#it’s a child. get a grip as you’re extremely unhinged

[footballerimaginess]

The amount of tweets I’ve seen people nasty about that the little spurs mascot is actually quite concerning

[earlgreydream]

abandoned.

| zemo x reader | smut |

dark!zemo

cw: highly dubcon (kinda noncon), abduction, mentions of torture, forced breeding, dark!zemo, lactation kink

“You think you’re something, no?” The mocking laughter was dripping in cruelty.

You bit your tongue so hard you tasted blood. Your eyes stayed trained on a crack in the floor a few feet ahead of where you were kneeling on cold cement.

You didn’t react when a hand cracked across your face, knocking you to the side, trying to pull an answer out of you.

“They’ll come for me. The avengers won’t leave me, they’ll come back for me!” You spat, looking up into cold brown eyes. They were empty, soulless in fact. His gaze iced your soul, sending a chill down your spine.

“My darling, not even god himself can save you now,” he sneered.

“Fuck. You.”

“You’ll join us, Y/N. You’ll become well acquainted with your villains when you realize there’s no other option.”

You should your head, screaming against the gag that was shoved in your mouth, silencing your vengeful yells.

. . .

Months. You had been abandoned for months.

After being abducted on a mission in Sokovia, your team had never returned for you. Or if they had, they never found you.

You’d been locked in a cold, cement chamber. You were left alone, only fed and given water as little as necessary.

Helmut Zemo was determined to break you.

. . .

Three months later, the door opened, light pouring onto the cement floor.

“Submit to me, and I’ll let you out of this cage,” Zemo knelt down, his thin lips curving into a lopsided smile.

“You’ve spent months here in this filth. Don’t you want to be cleaned up and fed and doted on? You are so pointlessly resistant.”

“Please get me out of here,” you begged weakly.

All of your resolve had crumbled. Your team never saved you, and you were all out of options. The only thing standing between you and getting out of this cell was your own stubbornness, and you were ready to give it up.

You felt like your mind was fracturing, and you were left numb, pliant for the sadistic baron. You decided you didn’t care what “submit to me” meant— as anything would be better than your current situation.

A leather-gloved hand was held out to you as chains were removed from your wrists. You hesitated before taking it, letting the baron pull you to your feet.

That was the first time you realized how much bigger Zemo was than you. He was tall, broad, and strong, with a dominating presence that overpowered you.

And cold, empty eyes.

. . .

You didn’t know which was worse: being in a solitary dark cell, or being Zemo’s toy, decorated and attached to his side like a pet.

You’d gotten so used to the feeling of his hands on your body, you almost craved it. You were starved for affection, for touch, for interaction, and Zemo was the one satiating your needs.

“Come here, little one.” 

You rose from your seat on the chair in the corner, approaching Zemo. He was lounging on his bed in a white bathrobe, an arm tucked behind his bed. The baron watched you walk over to him, having no reason to disobey. You’d abandoned all of your resolve, and you went to his side when asked. 

If you behaved, he didn’t torture you. You’d learned after your first attempted escape, you were far better off just doing as he asked. When you obeyed Zemo, you were awarded the liberty of being dressed and fed, and he wasn’t violent with you. 

You flinched when he reached up and touched your face, turning your head away. 

“Get on the bed.”

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, opening your eyes to look at your captor. 

“Get in the bed on your own, or I will force you.”

You crawled onto the mattress, letting him push you onto your back. It seemed to appease him a bit, because he lifted your hips and put a pillow under you, carefully smoothing his hands up your legs. 

“Aren’t you going to get a condom?” you asked weakly as he dropped his robe and pulled your knees apart. You’d stopped resisting, looking up at the blond in concern.

“No, my darling, I’m going to breed this little body of yours, and let you carry my heir,” he said, making your body feel frozen. You couldn’t swallow the knot that swelled in your throat, choking on the fear his words instilled in you. 

“Don’t cry. You’re going to look gorgeous when you swell with life,” Zemo said, sliding his hands up your body and kneading your breasts roughly.

“And these... My heir may have to share,” he growled, lightly biting your skin. 

“Zemo, Zemo, please. Get someone else, I don’t...” you sobbed, weakly pushing at his chest. He gripped your wrists in one hand, easily overpowering you with his size. 

You despised how good of a fuck he was. He filled you perfectly, even more so when he wasn’t protected. You tried to block out who it was, just feeling another warm body. 

Zemo at least had the grace to make you come first. 

It made your body relax around him, clouding your mind with happy chemicals as he emptied his seed in you, buried so deep he was practically shooting into your cervix. 

He didn’t let you up, forcing you to lay with your hips elevated, staying buried deep in your sex. He hushed you, though not harshly. 

“I know it’s frightening, but just take it. Be my brave girl, Y/N.”

“You’re sick.”

“Oh, darling, you don’t know the depths of my depravity.”

You didn’t doubt him.

. . . 

Zemo had been informed by several of his employees that you wouldn’t stop crying, and they kept asking to sedate you. He’d harshly declined, reminding them of your pregnancy. 

Finally, he left his work, going to see what the problem was. Since you’d been carrying his child, you’d become more docile, and even less resistant to him, as if the part of him growing inside of you had plunged you fully into stockholm syndrome. 

“Y/N. Whatever is the matter?” Zemo entered his chambers, which had become yours as well. 

You looked up at him, wrapped in a knitted blanket, curled up on the corner of his couch. He knelt down in front of you, and an outsider may have thought he was caring. Really, he was worried about his heir, your extreme stress becoming problematic. You didn’t matter to him.

“You will answer me, unless you want to sit back in that cell.”

“I’m lactating too early and it hurts,” you confessed in embarrassment, tears spilling past your waterline. 

Zemo pulled your shirt off of you, freeing you from the constraining fabric. You let him inspect you, begging softly for help.

“Please do something, I’m in pain,” you begged, choking on your words.

He hummed, having half a mind to let you sit and weep. He watched you for a moment before an alternative came to mind. 

“Come here,” he commanded, sitting beside you. 

He helped you onto his lap, easing you to straddle him. He carefully squeezed your breast, earning a pained whine. Nothing happened at first, and you squirmed in discomfort. You cried out when milk started to drip from you, easing the painful pressure. 

“Zemo?” you questioned softly in embarrassment as he leaned down and wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking the milk into his mouth. 

You were horrified, but you couldn’t deny him as the pain began to dissipate. It was terribly arousing, and you carded your fingers through his hair, your dark, twisted, unhinged lover. 

When he moved to the other one, you had stopped crying, soothed by the relief from pressure and pain that had been plaguing you for days. 

“Better?” Zemo asked, pinching you enough to hurt. 

“Yes, thank you.”

“I expect you to be good for me.”

“Yes, sir.”

[yandere-mha]

Mommy kink dabi with a lactating motherly darling pls

I... got carried away with this lmao. 

TW: KIDNAPPING, PREGNANCY KINK, SMUT, MOMMY KINK, LACTATION, MASTURBATION AHEAD.

MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD.

