran back to your room after that without looking back. Then you thought back to all the good deeds recently the vice heads had done, and decided you'd haven't been showing enough appreciation toward them. That's why you gave him and the others treats.

He also interpreted that he had touched you where the bruise was located and given you slight PTSD in which he apologized for his earlier actions. You probably didn't get much sleep either. You told him it was fine since he was just trying to figure out what was wrong and that you were just caught off guard. No soon after you finished your statement did he ask to see the bruise in which you received.

Slowly you took off your blazer and uncovered the bandages located where your elbow was on the inner part where the skin was softer and bone was located. That made his heart stop to see the bruise you obtained. His thoughts ran rampant with the thought of what he would do to the person who did it. Surprisingly he was never usually angry for someone else's sake but you had made it that way.

He had to put on a front for you though and he told you to stay while he got a pack of ice to ease the swelling. While away walking through the halls of his dorm he was seething with rage. One would think if someone touched him it would be the end of that person's life when he released such anger.

He started to text in the chat where all the vice dorm heads would inform each other of their encounters and Y/n's problems to find solutions. He told them to gather in Scarabia at the fountain for an urgent situation pertaining to their favorite little junior on his phone, though he would have informed them through the chat, he was more focused on getting the ice pack. They agreed to meet up in said dorm that their junior was currently in to hear the details from him himself.

When he had finally made it back to his room he found the person of their obsession in question asleep on his bed with their blazer still in the same spot and legs dangling off the bed as to not have her shoes touch the covers. Hugging his hoodie as a pillow of sorts. He would have savored this sight if not for the tear streaks that were on your face and the prominent bruise in the same spot.

He gently placed the ice pack on her arm and brushed away the stray tears and streaks with his thumb. The sight was normal for him considering Rook had distributed sleeping pictures to all of them. This was realer than any picture though. Soft breaths rhythmic breaths and silky hair like an angel.Despite that you looked to be uncomfortable seeing as the arm you were using had to replace the other one that was bruised and probably hurt to bend. He softly sighed knowing he had to get ready as the others would arrive soon and that the situation would not be pretty for the misfortune planned that ignorant person who dared lay a finger on their favorite junior would receive.

When everyone had arrived in the meeting dorm all had sour moods to be called a bit late after set curfews in two of the dorms or just the time taking away from their leisure after taking care of tasks that came with their position.

"It seems we're all gathered here now, Monsieur Multi-Compétent why have you called us here in the late hours?" Rook had a smile on his face which was normal but he was intrigued and serious about the matter at hand.

"You mentioned it's urgent regarding to our little angelfish correct?" Jade as well had his usual smile, but the slightest glimpse in his eyes had a rather invited gaze.

"You sure you couldn't have just texted it to us, it woulda saved us the trouble of coming here." Ruggie grumbled.

"I know you all are busy, but tell me did you notice something off about her today?" Jamil inquired to the other five.

"Now that you mention it when she gave me the treats she made it seemed like she was off. I was focusing on some tasks Riddle gave me so I didn't think too much of it." Trey had thought back to hearing her call out to him in a lower tone of voice.

"She didn't seem too energetic either when she gave me mine either. Sebek was a bit of a handful so I couldn't pay attention as much as I liked to her and she said she had to go give out the others." Lilia remembers asking her to stay for a little longer but she put up a facade and said she had other things to do.

The others agreed on the same notion that today she lacked her usual energetic, positive, behavior. Since their dorm heads and first years put them through the wringer today they didn't have time to think much on it. Jamil was used to dealing with Kalim's mayhem and chaos since they were children and had learned to still be skeptic even if he was exhausted or at his wit's end.

"Exactly, seems as though someone laid their dirty fingers on her the day prior and now she's a bit broken down mentally." Jamil had informed them of the situation, fully going into depth and detail seeing their facial expressions change throughout the retelling.

"Right, now I know you all want to see her, I can do that but you've gotta be quiet. She fell asleep in my room because she wanted to talk in private. She and other dorm residents are asleep so try to keep noise to a minimum."

They all had no reservations about that. He guided them to his room in which he did have some irritation toward letting them in. Thankfully he hid the picture Rook gave him so she wouldn't see it unless she looked. Slowly opening the door to see the sleeping girl, they surrounded her unsuspecting figure. They examined her for a moment taking in the sight before noticing the tear streaks on her face and the ice pack placed near her elbow.

Seeing the ice pack on her arm Rook steadily removed it to give the others a glimpse of the injury. Some of them froze while others who usually weren't so expressive of true feelings like Lilia, Trey, and Jamil had a look of anger. The ones who were more prone to dirty methods and violence like Ruggie, Jade and Rook had a look of bloodlust for the person who dared to do such a thing, despite Jamil having already saw it.

They all exited the room and ventured to the common room, closer to the outside section.

"Such a poor unfortunate soul, he doesn't even know the enemies he made."

"How foolish of them to touch something that's ours."

"Oh Rose Chevalier, you've been rather silent, no objection to such acts?"

"Don't get me wrong I'm angry, Rook. It's not as if I can stop you all from doing something horrible to some idiot. Fights happen all the time at this school."

"I'm sure I could find the idiot in no time, it's much easier to catch unsuspecting prey!"

"Since you all have your 'plans' I'll go and make a potion to rid her of that unsightly injury that foo-, I mean so she won't have to feel anymore pain."

"Since that's all finished what do you all suppose we do about her?"

"We've got to keep a better eye on her."

"Yes that much is clear, but with all of us having to be so busy all at once, going about that is rather difficult."

"Especially since she's a lot more frail, if the student were a beastmen then she probably wouldn't have gotten away."

"I propose we reveal ourselves to our angelfish. She may not like it at first, but it's clear that unless we know where she is at all times then we can't ensure her safety."

"Whose dorm is best suited to keep her there?"

"I was going to offer up my own, I'm sure your dorm heads would condemn our act of unsavory deeds, but Azul is different of course. Just let me handle all the details."

"As expected of Monsieur Mastermind, fully equipped to handle the situation."

"While that is going on, Ruggie how about you bring that cretin to Diasomnia, I'd love to have a chat with him. Don't worry I'll make sure no one is nearby to hear his fate."

"Ah, okay. Better than bringing him to my dorm and having to clean up a mess."

"Oh how about you let me in on your conversation, Monsieur Curieux, and I'll bring a few things to aid in the clean up Monsieur Dandelion!"

"Trey I need a favor."

"Depends on what the favor is?"

"I heard you can change the taste of something with your unique magic. Can you cast a spell on the potion before she drinks it? She's already suffered enough a disgusting potion is an easy fix."

"That's nothing, too complicated. Hand it over to me when it's finished once it's done."

* * *

Screams could be heard within the bounds far away from Diasomnia. Near the edge of a cliff stood three people while another person was on the ground. Burned, bruised, and battered not to mention a few broken bones, and loss of some organs devoured. They were proud of what they did to say the least.

Ruggie had the most blood on him mainly around his mouth while Lilia had some on his hands, Rook had a blade coated in it and still managed to get some on him. The lifeless corpse on the ground was where the blood had originated from as they tossed it off the cliff.

Lilia had cast green flames in order to rid the evidence. It was easy for Rook to cast a spell to clean their clothes with. Now they just have to go meet up with the others.

* * *

Based off the decorum of the room, she could only assume she was in Octanivelle. That's where she had woken up, but she remembers Scarabia last. Soft covers on top of her were thrown off as she hurriedly looked around the room to see no one.

She tried to go toward the door and twist the knob only for it to not budge. Using magic as well didn't move the door an inch. Her pen was gone too, so she was limited without its usage. Not to mention first years only knew so much less you came from a country where magic usage was prominent like the Valley of Thorns then it was likely you weren't to know much before entering school.

She sighed and took a moment to sit back down on the bed she woke up on and think why she was brought here. The last person she saw was Jamil, and she was in his room last but that didn't spark anything as to how she ended up here. She hoped at least that Jamil was okay if she was here by force then he might have tried to stop the captors and got hurt in the process.

The door opened after about an hour she heard the key being inserted. It revealed Jade who stepped in the room with a smile and revealed five others who came in with Lilia slowly shutting the door back closed.

All of them she recognized were Vice dorm heads who she had spent time with the past couple of days. She didn't open her mouth yet still trying to piece things together, and the first to come to mind was that they brought her here. Connecting the dots over the past several days she spent time with them more than anyone, and they each seemed to know her problems or were curious about them.

She just couldn't understand why though. Nothing added up and when she glanced at each of them a nervous shiver came through her body.

She finally decided to speak.

"Why, .......... would you do something like this?

"Because prey like you, has to be protected."

"Such a sweet thing could easily be devoured."

"That's why your such delicate and fragile flower."

"Precious and meant to be protected like the most valuable treasure."

"Mon amour we do commend you for defending yourself but fret not,"

"Our dear little angelfish we'll fix all your problems so that you have no worries."

Masterlist

[solomonish]

things my heart used to know (solomon x reader)

You find yourself stuck in an unusual contraption with Solomon, where the only way out is to take a trip through his memories that he was not prepared to take.

Based on Once Upon a December

Ao3 link: here!

With a spectacular grunt, you rammed your shoulder against a suspicious spot in the wall, hoping that just maybe you could bring the whole wall down or convince someone to help you out or something. Chances of that were low: you and Solomon had been alone when the mysterious magical device activated, trapping you both inside. Trying to shove the more hopeless thoughts of never escaping away, you continued to push at the wall, as if one spot would give and open up to let the two of you out.

Solomon was behind you, leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed. He looked the picture of calm, a small smile playing with the corners of his mouth as he listened to your struggle. When you looked at him with the intention of giving him a glare, you saw the dim light in the box had turned from white to gold. With a cocked eyebrow, you pushed away from the wall as you felt it morph from stone to something smoother. “What’s…”

“It’s deciding which form to take,” Solomon answered as if that told you anything. Met with silence, he chuckled and pushed himself off of the wall to make his way over to you. “We’re in a memory box.”

“A memory box?” Inadvertently, you stepped closer to him, only stopping when your arm brushed gently across his. The sensation of the walls changing beneath your hands put the horrible thought of your hands getting stuck in a partially-morphed wall, and you wanted to stick next to him in case that really did happen.

Clearly amused, Solomon looked down at you, the teasing smirk on his face making him look much more condescending than he normally did. “Yes. They require a strong magical energy to work, and typically only work once. They’re especially popular with those of us who...have a lot of memories to sift through, but they can be used by anyone. I’m surprised this one lasted so long without being used...” 

As he talked, he walked forward, noting how you stuck close to his side and looked around nervously. The darkness was slowly dissipating and the focused light began to expand into a broader golden glow. The box transformed into a long hallway, the end opening into a room you couldn’t quite see into. Curiously, the walls around you started to shine, taking on their own gilded form. Intricate shapes were carved into the gold, reaching tall like palm trees. In front of each carving stood a gold pedestal, each with some artifact on it that looked to you like they belonged in a museum. 

Finally pulling apart from his side, you ran your fingers over one of the trees. The walls seemed stable, thankfully. “You seem to know a lot about these memory boxes. Have you used one before? Oooh, or did you create them?”

He picked up a small statuette, his gaze darkening for a moment as he stared at it absently. “I...am familiar with how they work.”

He placed the statuette down with a solid clink, drawing your attention from the wall and stopping you from commenting about how utterly unhelpful his response was. Had you said something wrong? His footsteps were faster than before as he made his way down the hall, barely glancing at the walls as if he had seen them before. Well, actually, he probably had. As far as you were aware, you didn’t have an intricate temple in your memories, so this must be coming from him.

Scurrying after him, you followed him through the shadowed doorway and stepped into a room that was just as ornate but not at all connected to the hallway you were just in. While the hall looked like some temple from the first century, the ballroom-like space before you seemed much more recent, if not still at least a hundred years old. You were standing on a high landing, having emerged from an archway several feet taller than you. You weren’t an architect or archaeologist, but you could guess the style of the architecture was different. Maybe...more European? Of some sort? Cringing, you tried to push the image of your humanities professor scowling at you out of your head and slowed your own steps, choosing instead to look at the high ceilings around you.

“I’ve never seen a place like this before…” You murmured in awe. Though the room was dark and clearly abandoned, you still felt a still kind of magic around you, different from what you normally felt around Solomon. He was a few feet to your left, looking at a separate old artifact and standing before a table littered with them. If you squinted, you could see what looked like wings stretched across a long serving dish, the paint chipped and faded. You couldn’t tell if it was an angel or a bird - the pinched expression on Solomon’s face didn’t give you any clues, either. A chill settled in the room, but only you shuddered, suddenly realizing that you were an intruder in these unfamiliar rooms. The thought had you awkwardly kicking at the worn rugs beneath you, the threads dirty and torn yet somehow still looking expensive.

Without a word, Solomon dug around in the bag he was carrying with him, hastily looking for something. You watched him drop it unceremoniously on the ground, bringing up a cloud of dirt around it. In his hand was the notebook he used to teach you different runes, a faint glow coming from the page following the stroke of his pen. The sound of the page being ripped from the binding seemed to fill the room, followed by his steady footsteps as he made his way to the grand staircase. You watched him go, only turning your head so as not to draw his attention.

After he passed, you cautiously sauntered over to the table Solomon was standing at, stooping to pick up the bag he left behind. Slinging the long strap across your chest, you picked up a bear figurine gilded in chipping gold, turning it so that it caught the light. All of the figures before you seemed to be masterful pieces of craftsmanship, regal things to be envied yet somehow seeming personal.  You were almost afraid to touch them for fear of offending the unknown owner.

Your hand fell to your side, bumping a cool metal box on the way and nearly knocking it off the table. Thankfully, you caught it and brought it to your face. Opening up the small lid to reveal another bear, this one standing up as if dancing one half of the tango, you gently turned it around to find the crank. It was old and a bit rusty, but still you turned it gently once, twice, three times until you could feel the springs coiled so tightly they might break. For a moment, you held your breath, then - 

Nothing. No sound came out of the box.

"Hmph. That's a shame," You murmured, tapping the side gently with your finger. Unsurprisingly, that didn't work and you set the box down on the table again. Turning over your shoulder, you called out, "So, what is this pl- ack!"

Just as you turned, a small display of glitter resembling fireworks shot out from Solomon's hand, the shimmering ash eating away at the paper that hovered in midair. Your shout of surprise didn't stir him, his back rigid and still facing you.. The quiet fizzle that caught you off guard became a visible stream of magic curling around him and you before spreading to the far corners of the room. 

You watched as the shadows were pushed into the walls before entirely disappearing, the magic gilding the ballroom and mending the disrepair it had fallen into. Tapestries unfurled to hang on the wall as the vibrancy of the old portraits returned. Overhead, empty arches found themselves holding large, crystalline chandeliers that bathed the room in a welcoming glow. Behind you, the music box started playing, the tune sounding like a full orchestra even if you knew it should only be a dissonant metallic tin. The extravagance caught your breath, nearly distracting you from the way the paintings began to shift and colors bled together.

With another wave of his hand, Solomon drew figures from the painting, hundreds spilling out as if a day had been broken. A few emerged from the floor, entering the ballroom the same way one would step out of a lake and onto the shore. Some of the figures wire masks, hiding their identity with the facade of thespian comedy. Others came as they were, wearing the same face in a variety of expressions. Despite the period clothing and many different hairstyles, the face was eerily familiar.

You watched ghoulish duplicates of Solomon traipse around the floor or mingle, talking to invisible counterparts animatedly. The figures that were not identical were faceless, aside from the occasional partner that seemed to exist in greater detail than any version of Solomon. The figures never stepped a foot on the staircase that was now covered in a rich red carpet - somehow, they were completely unaware of your presence yet seemed to know and respect that you and your Solomon lived in reality. They were citizens of the mindscape, figments of the past, and the barrier between what is and what was should not have been breached.

So caught up in your shock were you that you failed to notice Solomon head down the stairs, as if in a trance, and breach that barrier.

Once you saw him slipping between the ghostly figures, expertly sidestepping them as if he had studied their waltz for years, you called out to him. But he did not answer, too focused on the people milling around him. Maybe your voice was drowned out by the faux chorus around you. With a huff, you gripped the strap across your chest and followed him, walking down the stairs so quickly you almost tripped.

The moment you reached the foot of the stairs, you felt as though you had stepped into a bubble. With a close eye on the figures around you, you picked your way through the crowd with significantly less grace than Solomon. You never lost sight of him in his dark clothes, the dancers only distorting his image as if you were looking through water or a warped mirror as they passed in front of your line of sight. One pair accidentally passed through you, sending a harsh arctic chill down your spine. You watched that Solomon, his hair slightly neater and sporting a ridiculous frilly neck accessory you might have made fun of under different circumstances, pay no mind to you and instead look down at his companion. His expression was mischievous, scheming, but the woman he was dancing with had a face of static, barring you from reading her reaction.

Clutching tighter to the bag strap, you hastened your pace and tried to maneuver through the spirits, occasionally brushing your elbow or hip through the people around you. Each time it sent a different shiver through you, some icy while others were warm and tingled your skin. Surrounded by phantom Solomons only made you more eager to find your place next to the real one again, but the static shock you got from passing through the hurdles made you all the more careful in your steps. Who knew finding your way through a crowd you could walk right through would be harder than finding your way through a collection of solid bodies?

Near the center of the room, you found yourself in an open area with Solomon, your Solomon, standing in the middle. It seemed the translucent versions of himself knew to steer clear of him. You watched, standing just on the edge of where the crowd seemed to circle around him, watching as he took in his surroundings. Then, slowly, Solomon turned to you as if realizing for the first time that you were there.

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing could come out. All your words tangled together, the confusion only growing when Solomon reached a hand out to you, palm up. The gaze he held you in was unfocused, his expression the closest to unkind you had ever seen. Even if there were no right decisions, rejecting his offer to dance seemed like the absolute wrong one. With the same timid air as a schoolgirl at her first dance, you placed your hand in his. For a moment, you felt vulnerable as you untucked your arms from your chest, only to feel at ease once Solomon pulled you in. His hand fell to your waist with a practiced ease. If he had been focused, maybe you would've felt butterflies swarming in your stomach, or maybe you would've laughed nervously. His far away gaze kept the joy down, and instead you pressed your lips in a tight line, watching him closely and allowing him to take the lead.

He fell into step with his doppelgangers, directing you through a path of the specters with the firm hand on your waist. Your time at Diavolo's party helped a little, but back then you hadn't been so worried about your partner. (Well, aside from the time Lucifer asked to dance with you only to threaten you - but then you were more worried about what your partner would do to you and not his emotional wellbeing.) It was all you could do to avoid stumbling over your own feet, barely missing his ties with your heavy steps. 

"Solomon…" You breathed out, noticing how his gaze stuck to the spirits for a moment too long before turning to you. Your questions died in your throat - Are you okay? What's happening? What memory is this? How do we get out of here? - but he could read your expression clear as day, even with his mind preoccupied. 

"These are all memories of me," He explained, leading you into a turn and  arely avoiding one of his copies. "I didn't have a specific memory in mind when we activated the box, so...perhaps it just started to play all of them in one."

"So you've been here before?" You asked, astonished.

"It's...familiar. I've been to lots of places. It's hard to tell."

A pair of dancers blew through you, sending a spark down both of your spines. You turned your head to see a version of Solomon look both ways, checking for onlookers that were nowhere to be found, before tenderly reaching towards the face of the man beside him. Before they could meet, Solomon turned you so his body was between you and the romantic scene, but you were able to catch a glimpse of the man's face. It was completely smooth, like an unchisled head to a statue. 

Solomon didn't make eye contact with you, a faint blush painting his cheeks. You squeezed his hand in the only reassurance you could give. "I don't mean to pry."

There was no answer, and you couldn't blame him. Even if you hadn't meant to peer into his memories, you were witnessing versions of himself he didn't tell you about, versions of himself he might not even remember. You didn't know if he was dancing with you to angle you away from the things he didn't want to see or just to keep you close, but the fact that you were even around to be swept up in the sea of Solomons was too personal for him to dwell on.

With an almost imperceptible tilt of his head, Solomon's attention was grabbed by someone on the other end of the room. His grip on your hand tightened and he tucked you slightly closer to himself, spinning you in order to turn your course. You couldn't keep up with his faster footwork, nearly tumbling to the ground and only saved by his firm grasp. Solomon wasn't paying attention to you, though; his focus was on whoever he was pursuing, his turns tight as he guided you into a small circle around the room. 

The fast turns were making you dizzy, unexpectedly jostling you every time his target moved from his sight. Feebly, you used the hand resting on his shoulder to push him gently away, asking him to stop. The more he spun, the harder you pushed, occasionally asking him to slow down. He wasn't hurting you, but you were hoping that if you could get his attention he might stop. The figures around you were whirling, spinning, disorienting you - was that how dizzy and overwhelmed he felt every day, or just now? 

Without warning, the figures around you stretched an arm out as their partners spun away from them, their fingers barely brushing past each other as they disappeared into thin air. As the remain figures turned to fade into their own memories, Solomon did the same to you. You tried to keep your hands connected, hoping maybe if you kept your fingertips on his he could you bring you back to him bring his thoughts with you. That didn't happen, and you felt your fingertips drag across his palm as you stumbled backwards.