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

As you laid with your back on the luxurious couch cushions, one hand on your swollen belly and the other splayed to the side, you were deep in thought of how this could have possibly happened. Being only 16 weeks pregnant, your belly was not very large yet, but you were beginning to take notice of some of the more common side effects of pregnancy. Not only had you become extremely moody within the past week, but it seemed like you were constantly horny. Unfortunately, you couldn’t ask for assistance with this kind of thing in the fear of Dabi leaving red marks and bruises all over your body again. He hadn’t done anything like this since he first found out that you were pregnant, in fact he hadn’t even touched anything besides your belly, but you needed to protect your baby at all costs and you didn’t know what he was capable of.

Since he found out the news, he had become a whole other level of unhinged that frightened you to the core. His mother complex was at an all-time high, constantly referring to you as “mommy” and he seemed to hail the baby inside of you as some upcoming messiah. You would constantly awaken in the middle of the night to find him laying in between your thighs with both hands on your stomach, pressing his mouth on to your now exposed belly button and mumbling about all of the things “his creation” will accomplish. That was the main name he’d call his child and it left a bad taste in your mouth. a few days ago, he had felt the baby moving around in your stomach and now it seemed that his hands always had to be glued to you. It drove you nuts but you could never say that to him in fear of him hurting you and the baby.

Moments like these alone were few and far in between and you drank in every second of it. You hadn’t touched yourself in so long you felt like you’d burst from the tension. Coyly, you slowly push your stretched sweatpants out of the way and poke your finger through your underwear to your swollen clit and start to rub in small, slow circles. You close your eyes and try to imagine you’re somewhere else when you hear the door slam so hard that the walls of your shared room trembled. 

With a gasp, you rip your hand away from your underwear and hold them both up to your face with exposed palms as if it was a police officer who’d just knocked down the door Kool-Aid Man style. Dabi’s eyes are locked on to your form in a menacing scowl, the corners of his mouth slightly pulled down on his staples with a furrowed brow and eyes wide with insanity.

You both stare at each other without moving as if he were a T-Rex that could sense any motion. After a few very long seconds of deafening silence, you whisper “To-” 

“Don’t you fucking call me that” He snarls.

Slience.

“You think I’m ugly?” He grunts.

“... wha’?” 

“Don’t play dumb, y/n, or I’ll burn you.”

You swear you could never figure this guy out no matter how long you lived with him. He would always do this kind of thing and sometimes you thought he was looking for things to be angry about.

He slowly walks over to you in slow, menacing steps and looks down at you, eyes squinted and searching your dumbfounded expression. He luckily seemed to relax a bit.

“Maybe you are just dumb.” He said with a sneer.

He watched as you curled into yourself and scrunch your eyebrows, obviously insulted by his harsh tone.

“Don’t give me the puppy dog eyes, babe, I prefer you nice and stupid. It’s cute.”

More silence. His brows furrow again.

“If you keep rejecting me like this you’re gonna hurt my feelings. You wouldn’t want that, right? You’re so sweet.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about. Never once had you rejected him, he just never asked to touch you. In all honesty you would clearly be able to tell when he was in the mood by the way that he’d stare at you. You just pretended not to notice. It was annoying how he expected you to be a mind reader.

Suddenly Dabi roughly grasps your ankle that’s propped up on the sofa handle and yanks your body so that you’re forced to sit up and face him. For someone who usually treats you like glass, he sure is rough with you once he gets excited.

He then gently places both of his hands on your belly and begins to briskly rub circles under your shirt, sloppily kissing your exposed skin. He wastes no time in tugging you shirt up with one hand while he begins to pull down your pants with the other. After struggling with your pant legs while kissing your chest, he pulls his face away from your cleavage to notice a small darkened splotch on your bra. He pauses his frenzied movements and apprehensively unhooks your bra to reveal a white fluid seeping out of your nipple.

“Is something wrong?” You inquire.

He doesn’t respond as he squints his eyes and experimentally swipes the pad of his pointer finger over the liquid and places that finger into his mouth. There’s a visible, adoring light that turns on in his eyes as he registers what it must be. A soft smile stretches on his split lips.

“You’re leaking, mommy.” he croaks. He adores you. You’re really a mom now.

“Let me help.” There’s almost no warning as he roughly squeezes your breast, causing more milk to flow out, latching his leather-like lips onto your areola, suckling your nipple between his tongue and top row of his teeth as if he hadn’t drank anything for weeks. 

Your sharp gasps only encourage him to continue with more desperation as he starts to slip out of reality. His breathing is comparable to that of an enraged bull as he pushes your chest down further into the cushion.

You are at a loss for words as your fully clothed captor ravages your partially nude body. You feel yourself get slick with arousal as you wrap your legs around his hips in an attempt to wordlessly let him know of your neglected state. Luckily for you, he takes notice of this and eagerly shoves a hand down your soaked panties while the other continues its death-clench on your abused tit and rapidly moves his hand up and down your slit, forcing a whimper out of your gaping mouth and causing your body to spasm each time he hits your clit.

As he finally comes up for air, he takes a deep inhale of air and starts the same assault on your other breast, gripping your skin so tightly that you were sure you’d be left with finger-sized bruises.

Without warning, he shoves two long fingers up your pussy as far as possible. A gasp comes deep from within your rib cage and out of your mouth as tears of pain drip down your flushed cheek from the corner of your eye. Dabi interprets your shock as pleasure, egging him on to briskly move his finger up and down your hole.

“s-s...st-...Dabi... please stop!” you’re hyperventilating, fat tears pouring down your cheeks.

Dabi halts immediately, slowly releasing his mouth from your now swollen nipple as a string of saliva connects his mouth to your bud until it breaks off as he looks up at you with twinkling, adoring eyes.

“You okay, mommy?” he whispers.

You can’t find it within yourself to respond as he raises his hands above your bare shoulders to dig his nails into the cushion beside both sides of your head, threatening to rip the material. His eyes go wide with mania as he licks your tears off of your face.

He gently releases his nails from the sofa, unbuttons his pants, slips them off of each of his legs, and tenderly wraps his arms around your torso, pulling your bloated midsection against his body, and shifting you back down to a side-laying position on the cushions to share the space with him. He wraps one of his bare, scarred legs over one of your thighs and he pushes the other in between your legs as he continues to cling to your back. You can feel his erection stabbing into your belly as he presses little kisses all over your neck.

“Tell me you love me.” he says, rocking his hips back and forth.

[imanes]

Hello! You mentioned reading Piranesi a few months ago and I finally got around to reading it and I love it so much - thank you for the lovely recommendation <3 If you don't mind can you talk a little about what you loved about the book (I love hearing your thoughts)? Also have you read Jorge Luis Borges' Ficciones (I believe it inspired Piranesi)?