Brushing your hair out of your face, you huffed and looked around. It was just you and Solomon in the room again, the Golden facade having faded back into the dim, abandoned ballroom from before. Solomon was staring at a blank space a few feet from the wall, his face scrunched as if watching the world rip something from him. Perhaps he was; perhaps he was watching one of the few faces he could remember beside his own, maybe one of the ones he loved, fade away from his grasp again.

This wasn't about you - clearly, none of the memories were for you to see - but you felt a creeping loneliness settling around you. Solomon was not only lost in his own world, but in hundreds of his own worlds, where details blurred and recognizable friendly faces were a luxury. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you noticed that the music box was now playing music, the kind you'd expect from such a dainty trinket. Now, the sound seemed hollow and eerie, far from how charming you thought it would be before.

Hesitantly, you took one step towards him as the song dwindled to a stop, but the click of your shoe echoed far too aggressively in the room. The walls were slowly returning to the non-descript box you were in before, but Solomon wasn't moving from his spot. The memories would always be swirling around in his head, you supposed. He had to take his time to bridge the gap between you - even if to you, it seemed insurmountable and ever-growing.

[remsmoonlight]

— title : i need you

— word count : 2.1k words

— pairing : ryuji goda x reader

— summary : convincing ryuji of doing the opposite of what he’s set out to do is a pointless task, yet you will attempt if it gives him even one more day.

— warnings : blood, mentions of violence, some swearing, mentions of imagining of death, angst

notes : inspired by a prompt from here .. i had to do a self indulgent thingy for tumblr .. because why did they have to kill him off like that .. i tried to be dramatic as i possibly could

" none of this would've happened if you had just listened! "

A muffled silence drowns your hearing, the spinning of the Earth decelerates until it feels little more than a crawl with a weak grip. Rough cement scrapes the smoothness of your knee, leaving an angry blemish as grit fights to find its way into your bleeding wounds. No graze can pull you out of the deep end your heart finds itself fighting to stay above of, as you witness your worst fear painted perfectly on a canvas steeped in blood. The stillness of the air leaves you feeling flustered as your mind tries to make sense of what it observes before it, hoping that it’s no more than a deceptive trick played on itself by the fear you felt as you made your way up the tall structure.

A romantic thread of words have never failed in supply, but words left unsaid threaten to crush you under their weight, lost moments to time. A shudder of a breath shakily is let out, the cold air kick starts your body as you push yourself up and scramble to where the battered and bloodied body of Ryuji lays, almost motionless in pain. A childish cry to wake up from this nightmare is all you can think of, but reality does not bend to the whims of humanity, it continues with the path it has set. Resentfully, you can see the similarity that it shares with the male.

“ none of this would've happened if you had just listened! “ A broken cry full of fiery misery lick at the delicate snowflakes that descend from the heavens with a short lived grace, full of threats to burn as they penetrate your space.

The shock of the vibrancy of the liquid that escapes Ryuji leaves time standing still, you care not however, your fingertips gripping a heavy shoulder as the other lends a gentle touch to his cheek. Pain and grief masks itself as anger. You sorely wish to blame someone or something, but you had warned him.. You’d tried to reason with him that this course he’d set would leave him chasing an unattainable taste of sweetness of satisfaction that would dull with each day that dawns. A strong will that had left you in an addictive awe leaves you with a decaying taste in your mouth now, it creates an impossible amount of scars on your soul.

“ ‘Guess I should’a listened to ‘ya after all. “ He reluctantly answers, the humour unable to battle the drain out of his voice completely.

“ Why couldn’t you have just let this lie? “ A ticking pulls your attention away for a fraction of a passing second, a groan causes you to turn back.

“ Was always gonna end this way. “

A weakened grip that belongs to Ryuji ignores the resistance from his body, enduring the pain from the movement in order to experience skin against skin contact for himself once more. He wishes he could have found it within himself to have turned left, but he’d have lost himself without this self imposed purpose, fading into the background. It was selfish, to bring you into his world.. But to him? You’re an unfinished book, your words inked with glittering star dust that etch themselves into existence. He was unable to tear him away from your pages that you may have worn like wings. Selfish. To know how his story would end, yet knowing he would not be around for yours.

“ No. “ Your lips close, pushing against each other to numb the other, your features twisting into an aching grimace.

“ Can’t stop it now. “ he insists, brows drawing together as he scrunches his eyes up from the agony that throbs through every inch of flesh. “ Shit’s set in stone now. “

“ Stop it! “ You sob, hating how vulnerable you sound.

There is a sorrowful beauty in the scene, notes Ryuji. Pale beams of moonlight triumphant until the point of reaching your body that blocks it. Leaving no more than a radiant glow surrounding your head, providing an inhuman glow that illuminates your body as much as your soul — a wistful image that he’s glad to witness once more. Your being here is something of a majestic collision into a door to his person he’d fought to keep locked, if this is a departing gift he would gladly take it. He’d thought the last time he saw you would be when he unwillingly shared his plan, should this ending occur, he could take comfort in there not being a picture of you waiting at the door waiting for the other half of you to walk through the door, only to be met with a crushing realisation of never seeing him again. Only, he’d not expected you to follow in his tracks, not after he’s ignored your pleas of turning away from this path.

“ Ya better get outta here, ‘place is gonna blow soon. “

“ Not without you. “ you argue, refusing his direction — your grip strengthens ever so slightly, fearing the winter breeze has the power to boldly grow and tear you away from the man.

“ Ya got’a whole life ahead of ya. “ A twist of his heart is the dominant sensation he notices at the thought.

He wishes he could be there for it, to see the petals of your success bloom in the depths of your determination. One thing he could never understand was how, despite the tainted reputation that follows him like a shadow, never had been enough to put you off. Not a criminal tie to your name and you voluntarily merged your time and energy with his, with little care. Perhaps that’s where an addiction to his selfishness began. All his life and his Yakuza connections secluded him from genuine human connections and you’d trampled all over that with your impartial view. Many would prefer to cower in their fear, you’d scratched past the surface to see who he could be capable of being.

All the time spent together, and yet he still craves more. To linger in your orbit, time is his nemesis — for he still feels as if there has not been enough. Not the hours spent with the sun setting and you’re there by his side, when he’d spent more time committing the wonder at such a simple thing to his memory. Not the darkened hours spent together surrounded by silken sheets, and all that graced his ears was a musical symphony of breathy moans as you set about learning each other’s bodies. Never were the hours spent talking in order to hear the passion in your voice when speaking about something that interests you enough for him.

“ You can’t do this. “ You whimper softly, almost looking through the man you hold close. “ You can’t come into someone’s life, you can’t make them care about you and leave just because you want to. What did you think was going to happen? That I was going to sit by and let you do this? “

He says nothing, leaving space for a groan of pain to leave his lips as he tips his head back. He’s met with a darkened blanket where millions of stars are scattered so ungracefully, yet do not collide an uncoordinated dance across the sky. Uncertainty overwhelms him, over that is causing more pain — the wounds or the grief in your every word.

“ Just get the fuck outta here already. “ His voice echoes across the large space as he turns his attention back to you.

“ Were you lying all that time? “ You ask with a trembling lip at the thought of being without.

It feels like an endless amount of early mornings had been spent planning and chattering about the most random things. Your mind lighting up with the power of a thousand suns before the world had awoken around you. You can’t pinpoint the moment it happened, but the two of you awoke a little earlier than necessary to bathe in the image of the other — to forge a most perfect illusion of normalcy before stepping out into the real world. Mornings were not your most happiest bedfellow, yet you’d grown to love them just a little more when waking to the most simplest treat to sweeten your tongue.

“ What ya on about? “

“ All that time when we were talking, about what we were going to do? What we could do? ”

“ Why ya going on about that ? “ He asks curiously, eyeing you as you speak.

“ If you die, how are we meant to do any of it? “ Your words are rushed as you question him plainly.

“ Yer gonna .. just won’t be with me. “ Colour from the world feels as if it’s fading, merging into one bland monochrome depiction of a bright, bubbling city.

“ Can you stop?! “ A frustrated shriek tears from the bottom of your throat in response. “ I’m done talking in circles, I’m not dying here and neither are you. If I have to, I will drag you out with me. “

The world pauses in shock for a quiet fraction of a minute. To be spoken to in such a manner is not something Ryuji has experienced much in his life, even rarer by you — words that fell from your lips are always bathed in the sweetness of sugar, not an ounce of poison to anyone. Even the individuals who drew your temper out of its sleep were met with an incredible amount of restraint, he can hear the desperation — acting as a bucket of ice water to shock his nerve endings from the low temperature.

“ You did what you had to do. It wasn’t meant to be, but you can find another purpose. Build something else with your life, just.. Just come with me. Please. “

To be responsible for dragging you down with him, away from providing the world with your bright rays of sunshine in the bland day to day lives of everyone you came into contact with weighs heavily on his chest. Extra time spent with you, perhaps getting to know who his little sister has become are the treats tied onto a stick in front of him, life’s cruel bribe. He’d imagined how his ending would have been sketched by above, yet to have ties keeping him there had not been what he would have included. If he couldn’t be the one dragon, this would be a consolation prize that would allow for the petals of peace to bloom before he’d tear them down once more.

A strength he’d thought abandoned him glows with a dull hue, for a minute, he contemplates using that for Kiryu. Yet the other half of his soul wins the battle, a hand of his reaches out to push himself off from the concrete. It’s not an easy feat after being battered more than once, yet it’s not half as arduous as it could be with you supporting his weight — he’s fully aware how much of your strength he is using from your audible gasps of air.

“ Ya don’t gotta yell at me. “ he complains softly as he grips his side with as much force as he can dedicate to.

“ I don’t think it’s the time for this. “ You argue back quickly.

“ The red one. “

“ Huh? “ The sound escapes you as your features turn into a frown over how to get away from the ticking time bomb fast enough.

“ The lift, to get down. Press th’red one. “ He instructs you with a finger barely lifted, pointing in the direction of the button behind you.

You say nothing in response, the wheels in your mind working faster than your body as it moves purely on an instinctive reaction when receiving messages from your brain. Your stomach twists and turns from the descent to below, unable to process the way the city shifts into a state of obscurity from the swift movement. It would be a beautiful sight if it hadn’t attached a violent night as a parting gift.

“ You really scared me up there. “ You confess with barely a whisper. “ Can you promise me something? “

“ What’s that? “

“ That you won’t do something like this again. “ You say, with your heart hoping that he’d shy away from an impossible task should it present itself. Your eyes had seen enough hurt for one night, you’re confident you’d not be able to withstand it once more.

“ Wish I could. “

Teeth grind against the bottom of your lip, you should have known that he wouldn’t. Yet you also cannot find the strength to tear yourself away from the fire that burns within him, like a moth to a flame, you find yourself wondering how close you can stand against the heat before you flee from the pain it brings.

[mandoalorian]

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Six: Wonder

Summary: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person's relationship with his son. You've heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You've felt his pain and anguish and you've never been able to relate to anything more. But things don't come easy for you, and they certainly don't come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: mentions of food and drink, tooth-rotting fluff and as always, a smidge of angst

Word count: 5,200>

Masterlist

Previous - Chapter Six - Next

A beam of golden sunlight shone through the small crack in the curtain, warming your exposed skin, waking you up. Maxwell was still sleeping, lightly snoring and his bare chest rising and falling underneath you. You noticed that his cozy sweater from the night before had been discarded on the floor by the bed, but he was still wearing his pants, and his arm was lazily draped around your body. He held you close and tight, like he was afraid to let you go. You snuggled into him, relishing the moment and hoping it would never end. But you were awake, and it was a new day, and you had a lot to do.

You slipped out of Max’s arms, careful not to wake him up, and smiled when you remembered the night before. Kissing a man, a man like him, felt like a dream come true. It was something you had only imagined when you had read tales of it back on Themyscira. But it was even better than you thought. His lips were sweet like honey and his touch was strong yet gentle. It was perfect, and you wished for the moment it could happen again. Realising you were still completely naked, you glanced into Maxwell’s walk-in closet and wondered if you were entitled to select something out to wear. You figured it would be rude to do so without asking him, so you picked up his forest green sweater that he wore yesterday and pulled it over your body. 

You padded back downstairs into the dining room and grabbed a notepad and pen. You noted that Maxwell kept one near the front door of his home. Sitting at the table, you opened up the book. You had six days until the court date. Six days to figure out a way to bring Maxwell and Alistair together for good this time. But you had no idea where to begin. You knew nothing about the legal system or how this kind of thing worked. Back on Themyscira, if Hippolyta wished to gain justice, she would simply use the lasso of truth. You were there, many years ago, when she used the lasso on Captain Steve Trevor. You hadn’t met the pilot, only heard from your mother Hestia who provided Hippolyta with the lasso, but apparently, he revealed himself to be a spy. You considered it. You considered the implications of using your lasso in court, but doing so in front of so many people would mean you’d have to give up your powers. There had to be another way. Before you could put pen on paper, you gasped, feeling a pair of hands grab your waist.

“Good morning.” you heard Maxwell from behind you. His voice was low and husky in the morning and he was grinning, feeling happier than he’d felt in such a long time.

“Good morning handsome.” you smiled, turning around in your chair and looking up at him with doe eyes. His dark blonde hair was still wavy and disheveled, and he was wearing a plain, light grey t-shirt. It fit tight around his biceps and really highlighted the broadness of his shoulders. He looked really, really good. You spotted a pink blush creep upon Maxwell’s cheeks at your compliment.

“You look nice in my sweater,” he noticed, tugging on it slightly. “What are you doing there?”

“Oh, I was trying to figure out an approach for the court case this Sunday,” you frowned, biting your lip. “Do you think we could get one of those lawyer things like Theodore mentioned?”

“This short notice? I doubt it. But I can have Raquel make some phone calls and she’ll see what she can do. I uh- I appreciate you doing this for me. You don’t have to.” Maxwell said sheepishly, running his ring clad fingers through his hair.

You stood up from your seat and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his body and holding him close. You pressed a kiss into his lips. He tasted just as sweet as the night before, and the skin was just as soft. “I like doing that.” you told Maxwell, completely dismissing what he said before. “Kissing you. I mean.”

Maxwell tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and cupped your face. He ran his thumb over the height of your cheekbone and stared at you in complete admiration. “I like it too,” he agreed, his voice quiet as he leaned in and kissed you again, this time swiping his tongue over your lower lip. He was so good at it, and you wondered how many women he’d kissed before. You loved the way the curve of his nose pressed against your skin and how his eyes would flutter shut as his senses overwhelmed him. You loved the way his hands navigated around your body like it was simply just meant to be. When he pulled away, it was to catch breath, and he pressed his forehead against yours. “Let me make you breakfast.” he whispered.

“Or we could just keep kissing?” you suggested, already tugging on his hair for another one. He smiled, planting a quick peck against your lips and pulled away again.

“Believe me, I want that more than anything,” he exhaled shakily, dragging his hands up and down your arms. “But you haven’t eaten since you got here. You must be hungry. What did you eat on Themyscira?”

“Hmm, fruit? Berries? We picked them fresh from the bushes every morning and they’d last us the rest of the day.” you told him and he nodded slowly.

“Well we don’t have berries, but I can do you scrambled eggs,” Maxwell shrugged, already grabbing a few eggs from the refrigerator. “Is that okay?”

“What kind of eggs…” you said, narrowing your eyes.

“Uh… chicken eggs?” Maxwell shrugged, holding an egg up into the light to analyse it.

“You eat chicken eggs?!” You gasped, your eyes widening in disbelief.

“Yeah?!” Maxwell replied, trying to suppress a grin at your reaction. “So many people do! We crack a few, whisk it and put it in a pan!” You slapped your hands over your mouth feeling shocked. Maxwell chuckled, putting the eggs back and taking your hands, pulling them away from your face. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

You scrunched up your nose. “I don’t want chicken eggs for breakfast.” you mumbled.

“That’s okay,” Max nodded. “I can do oatmeal or pancakes, or we have cereal. Check that cupboard over there.” He said, pointing in the general direction to a cupboard by the kitchen sink. You followed his finger and opened the wooden door. Inside the cupboard were a few boxes of opened miscellaneous cereal. One box in particular caught your intention. It was a red box decorated with a rainbow and a leprechaun and the words read in a bold yellow font ‘Lucky Charms’. You brought it out and presented it to Max with an eager grin. “Oh, those are Alistair’s favourite,” Max grinned, taking out a bowl, spoon and carton of milk. “Help yourself.”

You smiled with gratitude and dug your hand in the box, grabbing a handful of cereal. You looked close at the little oat pieces mixed with the multi-coloured marshmallow bits, even bringing them close to your nose to smell. They were sweet, and the vibrancy of the marshmallows intrigued you. You tried a pink one and moaned as the sugary texture dissolved in your mouth. Max looked over to you as he brewed his coffee, his eyes wide as he watched you eat the cereal out of your hands. “No no no,” he chastised softly, placing his mug back down on the counter and walking over to you. He put the cereal box in your hands and unscrewed the cap on the carton of milk. “Pour some of it in the bowl, and then pour the milk over the top. Then you eat it with a spoon.” he taught you.

“Oh,” you sighed knowingly, understanding why he’d brought out the other utensils and ingredients for you. As he turned back to his coffee, you tried one of the oat pieces. They didn’t taste as nice as the marshmallows, so you put the rest of the oat pieces back into the box and picked out only the sweet soft bits of cereal, dropping them into the bowl. You poured the milk over, careful not to spill any, just like he’d told you. “I’m getting good at this!”

“You are!” Maxwell laughed, sitting down next to you with his mug of coffee and a few slices of toast. He peeked into your bowl and shook his head. “You’re just like Alistair,” he rolled his eyes. “He only eats the marshmallows.”

“Of course he does,” you giggled, taking a spoonful of your selective cereal. “They’re delicious.”

“So I was thinking about the dreamstone,” Maxwell said, taking a sip of his coffee. “If I was possessed by Romulus, the dreamstone would have been Roman. Which means the remaining dreamstone belonged to Dolos, meaning it’s Greek. But how do we find it?”

“If only we knew someone who could help,” you sighed, shaking your head. “Someone who knows about this kind of stuff just as much as we do.”

You stared down into your bowl of cereal, watching as the colour drained from the marshmallows and created rainbow swirls in your milk.

“Actually,” Maxwell exhaled, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “There is someone.” The thought of going to see that someone again, swarmed Max with fear and dread.

“Well- who?” you asked, dropping your spoon into the bowl with a clank.

“Diana.” Maxwell replied nervously.

“Diana Princess of Themyscira?!” You gasped, your jaw dropping.

“I’m pretty sure she goes by Diana Prince but-”

“Max you’re a genius! Where can we find her?” You stood up abruptly.

“Listen, I’m not sure if it’s a good idea. The last time I saw her… I mean it was only a few days ago but it was not good.”

You took Max’s hand and pulled him up. “Diana is forgiving. Whatever happened, she holds no judgement, I assure you that,” you reassured him. “Diana could be the key to knowing where the final dreamstone is.”

Max nodded, sighing in defeat. You were right and he knew it. “She works at the Smithsonian museum. It opens to the public at nine, so we have a few hours to kill, but we’ll get down there as soon as possible.”

You smiled and enveloped him into a hug. “Thank you.” you murmured, squeezing him tightly.

“It’s okay,” he promised, hugging you back. “But there is something I gotta ask you about.”

“What is it?”

“I haven’t been out much since I renounced my wish. I went to the park with Alistair, and then Black Gold, and visited Julianna, but that’s it. I’ve been hiding from the world, living in fear that I’ll have to face some kind of repercussion for my actions. It only makes sense, right? I’m thinking about federal prison. Maybe even get sentenced to death. That’s if someone doesn’t see me on the street and kills me. But I don’t get it. I haven’t been noticed. Nobody cares. Julianna didn’t mention any of it to me, and she loves to bring up all my mistakes. Trust me. It’s just… there’s something not right.” Maxwell exclaimed. It was crazy. You were the only one he trusted to talk about this to. “I’m not sure,” you hummed, understanding his concern. “Maybe Diana will know?”

“Maybe,” Maxwell sighed. “I’m just worried about even being allowed in the Smithsonian. I kinda stole the dreamstone by nefarious means,” You tilted your head and frowned. “No don’t look at me like that!” Max pouted, raising both his eyebrows at you.

“Like what?” you questioned.

“Like you’re disappointed in me,” Maxwell huffed, running his hand through his hair. “I just want to make all of this right.”

“And you will,” you promised him. “We will. Together.”

Every little word you spoke, every action you took, filled his heart with warmth. You gave his life meaning and your presence made him feel a sense of belonging. You really cared about him. You were literally like his guardian angel, only instead coming from heaven, you’d come from the magical land of Themyscira.

“I guess if we have a few hours to kill… we should finish breakfast and find you some clothes. Something decent to wear,” Maxwell shrugged. “I don’t like the idea of leaving the house but I don’t think we have a choice,” he hummed, looking down at his green sweater that was draped over your body. You couldn’t just live in his shirts. You couldn’t keep walking around town, pant-less. And you certainly couldn’t wear your Amazonian warrior tunic and armour. “My tailor who makes my suits has her own boutique just off East Ave, I’m sure we can find something suitable.”

“It’ll be open this early?” you asked, crooking your head.

“They live there. Whenever I’ve needed last minute alterations before a charity event or gala, I’ve relied on them. Visited them during the early hours of the morning and Belinda- oh, she’s simply just a star. She works quickly and efficiently,” Maxwell praised, grabbing his car keys. He threw a coat in your direction and you quick Amazonian reflexes meant that you caught it in an instant. You smiled and mumbled a thank you before sliding your arms into his coat and zipping it up. You put on your gladiator sandals and met Maxwell in the car outside.