HELLO my friend!! first of all tysm for taking the recommendation, I'm so happy it worked for you! honestly what do I NOT love about this book? it's hard to wrap my thoughts about piranesi because it was such a lovely reading experience which i honestly need to repeat ASAP because the layers to explore in piranesi are so numerous. secondly let me admit that i haven't read any borges yet BUT he's definitely on my radar and I've been looking for his books on my used bookstore runs since i read piranesi, not to much avail unfortunately but i added ficciones to my tbr for reminder!!

anyways I'm gonna stop right here for anyone who has not read piranesi yet because i think you'd benefit from going into it not knowing much except that it's told in vignettes and that it has elements of mystery which become more and more central to the plot as we advance and unravel the world that piranesi lives in. so don't keep reading past this if u haven't read piranesi yet! i did keep it spoiler-free though so no pressure. also putting everything under a read more bc i truly was obnoxiously verbose adlkjglsjk if it didn't work my apologies 4 it

NOW let's talk about what i loved about the book which honestly will probably just be a flimsy overview bc again i think a re-read would make what i love about it more salient and richer but i guess we can already have a start here!

first of all, the character of piranesi. when i first started the book and immersed myself in his inner voice, i was kind of thinking ok there must be a reason as to why he is so incredibly wholesome but also with an extremely sharp mind and immaculate observation skills. the childlike wonder of his perspective was an absolute joy to read from but also provided some tension because i think pretty early on you catch that he might be a bit of an unreliable character and that what he tells you may not match the reality of what his experiences and observations mean to the reader. you're very much the prisoner of his limited perception, his sometimes bizarre but always delightful thought process, and also again the childlike wonder with which he observes the world and which makes everything carry so much more weight w/o resorting to pompous/pretentious gravitas. a statue isn't just a statue to him, it is the Statue, something important in and of itself, with its own story/mythos and it harkens back to a child's point of view which hasn't yet been shaped by the world and therefore isn't as limited as our jaded adults' minds, even though he is an adult himself, which is apparent in his very keen mind.

then we have the form, with the novel being told in vignettes. i personally really like novels such as these because they feel a lot more personal but also propels the story forward. I'm not a fan of huge chapters tbh because my attention span is trash lmao. it was so easy to immerse myself in his world because the writing was so vivid and honestly made me reevaluate a lot about myself adjdjslg. I'm not much of a quote person but "the Beauty of the House is immeasurable; its Kindness infinite" lives rent-free in my mind because 1. it appears at two key points in the novel and both iterations echo the other brilliantly in their respective context and thus add even more meaning to the quote and 2. i think it's a beautiful metaphor for the world we live in, which leads me to the next point

what i mostly clung to during my reading experience was the theme of confinement to a specific physical space, which can feel suffocating and limited. susanna clarke suffers from a chronic illness that has kept her within the confines of her home for many years and this book very much reflects that. from my personal experience with that theme, i was less reminded of how thematically relevant it was in the middle of a pandemic, and more about how much goodness there is still in this world at a time where everything seems so bleak, and unkind. i myself suffer from an ugly case of chronic cynicism which i think is very unappealing lmao but at least I'm self-aware! being reminded that we live in a world where kindness is indeed infinite in the smallest and biggest of ways is the balm that my shriveled soul truly needed. i guess it's my emotional support quote lmao.

then we have the setting of the book which, while limited spatially, is also so full of wonderful things and imaginative configurations that i was just in awe of everything that was being done with it. the plot is closely tied to the setting and i really want to keep this spoiler-free (just in case) so I'm not going to delve too deeply into it but i'd love to visit this place and have piranesi guide me through the labyrinth of the House and the many wonders (and tragedies) that it holds.

finally we have the MYSTERY and omg i love picking up the clues and kind of forming my own theories along the way bc it truly isn't an in-your-face mystery like a thriller would be. we buddy-read this with some ppl from the book club so the experience of sharing our theories made it all the more pleasant. i really loved how clarke presented the many mysteries of the story in such a subtle yet gripping manner that soon i was just obsessed with knowing who was whom and what they wanted from piranesi and who piranesi was and how this all came to be. all the different players felt fully fleshed out and made me feel veeeery strongly (i.e. i wanted to kill some of them like literally daydreaming about choking them to death... not to sound unhinged or anything). they provided such good foils to piranesi's inherent goodness and all that they lacked in terms of decency. their shamelessness and infinite greed and how they see piranesi as a pawn to use set my teeth on edge so i was just biding my time for the karmic retribution that they'd get akjdlkgj also great exploration of how ambition can be the downfall of mankind

then we have all the clever-people-themes of neoclassicism and philosophy and plato's cave and whatnot and it's not what held my attention so i can't speak much on it bc I'm not one of those clever people who picked upon these themes LMAO but I'll for sure spend more time unpacking these layers on my re-read of this book because there are so many smart ideas hidden in the nooks and crannies of this story that i think you could get something different from each read, kind of like i feel about pride & prejudice by jane austen which offers me new delights to enjoy upon each re-read.

honestly i have so much more to say about how religion is handled, the rituals surrounding grief and their importance in the celebration and respect of of life, birds being amazing creatures, identity and how it can create contradictions etc etc but at this point i might as well just write a college essay on literally every theme explored in this book because it was just SO GOOD! thank u piranesi for me life

tl;dr this book made me feel like my brain was buried in a thick coat of dust and let some much-needed air in

[lokidrabbles]

Pleasant Feels (Loki x Reader)

Loki walks reader home and discovers his deep liking for them

A/N: Next part for my Loki x Reader Winter Series! Gender Neutral Reader!

Warnings: None! Fluff towards the end!

“Walk me home?”

Your words continued to replay in Loki’s head. The simplicity of your request caught him off guard and it made him briefly reflect on how often he was unaccustomed to being treated like this. While his brother’s companions were working their way towards being ‘fine’ having him around as a team member, their disdainful looks would say more than their words. And sure, you were a bit withdrawn towards him the first couple of weeks, but maybe this was a sign of...trust?

“Perhaps you would feel more confident if you were to ask your other companions.” Loki replied, sounding colder than he intended to. The underlying truth remained with the notion of his uneasiness with humans, especially with the ones he’s wronged in the past. He didn’t want to be placed in a situation where someone felt forced to ‘get along’ with him, and he didn’t want you to feel obliged to interact in any way.

He had sunk very low, he thought.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” You said, furrowing your brows. “But if I am honest, I’m not too confident about walking home by myself at this time at night, even if I only live a couple of streets down.”

“Again, you’d feel safer if you asked someone else.” Loki still was unable to ride along the wave, the opportunity open for him to provide help. It was bizarre, and he wasn’t ready for it.

“So you’re really going to just let me go out there by myself, in the dark, in the dead of winter.” You retorted mockingly.

He didn’t say anything, avoiding eye contact with you if possible.

You shrugged. “I asked for a reason you know. I suppose I’ll have to walk my merry self back home, I sure hope I don’t get mugged or stabbed along the way.”

A certain word rang in Loki’s ears as your childishly skipped out of the building, peeking behind you to make sure he would just feel as guilty as you had intended to do so. He was dumbfounded at how you could casually throw the possibility of being hurt because of his own selfish reasons, and cursed at himself the moment his legs began to sprint towards you.

“Thought so.” You chuckled to yourself, watching Loki catch up with you at the front of your building. He glared daggers at you and you grinned knowing damn well what you had done.

“Don’t say anything.” He said threateningly, his breath visible in the cold air. “I am not going to carry the blame with Stark if something were to happen to you.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate it!” You exclaimed, clasping your hands together. “I know it’s stupid but I do get really paranoid down these streets at night.”

He briefly pictured you by yourself, probably scared and shaking, vulnerable to any attack from questionable individuals. You worked with Stark but you had no battle prowess, or any means to protect yourself. Again, he wondered why you didn’t request any assistance from your boss instead.

“Why not ask Stark to provide you with one of his guards to send you home?”

You rolled your eyes. “For crying out loud, because I wanted you to walk me home Loki.”

“I beg your pardon?”

You chuckled yet again, unable to control your smile from forming at Loki’s unhinged face.

“Because my dude, you’re extremely intimidating. And no one’s gonna mess with me if you’re by my side.”

“You cannot be serious.” He replied. This is what he was reduced to. A scarecrow to ward off any ill intending individuals. While the notion of being intimidating tickled him good, this wasn’t what he exactly had in mind. Actually, he wondered how he wanted to present himself to you. You were certainly nice, so the implication of this would suggest you had another way of viewing him.

“I am serious.” You said, beginning to walk and Loki justly following. “You do all that cool magic stuff, summon your pointy things, it’s pretty threatening.”

“Pointy things.” He began to process the words, uncovering what the hell you exactly meant. “Wait...you mean my daggers?”

“Yeah! Those things!”

Norns. “As much as I resent my abilities being referred to as ‘cool magic’, I try not to display them out in the open as often. So don’t get your hopes up.”

“That’s a bummer.” You replied. “It’s always fun seeing you do that. I always try to get a view of when you’re doing it.”

A naturally silent man, Loki remained quiet, hands shoved into his coat pockets. His mind continued to make sense of your words to him. Again, your implication of his seidr suggested your observation of him while at the facility. In the broader sense, you had noticed him, and had watched him from afar, awed at his abilities. He knew you lingered a bit while he was there on occasion with his brother, but he swore it was solely because of Thor. His brother’s cockiness, while laughable, was backed by facts. The people of Earth loved him, and there would always be an admirer or two lurking around the corner for him.

He pondered if you had lurked around the corner to peek at him instead. The idea was charming.

“Sorry if that made a little uncomfortable.” You said, breaking him out of his trance. He sensed some guilt in your voice.

“No, that’s alright.” He said lowly. “I forget humans are naturally attracted to abilities like this. I didn’t take you for one of them.”

Loki didn’t notice the tinge of red forming on your cheeks. “I really liked that one thing you did a couple of weeks ago when you were talking with Thor. You waved your fingers kinda like this, ”  You mimicked him, wiggling your fingers over the palm of your other hand. “ And this really pretty blade appeared in your grip. That must come in handy, huh.”

He had conjured a dagger during an argument he had with Thor, to which Thor had promptly told him to put it away before someone got the wrong idea. Apparently him and his brother weren’t the only ones present in that area.

“How often do you observe me human?” He asked boldly. Your quick movement of cupping your hands in towards your chest said it all.

“Sorry, that’s really rude of me.” You said dejectedly, focusing on the ground below.

“Observation is a natural tendency for many individuals, myself included.” He mentioned, his voice smooth and calm. “Though my curiosity begs to know why you have eyes for me.”

You laughed nervously. “Can you read my mind or something?”

“I could. But it’s more satisfying when you have the other admit to it.” 

The air had suddenly felt colder, and the both of you fell quiet again, with only the sound of footsteps echoing the streets. Something lingered on Loki’s tongue, curious to see how you would react with him admitting he had developed a liking to you during these past months as well. You kept to yourself but you weren’t fully reserved like he was, making you fairly unnoticeable for a while. However, once you had spoken and demonstrated your inventiveness and mental sharpness, his attention quickly caught. You were welcoming when he was around, and you didn’t seem to make efforts to excuse yourself out of the room he was occupying. He found it foolish that a small tinge of kindness would bring him this far deep with a human.

A wet droplet of ice landed on your cheek, prompting you to stop and look upwards. Your mouth soon began agape and you reached out to halt and shake Loki’s arm.

“It’s snowing again.” You pointed out. Loki looked up along with you, catching sight of the white dust soon forming around the both of you. The snowflakes fell heavy, prickling coldness upon your already red face and cheeks. Your breath was visible in the air, excited at the spectacle.

“Are you...cold?” Loki asked, not sure what to do.

“No! But I do love this type of scenery.” You replied, continuing to gaze upwards welcoming any drops of ice to land on your skin.

The snowflakes continued to float around the air, not necessarily catching Loki’s interest. He followed some of them mindlessly, and then caught up them landing on you. You had appeared like a child with a toothy smile plastered on your face. Your eyes darted between flakes and shone brightly against the city lights. Your cheeks were reddened from the cold, a certain glow coming from around you.

He thought you looked stunning, as if you had fallen in love with the snow.

You quickly caught his fixed look at you and brought yourself back to the present. “I look stupid huh?”

He laughed quietly. “Not at all. You’re beautiful.”

Your eyes widened in horror and the smile quickly dropped. “What did you say?”

“You heard me. I am not repeating myself.” He said, a much smug smirk appearing on his face. “And no one will ever believe you.”

You scowled at him, absolutely upset at his arrogance. “That’s a little messed up don’t you think?”

“I am the God of Mischief and Chaos my dear, it is what I do.”

This was the first time Loki had used his moniker ever since New Asgard had formed over a year ago. His title, holding much importance and sentiment to him, was reserved after its long implications of dominance and control during the past decade. For a while, he had long forgotten the meaning of it, or what it suggested about his nature. For a long time it meant destruction and absolute chaos, leaving  a desolate trail of death and disappointment, something he had wanted to keep buried for years and years to come.

Now, after almost losing everything, he had used it on you, as a means to make you laugh.

After walking along a couple of more streets, you both arrived at your building, the snow continuing to glide along the soft wind.

“Thanks again Loki, I really do mean that.” You began, fiddling around for your keys.

He nodded, still fixated on your face and your expression. “Anytime.”

He noticed the hesitation in your hands, almost as if they wanted to reach out to him. As a master of observation, your body language had told him everything about what you intended to do. You bit your lips and your legs wobbled slightly. Your eyes  would flutter up at him, but then immediately look down in shame. Again, very charming for a human. At the same time, quite impulsive.

Needing to tip toe, you reached up towards Loki and planted a quick, meek kiss on his own thin lips. It was instant, and you lips brushed away too quickly for him to experience the feel of your skin on his own cold one. A jumble of words escaped your mouth and you quickly made your way inside your home, leaving Loki out in the cold. He traced his lips with his fingers, feeling a soft smile form slowly. He began to wonder if it wasn’t too much of a bad idea to continue teasing you as such.

[soundwavefucker69]

Baby Tal'ika: cuddles with Fox

☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆

Let’s do this

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

The Jedi had, in fact, pulled away from Coruscant, and taken basically the entire GAR with them. Fox was pretty sure no one had expected that from them. He certainly hadn’t. The idea of the Jedi not being on Coruscant felt practically sacrilegious. But, here they were, on an uninhabited planet in the Inner Rim, building their own temple around a Force Nexus point, whatever that meant. Alderaan and Naboo had gone above and beyond to lend a hand to the Jedi, but everyone had been actually shocked at how self sufficient the Jedi actually were with their Service Corps. The AgriCorps alone were beasts, literally building the temple out of forcing literal trees and plants to grow in some strange way to form proper insulation and structure.

The temple finally had its living quarters, including the creche, built. For the past several months, Fox had been enjoying Tal’ika living in his hastily constructed home. Obi-Wan had been preoccupied with darting around the galaxy putting out fires, and while Fox, as a Commander, could have definitely been useful out there... He had a few months with Tal’ika in comparison to years spent with other people raising them.