The journey was short, and you even vaguely recognised the area from your visit to Black Gold Cooperative. Maxwell fiddled with some buttons on the dashboard when he stopped at a red light. “What are you do-”

A loud booming melody cut you off and you jumped back into your seat. 

“So don't become some background noise, a backdrop for the girls and boys, who just don't know, or just don't care, and just complain when you're not there, You had your time, you had the power, you've yet to have your finest hour, radio…” 

“What is that?” you gasped and Max laughed, turning a knob down so the voice quietened down.

“You must’ve had music on Themyscira,” he chuckled. “That is Queen.”

“The Queen?!” You practically choked. “If I heard Queen Hippolyta sing like that I-”

“No,” Maxwell laughed, unable to hide his smile. “Just Queen. They’re a band. They sing songs and play instruments.” 

“What do they sing about?” You quizzed curiously and Maxwell adjusted the volume once more. 

“Listen.” he urged, pressing down on the ignition and drove away as the light turned green.

“All we hear is radio ga ga, radio goo goo, radio ga ga,” 

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Ga ga and goo goo? That makes no sense.”

“Keep listening!”

“Radio what’s new, radio someone still loves you.” 

“It’s about love.” you smiled, feeling your cheeks heat up. You placed your hand on your heart. You loved that behind the baby-ish words, the song had a meaning so beautiful and powerful. It really illustrated that love was still the most important thing in the whole world. Maxwell’s voice brought you out of your deep chain of thought.

“Actually I think it’s about the commercialization of radio stations-” Maxwell exclaimed and looked at you in the reflection of the rear view mirror. Your smile fell and you looked even more perplexed by his words. What was he thinking? Of course you wouldn’t understand the ins and outs of how MTV had destroyed modern radio. So he decided to compromise. “Yeah okay, you’re right,” he shrugged, pursing his lips into a fine line to refrain from smiling. “It’s about love.” 

You smiled once more, subconsciously swaying to the rhythm. Max couldn’t stop watching you. You were so pure, and you looked at this world with so much joy and compassion. You were always so excited to learn new things and it was so endearing. If anything, it made Maxwell want to be more like you. You helped him not take things for granted. By the time Queen sung the final verse, you had already familiarised yourself with the words, even changing some and earning a few laughs out of Maxwell. As the song finished you pointed your finger at Max who was just pulling up outside the boutique. “Maxwell Lord what’s new? Maxwell, someone still loves you!” You sang, before pressing a kiss into his jaw and then pulling back with the biggest, cheesiest grin.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Max returned the smile but he couldn’t help but think about your words. Of course you were just quoting the song, but you had deliberately directed the lyrics towards him. He sighed, not having time to over think. But what if you loved him back? It sounded too good to be true. “C’mon, we’re here.” 

The boutique was beautiful inside. It was small, but filled with racks on racks of clothing. In every corner there were golden framed mirrors and an array of different flowers. The old lady, who you assumed to be the owner, was waiting half asleep by the cashier. When Max opened the front door, a little bell jingled, alerting her and waking her up.

“Oh, Mr Lord! How lovely it is to see you!” the old lady exclaimed, pottering over to Maxwell and shaking his hand. She must have only been about four foot, her perfect grey hair in tight curls and her glasses perched on the curve of her petite nose.

“Good morning Belinda,” Maxwell greeted with a charming smile. It was the same smile you recognised from when he was on television. “I’m sorry for dropping by so early. This is my friend,” Maxwell said, pushing you forward gently and introducing you by name. “She’s visiting just for 4th of July weekend and her luggage got lost at the airport so we’ll be needing a few things for her to wear.”

You waved shyly. “Oh darling, what a beautiful young girl you are!” Belinda exclaimed, pinching your cheeks excitedly. She then turned to Max, leaning into him. “You sure she’s just a friend? She’s wonderful. Definitely a keeper,” Belinda laughed and you giggled alongside her as Max stayed silent and only blushed. “Let me take your measurements and I’ll see what I can do.” Belinda told you, already grabbing some tape and sculpting your body to a suitable position. “Where do you come from, dear?”

“Themyscira.” You smiled.

“Them-a-what?” Belinda asked. “Oh pardon me, I’ve never heard of such a place.”

“Uh- small town!” Maxwell lied before you could reply. “Not really important.”

“I see,” Belinda said, holding up different materials against your body. “How long have you known Mr. Lord?” 

You looked over at Max and your smile grew wider. “Honestly, it feels like forever.” you told Belinda, finding yourself lost in Maxwell’s chocolate brown eyes. He was completely mesmerizing. It was true. You might’ve only known Max for two days but you already knew so much about him. He’d been haunting your dreams and thoughts for weeks before you’d even visited the world of man. You saw his past. You knew about his struggles. He told you things that he’d never told anyone else before. 

“Lucky for you I have Ralph Lauren’s new summer collection! They just shipped to us yesterday. I know that the colours will compliment your skin tone perfectly. They’re just out back, let me go grab them.” Belinda announced before padding away.

“Thank you.” Maxwell called after her.

“Who’s Ralph Lauren?” You asked, walking over to Max who was sitting on a sofa reading the business section of a broadsheet newspaper. You slipped down next to him and shuffled close.

“He’s a designer.” Max informed you, flicking to the next page of the paper.

“What are you reading?” you asked curiously, snuggling into Maxwell and leaning your head on his shoulder so you could take a look.

“Boring economic stuff,” Maxwell sighed. “Not sure why considering my business is broke now anyway. But this stuff is good to know.”

“What is the Cold War?” you frowned, reading the headline.

“Uh, there’s a war going on right now between us and the Soviet Union.” Maxwell sighed, narrowing his eyes as he focused on a piece of information presented in one of the columns.

“Us?”

“The US, United States of America.” Max confirmed with a scowl before turning the page again.

“A war… that’s impossible. Ares is dead.” you mumbled to yourself, feeling horrified. You hadn’t even noticed. You’d spent two whole days in the world of man and you would have never suspected that there was a war going on.

You pondered his words before Belinda came out holding a pile of clothes. “These should fit you perfectly,” Belinda exclaimed, shoving them into a paper bag for you.

“Will you be paying with your company card today?” Belinda asked, turning to Maxwell. 

Maxwell winced, knowing that his company had absolutely no money. “Uh- no. Personal please,” Max requested, taking out his wallet. This would be coming out of his own savings which probably wasn’t very smart but, you were worth it. “While I pay, would you mind getting changed in the dressing room?” Maxwell asked of you. “And then we can go to the Smithsonian.”

You nodded, taking the paper bag filled with clothing and navigating yourself to the store’s dressing room.

“Ooh, the Smithsonian museum huh?” Belinda asked as she registered each item of clothing into the till.

“Yeah, she’s never been before,” Maxwell hummed, his anxiety rising now that it was just him and Belinda alone. Of course the little lady wasn’t going to do anything to him, but it was like you were his safety. He was beginning to rely on you more than he’d quite like to admit. “Belinda, can I ask you something?”

“Whatever is it, my dear?”

Maxwell sighed, wondering how to phrase his question. Just like Julianna, Belinda was acting like she had no idea what he’d done. “Where were you on the fourth of July?”

“At the shop, working of course.” Belinda replied.

“Ah, so you didn’t catch what was on the television?” Maxwell quizzed further.

“No, my dear.”

So she missed the broadcast completely. And Maxwell supposed there was a chance that Raquel, Julianna and Theodore missed the broadcast, although that did seem ever so unlikely. Even if they had missed it, one of Julianna’s gossip-y friends would have seen it and notified Julianna of Maxwell’s mischief. Something wasn’t adding up. He had to confront Diana about it.

Just as Maxwell finished paying, you stepped out of the dressing room wearing a white blouse tucked into a brown suede skirt. Of course you were still wearing your gladiator sandals, but they practically completed the look. 

“You look… wow.” Maxwell exclaimed. 

“Now it gets warm out there so here!” Belinda exclaimed, propping a pair of sunglasses on your head. “To protect your eyes!”

“You really look amazing.” Maxwell said, completely entranced by you. His gaze hadn’t left your body once. 

“Thank you Max,” you hummed in delight. “I like it a lot.”

“Good,” he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. You really were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Belinda awkwardly cleared her throat, breaking the silence. “Right uh- thanks a lot for everything Belinda. But we better be going.” 

“No problem dear,” Belinda waved cheerily. “Have a great day my darlings!”

You slid back into the passenger seat of Maxwell’s car and watched as he put his own sunglasses on. You smiled and copied, letting the brown tinted glasses fall to the bridge of your nose. “These are cool.” you beamed.

“Yeah, they look good.” Maxwell complimented as he set off to the Smithsonian.

Luckily for the both of you, Maxwell spotted Diana when he first entered the lobby of the building. Just in case of being noticed (which he usually thrived in attention), he kept his sunglasses on. He couldn’t risk being arrested for his previous actions at the museum. Diana was dressed in a royal blue pant suit, her dark brown hair curled perfectly and bouncing off her shoulders. Her eyes sparkled like diamonds and she hadn’t aged a day since you last saw her on Themyscira.

“Diana!” you called, waving your hands ecstatically. Diana recognised your voice and her head snapped in your direction, her jaw parting in shock when she saw you. She questioned your name out loud, but she knew it was you. 

“Oh my goodness!” Diana cried, enveloping you into a hug. Maxwell stood a few feet behind you, rocking backwards and forwards anxiously. “What are you doing here?” She smiled, holding your hands and giving them a squeeze.

“I had my calling!” You revealed.

“I am so happy to hear that,” Diana grinned. “So who brought you the world of man?”

“A man, actually,” you laughed at the irony. “A man you might know. Uhm- Max Lord?”

Diana’s smile fell but her face softened when she saw Maxwell. “Ah yes, I’ve made his acquaintance.” She said, her voice vague and emotionless. Her glance flicked between you both.

“Hi Diana.” Maxwell waved shyly.

“How have you been?” Diana asked Maxwell, taking a few steps towards him.

“It’s been difficult, but I’m managing,” Maxwell admitted, hiding his face. “Listen, I never got the chance to thank you.”

“Don’t think anything of it,” Diana smiled. “Water under the bridge.” she promised before turning back to you. “Did you come to the museum to see me?”

“Yes, we did,” you sighed. “There’s another dreamstone out there and it is my duty from my mother to find it and destroy it. Otherwise, it could be responsible for society’s future collapse. History is known to repeat itself. If someone gets their hand on Dolos’ dreamstone, just like Max did, the same thing could happen.”

“I know all about it,” Diana frowned. “And I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been searching for the stone itself and I’ve found out it’s located in a secret cave, in Athens, Greece. If you want the stone, you’ll have to travel there.” 

“Is it far?” you asked, not liking the sounds of the proposition.

“Unfortunately, yes. We’d have to get a flight.” Maxwell notified you.

“I’m going to Athens too,” Diana informed you. “I can take you to the cave.”

“You’d do that?” you smiled graciously. “What are you going to Athens for?”

“The sword of Athena,” she exhaled. “There’s a terrible war going on and if I want to save the world from Ares again, I’m going to need that sword. Do you still have the lasso of Hestia?”

“I do.” you confirmed.

“Good, hold onto it. The lasso contains the power of the truth, and by destroying Dolos’ stone, you will be destroying the God of Lies. You can only destroy the stone with the truth. But Max knows all about that…” Diana trailed off, peeking back at Maxwell.

“Thank you Diana,” you smiled courteously and Diana nodded. “Will you be taking a flight with us?”

“I have to stay late at the Smithsonian tonight, so I’ll catch up with you in Athens tomorrow. I’ll find you, don’t worry.”

“Would you like us to get your plane tickets?” Maxwell asked, thinking it was the least he could do for Diana.

“That’s okay. I’ve recently learned I have my own way of flying.” She smirked and you smiled back knowingly. Maxwell just furrowed his eyebrows in bewilderment. Everything about this interaction made him confused and uncomfortable.

“Before we leave for the airport,” Maxwell spoke up, clearing his throat. “I have something to ask you, Diana.” “Yes?”

“No one has mentioned the broadcast to me.” Maxwell started but then stopped, feeling as though his words explained enough.

“I know.” Diana replied with a small nod.

“You know?” Maxwell quizzed.

“When I renounced my wish, Steve disappeared. I lost him again. But this morning, on my way to work, I ran into the man who possessed Steve’s body and we spoke for a short while. It’s like he never even knew me. Like we had never even met. He didn’t remember me. He didn’t know me. It was like… none of it ever happened.”

“What does that mean? Everyone who renounced their wish has forgotten?”

“Almost. When you renounced your wish, the world reverted back to the way it was before Romulus possessed you.” Diana explained and Maxwell couldn’t believe it.

“That doesn’t make sense. So I get away with all of this without consequence? That’s not fair.” 

“I think your consequence lies in your fate with Alistair.” Diana frowned sadly and Maxwell’s heart sank into the depths of his chest.

“No,” You shook your head profusely, interrupting their conversation. “Nothing bad is going to happen between Alistair and Max. I’m here to make sure that they stay together,” you turned to Maxwell and held his hand. “Julianna won’t split you apart. I mean it. I won’t let it happen.”

Maxwell let go off your hands and they dropped by your sides. “I’m going to wait by the car. I need some air.” Maxwell choked as anxious tears threatened to spill from his eyes. You nodded understandingly and watched as he sauntered out of the Smithsonian.

“I’m sorry to hear about Steve,” you whispered after a few moments of silence. You turned back to Diana, the princess of Themyscira. “I can’t imagine how it must feel to lose the love of your life. If I lost Max-”

Diana’s eyes widened and she stuck her hand out. “What?”

“W-what?” you repeated, realising what you had just said and immediately trying to figure out a way to retract it.

“You just implied that Max Lord is the love of your-”

“Don’t say it.” You begged.

“-Life.” Diana finished and you gasped. Hearing the words come from her only validated your feelings even more.

It was true. She was right. You were in love with Maxwell Lord.

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[leda-x]

Ladybug has five minutes left with Chat Noir, and she isn't ready to give them up.

Ladybug woke in the cooking section of a library with the word “chance” tumbling from her lips. It was the ancient atrium of a newly modernized building. Like always, she was crouched down behind a bookshelf with Chat Noir at her side.

Far, far above her head, thin marble columns rose upwards, curving into graceful arches to meet in the middle. Early morning light shone through the enormous circular skylight positioned at the center of the atrium’s domed ceiling. It illuminated little specks of golden dust that had been disturbed by them seconds before. The room was empty, sound hushed.

Meeting her gaze, Chat tapped the screen on his baton and the numbers 04:58 began to flash. 04:57… 04:56... He reached down, flipping through a cookbook at his side, stopping at a random page. “Lobster tails meunière,” he read aloud to mark the attempt, green gaze flicking back up for her lead.

There were 2,000 recipes in The Escoffier Cookbook and Guide to the Fine Art of Cookery. That one was new. Ladybug took it as a good omen.

There was nothing but seriousness in Chat’s face right now. Seriousness and a rosy glow of determination and confidence.

Ladybug’s fingers drifted off her bracelet to cradle Chat’s cheek. Her gloved thumb followed the line along the bottom edge of his mask, right at the exposed part of his cheek. She watched the depth and vibrancy in his eyes. Could see a ring of eyelashes through the colored glass. Could feel the heat from his skin. He had a freckle on his upper lip. Not for the first time Ladybug realized her partner was beautiful. The first few times she had stopped to really notice she had cried. An ache started in her throat and grew until her entire chest was sore, until she was breathless with grief.

A blush colored his cheeks and his neck. She watched, with some fascination, the steady beat of his heart through the vein in his neck. It was throbbing quick. He was searching her face for answers now, lip pursing into worry.  “Uh oh… It’s that bad?” Chat joked.

She wasn’t ready. It wasn’t the right time around. Ladybug got up from her crouch and held out her hand.

Chat took it without question and allowed her to lead them both out of the atrium into a modernized foyer, then into an elevator. She pressed floor four. 

“What’s the plan?” he asked as the elevator doors shut. Ladybug could detect a thread of nervousness behind his grin. He was probably wondering why they were going up when the akuma was last spotted below.

Such faith. It cracked her heart a little further every time. Ladybug squeezed his hand, watching the elevator numbers tick so she didn’t have to look him in the eye as she admitted, “No plan.”

The doors opened to an art gallery absent of people.

She let go of Chat’s hand, even though she never really wanted to, and began walking through the exhibit. She could hear the soft sound of his footsteps following her. Extremely large images of sand flicked by in succession. Ladybug didn’t stop to marvel at them.

Chat always did. “Whoah,” he said and she glanced back, catching him craning his neck. “This isn’t a photo. Someone drew this.”

Ladybug used up a few of her seconds to watch her partner, feeling a wash of fondness as Chat placed his hands on his hips and tilted forward, nose scrunched, face inches from the canvas. “LB how long do you think this took to make?”

Years, Ladybug thought. Aloud, she said, “This way.”

Chat let out a low whistle as they passed by a total of ten drawings. Each one looked alike. There were slight variations, however, upon closer inspection. It was the variations in Chat Noir that Ladybug kept discovering that made it impossible for her to stop doing this. They had been here over a thousand times before. Each time was a little different, but always ended the same.

They wound a corner and ended up in a smaller room. Ladybug headed towards the back where a replica of the interior of an old-style french house had been built. There was a bed and a little TV where you could learn all about Château de Blois.

It was the best place she had found for this. She had tried a lot of places. She had already dragged Chat around the entire city of Paris looking for a solution. Not that this Chat Noir remembered any of that.

She gestured at the bed, ignoring the documentary that was playing softly behind her, “I have a lot to tell you and no time to do it. How are we, by the way?”

Chat Noir obeyed, sitting on the bed, cat ears perked straight up, eyes bright now and curious. His knee bounced with pent-up energy. He glanced at his baton. “Three minutes, forty-seven seconds. Why? What’s going to happen?”

“I need you to pretend that everything I’m about to say is true,” Ladybug began.

Chat Noir gave her a funny look like, ‘why wouldn't I?’

Ladybug couldn’t help but smile a bit at that. She crouched down in front of him, placing a palm atop each bouncing knee. “You are going to die in three minutes,” Ladybug said.

Chat froze.

“Your heart. It stops. An arrhythmia,” Ladybug continued, keeping her eyes locked with his, making sure he was following along. They never had time to go over it again. “We’ve been here a lot. Anything you are about to say I’ve tried.” She had tried every hospital, every ER, every doctor; had tried Lucky charm-ing a solution countless times. 

Chat’s eyebrows drew together. His eyes were still present in the room with her, though. They hadn’t glazed off or flicked away in fear. “What?” he breathed. He searched her for a long moment for the joke. 

Ladybug knew better than to so much as flinch or blink right now while he was looking for a way out. Chat’s denial came in different severities every time, but it was never helped by her saying or doing anything until he did first.

A stormy look passed across his face as he took that in. “So... I’m dead and there’s nothing anyone can do about it?” he summarized, grinning.

Ladybug nodded, relaxing a touch. In her experience him grinning was usually the best outcome, even though it did seem a bit deranged. She took her hands from his knees, giving him a bit of space despite every bone in her body aching to hold him close. Even though she had held him so many times, it was always new for him. Too much of her affection too fast could scare him off.

“Wait. What about the cure?” he asked.

“You know Ladybug can’t bring people back to life.”

Chat leaned back a touch. A clawed palm drew up to rest over his heart, expression a bit dazed. Ladybug watched as her partner’s brain spun, processing. Then he glanced back at her, eyes startled. “How… How many times have we done this?”

“Many,” Ladybug admitted. “Each time is a little different. Sometimes you don’t believe me. Sometimes you call your dad. Sometimes you call Nino. Sometimes we just sit together.”

“Nino?” Chat caught.

“I know you are Adrien Agreste,” Ladybug said and then waited to see how he would react.

Sometimes this revelation hit hardest. It was more real, more believable. Often the fact that she knew his name at all was taken as proof she was telling the truth about everything else. That realization typically followed with denial. Sometimes terror.

Ladybug watched closely as Chat’s chest heaved in panic.

A humming noise suddenly kicked off. It was only after it stopped that Ladybug realized the air conditioning had been on. The change shocked Chat back out of whatever place he had gone. “Do I know you?” he whispered.

“Do you want to?”

Suddenly he recoiled, gaze suspicious. “You’re not Ladybug,” he stated, as if the thought had just dawned on him. “This isn’t real.”

Ladybug’s heart sank.

He was standing now, stumbling backwards. His shoulder hit one of the wood beams of the replica, causing him to twist.

With a sigh she reached down and twisted the bracelet back into position.

. .

Ladybug woke again in the cooking section of the library.

Chat tapped the screen on his baton and flipped through the cookbook. “Eggs benedict,” he read aloud.

Ladybug was still reeling from last time. They had almost parted ways on terms she could (maybe) accept. But no— Chat had to get paranoid. Not for the first time she cursed all the replicas of herself that her partner had faced. Maybe if he hadn’t been tricked previously they would have a better chance at this.

“Ladybug?” Chat’s voice broke her out of her thoughts, worried. “What’s wrong?”

“Why do you wake up in the morning?” Ladybug asked, eyes locked down at the book in his hands. At the long pause she got out of her crouch and into a cross-legged position, chancing a look at his face. Sometimes his living face in all it’s animated glory really hurt to look at when seconds before it had been dead.