Mace had assured him that he would still see them, and see them a lot. Jedi were partially rearranging their protocols regarding family separation, mainly because now that they were far removed from politics, there was a little more leeway in worries about outside influences. Jedi Initiates in the creche could have familial contact, instead of working up to contact once they were padawans. And, well, Fox was going to be working with the Jedi. A lot. Probably more than he should, but he was a workaholic, and it was probably a problem, but he couldn’t be bothered to care.

In any case, tomorrow they would start moving the little ones into the creche, and Fox was going to have his hands full getting all of the cadets and babies from Kamino settled in the ‘barracks’, because they were going to start getting shipped in in the next week. The logistics was going to be a nightmare. And Tal’ika was going to be gone, off in the creche with the other Jedi babies, and he was no longer going to be waking up with a warm weight in his bed that should be in their own damned bed. He wasn’t going to be making breakfast for two, wasn’t going to be helping them with their education modules, wasn’t going to be coordinating childcare with the crechemasters and other clones that had volunteered to help keep the Initiates in line until they could keep them all contained. He wasn’t going to be hounding them to make sure they brushed their teeth, or struggling over the braids he had learned to make, or having running conversations in a mix-up of Basic and Mando’a with a kid who still couldn’t reach the floor with their socked feet when they sat at the kitchen table. He wasn’t going to be carting them off to work, wasn’t going to be wrangling them to eat their vegetables, wasn’t going to be blatantly ignoring their abuse of the Force because it was the Jedi’s job to get after them for having fun, not him.

Tal’ika probably wouldn’t be moved in until the end of the week, but it was still hurting. The loss. He had really gotten attached, but he also had to be incredibly honest with himself. The constant stream of the chip being activated in his brain had fucked him up on several levels. He was trying his best. He really was. But memories of what he had been forced to forget were slowly and steadily filtering back in, and he wasn’t handling it well. He was keeping it together as best as he could, for Tal’ika, because he only had a few months with them before they went to people that didn’t need to see a mind healer on a daily basis for the foreseeable future, but Fox was also well aware that he was in no position to raise a child. He still had nightmares of control being ripped away, watching his body murder his own child with no way to stop it. An unwilling spectator to hell. A failure of a father.

No, he needed to work this shit out away from Tal’ika, because his kid was a goddamn empath and could tell sometimes he was terrified of them, and that just wasn’t healthy for them. Or him. He wanted to be selfish and raise them on his own, away from the Jedi and a life of monastic servitude, but they wanted it. They craved being a Jedi like a Quarren craved the sea. He couldn’t just make the decision for them, and he had to admit that the structure of being a Jedi was probably for the best for a child that had been genetically engineered to be slightly unhinged.

He wasn’t enough for them, and it kind of stung. Not enough a sting to not be happy that he was giving them the best possible chance in life while still getting to be their buir, but it stung. Obi-Wan was going to be getting back from mop-up operations on Toydaria tomorrow, and they were going to be spending time together with Cody, and Fox’s time alone with Tal’ika was coming to an end. Tal’ika, the perceptive little thing that they were, knew he was getting worked up. He’d cooked their favorite meal, a flatbread kind of dish piled high with trash like cheese and cured meats and sauce, and bullied them to go take a damned shower, because they had taken a tumble off a hill today and were utterly drenched in dirt and leaves, and a change of clothes had done the bare minimum to spare his little house. He was going to have to clean. Now, while they were washing off in the fresher, he was alone with his spiraling thoughts and dishes, up to his elbows in the water as he scrubbed the excess that had built up over the day.

Soft feet padded down the hallway, and he scowled at the bit of lunch that was stuck on the pot, refusing to budge under his scrubbing. Tiny hands wrapped around his waist, and Fox froze as a little head thunked right in the middle of his back, wet hair pressing into his shirt as Tal’ika ground their face into his back.

“What’s up?” He asked, and their arms tightened around him.

“You’re upset,” they mumbled, and Fox swallowed.

“You’d be pretty upset if you were scrubbing this pot.”

“Then let it soak,” they grumbled, and he dried his hands, peeled his arms off from around his waist as he turned around. Undettered, they smacked their face right into his gut and clung to his stomach.

Ah. It wasn’t the empathy. They were upset, too.

With a sigh, he bent down to pick them up and carry them into the living room, flopping down on the couch and nabbing the blanket thrown over the arm. Without another word, they curled up in his lap, and he lifted and maneuvered them around so he could wrap them in the blanket.

“Did you brush your hair?” He asked, already knowing the answer, because the brush was sitting on the end table where he left it last night.

“No,” they mumbled, sounding utterly miserable, and he shifted them around so they were between his thighs. The brush was gathered up, and he started to work through their damp hair.

“You know you’ll still see a lot of me,” he reminded them, and they let out a huff of air.

“I know.” They didn’t sound convinced.

“You won’t be able to get rid of me,” he promised, though that wasn’t strictly true. They would be able to get rid of him, very easily, because as soon as everyone got everything functioning, he’d be fulfilling his duties as Minister of Education, which meant that he was going to be busy. Extremely busy. At least he wasn’t going to be Senator. They had offered him the position and he had looked Cody dead in the eyes and informed him if they let him into the Senate chamber without the threat of decommissioning looming over his head, there were at least fifty Senators that weren’t going to be making it out alive.

Rizz was going to be Senator. Fox thought they were the superior choice, personally. The Senate wasn’t going to know what hit them. One look of disappointment from Rizz would leave a shiny in tears, so it was probably going to be very effective in the Senate.

But.... Even so.

Tal’ika was glaring at the wall, which was basically just their way of showing that they were sad, and he sighed, leaning forward to press his forehead to the back of their head.

“We agreed on this, remember?” He murmured, his hands stilling, and Tal’ika tugged the blanket a little tighter around their shoulders.

“I know,” they muttered, but they didn’t sound happy about it. Was this what it felt like to send off your kid to boarding school?

“C’mere,” he said, deeming their hair appropriately brushed, and shifted them around so they were sitting more firmly against him. Tal’ika curled into his warmth, huffy and upset, and he leaned over to flick on their favorite holofilm.

“I think we can ignore your bedtime tonight. Obi-Wan isn’t here to get mad, is he?” He murmured, and Tal’ika snorted before wriggling around so they could watch the irritating holofilm he had memorized at this point. 

“Obi-Wan doesn’t get mad. He gets disappointed,” they mumbled, and he snorted as he wrapped them up tight with as much love as he could put into his embrace.

“That he does,” he agreed smoothly. “That he does.”

Tal’ika’s attention flicked back to the holofilm, and Fox resigned himself to dramatic collapses on fainting couches and high end Core accents and ridiculous hairdos and pointless gestures to offset the jewelry dripping from their fingers from actresses having the time of their lives being as dramatic as they could. Why they loved these weird glam murder mysteries was beyond him, but at least it wasn’t a musical.

Tal’ika mouthed along to the lines they had memorized, and slowly and steadily, they started to relax in his grip. By the time they got to the torrid and helpless kiss in the rain that Fox knew for a fact was ruining the fur stole and silks the titular actress was wrapped in, they were a useless lump in his lap, and his mind was drifting back to the dishes abandoned in the sink. He still needed to finish them, but...

Something wet and slimy hit his neck, and his eyes locked on the wall as he realized they were definitely asleep and definitely drooling on him.