Chat was staring at her in uncertainty. After a beat he mirrored her, settling down at her side and putting down the book. “That’s a weird question. Why? Something to do with the akuma?”

“Yes,” Ladybug lied. “I need to know.” She needed a break. Even though she never grew physically tired, emotionally she was exhausted. She used up rounds getting to know him better, plucking up the courage to try again to say goodbye again.

He had a grin on his face now. “Usually because of my alarm clock.”

 . .

She was back in the library.

“Grammont pullet,” said Chat Noir, to her right. He set down the cookbook and tapped his baton.

Ladybug laughed. She laughed and then she cried. She wasn’t sure when she stopped doing the first and started doing the second. They sort of happened together, just like all of these second chances and all of these subtle striations.

Chat’s hands hovered beside her arms like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to comfort her. His ears flattened, green eyes distraught. However, when Ladybug leaned in his arms looped around her in an easy embrace, chin resting atop her head.

Eventually emotions passed and Ladybug went quiet, listening to the sound of Chat’s heartbeat and the rumble of his voice as he asked, “What’s the joke?”

“You started the timer after you read the recipe this time,” Ladybug said.

Chat’s grip shifted. He fell silent, as if weighing something, before he admitted, “I don’t get it.”

Ladybug reached up and patted his back. She hadn’t expected him to.

. .

This time around was coq-au-vin.

They had made it to the elevator. This time, Ladybug pressed ‘Floor 4’ right as Chat pressed ‘Basement’. The elevator suddenly had a choice, and it chose to go down, and instead of twisting the bracelet to start over, Ladybug decided to take out some of her own anger on the akuma.

The fight was over before it barely begun.

The umbrella Ladybug tossed to Chat skidded across the floor. Chat stumbled. Ladybug reached down and spun the bracelet before she had a chance to watch him fall.

. .

The last recipe was profiteroles. And it was only the last one, because Chat— like always— surprised her. Ladybug supposed it was only a matter of when, not if. She could only do this so many times before Chat turned it back around on her.

He was glaring at her now, green eyes bright and vivid, unobstructed by goggles. Ladybug internally cursed whenever Chat decided to transform back because it meant there was no more baton— no more timer— and she always felt a bit lost within these three minutes without it.

“How many times have you put yourself through this?” he was asking her, again, since she couldn’t give him a straight answer. Suddenly, and swiftly, he got up from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed and took two steps forward into her personal space before Ladybug had a chance to stumble back. “How many?” he repeated.

“I-I don’t know!” Ladybug answered truthfully, suddenly flustered beyond belief. This was the first time Adrien Agreste had had the audacity to step this close to her, to get this mad at her.

“Marinette,” Adrien realized, sounding a bit punched in the gut. “You’re Marinette. This whole time...”

Not trusting herself to speak, Marinette nodded, eyes wide. The amount of times they had both come to know each other’s identities were slim. Rarely did it ever get this far. From this point on was uncharted territory for Ladybug. This Chat Noir suddenly became very real, no longer this strange version of himself that repeated the same phrases and did the same things over and over. No, all the sudden this profiteroles version of Chat was wholly unique.

“If I die in three minutes—” he began.

“Any second now, actually,” Marinette corrected.

“—you’ll do what, exactly?” he finished.

Marinette knew how bad it sounded, but she said it anyway, “I’ll go back to when you’re not dead.”

Adrien’s eyes flicked to the Miraculous around her wrist for a second, brows scrunching. “And then what?”

Ladybug only had to meet his eyes for a brief second to answer that question.

Suddenly Chat had a strong grip on her arm, yanking it towards him.

It took Ladybug a full three seconds to realize what he was trying to do. “Chat. Stop. Chat, stop,” she hissed, veins icy, mouth dry. If he took the bracelet it was over. She twisted and ripped her arm out of his grip, stumbling back and away. A quick glance down confirmed the bracelet was still there and still activated. She kept it pressed tightly to her polka dotted chest, holding it with her other hand.

Adrien was shaking his head, bits of blond hair falling in and out of his eyes. “You can’t keep doing this,” he said, a little out of breath.

Marinette wondered if his heart had stopped and her fingers rested down upon the bracelet, but after a few seconds passed and he remained standing she let them drift away.

If Adrien noticed, he didn’t mention it. “Other people need you,” he accused. “Paris needs you.”

“Paris can figure it out,” she hissed.

Chat blinked, surprised. His face slowly morphed, surprise bleeding into understanding. “It’s ok, Bug. It will be ok.”

Her throat clenched and it felt like he had cleaved her entire body into two pieces straight down the middle. How? How would it ever be ok? When she thought of her future now she only saw darkness. There was nothing left.

“I know I can’t keep doing this,” she gasped, the words ripping out of her. “I know other people love me, need me. But you’re not the one that has to walk out of here alone." The word 'alone' made her own heart swell ten times too big until it felt like it would burst. She hoped it would. That would be a whole lot easier. She had wished a whole lot of things recently that would have appalled her younger self. “I’m not ready.”

“When will you be?” Adrien asked softly.

A hot surge of anger raced through her and she felt the insane urge to shove him or hurt him or do something because how dare he ask her that. How dare he! How dare he die in the first place! Ladybug was tempted to twist the bracelet just to get away from this Chat and go back to an earlier version who was still malleable and innocent. Just erase this attempt all together from his memory so she would never have to answer.

All she had to do was twist it. But then he’d be right. And if she didn’t twist it, he’d still be right. Because… he was right, regardless. And no matter how many times she could make him forget it, she would never forget it.

Adrien wobbled, taking a few quick steps back until he was slumping back on the bed, face pale. Time’s up.

Her anger evaporated and she was there, tugging him close into her chest, because this was the closest to Chat she had ever gotten in all her attempts. The crown of his head tucked underneath her chin, gloved fingers running through his hair, as she felt all the movement and life drain out of him. It was like this every time. Quick, quiet, sneaky. As quick as a switch. One minute the lights were on, the next they were off.

She had no idea how much time she had before her five minutes were up. If she had to guess it was down to seconds. Her fingers detangled out of blond hair and dragged along her side, along her arm, until they met her wrist and bumped against the bracelet. 

Was she? When would she be? Ready, that is.

[enochianribs]

the spear that pierced patroclus. part one | as it was.

Thousands of years ago, Castiel visited earth for the first time. The sound of cattle as they were driven through the city echoed between the mud and stone buildings which would someday crumble to dust. Something he’d never felt before: a vibrancy, a primal nature instilled in these humans, coursed through the land and air. His vessel’s feet were planted firmly to the earth as people brushed past him, lives insignificant, but their first fleeting touches against his skin still lasted a lifetime.

It was so unlike heaven, it was alien, even though he had been created to watch, to guard and protect. The humans of the small city laughed and smiled, nestled at the very edge of the cradle of civilization . He had never heard human laughter before. Was there joy in the dirt, in the blood shed and mortal coil? From where he stood in the cosmos between the garrisons and the solemnity of a race built for war, it was hard to imagine anything else. The humans glowed with life, their souls were so bright it blinded him as he watched from miles away, somewhere high up that they couldn’t touch, even as he stood amongst them.

He watched over the ancient city that would be dismantled by famine in only a matter of months, by God’s will. It was then that a first, diminutive seed of doubt planted itself in a dark place in his mind.

***

“You have been given your task. Now go. Serve us well, Castiel.”

Hell was unlike earth, unlike heaven. Where his kingdom was sterile and pure, and earth was heavy and heaving, hell was suffocating… malevolent. He could not fathom what a soul had to do to serve there, for the rest of damnable eternity, just that it was possible: in fact, it happened so often that hell had been growing below for eons. A place to put all the irredeemable, filthy souls that wronged his Father. He knew his brother was here, somewhere. Lucifer himself: the first abomination. He reigned in the coldest circle of hell. That was not where Castiel was going.

Sparks flurried around him, catching and singeing the feathers of his ink-black wings. Hellfire stung, but he did not flinch—  if he misstepped here, everything he’d ever worked for would be gone. Castiel could not fathom what this human had done to earn the rack. He didn’t know why he was in charge of saving him, just that the order came from Father. This was Castiel’s moment to prove himself to the others. He would serve. He would become exalted in their eyes.

Castiel found him in one of the darkest corners of hell, where it felt like light was swallowed up and extinguished by the evil around it. Demons surrounded the human, their faces shifting with the light of the flames, flickering twisted expressions—   rage, sorrow, fear. Things he did not know. The human hung at the rack by his wrists and neck, the iron had dug into his skin so viciously it bled. His head had fallen, limp to one side. Dark blood stained his face, smeared over his eyes and nose and lips, there was an ache that would never heal building itself in his bones. He knew the descriptions of human heroes well, but he had never seen one for himself until now. If Achilles were reborn, this was him.

From where Cas watched, poised to swoop down, he could see the shimmer of what had been his soul. It was so small, fragile… stuttering in and out. It’s radiance caused Cas to falter. There was nothing filthy about it. For a moment, it went out completely. Cas held his breath, baited. The demons cackled and howled in delight, and Castiel thought it as good a moment as any to rescue Dean Winchester from hell.

The moment his palm sealed against Dean's shoulder—  closed the final distance between him and humanity—  Castiel’s mouth fell agape. Dean was molten , his soul burned . Cinders collapsing and lighting again. The touch stole the breath straight from his lungs. It was like he held his hand over a flame, felt the flesh burning off, but couldn't pull away. He never would.

The simple nature of the grave was strange to Castiel. There was no monument for God’s chosen hero. Dean’s supposed final resting place was in a small clearing of trees, in the middle of an expansive nowhere. The marker was a small wooden cross, handmade in grief. Castiel placed him gently into his grave where he had been buried by his brother four months prior. The second his soul seeped back into the body, it began to regenerate. The earthy rot melted away to reveal a human face once again, the lacerations from the hellhound tearing him to shreds in his last moment sealed themselves as though they had never been there. Then the nightmares started: fresh from hell, and the first gasps of air in new lungs as Dean Winchester was once again on Earth. He wanted to ease them.

Castiel turned and ran, as far as he could.

That was to be the end of his role in the cosmic game. Uriel took Castiel’s armor from him, cleaned it with Holy Water and instructed him to wait for further orders.

“If there are any.” Uriel was gone in the blink of an eye—  off to higher levels to converse with seraphs of the garrison, leaving the angel alone in the blinding light of heaven, which hurt his eyes in a way it never had before. Castiel’s palm burned.

***

If he was honest, he wasn’t sure he had a mind. For eons he had been empty, and surely there was no way things with minds could feel that way. Nothingness had dug a hole and grown somewhere inside.

As clear as the sight of the galaxy from Heaven, a graveled voice prayed his name.

Castiel .

Dean Winchester was calling out to him. He wasn’t sure if he had a mind, and yet, he could make it up anyways. Heaven and hell were not done with him just yet.

***

Dean was heavy...heaving...just like earth. The perfect, intoxicating embodiment of God’s favorites. The blade buried deep into his vessel’s ribcage, and Dean’s clenched fist slid past the handle of it, pressing against his chest. The naivety of humans. Castiel smiled. There was purpose in Dean Winchester, and that was what he sought. His brothers would love him for this.  

But they never did. Castiel was quick to realize it. They were enamored with Dean, and his brother Sam. These Winchesters were the toys, and Castiel was naught but the one who had brought them to the table to play with. In Heaven they spoke of the seals. Sixty-six of them. Cas wondered what could ever go so  wrong that they failed to stop sixty six attempts at releasing Lucifer. He said so.

Anna looked at him with pity. “Dean Winchester broke the first seal, Castiel. A righteous man shed blood in hell. And now he will help us stop it. There are forces at play that you do not yet understand. But you will.”

Anna soon disappeared, betrayed heaven. Castiel remembered a moment before she fell. She had been standing still and quiet and he had nearly walked past her. She stared down at earth, and her voice had been so soft he barely heard it, still wasn’t sure if it was something he had been meant to hear. “What must it be like? To be human.”

Castiel  was left with more questions than answers.

***

The longer he stood at the Winchesters’ side, the stranger and stranger he felt. He was as alien to them as they were to him. Everytime he spoke with the brothers it was like he took one step forward and three back to meet in the middle. To them, he was just another hunt waiting to happen, another monster under the bed. They just didn’t know what kind yet. Castiel didn’t know what he could do to guard them, what he could do to prevent the seals from being broken without a foundation of trust. Every command from heaven that he followed seemed to irritate both of the brothers. Castiel felt like he was grasping at straws.

He had wishfully thought showing Dean his mother again would help, but the weight of the truth about his younger brother overshadowed everything. Lucifer cast long shadows over the hope he tried to build. Humans were so reckless, their own emotional wreckage was innate. His days filled with danger and threat, and yet there was something that kept him close.

The moon was low, shining silver light into the diner. In a rare event, Dean was alone. He understood now that there was never just one Winchester—  the other was sure to follow. It was like they were joined at the hip. Dean sat at a table, nursing a beer against his lips, staring at nothing but the checkered wall of the diner. The diner was otherwise empty.

The angel fluttered down into the chair. “Hello, Dean.”

The man jerked upright, bringing the bottle in his hand down to the table so hard it broke. A stray piece of glass sliced into his palm and he winced, before his attention snapped to Castiel, eyes narrowed. He was upset. “Jesus, Cas . You ever heard of a friggin’ door? Does everything you do have to be Jet Blue? Y’can’t walk in like a normal person?”

Cas tilted his head, unsure of what Dean was talking about, but Dean had already turned his attention back to his hand, which he held up to his mouth, trying to clean away the blood. It caught on his lips, shone ruby red in the moonlight. Reaching out, Castiel took his hand, ignoring the concerned look on the Winchester’s face, and pressed two fingers near the cut. It glowed white, and then it was gone. “I’m sorry.”

Dean pulled his hand back. “What are you doing here?” Cas felt it was less of a question and more of an accusation. “Do I have any privacy left, or do you feathered dicks have my location at all times?”

“We always know where you are.” Cas grumbled, and he realized he wasn’t sure what he was doing in a diner, in what was now early morning of the next day, sitting beside Dean Winchester. “I was just checking in…  making sure you still have faith in the plan.”

Dean looked away, blood still on his lip. He swallowed, knee bouncing. “Yeah. I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you, but I don’t want Lucifer walking above ground, either. So the plan is still on.”

Cas nodded, and then he was gone as quick as he came.

When Sam, the blasphemous one, looked at him, it was like he was looking through him. Cas began to see through his own facade too: felt sheer, paper thin. Sam knew, somehow, that Cas was built with glass, easy to shatter. Castiel remembered coming across Sam Winchester's prayers once before. Most humans felt familiar, like they were pages in a book he had read once. He had a brief glimpse at their lives, before they faded from memory. Sam had been praying for a different life, many years ago, when he had still thought about going to college. Sam unnerved him. He was a human tainted by demons, and Azazel had built him for something. He just had to figure out what, before Sam did.  

***

Dean looked at Cas like he was a fortress, and… well, it sunk under his skin. He was magnetic. Made Castiel realize he was still an angel standing in a hotel room with a man who had been touched by hell. The angel saw it in his eyes, just behind the sincerity was something deeply broken. Dean prayed a lot , though Castiel began to believe he didn’t even know he was doing it. Castiel didn’t mean to listen, but when he was one hotel room away, it was impossible to silence the quiet, terrified pleads pouring from Dean’s head right into his own.

At first he was ashamed, at times vitriolically, of the growing need to listen. Ashamed of a growing tug and pull. It was like Dean had built walls, but somehow, somewhere in the shit show of heaven and hell, Cas (omnipresent warrior of heaven that he was) had become stuck inside of them, only to find another wall when he tried to go further in. He was stuck on earth, driven by duty and trapped with a self-loathing sinner who would sacrifice near anything for others. The winchesters sowed chaos, it was how they fought the fabric of God.

And if Cas was caught in the crossfire, if he put himself there, there was no one to stop him.

One night, in Sioux Falls, while Dean slept on the couch, peaceful for just a moment, Cas found a worn copy of the Iliad sitting on Bobby’s shelf. And what he read scared him. It was about himself. Humans were presumptuous, but he found that they were often right about many things. He closed his eyes where he stood still in the dusty library, and felt the spear pierce through him where he stood in place of Achilles. Where Patroclus had stood. When he opened his eyes again, Dean was watching him through half lidded eyes. The heaviness of earth gathered between them. Cas held his breath, unable to tear his own gaze away. He waited for Dean to speak, but finally Dean blinked, turning on his side to get some rest before the end.

Morning came and went, and then another. He watched Dean closely. Sometimes Dean knew he was there, other times Cas assumed the role that Dean had wanted since the beginning. A guardian. Dean was his to ward and protect. Heaven would be lost without him, Earth would burn and the soil would sour if Lucifer ever got his hands around his neck. So, most days he watched him from behind the wall Dean had built, and Castiel suspected he had even laid a few of the bricks himself.

The presence of the wall became a reassuring constant. It meant he had not strayed so far from heaven he couldn’t find his way back. Castiel had found his purpose where it wasn’t supposed to be, by Dean’s side. But even after Uriel’s betrayal, a part of him wanted nothing more than to return to his garrison and hide. To go back to what was safe and familiar. He didn’t know that when the other angels saw them, came to stop them, that the light of  Dean’s soul had begun to blend with his own, where they frayed. Castiel didn’t realize he was slipping down a steep hill he would never climb back up. He spent his time nurturing that original seed of doubt until it bore fruit.

One night, when he stood alone along a roadside after a night of gentle rain, wishing that the cars that sped by had the power to take his life like he was human, the gentle sound of wings fluttering closed startled him from his thoughts.

“It won’t ever be enough, Castiel.” Uriel said. Cas opened his mouth to speak but Uriel continued. “You were built with a chasm. You were built incomplete. That’s God’s will. Not mine, not heaven’s, not hell’s. That nothingness you feel will only grow. You’ll realize that before the end.”

Uriel was gone now, for years, but his words still rung in his head. It was true. Cas martyred himself, over and over again. The farther he drifted from heaven the more it hurt. He carved into his chest with a knife until the white of his shirt was soaked red. His chest. No longer was he an angel in a vessel. He was this human for Dean, graceless. A familiar face. A face that made Dean look away. He sliced his arms, took beatings, traversed godliness, stepped through fire and bore storms for nothing but a stray glance. Millions of years and his whole life had happened in the blink of an eye.

Castiel laughed, and it strangled itself in his throat, coming out as nothing more than a sob. Now here he was, finally, at the end of all things good and bad. The empty. That forsaken nothingness he’d been running from all those years swallowed him whole afterall. True happiness. And it hadn’t been enough. The lightness he’d felt was swift, like a terrible weight had been lifted on his chest where it had sat. All the years, the burden of yearning with such force it knocked the breath out of his lungs. He couldn’t memorize Dean’s face one last time before it took him.

Now, he was supposed to sleep, but he couldn’t be more awake. He sat surrounded by the dark, trying to recreate that feeling of the first time Dean had touched him. The knife buried in his chest, human body heat more intimate and close than he’d ever anticipated. The spear that felled him.

God was in humans. Chuck was just a vessel for the stories they told. If anyone could kill him, it was the humans he loved, the one he’d sold his soul to. A thousand glances washed over him, and it was enough to create the heaviness of earth that had poisoned him so long ago and float it in the empty.  Dean was a juggernaut, and all his anchors were gone now. Achilles come down from the edge .

Can you hear me? The empty cradled him, a phantom hand—  Dean’s—   caressed his cheek, lulling him. Cas cried out again. Can you hear me?

end 1/3. read it on ao3, as well.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Speak No Evil (Part 39) - Story 2

Her motions are done with machine-like absence; fold, stack, fold, stack...until there are several outfits on the pile. It feel so hollow and pointless. And every now and again she pauses. She isn’t sure why she pauses, she just doesn’t have the energy to toss another thing into her pack. And so she just stares until Seicho begins picking up items for her and she remembers to do it herself. And when the pack is finally full it rests heavy on her shoulders like every other burden she has ever carried. It feels crushing.

“All set?” Zuko pops his head in.

Azula only nods. There is only one thing missing from her checklist. Only one person…

She thinks that she is too tired to endure this trip.

“You aren’t doing very well, are you.” Seicho mumbles. It sounds as though she knew that this would happen. That she knew that speaking with TyLee would send her down another spiral. She wants to say that Seicho is just jealous, but really she is being realistic.

‘I haven’t done well in a very long time.’ She thinks that she should just start getting used to it. Should just stop fighting it and embrace the sadness. She’ll stay alive and weather the hurt to spare Seicho and Zuko from it. But she isn’t sure that she’ll actually be doing much living while she is alive. She is a spirit herself, she thinks, but without the sort of majestic and mystifying presence that the authentic ones have.

She doesn’t think that she can do this but everyone is already packed… She thinks that it would help to talk about it. She can’t talk. She can’t heal. She…

“Sorry I’m late, I had to find some of my supplies! I wasn’t sure which ones would be useful.”

“We’re not mountain climbing, TyLee.” Mai mutters. “You didn’t have to bring all of that.”

Azula’s stomach flutters, little tickles of hope that she really can’t afford to have. She tightens her grip on her pack. Seicho is beaming, “looks like she decided to give you a chance!”

It means nothing; Azula is good at ruining those.

.oOo.