Well. Maybe a little longer. He knew as well as any clone that if he blinked, they’d be too big to do this again.

Just a little longer.

[dabis-azure-songstress]

AU Where Shinju Is A Villain and Quirk Awakening

Warning: Extreme violence, anger, language

This writing stems from the thought of what if Shinju actually turned villain and was on the same side as her love interest Dabi? What if the one who killed her brother wasn’t actually a villain after all?

Tagging: @strawberryandspiceandchocolate

There was a sharp gasp followed by rough coughs for breath as Shigaraki forced the female’s cheek into the dirt. Shigaraki situated himself carefully and sat in the middle of her back. “Now, let’s have a little chat, Shinju Kurokawa. Right now, I see you as more of an asset and that’s the only reason this chat is even taking place. Just then I could have completely turned you to nothing but dust. Don’t you want to know what really happened to that darling little brother of yours that you absolutely treasured like your own child?”

Tears immediately forced themselves into Shinju’s eyes and she grit her teeth roughly. “True, but even so! How would you know anything about him!?”

“Oh, I’ve noticed you and all that delicious power. I had one of my men run a multitude of checks on you when I found out about poor dear little Hino. It wasn’t our intentions at first, but I think you’ll be interested in what we’ve discovered! I have the file if you want to look at it.” Shigaraki smirked as he watched the woman below him squirm softly.

She didn’t think she could trust him, but her damn curiosity was getting the better of her. “P-please...I-if you have anything that wasn’t already made available.”

“Oh, of course. One little eensy weensy deal first. I give you the file and you cease fighting me or I’ll disintegrate you.” Shigaraki laughed.

Shinju nodded and shook as the weight left her back. Shakily, she pulled herself up onto her elbows and glanced up at the silvery-blue haired man. “D-deal.” Shigaraki grinned at her as he pulled the plain looking folder from his overcoat. “You aren’t lying to me...?”

“Oh, now why would I do that little hero? The truth will bring you far greater pain than I ever could. Just see for yourself.”

Shinju reached for the folder and flipped it open, quivering and eyes immediately scanning the page. Only one sentence stood out. ‘During the villain attack, Hino, 13 and quirk-less, was presumed to be dead by cause of an extreme fire quirk with bright red flames before they even engulfed the entire building.’ The female blanched.

“Y-y’mean...?”

“Right. Who is the only person you know who has flames that bright? Isn’t he also an extremely crooked hero? I know you aren’t stupid from the intel Dabi has gathered on you.”

Shinju began to fall apart as the dread in her stomach caused her to get sick and break down. “You promised your brother to be a hero, but weren’t you also still planning on gaining revenge for him? You know you can’t actually kill anyone just being a hero.”

Shinju choked on her sobs as she pulled herself to her knees slowly. “Enough of that god-awful wailing. I’m extending you a most generous offer, Electro-Dancer. Join us and in doing so, kill that blasted hero who struck down your poor little brother in cold blood.”

Shinju pulled herself to her feet, wobbly, and gripped onto Shigaraki’s gloved hand. “Deal.”

——

Dabi stares at the sight of his girlfriend as she enters the hideout for the first time. Her eyes meet his and she already senses all the questions behind them without him even revealing. “Well, well. What happened here? Where’d you get this doll face, crusty?” Shigaraki’s fingers twitched dangerously. “I recruited her. I just brought some crucial information to her attention that she wasn’t even aware existed.”

“Shigaraki...isn’t it? Will you...let me keep that file?”

“Hah! Why not? I’ve already figured out all I need to and you’re no longer a threat.”

Dabi eyes them observantly as Shigaraki’s hand passes the folder over and Shigaraki begins heading towards his quarters. “Dabi, handle filling her in on our objectives.”

He moved closer to the female as she was glancing around cautiously. “He really recruited you? I’ve been somewhat trying to do that for a while now. How exactly did he do it? I want answers from you, doll. Especially when you told me that villains killing your brother was the biggest reason you decided to become a Pro.”

Shinju clenched her fists as she avoided the gaze of her fiery boyfriend. “...He did. And he revealed something about my little brother’s death that also ties into your past, as well, Dabs.” She passed the file over softly and Dabi flipped it open.

She knew when he found the part she had by the way his eyes widened slightly. “You mean to tell me...”

“Yes.”

“Bastard’s even more fucking crooked than I thought. Now, we should get you into some better fitting clothes, doll.” Dabi smirked and began to pull her to his room.

After the outfit change, Shinju was dressed in black distressed jeans, a ripped and torn low hanging white T-shirt, and a royal purple leather jacket with a black lightning bolt on the back. She paired it with a pair of platformed combat boots and Toga absolutely fangirled over the change. “Wow, Dabi! She looks so much better like that!”

Shigaraki soon paired Dabi and Shinju together, figuring it’d be easier to put Shinju with his pretty much second-in-command. They trained long and hard for weeks that turned to months. The two even did quite a few more minor missions together. It wasn’t long after that that the call on Dabi’s burner phone came through. “What is it?” Dabi answered.

Shinju stared at her boyfriend as the usually calm and slower moving Dabi turned to her at a rapid pace and was smiling so deviously the staples on his cheeks were nearly ripping apart and revealing the muscle and tendons of his cheeks below. “We’ve got trouble. And guess who’s with them? It’s our chance! Don’t let me down, Shinju.” She smirks brightly at him in response. “I promise, Dabi.”

When they arrived on the scene, Twice and Shigaraki were having a bit of trouble handling multiple heroes including Endeavor. Dabi was quick to cut him off with violent walls of blue flame. “Well, well, well, nice to meet you again...Enji Todoroki.” Dabi’s tone took on a much darker sound of teasing. Endeavor was getting ready to respond with a growl when he noticed the shorter woman next to one of the LoV.

“Hey! Weren’t you my son’s friend!?”

Shinju smirked as she let out a maniacal chortle. “Oh, pops. I was. See, I know about every single fucking thing you put your poor children through. How you treated your poor “wife” like some breeding sow for the “perfect” offspring. I also know something even more corrupt about you now, Endeavor. I was a pro hero that’s turned into a villain just so I can end your pathetic life! What you have done to me and your family is unforgivable and I’m going to make you PAY for every single bit of it, you fucking piece of shit!!!”

Dabi stared at her in slight shock as he watched her begin to unhinge. She’d never seemed so violent in front of him. “W-what are you talking about, you despicable bitch!?” It was Dabi’s turn for his temper to flare up.

“Hey! Don’t you call her that. She has a pretty good reason just like I do for wanting to completely rip you off your pedestal.”

“YOU KILLED MY LITTLE BROTHER! AND LET SOMEONE ELSE TAKE THE BLAME!!! YOU KILLED AN INNOCENT QUIRK-LESS THIRTEEN YEAR OLD!”

Dabi felt his hair stand on end before he even heard the telltale crackling of Shinju’s periwinkle lightning as she stalked toward the Pro Hero. She was crying and shaking violently as the largest bolt of lightning he’d ever seen shot from her hands and almost blinded him. “C’mon Endeavor! FIGHT US, DAMMIT!!!” she screamed. “I’ve made the trouble of making the first move so you can beg self defense.”