Setting foot in that jungle once more feels like calling death to herself. And maybe that would be the merciful outcome. The silence around them is so terribly thick. Even the jungle itself seems silent. But she sees those sprits, wispy and glowing peeking their little hands out from.behind leaves and branches. She can sense their collective distaste as vividly as she can feel Mai's resentment and TyLee's solemn reluctance. Sidddh she feels out of place on her own mission.

There is a part of her that should like to take Seicho's hand and let the woman coo.little words of comfort at her as she had during their hike. But she doesn't want the woman to get the wrong idea neither does she want TyLee to think that she has found herself an unsuspecting rebound. But the way the spirits leer at her had her on edge. She wonders when they will drop their passiveness and begin outright antagonizing her.

For the time being, the primary source of her torment comes from within. TyLee walks beside her and she can't come up with anything adequate to initiate conversation. She supposes that it is hard to write and walk anyhow. She finds herself walking over to Seicho the deeper they trek as though the woman could do anything at all should the spirits lash out.

Her throat is dry and there is a full ache in her belly. She thinks that they must have walked for at least an hour or two now. And she is damn near certain that it didn't take much longer than this to come by the spirit the first time. Bit then again, she had coaxed it to come to her.

"Can we take a break?" TyLee asks.

Azula finds herself a place to sit before any protest can arise.she beckons to TyLee and pats the spot next to her. She holds up a few squares of granola. Reluctantly TyLee takes the spot next to her and a single square. But TyLee doesn't look at her while she munches away. It is as though  she had only taken the seat because it was slightly more preferable to sitting on the ground.

Azula scribble upon the parchment, 'are you doing well.'

"I'm fine, Azula." She answers in a sigh that indicates anything but content.

'You sound unhappy.'

"I'm fine, I promise."

She thinks that TyLee just doesn't want to admit that she is uncomfortable being so close to her.

"Are you alright?"

'I would be better if I weren't waiting for one of these spirits to pounce…' and if she weren't waiting for the rest of the group to give up on her and write her off as a lost cause. Surely if one trip wasn't enough to do it for Seicho, this second one will be. Azula thinks that soon her the colors will bleed through and they are all so muted and ugly. Nothing like the vibrancy of Seicho's and Zuko's nor the kind pastels of TyLee's. For all of the resentment between them, she and Mai seem to have a lot in common.

"I'm sure that they won't hurt you, they would have by now if they wanted to, right?"

Azula shrugs, frankly she thinks that they are simply waiting for the right moment to strike--likely when she is already on the cusp of breaking is when they will. It instills a deep dread within her.

.oOo.

She can tell that Azula is hurting quite terribly. That just being in this jungle has her uneasy. Her face is as blank as ever but she still knows the princess well enough to realize that she is anything but okay. That she is trying to hold a gaping wound with just  a bandaid and her fingers. She isn't sure how much longer Azula can bleed before she collapses. She thinks of giving her a break, and extending her a lifeline.

But if she gives Azula even a small inch, the woman tends to milk it for all it's worth and then some. It would be an invitation for the woman to push her around again. For the first time and with a queasy stomach she ignores that dreary aura. She does nothing to take the sting away.

'i think that they're waiting for the right moment.' Azula replies.

And they aren't the only ones; she too is waiting for the right moment. Waiting for the right moment to forgive the princess, but she suddenly isn't so sure if she can.

'Will you walk with Seicho and I?'

"Zuko and I were a good team. I just wanted to make sure that you were doing okay."

Azula nods. 'Im fine.' TyLee hadn't realized that a person could sense lies in the handwriting of another until then. Maybe it is the lighthandedness of the scrawl or the way she drags out the last letters of each word. But she knows that Azula is not alright at all. That she is going passive and numb, maybe she has been that way for a while now.

Throughout the day, Azula makes several more attempt to communicate, mostly she speaks of mundane or petty things. Things like how it is good that the canopy gives the shade or how this hike is more comfortable than her last one since they are more adequately prepared.

But she never brings up the things that matter. She  hasn't even apologized, TyLee realizes. Apparently, even so low, Azula is still too good to apologized beyond a very hollow and pointless, 'sorry' if even. And TyLee realizes that she is angry. Even Mai had offered an apology.

Azula can scribble down as much friendly conversation be as she wants but it means nothing without an acknowledgement of wrongdoing.

TyLee decided that she needs to be angry. She can't be chipper and bubbly all the time. She thinks that she should express her anger more freely. She can't just let this go and pretend like nothing is wrong simply because Azula is acting demure. "You need to stop." She manages to say. "You and Mai both."

'Stop what?'

"Acting like we can just pick up where we left off just because I agreed to come with you."

.oOo.

It is as though TyLee’s word had been permission or maybe it is as simple as them feasting upon her pessimism. The spirits have finally begun to toy with her. And she thinks that they may only be showing themselves to her because no one seems to take notice of the way they pester her.

Mostly they are just annoying; they laugh at her, they sneer at her, they remind her that TyLee doesn’t like her. Sometimes they make off as if they are going to bite or scratch her but they pull back at the very last moment leaving her in a constant state of alertness when she is already agitated as it is.

And Seicho… Her usually endearing chatter is migraine inducing when Azula only wants to be left alone. No, that isn’t right. It is migraine inducing when she only wants to hear TyLee’s voice. The woman hadn’t told her to stop speaking with her but she can take a hint. Unlike Seicho.

“And I thought that it was pretty cool.” She babbles on. “So I wanted to make one sort of like it…” Azula doesn’t even know what she is talking about. She is certain that Mai and Zuko have tuned her out too. But not TyLee. TyLee seems absolutely enthralled by her. Enthralled and amused and delighted...

She clutches her parchment tightly. Heavy-handedly, she had scrawled upon it, ‘will you shut your mouth for five minutes?’

Seicho’s face falls. “I thought that you liked my stories?”

‘I don’t. They’re annoying.’ Azula writes, she nearly trips over a fallen branch in the process, her anger only heightens and then heightens some more at the giggling of the spirits.

“Don’t be mean to her.” TyLee snaps. “She’s just trying to be nice to you.”

TyLee has only ever tried to be nice to her. TyLee, TyLee, TyLee...everything is TyLee and she is beginning to wonder if she only wants TyLee because she can’t have her. But she doesn’t think that the woman’s chastising and spurning would hurt as terribly if she didn’t love her dearly.

Genuine or not, she doesn’t think that it is healthy to think about one person so much. To let her happiness and will to live hinge on a single person. She doesn’t think that it was always like this. She wasn’t always like this?

Why is she like this now?

She picks up her pace, though she doesn’t exactly know where she is headed, she only has a vague sense of where she’d first encountered the spirit and a pressing need to put distance between she and the rest of her party. Nevermind that she is significantly easier for the spirits to harass now.

If TyLee wants Seicho she can have her and Zuko can have Mai and she can be as alone as she ever was.

[thirstyforbishiesimagines]

Unspoken Longing – Zion x Reader POV x Harry (Part 1)

* image from LucyDreams, Dangerous Fellows

Word Count: 3,154

Angst / Fluff (minor NSFW)

Warning: Profanity.

.

.

So… quiet.

Hands gripped tight against the frostbitten metal, I stare down through the wired fencing into the grim, desolate view of zombies wandering aimlessly within the blood-soaked streets. Never did I think there’d come a day where I’d miss hearing the hustle and bustle of people scrambling through the city sidewalks. Seeing cars lined up behind each other, impatient and noisy upon the early mornings. What took over, was the sound of barely audible groans from below, accompanied by the chilling wind howling through the wintry air. I missed being surrounded in that vibrancy of life, and every passing day got harder and harder to keep my faith strong in seeing the world return to how it once was.

That desire felt suffocating.

Hopeless.

And at times… frightening.

Hearing the rooftop door creak open, I glance over to see a certain crimson-haired fellow walking towards me — a sly smile upon his handsome features.

“Sup, loser.” Zion calls out.

Not wanting to entertain his annoying habit of needing to insult me at every chance he got, I roll my eyes at him.

“Gee, someone’s in a mood.” He laughs lightly in response.

Turning back to the city landscape, I hide the subtle blush warming my cheeks as he slowly approaches.

That damn smirk.

I hated to admit it, but the longing of his soft lips on mine sent my heart racing abnormally fast. It was a ceaseless battle of having to remind myself to look away; as he was simply, a good friend.

“Missed you at breakfast again today.” His voice was low, husky, yet smooth as he whispers right against my ear from behind — his hot breath sending pleasant shivers down my spine.

“Wasn’t really hungry…” I trail off, a blatant lie of course. As the thought of laughing and chatting happily amongst everyone did nothing but pain me as I struggle to avoid growing attached.

Staring intently at a zombie mindlessly hitting itself against a wall, I helplessly try to distract myself from the heartache, as well as the inevitable attraction I feel towards Zion. Suddenly, the pleasant sound of soft crinkles beside my ear perks my attention, and I quickly find myself salivating at the thought of food. I immediately turn to see Zion dangling an inviting packet of chips in front of me.

“Ah… Well then, guess I’ll give this to Eugene or something.” Zion teases.

Right as the words left his lips, I quickly snatch the bag from his grasp and hug it defensively against my chest. Smiling mischievously at my seemingly predictable reaction, I realise… I had fallen right into his trap.

“ARGH, FINE! You caught me!” Giving in, my face rosy with embarrassment from the shameless weakness that food continues to hold against me. “If you knew I was lying, why wouldn’t you just hand it to me?!”

“What’s the fun in that?” He chuckles softly. “Eat up, silly.” A warm hand ruffles the top of my (h/c) hair, the gesture playful, yet consoling me in an instant.

It was amazing…

How something as simple as someone looking out for you, was enough to completely erase that growing feeling of fear that threatened to take over a couple minutes earlier.

Not a moment to waste, I hastily rip the packet open with vigor. The immediate smell of artificial barbecue seasoning awakening my starved senses. Ravaged with hunger, I chow down without delay — crumbs decorating my entire being.

“Pfft-” A hand over his mouth, Zion stops himself from bursting into hysteria as I stare daggers at him. He continues to watch in fascination, “To think you weren’t ‘hungry’ before.”

“That was old new-” My words stop short as Zion begins gently cleaning off the crumbs adorning my face.

“You’re a mess.” He chuckles, “Jeez… what would you do without me?”

Wiping the edges of my lips, his hand lingers for a moment. My heart aflutter as I find myself lost within his gorgeously golden irises staring vacantly at me. Without warning, he then suddenly slaps his hands together in a loud thundering clap, shocking me out of my trance.

“Alright, come on then!” He exclaims excitedly.

Still stunned and unable to comprehend what just happened, I merely stare at Zion in utter confusion.

Sighing with disappointment as if it was obvious, he answers, “My reward?”

“For… what?”

Eyes wide with bewilderment, his brows crease together grumpily. “For the food?! Duh! Share?”

Finally understanding his intentions, I look down to my dwindling amount of chips before looking back up to meet his expectant eyes and answering, “NO. WAY.”

“Come onnn, don’t be greedy!” Zion sings teasingly.

Mouth agape, completely offended; I pout grumpily, “You’ve had your breakfast! This is mine!”

“Oh, yeah? And who came all this way to bring it to you?”

Ignoring his apparent efforts at guilt-tripping, I continue snacking on the chips when suddenly he tries to sneak a hand into the bag. With lightning-fast reflexes, I dodge him. Laughing hysterically, I playfully twist and turn away from his multiple attempts at stealing my food before finally being caught by the arm. Swiftly pulling me towards him into a tight embrace, I freeze; my heart beating wildly against his broad chest.

“Got one.” He whispers softly into my ear.

I stare, dumbfounded for a moment, before spotting the chip between his fingers and protesting, “HEY! That was unfair!”

Raising the chip high above his head, taking advantage of his towering height against me, he teases, “And what are you going to do about it, pipsqueak?”

I begin jumping up, attempting to seize it back from his evil clutches. His words, never failing to bring out the competitive side of me. However, as I land, I lose my footing and fall clumsily onto the cold concrete floor.

“SHIT! YOU OKAY, (Y/N)?!” He yells, eyes wavering with concern as he hovers over my fallen body.

Simply laughing at his unnecessary panic, I quickly reach up and snatch back the chip — placing it between my teeth. “Got it!” I giggle, beaming proudly at the bemused redhead.

He raises an eyebrow, a knowing smirk gracing his roguishly handsome face. My breath hitches as he slowly leans in towards me, heart beating violently against my ribcage as the sound of it resonates within my ears. His captivating eyes paralysing me as he gradually inches closer and closer, stopping just as I’m able to feel his warm breath upon my chilled lips.

“Still mine.” He voices alluringly before crunching down on the chip still positioned between my teeth.

He then smiles triumphantly, that childish grin of his making me lose all composure as we both break out into a storm of laughter.

Finally settling down onto the ground, leaning against the wired fencing side-by-side, we both sit in a comfortable quiet before Zion decides to break the silence. “You feeling okay, now?”

“Oh, yeah. Don’t worry, I’m fine! It didn’t hurt or anything.” I shoot him a reassuring smile as to not worry him, but his expression remains serious… intense.

“I’m not talking about the fall…”

Unsure of where he was taking this, I cock my head to the side in confusion without a word — allowing him to continue.

“I mean like… Are YOU okay?”

Ah… He noticed.

I chuckle softly, a weak smile upon my lips. “I can’t get anything past you, can I?”

His eyes were warm. He tilts his head, genuine concern exuding from his touch as he lovingly tucks away the fallen strands of hair before me — as if needing a clear view of my face.

“I’m just… tired, I guess.” I sigh quietly. He stares intently, complete attention on me as he waits patiently for me to continue. “How much longer do we need to keep going?”

“What are you saying?” Zion questions, subtle hurt within his voice.

“I don’t know anymore…” I exhale heavily, the weight of my words lightening my mind the instant I chose to open up to him. “There’s nothing left out there, Zion. It’s been months… and from what we’ve seen, there are more zombies than people at this point. We haven’t seen any survivors in ages. There’s no longer any sign of military. No cure. No way to prevent someone from changing once bitten… For all we know, we could be the last people alive. And if we are… What the hell are we meant to do then?”

Determination burning within his golden irises and without a moment of hesitation, he answers, “Easy. We fight.”

“That’s it?” I question him with slight disappointment, unconvinced by his blunt answer. “What about after? Then what?”

“We keep fighting.”

Confused and frustrated, my voice begins to falter as I get choked up with desperation.

“But why?! Why bother at this point…? We fight, and we fight… and for what? To tire ourselves ‘til we starve? Until WE’RE eaten? To witness our friends suffer and die along the way?”

Unable to meet his unwavering gaze any longer, I hang my head low as I blink away the hot tears now glazing my eyes.

It was quiet for a moment, allowing me to calm down before feeling a soft warmth within my palms as Zion envelops my hands in his. I look back up at him. Almost in disbelief as an aura so tender, so… foreign of Zion emanates from his touch.

“No. We fight, so we can live. We have to…” His eyes were gentle, yet I could feel every bit of strength and purpose in his words alone.

He made it sound so simple, and yet his steadfast conviction made it so much more impactful.

“To keep living for those who’ve lost. To live for those still alive… We have to fight.”

He’s right…

Ultimately, I’d agree with him any other time. But today, my emotions seemed to cloud my judgement and got the better of me.

I feel so stupid.

The way he’s able to find the motivation and keep pushing forward after all this time… I couldn’t help but feel weak in comparison.

“No… You’re right. I’m sorry…” I trail off.

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding the gatherings recently?”

Lips quivering, no longer able to hide the vulnerability within, delicate tears I fought so hard to keep in began falling upon our entwined fingers.

“I’m just… so scared.” I whine helplessly.

I feel Zion jolt from shock. “Hey…” He murmurs before immediately moving to crouch before me; his tone hushed yet reassuring. “It’s normal to be scared.”

“I know. I know but… The closer I get to everyone… the more I care, the more scared I am to lose you all.” My hands tremble as the faces of those I’ve lost before reaching the school flash within my mind. “I’ve lost so many… I can’t do it again. I don’t want to lose anyone anymore…”  

“(Y/N)…” Zion whispers.

“I-If Judy… or Eugene…” I stutter as I continue to cry out the names of everyone I’ve come to cherish here.

“Stop… Look at me.”

To my own surprise, I go on to admit, “Or even Scarlett…”

“(Y/N), please. Look at me.” Zion pleads hastily.

Refusing to listen, ashamed of showing him how weak I’ve become, I continue to ignore Zion’s calls. “ANY OF US! I could lose anyone at ANY moment… and it scares the FUCK out of me!”

“(Y/N)!” Zion yells, lifting my chin to witness me crumbling with anxiety from the devastating scenarios consuming my mind.

I finally meet those beautifully vibrant eyes I’ve come to love so much. Hot tears streaming down my face as I whimper — unable to hide what I feared most.

“I can’t lose you…”

“Enough!” He demands, eyebrows furrowing with impatience before enveloping me tight within his arms. “You’re not losing anyone!” He cries out, embracing me closer as if it would eliminate every last worry causing me despair. “Not on my watch…”

They were just words, but hearing him say it with such raw, sincere honesty made me want to place all trust in him. My arms come up to grip his back firmly, face buried within his shoulder as each tear seeps through the fabric of his jacket.

“Don’t give up…” He voices gently, the tone calming me instantly. “I know how strong you really are. No matter how scared you may feel, you never show it, and you never hesitate when it comes to protecting the group. You shouldn’t stop yourself from wanting to get closer to us. You’re allowed to care. That’s what separates us from those mindless fuckers. It’s why we need to fight.”

I stayed quiet, allowing the comfort of his words to replace the fear built up within me.

“And… You won’t lose me… Ever.” He whispers as he slowly releases me from his embrace. The gradual loss of his touch leaving me to feel a slight emptiness within.

“Anyways, if I die, who else is gonna sneak you snacks when you refuse to eat breakfast?! There’s no way I can leave your neglectful ass alone!” Zion smirks playfully.

I couldn’t help but burst out laughing at his silly attempt to lighten the mood with his usual insults.

You’re right, Zion... What would I do without you? I really am a mess.

His fingers reach up to lightly caress my tear-stained cheeks, lips curling up into a genuinely warm smile.

“You don’t have to worry about me, (Y/N). I’m not going anywhere.”

Cupping my face ever so gently, he inches closer.

“I promise…” His breath, now hot upon my skin as he leans his forehead against mine.

“I promise I won’t ever leave you… So, stop crying already.”

Not knowing how else to respond, taken aback by this sudden compassionate side of Zion I’d never seen before, I simply nod as he pulls back. However, his hand lingers upon my cheek — caressing my face as he stares vacantly at me once again.

My heart began to beat wildly as we sat there in silence. My cheeks, surely burning under his touch.

Something’s changed… Or had I only just realised it now?

Had he always been this… intimate?

All this time… I’ve denied my growing feelings for him.

But… maybe he… felt the same?

Before I could even process my thoughts, I suddenly placed my lips on his, and as soon as I had the time to realise what I had done, Zion had already pulled away in shock. Heart sinking into the pit of my stomach, my eyes grow wide with utter shame and embarrassment. I was faced with immediate regret as Zion grimaces, a look full of anguish — as if he was struck with some kind of physical pain.

“I-” Horrified, I tried to apologise, but my words were cut short as I was abruptly met with his rough lips upon mine — a rush of electricity coursing through my body as he leans into me.

Fingers gripped tight on either side of my head, he presses his body against mine; leaving me completely entrapped between him and the fencing behind me. Surprised by his unexpected aggressiveness after having been so gentle just moments before, I gasp lightly. His fingers suddenly coming up to grip my chin, holding it in place as he slips his tongue between my lips and into my awaiting mouth. Our fervent tongues melting into a passionate, lust-filled dance.

I had every intention to tell him to slow down, yet his lips only left me enough time to breathlessly exhale, “Zion…”.

He groans immediately in reaction to hearing his name before finally leaving my lips for a moment, allowing me to catch my breath. I sigh softly, instinctively arching back with pleasure as his teeth lightly graze down my neck and across my collarbone — leaving me with pleasant shivers all over.

Everything was moving so fast, I barely had time to comprehend what was going on. All I knew was that I needed him, and knowing he felt the same was enough for me to lose myself within his hands.

Before my lips had a chance to adjust to the crisp air, his mouth was back on mine — warming it up in an instant. He groans as he presses against me once more; his burning hot touch warming my icy skin as his hand slides underneath my top, caressing me gently. A sudden moan escapes my lips in response before I wrap my arms around his neck, further deepening our kiss.

“ZIONNNN~”

We both freeze in place, heads snapping towards the door of the rooftop as we recognise the all too familiar sing-song voice of Judy coming closer.

“YEAH?!” Zion calls back, eyes wide with dread of the possibility of being caught as his cheeks grow a subtle shade of pink.

“Pfft-” Unable to suppress my amusement, I couldn’t help but giggle at his seemingly innocent reaction considering how different he was just moments before.

“DID YOU FIND (Y/N)~?”

My heart began to race unnervingly, finally understanding the sudden feeling of trepidation as her voice now radiates from the other side of the door.

“Y-YEAH, SHE’S HERE!” Zion quickly yells back while I hurry to readjust my top.

“YAY!” Judy exclaims. Setting our hearts at ease as her forever chirpy tone begins to fade in the distance while she finally descends the stairs. “WELL LAWRENCE IS CALLING FOR US ALL NOW! SO, COME DOWN SOON!”

We wait for a moment, listening attentively to hear if she would return.

Realising we were safe, Zion sighs heavily in relief as he rubs the back of his head awkwardly. I slowly bring my hands to my face, cheeks searing from embarrassment as the last few minutes come rushing back to me.

That… just happened, right? I wasn’t dreaming?

Peeking out between my fingers to peer at Zion pretty much confirmed it as he uncomfortably got up from his spot.

What exactly did this mean for us?

Zion didn’t say anything… merely brushing himself off while he waited for me to tidy my unkempt clothes. As I got up, I noticed his adorably dishevelled crimson tresses covering his face. Without thinking, I reach up to fix it before suddenly being met with a slight sting upon my palm as Zion slaps my hand away.

“Ah…” He trails off, his tone as if startled by his own actions while also seemingly consumed in his thoughts.

Confused, all I was able to manage in reply to his sudden coldness was, “…Zion?”

He turns away from me, “Sorry. Um… anyways we should go. It’s freezing out here. The others will be worried…” his tone and aura feeling somewhat distant compared to before.

As he begins walking towards the exit, I subconsciously wrap my jacket tight around my frame — watching his back disappear through the doorway. Unable to shake this overwhelming sense of dread conjuring up within my blood, I linger on the rooftop, alone… left feeling emptier than ever before.

.

.

A/N: Helloooo my felines~ and welcome to the start of a possibly long journey HAHAHA. This comeback took a while, but I hope the read was worth it so far! I had been slowly planning this fic series (in between life and other requests) for about a year now, and I’m super excited to finally be able to release the first part of my new original! I will attach a link here to part 2 when it’s ready. 

So please, sit back, grab a snack and get ready to enjoy the sweet, sweet heartbreak ahead. Missed you all ( ˊᵕˋ )♡

x luna

[bellakitse]

show me love (in all the things you do)

Five times Michael showed his love for Alex with a kind gesture, and the one time, Alex returned the favor with a big gesture.

1.

Michael looks up at the sound of tires on gravel and frowns as he hears something else, it’s low, but still there. He waits for Alex to park and get out of his SUV.

“Guerin, I brought the pictures,” he says instead of a greeting showing him a manila folder he’s carrying.

“There���s a rattle to your car,” Michael says at the same time stopping Alex short. He looks at his car and then back at Michael.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Alex answers with an unconcerned shrug that makes Michael roll his eyes.

“Yeah, well, you suck at cars,” Michael answers a little testy. “But, I heard it.”

Alex raises an eyebrow at him. “I think we have more important things to go over than this rattle you heard,” Alex answers him, the air quotes over rattle evident in his tone.

“Not more important than car safety,” Michael shoots back. ‘Not more important than your safety’ he doesn’t say vocally, but he thinks Alex hears it anyway as his expression softens.

They’re getting better at this, they’re never going to be the kind of men whom words come easily too, but they’ve been working hard at understanding what isn’t being said out loud without turning it into a worst-case scenario.

“Well,” Alex starts, his voice soft. He walks toward Michael, taking his hand and placing his keys in them. “Since I don’t know anything about cars like you said, I would appreciate it if you took a look at it to make sure it’s okay.”

He holds on to Michael’s hand, squeezing it before he lets go. It leaves Michael feeling warm.

Michael nods, biting down on the strange urge to say thank you. Thank you for understanding. Thank you for letting me take care of you.

“The stuff you want to compare to your pictures is in the airstream,” he waves towards his home. “Go see if it’s worth anything while I check this out.”

Alex opens his mouth like he wants to say something else; in the end, he gives him a quirk of his lips and does as Michael says. Michael watches him go until he’s inside the airstream before he starts to work on Alex’s SUV; he’s never been able to not look at Alex until he’s out of sight. He tried for a while when he thought easy was what he wanted, and all it proved was that it was an exercise in pointlessness. He’s never been able to look away from Alex, not really.

In the end, he finds that the noise is because Alex’s car is in pressing need of an oil change. Alex, now sitting in his chair with a beer in his hand, looks at him blankly when he tells him so.

“You do know cars need oil from time to time, right?” he asks, biting down on a grin when Alex shifts in his seat like he hadn’t realized.

A thought enters Michael’s mind, and now he doesn’t hold back his smile. “Do you even know how to change the oil, Alex?”

Alex shoots him an annoyed look, but Michael can see some pink in his cheeks. “I have you for that,” Alex says quietly after a moment looking at Michael from under his lashes.

Michael feels the words under his ribcage. It takes him a moment to catch his breath from the depth of them. He can read what’s underneath them.

“Yeah,” he says just as softly. “You do.”

2.

Alex is focused and determined to the point of self-neglect sometimes. Michael has never known someone so smart and capable, but who could forget something as simple as remembering to eat. He arrives at Jesse Manes’ old bunker. Now, Alien headquarters, and feels the same kind of grim satisfaction he always feels when he steps into it, thinking how much it would infuriate the bastard to know that aliens have taken over his little clubhouse and now use it for the sole purpose of bringing him down, with his youngest son leading the charge.

He finds Alex where he left him the evening before, in the same t-shirt, telling him all he needs to know. Alex hasn’t moved from his computers all night.

“I ran into Maria in town with Buffy,” he calls out, placing the bags of takeout on the main table in the center of the bunker.

“I asked her to check in on her,” Alex answers, still typing away.

“She told me,” Michael answers, pulling out styrofoam containers with Arturo’s enchiladas with red and green sauce, just the way Alex likes them. “She said that if you can’t be a responsible dog dad, she’s going to file for custody of her niece.”

Alex snorts, and Michael guesses the reaction makes sense. Buffy might have warmed up to all of them, Maria the most since she was there when Alex rescued her, but the beagle adores Alex with a passion that rivals Michael’s. No one is taking her away from him; he’s more than sure Buffy wouldn’t let it happen. Alex turns in his chair, lifting a brow when he spots the food.

“What’s all this?” he asks carefully.

“You’ve been staring at those screens way too long if you don’t recognize Arturo’s specialty,” he comments, taking out a second container with his own food. “Now, why don’t you come over here and join me, and if you’re good and eat all your food, there might be a triple chocolate shake in here for you as dessert.”

Alex stands up, making a face down at his leg, and Michael can only imagine how sore it must be from Alex having it on for so long. He spots Alex’s crutch and silently floats it over to Alex. He’s looking down at his food as he cuts into it, but he can feel Alex’s eyes on him as he walks over to the table.

“Christmas style,” Alex says quietly, and when Michael looks up, he finds Alex giving him a grateful smile. He nods back at him as he takes a bite of his food and gestures towards the free space on the couch next to him. Silently he’s grateful Valenti insisted on adding it to the bunker, even if he thinks it gives Alex an excuse to stay down here longer since now he has a place to lay down when he needs rest.

Alex sits next to him, and they eat in silence, only the sound of their forks scraping the bottom filling the room as they finish their food.

“That was so good,” Alex sighs happily, his eyes drooping as he gets comfortable on the couch. Michael puts the garbage back in the bags before reclaiming his place next to Alex. “I could eat my weight in Arturo’s food.”

Michael lifts Alex’s right leg to his lap and starts to do a quick job of taking off Alex’s shoe, followed by the prosthetic, his pant’s leg rolled up. Alex doesn’t startle like he did the first time Michael did this after Alex pulled long hours in the bunker, now he just sinks deeper into the couch, his eyes barely opened as Michael starts to massage the sore muscles. Michael watches him, the way he’s gone soft and relaxed under his touch. How comfortable they are with each other, it’s good, but he wants more.

“Maybe we can do it again,” he starts, pressing a firm thumb under Alex’s knee, right above where his leg ends. Alex lets out a moan, and it makes Michael’s stomach quiver. “Outside, like a date,” he blurts out, and he feels Alex still under his hands. He holds his breath, waits a moment before finally moving his gaze from Alex’s leg to his face.

The shy smile, and brightness of Alex’s eyes help him let go of the breath he’s holding.

“I’d really like that.”

3.

They're all over at Isobel's, he and Max are by the grill. Isobel is making margaritas in the kitchen, regular for the group, and virgin for Rosa, while the resurrected teenager looks on. Valenti is in a corner with Cameron looking like he's trying to make some serious heart eyes in her direction, much to her amusement if the smirk on her lips is anything to go by. While the human trio that is Liz, Alex and Maria are a few feet away from them, laughter breaking out as Maria recounts some date she went on the night before.

"Not to blame the victim," He overhears Liz say. "But this is kind of your fault, didn't we establish never to date guys named Chad? Did the last Chad teach you nothing?

Alex nods in agreement as Maria frowns at both of them.

"He seemed nice," she argues, which earns a snort from both Liz and Alex.

"I don't care if he's a saint," Alex says with a scrunched up face that is cuter than it has any right to be. "Chads are such, Chads."

Maria opens her mouth like she wants to argue some more but in the end, deflates with an exhale. "Yeah, when you're right, you're right."

The humans keep talking, but Michael's focus is on his boyfriend. He looks good in his slim jeans and grey Henley with his sleeves pushed up. He fights the urge to walk over and press himself against him, but they both promised Isobel not to, as she puts it, ‘slobber all over each other.’

He takes offense at the description and the accusing tone with which she said it. There's nothing wrong with wanting to touch and kiss Alex all the time if you’re lucky to have the privilege to do so.

He turns his back to the walking temptation that is Alex Manes and tries to focus on something else. Max is looking fine as he handles the grill and doesn’t seem to need Michael’s help, so he focuses on the small garden Isobel has started.  Flowers litter her yard in what should be a colorful mess but instead give the area vibrancy. He touches a few petals here and there, finally plucking a red carnation.

"Isobel's not going to like that," Alex whispers close to his ear, having walked over to him without Michael noticing.

"You're not going to rat me out, are you?" he asks, turning around to face him, smiling when Alex gets closer to him, as he places his hands on Michael’s hips.

"I'll try not to, but she is a mind reader," Alex teases, grinning when Michael pulls him closer still.

"I'll give you a flower if you hold out," Michael says, presenting him the red carnation. He expects Alex to laugh or roll his eyes. Instead, his face goes soft as he takes the small flower in his hand like it's something precious.

Liz calls out his name, but Alex continues to look at him.

"No one's ever given me a flower before," Alex says softly, running his fingers over the petals, and he gives Michael a wide smile before he walks back to his friend.

*

It sticks with him. That smile on Alex's face over something so simple like a flower sticks with him the rest of the night and then the rest of the week. It sticks with him as he goes into the flower shop on Main street, and as he picks every single flower with careful consideration before he drives out to Alex's cabin with the small bouquet held together by a slim yellow ribbon.

He makes his way up Alex’s walkway with the flowers in his hand, using the key Alex gave him months ago even before they started this up again to open the door. Buffy greets him with an enthusiastic bark, her owner nowhere in sight.

"Alex?" he calls out, taking his boots off to leave them by the entrance. He spots snacks on the coffee table in the living room, and Netflix queued up on the TV, a mellow date is what they usually prefer.

"I'm coming," he gets as an answer from the kitchen. He holds his breath as he hears Alex start to make his way to him.

"Hey, perfect timing, I just turned off the chili," Alex says with a smile as he moves in to greet him.

Michael pulls the bouquet from behind his back, practically thrusting it in Alex's face in his nervousness, Alex startles back, eyeing the flowers and then Michael.

Michael feels his cheeks grow hot, feeling ridiculous before Alex takes the flowers from him.

Holding them close to his face, he breathes them in before he looks back at Michael with the same smile from the other day.

"They’re perfect, thank you," he says quietly. He heads back into the kitchen to put them in water and comes back moments later with two bowls of food.

Two episodes of ‘Queer Eye’ later, Michael is full, warm, and being lulled to sleep as Alex rests practically on him, his head tucked under Michael’s chin, his arms around his waist. He lifts his head, pressing his lips under Michael’s jaw.

“They’re beautiful,” he whispers against his skin. “Happy five months, Michael.”

Michael tightens his hold on him in response.

4.

Maria likes to host events at the Wild Pony and make them participate, he doesn’t know if it’s their love for her or fear, but usually when Maria wants something they all fall in line. Last month it was Alex and Liz belting out 90’s rock like it was their job. The month before that, it was Max, Kyle, and Michael helping out for her ladies' night by serving drinks shirtless. He’s still not sure what Alex said to get out of it, but he remembers the love of his life sitting with Liz and Isobel, smirking in his direction as the female population of Roswell objectified him.

Maria doesn’t ask him to play on her open mic night, but she flashes him a smile of gratitude when she sees him at the sign-up sheet. He figures it’s killing two birds with one stone. He helps someone he cares about, and he shows Alex something he’s been wanting to show him for years.

He’s sitting next to Alex, his knee bouncing, and he’s barely heard the conversation his friends are having around him. Alex places a hand on his thigh, stilling it. He looks at Michael with a worried look.

Michael opens his mouth to reassure him, but he spots Maria making her way up the makeshift stage. He threads his fingers through Alex’s hair and pulls him in for a kiss that Alex returns easily.

“Michael?” Alex asks, concern creeping into his voice.

He presses his forehead against Alex’s, but he doesn’t answer his question, not when Maria is telling the bar of their first participant of the night and calling his name.

Alex pulls back and looks at him with surprised eyes. He just smiles, hoping it hides his nerves, and with one last kiss, he makes his way up to the stage. Maria hands him a guitar with a wink and a ‘go get em.’ Sitting down, he adjusts the mike to where he wants it and picks up the guitar. Looking out at the crowd, he finds his friends all watching him, curious but supportive.

“When I was seventeen,” he starts, licking his lips as he talks. He’s never been one to be open about his feelings, but with Alex, he struggles daily not to shout from the rooftops how in love he is. “I saw a boy I loved, and I’ve never looked away since,” he continues, he thinks he sees that idiot Wyatt make a rude gesture out of the corner of his eye, but it doesn’t matter, not when he finds Alex staring at him in rapt attention. “This is his song,” he finishes.

He places his fingers over the right cords, closes his eyes, and starts to play a song that has been Alex’s since he wrote it over a decade ago. It’s always been his, even when he couldn’t play due to his hand, the song has been Alex’s, just like Michael has been Alex’s.

The song comes to an end, and only then does Michael open his eyes; he doesn’t hear the applause or sees anyone but Alex.

Just Alex.

5.

Alex has been making faces when he thinks he isn’t looking, and Michael knows it’s because of his new prosthetic. When Michael questions if it’s bothering him too much, Alex waves him away, telling him it’s always like this with a new one and that he’ll get used to it soon enough.

Not that it will get better or that the discomfort will go away, no, just that he’ll get used to it. Which in Alex speak means that it’s always going to hurt him, he’s just going to ignore it.

It makes Michael want to hold him close and protect him from anything that causes him pain but also shake him for accepting the pain like it’s his lot in life.

He doesn’t bring it up again because it will probably lead to a fight. Instead, Michael does what he does best, he sciences the shit out of the problem. He studies everything he can get his hands on about the best prosthetics on the market. He sucks it up and talks to Valenti about what he wants to do, and tries not to scowl when the good doctor looks at him like he’s proud of him, before loading him up on all the information he can gather in the hospital about artificial limbs. Armed with all his tools he gets to work, he’s a genius after all; it shouldn’t be that hard to figure out.

It takes him six weeks to build something he thinks is worthy, longer than he expected, and he’s annoyed at himself for taking so long. Alex is still carrying an air of discomfort, and it bothers him.

Alex, of course, notices.

“What’s going on with you?” he asks as they get ready for bed while Alex goes through his nightly PT’s. “You’ve been moody for days.”

Michael looks over at the closet, where he’s hiding the finished prosthetic. He finished it the day before, and Michael marvels at Alex’s timing.

“I have been working on something, and it’s been giving me trouble,” Michael answers, sitting up when Alex stops what he’s doing to look at him.

“The ship?” Alex questions calmly, they’ve come a long way from when his ship was a touchy subject between them.

Michael shakes his head and without a word, gets up and walks towards his closet, pulling out the carefully wrapped limb.

“I made this for you,” he says nervously, placing it on the bed for Alex. He watches and waits for him to unwrap it, swallowing hard when Alex lets out a gasp.

“I’ve worked out all the calculations, weight distribution, the mobility and dexterity you require,” he rushes to explain. “It’s lighter and better cushioned. It shouldn’t cause you as much soreness as the one you have.”

Alex doesn’t look at him; he stares at the prosthetic, reaching out to touch it with shaking fingers.

“Say something,” he whispers, worried when Alex remains silent, his worry spiking up when Alex finally looks up at him with tears running down his face.

“Alex,” he starts, alarmed, but Alex doesn’t let him get anything else out. He finds himself with an armful of Alex Manes, as he crawls into his lap and holds him tight. Michael runs his hands up and down Alex’s back, trying to soothe him, waiting until Alex has calmed down enough to speak.

Alex pulls back, he looks down at the prosthetic and then again at Michael, fresh tears clinging to his lashes. “I love you so much,” Alex whispers, the words hitting Michael square in the chest the way they always do when Alex speaks them.

Alex leans in, pressing his forehead against his, letting out a slow exhale. “Thank you, Michael.”

+1

Michael is in his bunker a week later, tinkering with some compounds when he hears someone come down the ladder. He smiles, knowing who it is, his smile only growing as he watches Alex land on his feet with ease.

“Hey,” he calls out, getting a greeting in return.

“I brought burgers,” Alex says placing the bag he’s carrying on the table.

Michael looks at it, his stomach jumping as he finds a carnation on top of the bag. He picks it up and brings it to his nose before he looks over at Alex. He’s not looking at him but Michael spots his smile anyway. He places the carnation in a glass of water before they sit on his old couch with food in hand.

Catching up on each other’s day, Alex tells him he ran into Liz and she wants them to come over for dinner at Max’s. He watches with a growing frown as every once in a while, Alex rubs his knee.

“Is it bothering you?” he finally questions when they’re done, and Alex is gathering their trash.

“Hmm?”

“Your leg, is it bothering you?” he asks again. “You’ve been rubbing it. I can make adjustments if you need them.”

Alex turns to face him, leaning against Michael’s work table. “The prosthetic is perfect, Michael,” he reassures him. “I’m pretty sure I could run a marathon with it if I were a glutton for punishment.”

Michael laughs at the joke, the worry that had been building easing up. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Alex nods, lifting his leg, flexing it one way and another. “It’s made everything easier,” he answers before he licks his lips, his hand twitching at his side, and Michael frowns again, realizing that while he’s been worried about Alex’s leg, he’s missed that Alex is nervous.

“Including kneeling,” Alex tells him, in a way that sounds meaningful before he does precisely that, and kneels in front of Michael, resting a hand on Michael’s knee.

“I like where this is going, darling,” he teases in the hope that the tension he sees in Alex’s shoulders will loosen. It seems to work as Alex rolls his eyes at him.

“That’s not where I’m going with this, Michael,” Alex says, rolling his eyes again, though it loses it’s punch when there’s a fond smile on his face.

“Well, where are you going with this then?” he asks.

“Where I’m going with this is, this,” Alex takes a deep breath, sticking his hand in his pocket to take out a small black velvet box.

Michael is pretty sure he’s lost the ability to breathe.

“I’m not good at showing how much I love you,” Alex starts, quietly, his eyes never straying from Michael’s. “Not the way you are, Michael. You show me you love me in all the things you do. Changing my car’s oil, picking me wildflowers, making sure I eat because I forget to when I’m working. You stand in front of a crowd and sing me a song you wrote just for me. You build me a leg because you didn’t want me to be in pain. You show me so much love in a million ways and I don’t always know how to show you that I feel the same.”

“Alex,” he whispers, reaching out he touches Alex’s face. His breath catching as Alex turns his head to press a kiss at his palm.

“But I hope you know how much I love you, I’ve always loved you and I always will,” Alex continues, opening the box to reveal a simple gold band before taking Michael’s hand in his. “Marry me?” he asks, the words barely out of his mouth before Michael is hauling him up, dragging him to his lap, his mouth covering Alex’s.

Alex lets him manhandle him, laughing breathlessly into the kiss.

“Is that a yes?” he teases.

When Michael finally lets him breathe, he slips the ring onto Michael’s finger. Michael nods, not bothering with words as he presses Alex into the couch, pulling him into another kiss; he rather show him than tell him anyway.

[nadacwriter]

OCtober (Belated) Day 8: Festival

Part of @oc-growth-and-development‘s OCtober!

I had a hard time writing this one hopefully the next one goes smoothly!

This is a DELSTRAN piece. 

Words: 1,245

“...As Alsteid granted us love through her potions and vibrance, we grant her offerings of the same at this ceremony, and to her we offer thanks, for without her, love would not exist, nor would companionship of any kind; it is through her alchemy we learned all things of relations, from swetest love to most bitter hatred.”

Natalie always thought the ceremony of Alsteid was the best part of the alsteid festival.

It was so cool! They took all of these really bright fabics, soaked them in an ignition potion, and lit it on fire. Then it was put into a bowl and everyone passed it around and put the ashes on their wrist, it was great! It was Witchery, and she wasn't a witch, but all of her family had to participate, and if it involved burning stuff and putting ashes on your skin, hey, she wasn't gonna complain.

If only she didn't have to deal with the festival part, though.

Natalie got up from her seat with the rest of her family, as they all moved to the fairgrounds. The festival was often held in the middle of summer, and it was typically during July. So it was always way too hot to justify being outside anyways. But when you're surrounded by people, it just makes the sensation worse.