“Hey, dammit! Get a hold of yourself!” Dabi growled as he quickly blocked an incoming Jetburn barreling straight for them with a two-handed azure flame of his own. There was no use. His girlfriend had really lost it and it fell on deaf ears. Another quick shot of lightning and Endeavor caused an explosion when the fire met.

“FUCK!” Dabi cursed loudly as he tried to take cover. He was too far from Shinju to drag her with him. When he lifted his head again, he blanched slightly at the scene in front of him. There was so much rubble everywhere and dust still trying to settle. He coughed and dusted himself off as he turned back to the scene.

His girlfriend was swaying, clothes completely torn and tattered and soaking with blood. Endeavor fired a Prominence Burn and he quickly forced himself, in front of her. He knew he wouldn’t be able to handle it on his own and closed his eyes as he braced himself for the heat of the blow. He pushed his hands out and did his best to fire off the largest and hottest flame he could manage, to the point he felt his skin start to peel back from his staples and the pain caused him to hiss through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, he felt heat against his back and arms around his sides that held their hands a bit below his. Shinju panted roughly against his shoulder-blades as he heard the crackle of her lightning flare to life. Another extremely bright shot of lightning burst forth from her and sent explosions traveling down the length of his flames as the lightning danced unpredictably against them. Even the Prominence Burn was overwhelmed from the combined effort and soon dazzled out as the explosions continued hurtling through it.

Endeavor almost didn’t make it out of the way in time. Dark clouds slowly began to roll in as Shinju began to slowly slump against Blue Flame’s back. “Amazing...” he muttered as her arms dropped from around him. He watched her as she moved to stand beside him, right arm dangling limply and completely covered by an angry red Lichtenberg mark, jacket sleeve completely burnt off and hands bearing burns from his flames also.

He stared in shock as he noticed Endeavor moving toward them. Though, he was in super rough shape too. “My Endeavor, you’re working really fucking hard today!” Dabi growled as he continued to fire off flames despite his protesting body. His stamina was beginning to reach the limit with his flames, but he had to try to protect his exhausted partner.

“What happened, Blue Flame!? The bitch sure talked big, but she sure is quiet now!” Endeavor barked, successfully going flame to flame. “Don’t fucking underestimate me! I’m not done with you yet!” They both heard the woman scream.

There was a loud crack like thunder and Dabi paled as he felt the vibration in his boots. “The fuck are you doing, Shinju!?”

The girl smirked almost demonically as she stared forward, blood gushing from her mouth. “I’M GOING TO END HIM WITH YOU IF ITS THE LAST THING I DO! FOR US!!!”

“No! Don’t! Cut that out!”

“THIS IS FOR HINO AND TOUYA! ZEUS MODE ACTIVATE!” The ground beneath them cracked and shifted as lightning began to twist and wind itself around Shinju’s body from the dark clouds and power throughout the entire area began to blackout. “IT’S OVER, ENDEAVOR!” She called as she began to fire lightning bolts from each palm separately.

Dabi caught on to her quickly. She was trying to move forward and get close and using her lightning and the resulting explosions to cut through the flames Endeavor created even though it was backlash for both sides. Shinju was quick to tackle the hero as soon as she got in range and both of their bodies went into violent convulsions as the lightning around her circuited through them. Their bodies were flung like rag dolls from each other and it was the swiftest Dabi had ever moved as he caught Shinju and tumbled into the dirt with her. Her face pressed into his chest unconsciously and blood smeared everywhere her mouth touched.

He quickly placed his hand against her chest, careful of all the blistering Lichtenberg marks littering her body and felt the weak pulsing with relief washing over his features. Dabi glanced over rapidly to see Endeavor just as immobilized. “Holy shit...” He knew he probably wasn’t dead, but there was no way that he wasn’t as fucked up as the woman in his arms. He was torn. Kill Endeavor or...? He drew himself to his feet weakly, Shinju lifted into his hurting arms.

“I see I made the right decision recruiting someone such as her.” Shigaraki’s voice rang as he stepped forward. “Quite the asset indeed. Let’s get out of here Dabi. I’d like to keep our asset alive if we can.” He nodded curtly and sighed slightly in relief as Shigaraki took the weight of the woman out of his arms.

[chubbyooo]

A Recipe for Disaster: A Blurred Lines Spinoff Chapter 8 - Disaster

Hey all I’m still in writing mode so here’s the end of the spinoff and it’s supercharged Gacen emotions time

Gacen races his way to try and save Nox from the carbonite while Vaylin gives pursuit

Gacen hyperventilated as he looked back on the door that just closed, he had just left Kavaraa out there with that woman, what was he supposed to do now? he was just a guy. He felt like his throat was closing up as he looked down the corridors; he had absolutely no idea where he was going, he held his head trying to quell the dizzy spell he was feeling. 

He closed his eyes and tried and tried to calm down but dread began to overtake him, suddenly he heard a loud crash against the door behind him he hadn’t got long. Kavaraa was pretty powerful but that woman seemed so unhinged, he sprinted down the corner just hoping to find his way to wherever his sister was kept.

He stumbled to a stop at a crossroads unsure of which way to go one way was clear and small and the other was full of skytroopers, Gacen swallowed hard knowing she would more likely be kept with many many guards. Gacen held the necklace for a second and summed up all his courage. 

https://open.spotify.com/track/5A8jUZatix87xG0Zj6HSKG?si=r3O_iOWcSZSAy-bgbCMGvQ

He drew his blaster quickly shooting into the crowd of droids, each shot going straight through the head causing them to crumple to the ground. As long as they didn’t overwhelm him he could do this he could be courageous and heroic maybe he could? Hopefully he could. He sprinted down the corridor throwing an ion grenade to the other end of the corridor where a multitude of skytroopers were gathering, he stumbled out of the way down another corridor as the grenade went off hoping the corridor would lead him somewhere.

He ran to the end of it and was met with a room full to the brim with all sorts of weapons all looking ancient and in some pompous guys eyes “priceless”, Gacen dove behind a case containing some kind of large spear. He began to sneak his way to the end of the room as Skytroopers flooded into the room, he got about halfway before he had to stop to catch his breath.

He was so in over his head he slumped back against a case as he began to hyperventilate, he whispered to himself “I can’t do this… I can’t” but then he thought of everyone who was counting on him, he promised Risha he’d be back he had to do this. 

At that moment he heard a loud crash and a scream echo through the chamber, that woman was looking for him again he had to run now. Gacen looked around the room noticing a large ancient looking siege weapon hanging from the ceiling he smiled... perfect, he flung himself backward sliding across the floor and as he did lined up a shot taking out two of its supports. He quickly jumped up and ran to the door as the skytroopers rained blaster fire in his direction, no time to check if his plan had worked he sprinted out of the room as a blaster bolt caught him in the shoulder.

He screamed out a string of profanities before sliding round a corner he had to work out where he was going, he found a council and tried his best to find an easy access map. It turned out this was an air conditioning terminal but there seemed to be an awful lot of power given to one room and it was close by, surely a carbonite person would need a lot of air stuff right.

Even if he wasn’t an air scientists it was worth a shot he ran towards it as the voice of the woman echoed through the chamber “you can’t hide forever little zabrak, I have your jedi friend and I don’t know if I’ll follow Arcann’s instructions to ‘keep her alive’ if you don’t show yourself” Gacen swallowed hard this was so fucked up how was he supposed to choose. However the woman probably wouldn’t go by her word based on her anger he had more chance following the plan, he spun round the next corner and ran towards the room he suspected contained Nox.