“Mam,” Natalie whispered to her mother in Welsh, to keep the others from knowing what she was asking, “I really want to leave, can I go? I bet I could get a ride-” “Nat, you can't just leave in the middle of the festival.” She said, “Your mother's got the stall to look after.”

“but I'm not at the stall!”

“You help get the stall set up!” “But that doesn't mean i'm AT the stall. Can you imagine the chaos if I made potions!?”

“Natalie, I love you, but we have to stay...I did bring you a book, though.”

“...Thanks, Mam.”

Natalie hated the festival for two reasons: It was too loud, and she didn't get to leave. It was a fair, basically, with rides and all sorts of stalls and vendors set up. But it was all just too much for her to handle. There's a reason her room was kept dark with spells, and she kept herself occupied by lighting candles.

But she also couldn't leave; her mother, Krysta, MOM, ran a stall at the fair every year. And though Norah was the one who helped her at the stall, that still meant she, Eve, Charice, and marion were stuck at the festival with nothing to do. Charice, of course, with her youthful exuberance, mostly rode on the rides and played the games at the festival. And Eve had plenty of friends she could hang out with. But Natalie had no such thing…

Usually these days were the spent, by Natalie, anyways, at a cooling fountain, reading some sort of book and listening to some sort of music. The black ensemble, the grim book, the loud music, the obvius earphones, they would usually tell anyone that came near her she did NOT want to talk.

Natalie walked over to the fountain at the first chance she got, telling her mom that she would have her phone on her and meet them all there when they were ready to get going. When Charice tried to get her to stay, mom pulled her aside,

“Alsteid's always a bit rough on Natalie, sweetheart. Doesn't mean she doesn't love you, just means she's gotta have space.”

“Okay, mom...”

And then, Natalie would spend the rest of the day at the fountain, far away from everyone, where she could just read or keep to herself.

At least, thats what's supposed to happen.

__

“What's wrong with your face?”

It's a question Natalie was used to getting at school, but not on the day of a festival to a love goddess. If she had been asked while she was listening to a song, she would have ignored the question, but the person asking had somehow chosen a lull in the music.

Natalie pulled one of her earphones out and didn't even look up from her book.”

“It means I kill people for asking personal questions,” She replied, “Get lost.” “You look like a warlock.”

“Yeah, and I'll become one if you don't learn to listen.” She still hadn't looked up. “Scram.”

“What are you doing at a love festival?”

THAT did it. Natalie slammed her book shut and looked on. The girl seemed about her age, which was odd, considering how ready she was to insult her.

“Look, kid. You wanna see just how evil I can get? Keep talking. If not/ Do yourself and everyone else around her a favor and piss off.”

Natalie had a bit of a temper, and it was not helped by the fact that she really didn't want to be here.

The girl simply smirked. She looked familiar to Natalie. Like she was someone's kid or something.

“What class are you, Warlock?”

“What?” “Dueling class,” the blond grinned, her eyes slitting, “I see you got a pretty ornate wand.”

“Class 4. You want a fight?”

That shut the blond up. For someone Natalie's age, class 4 was a big deal.

“Well, um...”

“Then shut the hell up.”

Natalie stormed off, grumbling to herself as she walked through the crowds of the festival. She walked right past the Gibson family stall, her family's, and walked all the way to the other end of the fairground, where the ceremony had taken place. It was hotter than by the fountain, but it was quieter. A fair trade, natalie thought.

She sat down on one of the stone benches and sighed. She really, REALLY hated the Alsteid festival. If people were gonna be assholes like that, why come to a LOVE festival anyway? She got back to reading…

And heard a familiar voice.

“I thought mam said you were gonna be at the fountain.”

Charice. Damn! How could Natalie not have spotted Charice?

“I moved.”

“Why?” Asked Charice, walking down the large steps of the theater and sitting next to Natalie, her red shirt and khaki shorts contrasting in style to Nat's getup.

“A girl was being mean to me.”

Charice looked over, “Did you zap her?”

“Nope. Can't unless I need to. I could get in trouble.”

“Maybe she needed to be zapped.” “Maybe.”

Natalie sighed softly.

“Why do you hate Alsteid so much?” Asked Charice, looking up at her.

“I mean...i don't hate Alsteid, she's a perfectly fine goddess all things considered. My patron nearly plunged the world into darkness, though, so the bar's kinda low.” Natalie said.

“I just, y'know, don't like it. There's too much going on, it's all really overwhelming, and people are mean to me, and it's too hot to be comfortable, and I just wish I was somewhere else.”

“Why are people mean to you?” Asked Charice, her arms crossed, “You're nice, and you're funny, and-” “I'm half Wraith, Charice.' She interrupted. “And Half wraiths don't do too well at festivals.”

Natalie sighed and put her hand under her chin. She was surprised when she felt two small arms hugging around her midsection.

“I think you're nice.”

The Alsteid festival celebrated love in many forms. Romantic, platonic, familial, devotional…

It wasn't often that Natalie participated in it. And if she ever did, it was usually on accident.

But right now? Natalie felt loved. In the nicest way she could.

[slasherscream]

if you're still taking V requests could I have a lil black!reader and V with reader getting some comfort while they're depressed :']

it really buttered my egg-roll to write this

v x black!reader ft. // soft comfort

He notices everything about you. 

It is such a luxury to have another living, breathing person in the shadow gallery and he doesn’t take it for granted.

He observes you constantly, consciously and unconsciously. How will this interact with Y/N? Would Y/N enjoy this? They’re wrinkling their nose again what could be the matter? 

You are a fixture in his life now. A constant, when for so long the only constant he has kept has been his rage, his vengeance, his mission. 

To neglect you in any way would be a crime.

So yes he notices from the very start when you begin to wilt like a flower without sunlight. You try to hide it but there’s no hiding how the gallery begins to lack the usual lightness you bring to it. 

You were so taken by his home the moment he’d spirited you away. Enchanted with its treasures and beauty. And he knows it is beautiful. Full of beautiful and rare things - but when you first took everything in         smiling from ear to ear? It became merely a reflection of your own loveliness and vibrancy.

It dulls as your happiness does. 

From the jukebox plays a crooning old school tune that you listen listlessly to from your spot on the couch. It’s one of your favorites but the energy is wrong. You aren’t engaged by it. Eyes closed, mouth turned down into a frown, and each breath you take seeming utterly forced. An effort just to breathe and an effort just to be living.

V takes all of this in and decides it would be ….inappropriate for him to allow this to continue on. He would be beside himself if you mistook him trying to respect your space and boundaries for not taking note of your suffering. For not caring.

He tries to make noise as he approaches you. The last thing he wants to do is startle you and you’ve taken to asking him if he walks on air because he is, in fact - always managing to startle you. At the sounds of footsteps you open your eyes and glance his way.

Your expression shifts only slightly but the fact that you look even slightly less miserable just upon seeing him is …..well it’s- 

“You’re back.” You say, sounding tired.

“I’m back.” V echoes as he moves to sit beside you. 

You shift as if to be further out of his way, legs curling up to be closer to the rest of your body. He can feel the warm imprint you left on the cushion, probably from hours of remaining still and unmoving.

His hands flutter uselessly for a moment before he settles them on his lap. He’d wanted to ….touch you, that he knows (he thinks of it, of settling his hands over your legs. Of using his hands to pull your legs - gently - back over his own, where he could simply… touch you and then he must imagine a world where you would enjoy being touched by him as much as he would enjoy touching you) . But that is not ….the point of what V wants to do. That is just an instinct that grows in him with each passing day. One that must be ignored as best he can. 

“Might I pose a question?” He says, eyes focused solely upon you from beneath the safety of his mask. It is the only reason he ever feels so comfortable looking at you so bravely, so openly. 

“Of course.”

“Are you - are you unhappy here?” He is momentarily startled by how quickly you spring into a sitting position. He is warmed by the force with which you deny his question and a tension leaves his shoulders that he hadn’t known was there. That’s troubling but staunchly ignored (like so many of his feelings regarding you).

“Why do you think that?” You ask, still frowning. 

Silence settles in the room, aside from the songs still playing from the jukebox. All the ones you’d selected sounding ….melancholy without the usual accompaniment of your dancing and enthusiastic singing.  

“Ah.” You say, laughing in a way that’s distinctly unhappy. “It’s nothing you did - it’s nothing at all really it’s just - I’ve always had … low moments like this where I just can’t seem to be happy." 

More silence until, "Is there anything I can do to lift your spirits?" 

You are about to shake your head, touched by his concern but unwilling to allow your misery to spread. You know this is just something that you’ll have to let pass. But then you think (the music is still playing - just the right kind for dancing. For holding someone close. Lovingly. It’s been so long since you’ve been held.) -

"You’ve thought of something.” V leans forward, focused on the way he’d seen an idea drift over your face before you’d shaken your head and tried to rid yourself of it. “Please - seeing you so unhappy is nearly unbearable. If there’s something I can do - anything I can do, I’ll do it." 

The statement lingers in the air with such a passion you have to look away from his mask. You feel watched in a way that makes your skin burn. 

"You could….Would you dance with me?” Your eyes focus firmly onto some bit of priceless, stolen memorabilia in the farthest corner of the room. 

“That would make you happy?” You manage to nod and then try not to tense when you feel, more than see, him get up from the couch. You’re half afraid he’ll leave you alone. A quiet mockery of your request. But that’s just the dark part of your mind talking to you.

V would never do anything so cruel and furthermore, his heart feels like it’s trying to escape from his chest even as he steps before you and bows in a way that’s both over dramatic and entirely charming. “May I have this dance?" 

You can’t help the small laugh as you slide your hand into his waiting one. You wonder if he can feel the way your pulse races (he can. His hand so much bigger than yours, his fingers brush across and wrap around your wrist and it only makes his own pulse race ever faster–) "You may.”

He guides you smoothly to the center of the room and a new song starts up as if waiting for his cue. The voice of a crooning Ella Fitzgerald begins to sing the classic and now illegal version of “Someone to Watch Over Me”. You both relax and stiffen at the familiar tune. It feels a little too on the nose.

He could spend the rest of his life watching over you, he thinks.What would it be like? To be loved like that- you wonder.

There is a distance between the two of you that is uncomfortable and one of you must take the plunge to eliminate it. You are the one to do so. Already so miserable and tired you thoughtlessly seek out the rest of the comfort you think you’ll find in his company. There’s a moment where he stops breathing when you step more fully into his space, the circle of his arms. Now you can feel the human warmth of him from underneath his costume. He can feel yours as well and after a stuttered breath his arms wrap more firmly around you. He begins to move you in smooth and soothing circles. 

You continue to surprise him by resting your head on his shoulder. He knows he’s imagining the tickle of your curls against his neck and underside of his chin, his clothing is too thick for that - but it’s the nicest thing his imagination has ever conjured, the phantom feeling of your hair that has always looked so soft. 

He glances at the hand still tucked into his own, gloved one and tries not to think about how your brown skin might look against his own (it’s a terrifying thought just as much as it is a ….one that fills him with-) 

Slowly he tucks you closer, a hand settling at your waist that he tries not to make feel …proprietary, even though it does ignite something fiercely possessive in him. You make a noise that sounds heavy with contentment and he thinks some of the gallery’s light is starting to return. 

[thestrongestmagic]

Always in My Heart

Molly was torturing herself; she knew that and yet she couldn’t stop. She had suffered much loss in her life and she had dealt with it, somehow, she had found the strength to carry on and yet this, this was just too much for her to bear. Her children were grown now and they had all left the home and it was just her and Arthur and the silence was deafening. She felt like a ghost, walking through the familiar parts of her home and it was her home. She had changed it, morphed it over the years into a home to be proud of and she was proud of it. This home was where she had raised all of her children and it didn’t feel the same without them all here. Everywhere that she looked there were reminders of Fred, no wonder George didn’t visit when she asked him to. He had asked for her help, packing up Fred’s things but she hadn’t been able to, she had lost her strength, she had been broken. Arthur had helped George where she had failed him. She remembered that day, Bill and Fleur had come to visit with Victoire in order to distract her. Somehow that day was more painful than the funeral had been.

She had been numb for most of the service, tears sliding down her cheeks as she had watched her son interred in the earth beside her brothers. The well-wishers, there had been many of them but they had spoken more to Arthur than to her. Molly ignored the majority of them, except for Harry and Hermione who had wrapped her up in a warm hug. They were part of her family; they had been since the moment she had clapped eyes on them. It was only when most of the attendees had left and it was just her, Arthur and Charlie that she had broken. She had thrown herself on the ground, clawing her hands through the freshly deposited earth, screaming and crying like a mad woman, desperate to reach her son. Arthur had tried to stop her but she had screeched at him. She couldn’t look at him, she couldn’t look at anyone, all she wanted was to reach her Fred and wrap her arms around him, tell him that it would all be okay, that she would always be with him, that he wouldn’t be cold and alone in his grave. She didn’t remember much after that but she knew that she had been sedated and taken away back to the Burrow. The shop had already been closed so they had made the executive decision to hold the wake there and leave Molly in peace, resting at home in the arms of her husband. 

There were many couples whose relationships could not survive the death of a child but Molly and Arthur weren’t one of them. He had held her as she had cried, he had stroked her hair and kissed her and told her every time that it wasn’t her fault and that he would always be there for her. He knew her so well that she didn’t need to speak, he could see her fears and concerns for what they were. She felt guilty. It was her job to love and protect her children and she had failed her son, she should have been there to protect him, to save him and she wasn’t and she carried that guilt with her every day. 

She had woken up that morning, a weariness deep within her bones that was nothing to do with her age. She had known what day it was as soon as she had woken up and she knew that it would require great strength for her to get through this day. Arthur had told her at breakfast that she was to focus on the positives, to focus on it being George’s day. He hadn’t told her not to think of Fred, merely to direct her attention elsewhere. She knew she could do it but there was something she had to do first. He had nodded when she had told him and pressed a kiss to her forehead, going outside to prepare the garden for the party that was being held there later that day. 

Molly had finished her breakfast, eating as much of it as she could. She had vanished the remainders of it, which had been most of the plate. She had lost so much weight due to a lack of appetite that she had to make great adjustments to her clothes. She tried to smile as much as she could but it was a strained smile that rarely reached her eyes. She knew that she had to do this and she had to do this before her children arrived. 

She put her now empty plate in the sink and went upstairs to the bedroom. There was a small box in the bottom of her chest of drawers. She opened the drawer, took out the box and sat in the middle of the bed, legs crossed. Her fingers stroked the intricate wood carvings on the box for a few moments before she opened the lid, reaching in for the letters contained within. Her hands trembled as she unfolded the first letter, her lip wobbling as she read, desperately trying to contain her tears. 

Hey Mols, 

You missed a cracking good night, honestly. You’d have loved it, especially the cake (although it wasn’t as good as your cake, not that I’m hinting at anything you know). It’s really a shame you weren’t there, you could have met Arlene. Gideon won’t say anything to you, he wants to keep this quiet but I think he’s really into her. She might be the one for him. I hope so because I’d love to see him as happy and settled with her as you are with Arthur. 

Stay cool little sister and I will see you on the other side. 

Love, 

Fabian

Even after all the years that had passed between the letter in her hands and the present, feeling the love and vibrancy that had been her brother brought a smile of sadness to her lips. She missed him so much and Gideon. They had been everything to her. She placed the letter down on the bed and reached in for the one beneath it. She took a deep breath before she opened the second letter, knowing what she was letting herself in for. 

Dear Mum, 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

I’m sorry I’m not going to be there for your birthday, I am absolutely swamped right now with these accounts, who knew that running a profitable business could be such a pain? I love it really though; George and I are finally making you and Dad proud after all those years of pranks and low OWL results and the complete lack of NEWT’s. 

I promise that I will make this up to you. George and I are going to bring you the biggest cake you’ve ever seen in your life. I promise. 

Love, 

your Freddikins

The letter shook in her hands and she could see her tear drops landing on the bottom of the letter. With her other hand, she picked up Fabian’s letter and held the both of them together. She had named her twins in honour of her brothers and it was when she did this, looked at these letters, that it struck her how much like Fabian and Gideon her Fred and George had been. Fred and Fabian, they even had similar handwriting. She hoped that, wherever her boy was, that he was being looked after and playing pranks with his riotous uncles. There were some days where that was the only thing that brought her comfort. 

Molly folded both the letters back up and pressed a kiss to each of them before sliding them back into the box. She closed the box, held it close to her chest and tipped her head up to ceiling. 

Happy birthday Fred. Mummy loves you.”

[franklyshipping]

Day 2 ~ Christmas 2019 Ego Fanfics

Day 2 people let's keep this festive train going! Now it's time for one of the most festive tasks of all time...decorating the main Christmas tree sO LET'S DO IT!

TAGGING: @bim-trimler @bimlee-trimmer and @shawn-flynn-the-switch

What makes a festive home, really feel like a festive home? What is it that makes us really sigh and feel the warmth and love and spirit of the holidays more than anything else? Well, I have an answer for you. There is always a centrepiece to Christmas, besides the food and the gift giving and the thrill of hot water bottles….it’s the tree. That giant, obnoxiously beautiful beacon of glamorous pine and spangles that makes you wish your house could smell of tree all year round. The task of decorating such a beacon was an important one, which meant it had been dedicated to a pair who would be able to emulate both vibrancy and rationale to the task. Namely Bim Trimmer and Shawn Flynn.

With Bim’s flamboyancy and Shawn’s more measured artistic approach, they were the perfect couple to undertake this fabulous duty. Also, since they were a couple absolutely smitten with one another, they were very eager to be able to do something so important and festive together. Bim couldn’t go a few seconds without squealing with joy from it all, and Shawn was similarly happy….but he kept it a little more under wraps, keeping to his techniques of hand squeezing and private whispers to make sure his Bim knew that he was happy beyond measure.

‘This is already the best Christmas EVER!’

Bim squealed as he hung another glittering bauble on one of the tree’s branches, making Shawn smile a subtle, fond smile as he mumbled playfully.

‘It’s barely the second of December….’

Bim rolled his eyes, turning to Shawn with his hands on his hips as he came over to him. The presenter stood on his tip-toes so he could peck his endearing grouch of a boyfriend on the lips, before he replied.

‘And it’s already better than any Christmas I’ve ever had….because this year I’ve got you.’

Bim smiled adoringly up at Shawn as he developed a bashful smile; Shawn glanced around the room, making sure they were alone, before diving in to kiss Bim properly. Shawn wasn’t one for massive PDA, but when he and Bim were alone all he wanted to do was give him all the love in the world, especially when he said such sweet things like that. Bim relished in it, mewling into the kiss as he mumbled.

‘I love you so much.’

Shawn let out a soft, happy laugh through his nose as he kissed Bim more…and as the loving seconds passed, Shawn found that his eagerness to decorate the tree was fading fast. He took Bim’s hand as he whispered.

‘And I love ya too…wanna head back to bed?’

Bim flushed a bright pink, spluttering cutely as he smiled up at Shawn.

‘Wehe have to finish this fihirst!’

Shawn frowned and let out a half-growl half-whine sound, tugging on Bim’s hand as he nuzzled Bim’s jaw.

‘Do we have to?’

Bim giggled, loving that Shawn was going into one of his needy moods, it meant he got to give him love and affection for hours. Now though, Bim cupped Shawn’s face and kissed his nose softly as he replied.

‘Unfortunately yes….but, all we have to do is decide what we put on the top, then the rest of the day is ours.’

Bim grinned when Shawn perked up softly at that, blushing a tad under his beard as he conceded with a cute grumble.

‘Fiiine….’

Bim giggled happily, before bringing Shawn back to the tree with him. Bim looked up at their beautifully decorated masterpiece, and nibbled his bottom lip as he tried to figure out what should be its crowning glory. Many of the egos had given their own suggestions of course, like stars, angels, a silver snowflake, and some cuter (but impractical) suggestions like Oliver or Eric. Bim grinned as he thought about the cutest suggestion though. A few hours ago when he and Shawn had been in their mid-decorative stride, before they knew it Wilford had come flying through the air, deposited a happily gurgling Gooper on the top of the tree, and swiftly left again.

‘Gooper did look cute up there earlier….’

Bim mumbled with a giggle as he looked to Shawn, whose eyes had widened at the memory of taking half an hour to get the gurgling little tyke down from his piny perch.

‘Are ya kiddin’? I’ve still got back ache from getting him down!’

Bim covered his mouth with his hand as he giggled harder, before a gurgle spurred him and Shawn to look to the floor. Gooper was settled on a spare bauble, and before Bim could speak Shawn was pointing his finger at the little creature.

‘Yeah we’re talkin’ about you ya little shit, ya might act innocent but I know you’re a worse troublemaker than Warfstache!’

Shawn was glaring down at the little glob, playfully though, since he obviously loved the little guy to pieces. However, Shawn knew how much of a cheeky mischief maker Gooper could be, and Gooper knew that Shawn knew….and so responded by making a raspberry noise at him. Of course, being the mature guy he was, Shawn responded by blowing a raspberry back at the little creature, which spurred a giggly Bim to step in before anything got to out of hand.

‘Ahalright boys alright no fighting in front of the Christmas tree! You’ve been cheeky enough in here today mister!’

Bim raised an eyebrow down at Gooper, who let out a giggly gurgle before happily rolling out of the room on his bauble. Bim shook his head fondly, before holding Shawn’s hand and linking their fingers as he looked back up to the tree.

‘Right, back to the tree topper…’

As Bim pondered to himself, Shawn gazed at him. Shawn had never known you could feel so much for one person, until he’d met Bim, and his heart had ached every day until he’d confessed his feelings….and then everything was beautiful. Especially Bim though, who was so smart and handsome and talented and funny and loving. Bim inspired Shawn too, and he’d actually inspired Shawn to make a little something for the tree, a potential topper in fact, but Shawn felt far too self-conscious when it came to his creations so he’d decided to just keep quiet about it-

‘Love? Love are you okay?’

Shawn blinked out of his thoughts and looked at Bim, but before he could reply he saw Bim’s expression change into one of excited realisation.

‘That’s your idea face, you’ve had an idea! What is it what is it?!’

Shawn spluttered and blushed, he always forgot that Bim could read even the smallest of his micro-expressions…but he was way too embarrassed to reveal what he’d created, he hoped he’d be able to just say he’d made something but wasn’t happy with it and they could move on.

‘O-Oh uh…w-well I might’ve made a little somethin’ but, I-I don’t think it’ll work with the décor so it doesn’t matte-‘

‘Doesn’t matter?! Babe everything you make is perfect, I wanna see!’

Bim’s eyes were wide and excited as he held Shawn’s hands lovingly, he adored anything Shawn created. He was so talented and skilled at crafting, and one of Bim’s hobbies was to just sit in an armchair and watch Shawn create something and love it and be proud of it. Shawn however, was reluctant to share on this occasion.

‘Love I can’t….can we just forget it? It was a stupid idea anyway….’

Shawn bowed his head, and Bim’s expression softened. This sometimes happened. Shawn would create something that was maybe meaningful or from the heart, and because it meant so much to him it meant he was terrified of scrutiny or of it not being good enough; as a result, he’d try to hide it away. Of course, all his creations were perfect, but sometimes Bim just needed to give Shawn that little extra hint of convincing…and that’s exactly what Bim was going to do now.

‘Are you quite sure you don’t want to tell me voluntarily?’

Shawn’s eyes snapped up to Bim’s face….he knew that tone of voice, and he knew that look. Shit. Shawn immediately tried to back up away from Bim, spluttering and stammering prematurely as a nervous smile threatened to creep up onto his face.

‘L-Love wait, y-you don’t have t-‘

‘I’ll take that as a no. In that case, you’re really leaving me no choice…’

Shawn’s eyes widened as he suddenly found himself being pinned down onto the couch, and even though he struggled, Bim overpowered him pretty easily; Shawn had found out during their relationship that Bim was A LOT stronger than people might think. Bim grinned when Shawn weakly batted at his chest.

‘You knew this was going to happen, you know what happens when you hide your beautiful creations from meee!’

Shawn blushed at Bim’s coos, and gasped when Bim pinned his flailing hands beneath his knees. Shawn was trapped, powerless, and had a smirking Bim Trimmer cheekily leaning down towards his rather sensitive neck.

‘This i-isn’t fucking f-fair y-you know I can’t take-EE! Nohoho nohohoho nahahat thehere! Fuhuhuck!’

Bim giggled evilly as he kissed and nipped up and down the sides of Shawn’s neck. He remembered the first time he’d kissed Shawn’s neck, it was the first time he’d heard Shawn squeal….so he made him squeal again and again and again. Bim smirked happily.

‘All you have to do is show me what you made and I’ll stooop.’

Shawn shook his head, his embarrassment over what he’d made still outweighed the intensity of the tickles.

‘Nohohoho! Ihihihi cahan’t!’

Bim sighed softly into Shawn’s neck, smiling fondly at his fit of low, handsome giggles as he replied airily.

‘Welp, I guess I should make myself comfy then.’

Shawn squealed and whined with flusteredness as a) Bim wiggled on top of him so he was properly lying on him, and b) made his nibbles and kisses infinitely sloppier. Shawn was knawing his bottom lip and clenching his fists in an attempt to keep his mirth under control…but it was a fruitless endeavour.

‘N-Nohoho ihihit’s nahat fahair dahammit ihihit’s nahahat fahair!’

Bim giggled fondly, gosh he was so cute. Bim’s heart utterly melted whenever he got his stoic love to laugh or smile or snicker, or anything really, but nothing was more precious that seeing him so flustered when he was being tickled. Bim nuzzled noses with Shawn as he crooned.

‘You knew this was gonna happen baby, you’ve only brought the ticklies on yourself!’

Shawn spluttered and tried to hide in his shoulder. Dammit why did Bim have to frickin call them ‘’ticklies’’ I mean that was just not fair, Bim KNEW how much silly tickle words like that made him blush more! Sure enough, Shawn’s cheeks were a very dark pink now, and his giggles were getting louder.

‘Shuhuhut i-ihit! Y-Y-Yohohou’re soho mehean!’

His words only made Bim giggle with delight, and he nuzzled behind Shawn’s ear teasingly as he purred.

‘Oh you and I both know I’m only just getting started….’

Shawn gulped, then shivered and wriggled from side to side when he felt Bim’s fingertips inching and crawling up his torso, with one particular goal in mind.

‘Nohoho noho nohohot thehere yohohou know Ihi cahan’t stand thahat!’

Bim snickered, letting his fingers sloowly glide up Shawn’s ribcage, before pausing. Shawn held his breath, still biting his bottom lip as he tensed with anticipation, which Bim drew out for a good few seconds…before he giggled and teased.

‘And that’s just why I simply must go there!’

Shawn’s eyes widened as he burst into wild guffaws, because his evil shit of a boyfriend had rammed his fingers into his half-closed armpits and was wriggling them incessantly.

‘AHAHA NONONOHO YOHOHOU FUHUCKER!’

Bim cackled evilly along with him, adoring watching Shawn arch his back and throw his head back with his sweet, stunning laughter. Bim grinned toothily at his mirthful boyfriend as he teasingly chastised him.

‘Ah, ah! Language, it’s Christmas!’

Bim giggled when an indignant growl came from Shawn’s throat amidst his laughter, and he would have absolutely sent Bim a fiery glare too….if he hadn’t been smiling so bloody much. Feeling Bim’s fingers vibrate inside his pits was almost torture, Shawn for some reason always found underarm tickles worse when the fingers were trapped there and just digging in. It was evil, which meant that the last thing on Shawn’s mind was self-censorship.

‘IHIHIT’S THE SEHECOND OF FUHUCKING DEHECEMBER!’

Bim rolled his eyes playfully as he kept up the tickling.

‘Oh details, details!’

Shawn wailed as Bim massaged his hollows with his thumbs, and his torso started to thrash as he yelled.

‘GEHEHET OHOUT OHOHOF MY PIHIHITS!’

Shawn was gritting his teeth and tossing his head back and forth, the non-stop tickling was really getting to him, poor guy. Bim wiggled all of his fingers deviously, cocking his head down at Shawn with mock innocence as he purred.

‘But love, you’re the one trapping them ther-‘

‘DOHON’T YOHOU DAHARE UHUSE THAT BUHULLSHIHIT WITH MEHE IHI SWEHEAR TO GAHAHAD!!’

Bim snorted and burst into giggles, his tongue poking out through his teeth with gleeful cheekiness at hearing Shawn’s mirthful growls. To be fair, Bim had used that little line a few times in the past, but dammit it was a good line he couldn’t help it!

‘Awwww but you always get so flustered when I say it!’

Shawn was absolutely beet red by this point, damn his boyfriend was a meanie.

‘BIHIHIIIIM!’

At this particular wail, Bim decided to slip his fingers out of Shawn’s hollows, he did love him after all and he didn’t want to drive him completely insane. Bim grinned as Shawn panted, and he set about smoothing down his hair and stroking one of his cheeks tenderly.

‘I’ve got you love, my sweet little carpenter, I’ve got you….’

Shawn’s eyes fluttered shut as he melted into the affection, nuzzling Bim’s hand lovingly because despite the evil tickle torture he still adored Bim to frickin pieces. Shawn looked up at him, and ended up grinning bashfully when he saw Bim’s fond smirk and gleaming eyes.

‘Shut up…’

Bim raised a teasing eyebrow.

‘I just said lovely things!’

‘Y-Yeah but y-you were teasin’ me w-with your eyes!’

Bim giggled, cocking his head down at Shawn as he stroked along his jaw.

‘Mmm that may be true….had any more thoughts on showing me your creation yet?’

Shawn whined. On one hand the tickling was diabolically evil, but on the other hand he was so nervous about Bim not liking what he’d made. So, Shawn pursed his lips and replied in a mere murmur.

‘….I-Ic-can’t….’

Bim raised an eyebrow, deciding to slowly push up Shawn’s shirt as he purred.

‘Can’t or won’t?’

Shawn averted his gaze, trembling as his torso got goose-bumps.

‘I-It’s s-stupid….’

Bim’s eyebrow went higher as he lowered his head, and started blowing cool air around Shawn’s deep innie bellybutton.

‘I rather think I’d like to judge for myself…because I have a feeling it’s better than you think it is….’

Shawn was already smiling once more, and he’d squeezed his eyes shut when he felt Bim’s lips ghosting around the rim of his trembling bellybutton. Shawn found he was holding his breath too, so he could only shake his head at Bim as a reply; Bim chuckled.

‘No? Oh dear…looks like I’m really going to have to bring out the big guns….’

Bim then went silent, and Shawn’s entire face was screwed up with flusteredness at the evil anticipation….and then he did it. A big, wet, rippling, ten second raspberry right into Shawn’s exposed belly button. Shawn screamed, and his poor weakened resolve shattered on the living room floor.

‘AAAAHHHAHAHA NAHAHAAAHHH OKAYOKAYOKAYOKAYAAAAH!!!’

Bim came up and away from Shawn’s torso, releasing his hands with a satisfied grin and a giggle.

‘God I love your bellybutton-‘

‘Fuhuck yohohooou….’

Shawn whined as he curled up, rubbing his tummy as he hid his face in one of his hands. Bim giggled, leaning down to envelop him in a warm cuddle as he whispered.

‘I love you so much…and even though I haven’t seen it, I know I’m going to love whatever you’ve made. I know how much work and love you put into everything Shawn, and that’s why all I can ever feel for your creations is love.’

Shawn’s smile became a wobbly one as he tenderly hugged his Bim back….what he did to deserve a boyfriend filled with so much love and happiness he would never know. Now that he’d managed to catch his breath and somewhat recover, Shawn kissed Bim’s cheek and bashfully mumbled.

‘I-I l-love you too…it uh, it’s in my coat….’

Bim happily sat up, releasing Shawn from the couch so he could stand and go to his coat which had been draped over a nearby armchair. Shawn paused for a moment, but then Bim’s words came back into his mind, and he smiled. He reached into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled some kind of carved figurine. He brought it back over to the couch and handed it to Bim, who was sat cross-legged like an excited child. Bim straightened his glasses as he held it so he could really see it….but then things blurred anyway, because tears started to build in his eyes.

‘Shawn is….i-…i-is this….m-me?’

Shawn bowed his head bashfully after he nodded. It was indeed Bim. The male figure was made out of wood and had been varnished gorgeously, the face and spectacles and hair were done perfectly, as well as the details on the figure’s pinstriped suit. Then though…Shawn had added a halo upon his head and angel’s wings coming out of Bim’s back. Bim was just blown away.

‘This…I-I….i-i-it’s so beautiful….’

Shawn’s heart just….soared, and now any nerves or shame he had just fell away. He sat closer to Bim, so close that their legs and shoulders touched as he spoke.

‘I-I figured….when it’s up there, e-everyone will think it’s just an angel….but I’ll know that it’s my angel.’

Bim’s smile was shaky as he sniffled, taking off his glasses and setting them aside so he could wipe his teary eyes. He smiled at Shawn before leaning in for a kiss, Bim was just….honoured and enamoured. Soon, Shawn lifted Bim up by his hips so he could affix the topper in its rightful place, and then finally Shawn could take his life-sized angel to bed so they could engage in some of that pure stuff called love.

WHEW HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS NEXT FIC LEMME KNOW IF YA DO WOOOO LUV YOUS XX

[21stcenturyyfoxx]

Seven Devils

Chapter 2

Warnings: Light smut, supernatural theme.

Si vis pacem, para bellum

3 hours. 3 hours of pacing, deafening silence; neither you nor John had spoken but one thing was clear — the room seemed darker, the only light was the moon and a computer screen glow. John was sitting at the desk that was tucked away in the corner, his eyes scoped in on information about what was ravaging the eerily quiet city below them; except for a few screams followed by sickening gunshots.

If one thing was certain in the underground it was to never bring innocent bystanders into the blood, but somehow, with the moon laying her bare unholy light onto New York City, that sacred rule — bond, had been broken and shattered beyond repair.

You knew what was happening. Your fathers words cruelly haunting you like the souls of the madmen you had slain;

“And one day there will be a curse upon every head — blood would run colder than the winter river, he who shall spill the finest crimson on the holy land shall be abandoned and destroyed.” The words smelled of death, blood borne death.

You knew now was the night, the time, that the curse had reached its full potential.. your father had been right, unbelievably.

You looked over to John whose eyes were still focused, undisturbed, towards the computer.

You cleared your throat, looking straight at him.

“Johnathan, I know what’s going on.” You spoke without any waiver of self confidence and control. His eyes snapped from the computer screen, half his face still covered by the body of it.

“And what would be going on, mia amata?”

You inhaled swiftly at the nickname, his name for you; my beloved. It had been a name he gave you years before when you were still a fresh faced, hesitant little girl of sorts.

“Johnathan, the curse... you remember?” You said propping yourself to the end of the bed, sitting on the edge.

John sighed, rubbing his index and thumb across his beard; reflecting back on memories.

He nodded, “Yeah, I remember. Your father wrote you a letter once while we were deep undercover. I had glanced at it. He said something about basically repaying for the crimes we had committed. A full moon —.” He stopped, his face appeared as if he had seen a ghost.

“A full moon will make the underworld crazy.” You finished his sentence.

John got up to walk, his eyes fixated on you, the moon clothed him in light and playful shadows. Your breathing caught in your throat, watching his every move.

“You know — before tonight, I had every intention to retire.” He said calmly.

“You’re the best, Johnathan. You can’t just retire.” You quipped looking up at his frame.

He chucked bitterly like you had done mere hours before, his fingers gracefully ran through his dark hair.

“But seeing Delmarco nearly beat the shit out of you snapped me out of that quickly.” He said matter of factly.

Your eyes squinted trying to remember the actions of the night, suddenly your memory flooded you as you recounted entering the Continental and to your surprise Delmarco had swiftly attacked you and beat you unconscious with his gun, you never knew Wick had killed him.

You went to speak, to thank him but John dismantled that notion with one hand as he raised it to silence you until he was done speaking.

“It reminded me of that night in Russia, when you almost —,” he choked a little on the words forming. ”when you almost died.” He breathed out, almost scared to say the words that had haunted him for two years. His hand gently came to rest on your face, his thumb running circle around your cheek.

“You don’t know so many things, mia amata. So young, so dark yet there’s vibrancy in you. After these four long years you still manage to stay hopeful.” He sighed, letting your face go — a contact you missed.

“I’m glad you’re my student. There’s many things I have yet to teach you.”

A warmth radiated to your cheeks, you knew you were blushing but hope he couldn’t see it for the darkness in the room.

———————————————————

Exhaustion enveloped the two of you, a peculiar thought crept to your thoughts.. the curse will mark the beginning of days of night, darkness will be seen for the months to come and it wouldn’t just be from the blood shed. It would mark the moon showing when the sun was suppose to be bright and warm.

You tossed and turned, insomnia encased you. Your back was toward John, his front facing your back. You could feel his heat upon your back, comforting — intoxicating and threatening all at the same time. You had never shared a bed with him but there had been rumors over the years but neither of you said anything to the other.

You tried to sleep but failed hopelessly as you tossed once more before a deep voice broke the silence.

“If you keep being a wiggle worm I’m going to tie you down.” He warned groggily. Your face heated up with a peach color, his words startled and aroused you.

“I’m sorry.. Sir.” You spoke in an innocent tone that even took you by surprise.

You heard his sharp inhale, as if his breathing had stopped for a few seconds.

Soon his strong arm had wrapped around you, pulling you against him. His breathing lapped at your neck, sending chills down your spine and an electricity through your veins.

“Don’t play with me, mia amata.” He hissed, his arm pressing you hard against him. Your eyes widened without his knowledge as you felt his hardness press against your ass.

“I’m not — I wasn’t.” You sounded so sinfully innocent, like a child in trouble. He chuckled softly into your ear, his lips lazily left kisses against the nape of your neck.

“My Beloved... you were always meant to be mine.” He hummed as he pulled your shorts down, then your lace panties. You had no objections to his touch or anything that would come with it.

“Mia amata.” You heard him say as he slid his hand between your thighs, sliding his finger between your folds, teasing you.

“Mia Amata..” He repeated.

You squirmed, his touch burning you to the core.

“Mia Amata!” He shouted.

You jolted upright, breathing heavily. Your eyes scanning the room only to find John standing at the end of the bed, looking at you; his eyes devouring your startled expression. A smirk placed on his lips as he sipped pure black coffee from his mug.

It was a dream?

You felt the sensation of wetness pooled around your thighs, you quickly squeezed your thighs together.

“Seems like you were having a good dream — you woke me up, moaning in your sleep...” he smirked, a chuckle starting low in his throat.

“Sorry..” you sighed, shaking off any feeling you had previously.

“Sir.” He stared darkly at you, his eyes dark with an emotion you never saw before.

“Huh?” You looked at him befuddled.

“You meant to say 'Sorry.. Sir.’” He smirked watching you squirm.

Tag list: @johnfuckingwick @keanuchillz @meetmeinthematinee @fanficsrusz @stardustbabyxo

[wild-untamed-heart]

A Place of Refuge

Kajika’s heart was racing rapidly in her chest as she slowly eased herself around the corner to check if the coast was clear before she made a quick dash to her next hiding spot. It was a tricky business escaping unseen when a whole household full of servants was on the look out for her but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t do her utmost to accomplish it.

Her father was bringing rather... tiresome guests over this afternoon and she had absolutely no intention of sticking around long enough to meet them. The desperate calls of her name echoed though the mansion, the rushing sounds of many footsteps in accompaniment as her pursuers continued their hunt. She had been lucky thus far but her time was running out. They had already blocked the front and rear entrances and most likely her favoured climbing window as well which called for another avenue of escape.

But where...

Quickly diving behind a large ornate vase to avoid being seen by a passing manservant, Kajika took a moment to contemplate her options. A couple of doors down, she recalled there was a window that had a honeysuckle bush growing beneath it. It wasn’t an obvious choice for an escape route as there was no convenient tree to assist a climb down from the second floor but surely she should be fine if she hung off the windowsill and dropped into the bush?

It was worth trying anyway.

Silver eyes peeked cautiously over the rim of the vase and watched while two scullery maids consulted with each other on where to search next before they dashed off again. With the coast clear for the time being, the heiress seized the opportunity to dart into the room and make her way to the window. She had very little time to lose as someone could enter the room at any moment but she still tried to exercise as much patience as she could to open the window without making a noise.

Here we go...

Swinging her legs over the sill, she lowered and twisted herself to dangle down the side of the building before she let herself go. It was unavoidable that the bush would rustle upon her landing but at least it had cushioned her fall fairly decently, apart from the minor scratches and pin picks from sharp twigs. Kajika lay still a moment to determine if anyone had noticed her fall but when no servants or dogs came running she deemed her escape from the mansion successful. 

Now she just had to get off the estate grounds.

Laying low on the property was certainly not an option since the dogs could easily sniff her out but neither could she retreat to any of her usual haunts. It was a real conundrum but once again she had little time at her disposal.

Think... think... where could I- oh, I know...

Sometime later found her quietly easing the door of Ponsol’s greenhouse shut and she breathed a sigh of relief as she finally felt the tension that had arisen upon hearing of the impending visit dissipate. She was safe at last. No one would think to look for her here and even if they did, the heiress was certain her friend’s widely known nature would scare them from inquiring about her whereabouts. 

Not that he’d be able to tell them since she hadn’t exactly asked permission...

One part of it could be chalked up to her want for discretion, a place to seek refuge where no one would find her but to some degree she also didn’t want to trouble Ponsol with her petty matters. He had enough work on his plate and was sure to be too busy to keep her company at such short notice anyway. She also didn’t want him to feel obliged to return her... Kajika herself couldn’t care less about the fuss and ceremony of the upper classes but she knew that it was important to him, he wouldn’t bother with it otherwise. She didn’t want to put him in a tight spot so she would merely quietly hide out here for a time before returning home, no one any the wiser.

Stepping deeper into the greenhouse, Kajika felt a soft smile overtake her as she took in the timeless beauty that astounded her every time she came to visit. Ponsol took such wonderful care of his plants that they truly were a feast for the eyes. The floral plantlike smell permeating the air was just as much a treat for the senses.

Strolling along among the plants she decided to pay a quick visit to the specimens she had previously gifted him, grinning in delight at their health and vibrancy. She continued her wandering. After some time, the heiress stumbled across some vegetation that reminded of that found on the Island of Giviolle and unexpectedly feelings of homesickness overtook her.

It’s been a while since I’ve seen my island...

Kajika was never one to mind sitting on the floor and she lowered herself with ease to lean against a nearby tree. Allowing her eyelids to flutter closed, she imagined herself back on the island surrounded by all that was familiar and the smell of the plants around her only aided in the illusion. 

Then, she slipped off to sleep.