He burst into it and stopped dead as he saw the still frozen form of his little sister Kyradia, her face was racked with anger but as soon as he saw her it was like he was back with her on dathomir. He stood still for a few seconds unsure of what to do. He hadn't seen his sister nearly ten years but he could hear the footsteps approaching. He had to move, he dashed over to a nearby console unsure of what to do. 

He looked over the console and recognised it, being friends with a bounty hunter makes you a little familiar with carbonite freezers,he reached for the buttons but as he was about to hit the switch he felt his hand pulled back and held in place as he pushed to try and press the button. 

 No no no no no he felt himself lifted off the ground by the neck as the venomous voice spoke from behind him “I don’t think so zabrak” Gacen began to hyperventilate no no no he’d failed he was so close he maybe could’ve made things right. He was turned around to see the woman standing there snarl on her face with Kavaraa unconscious in her grip “we still need your precious outlander and I am not going to let you take it from us”

Gacen struggled in the grip as he felt tears begin to streak down his face “please no please you don’t understand I have to save her” she almost seemed to revel in his pleading her smile only broadening “s-she’s my little sister she doesn’t deserve this it’s n- not her f-fault” for a second Gacen thought he saw a break in the snarl but then seconds later it returned as her grip tightened on Gacen

She laughed “you’re pathetic you know that, you can’t save her we’re long past that, maybe you should’ve done it when you had the chance” Gacen was surprised she kinda had a point “to think you got this far to ‘avoid martyrs’ if it were up to me you’d both already be dead” Gacen looked from her to Kavaraa what did that mean “but then again breaking the republic is much more fun than conquering it” Gacen struggled in her grip trying desperately to reach out to his sister but he’d never been gifted that way. 

He felt her grip tighten and his vision began to fade to black…

later…

Gacen woke from that reoccurring nightmare, a day he’d replayed every day in his mind since it had happened, he’d gotten so close to saving Kyradia but really they had never been close at all. It had all been a plot to eliminate the republic and empire heroes to break their spirit and they’d fallen right into it, he looked around the bare cell he had been in for some amount of time. It felt like it’d been years but he couldn’t tell anymore he hadn’t seen a person since that day and it was starting to get to him, he had no idea where Ash and Kavaraa were or if they were even alive.

But he was more worried about the two women he’d let down, once again he’d let down his sister and failed to make things right but what was so much worse than that was he failed Risha. She was probably furious at him; he'd broken his promise and left her alone, he knew he was going to mess up sooner or later he’d messed up every relationship he’d had in his life. 

Still he missed it and her, she deserved an explanation so he was going to give it to her whether she ever saw it or not…

https://open.spotify.com/track/652zwAiP1Wdy39NY8DSMu5?si=Lhqqub2eRo-ADoXJOCnA9g

Dear Risha…

First of all you were right and I was wrong, I got captured like a dumbass and I broke my promise feel free to lord that over me til the end of time, I'm so sorry I’m such an idiot and should’ve listened to you. The truth is this happens to everyone I get close to, they fall for my facade of charm and think they know me but eventually the same thing happens I end up hurting them and then they truly know me. I knew I only would have so long before I hurt you too, I really hoped we’d have a few more years but it was fun while it lasted right?

But that’s not what this is for I said I was going to explain why I had to go to you and I will because you deserve at least that.

When I was young I lived in a small tribal village with my mother and my sister Kyradia, when we were very young my mom died so it was up to me to look after my sis. I did my best but I was still a child too so messed up a lot, every now and again though some of the other more powerful tribes would come by and they would demand a child with potential. I never knew what that meant but when it happened I had always kept Kyradia hidden as she’d always shown ‘potential’ whatever that means. But she was getting older and I hoped she could be responsible for herself so I let her look after herself a bit more, but then they came again and they were extremely thorough on wanting the best, I don’t know where they found her but clearly she wasn’t hidden enough. 

I had left her on her own and before I even knew they were there they had taken her, I immediately set out to try and free her but before I could she had freed herself, come back and somehow started defending the town.

She was different though it was very clear she was tougher and crueler she wasn’t the whimsical little sister I’d known, she’d never wanted to lead but suddenly she was in charge of the village regardless of her ideas.  If I’d just been there that day none of this would’ve happened I messed up and I hurt her irreversibly

After that our village and many in the area were attacked by slavers, my sister tried to fend them off but they were much more advanced than we ever were. They took the whole village and me and my sis were separated, from there you know the rest. I stole a ship, crashed it into an orbital station and stowed away on our ship classic pirates life stuff, it wasn’t until recently I realised Nox was Kyradia and when I did I just didn’t know what to do. I already had you guys and I didn’t want to jeopardise that but as Nox she had just become crueler and crueler I felt like I was responsible for all the hurt.

I guess I figured if I went to save her I could cross out all the damage I’d done, I wasn’t strong enough to keep her from the sisters and I wasn’t strong enough to save her from slavers, maybe I was a fool to think I was strong enough to save her from this. I’m just a weak guy who runs as fast as I can to avoid looking at all the people I’ve hurt and I’m really sorry I added you to that list Rish. 

I will always love you and I’m sorry if you can’t forgive me

Your stupid Dumbass 

Gacen…

[scarlet-star-witch]

Never Enough (Jim Hopper/OC) - Part 4

Part 3

Devon tried her hardest to keep her temper at bay as she stormed into the police station. She hadn’t heard from Jim at all the night before which led to a night filled with unwavering paranoia and fear.

She was just thankful the little boy in her arms was oblivious to how unhinged she was beginning to feel. The last thing she needed was for Charlie to have a tantrum when she herself was feeling on the verge of one.

“Hi, sweetheart, what are you doing here?” Flo called out to her from the front desk.

Devon turned to face her slowly, making sure to plaster on a fake smile. 

“Hi, Flo. Just here for a quick visit.” Devon’s sickly sweet voice sounded so fake to her own ears, it was a wonder she didn’t outwardly cringe in repulsion.

“Make sure you stop by here on your way out so I can give that angel a cuddle.” The old woman smiled, giving an over exaggerated wave to the baby in her arms that shyly hid his face in his mother’s hair.

Devon nodded, though she wasn’t entirely sure if she could keep that promise. It all depended on how her visit with Jim would go and whether she’d end up storming out in anger or actually getting some much needed resolution. 

With a halfhearted wave to Flo and a heavy sigh, she made her way to the back office where Jim was. She started to feel nervous again. What if he didn’t believe me? What if he thought I was crazy? 

Devon rolled her eyes at herself. This had more to do with just the crippling paranoia she felt, it was about how he was hardly ever around, especially when she really needed him. 

Without bothering to knock first, she opened the door and stepped into his office, hardening her expression. Jim had his chair facing the window and she could hear his heavy sigh as he reluctantly turned to face whoever disturbed him.

His scowl immediately disappeared and he smiled brightly at the sight of Devon. 

“Hey baby, what are you doin’ here?” 

“Can we talk?” 

Her tone was sharp, which immediately had his nerves raising. He got to his feet and stepped towards her, his hand finding hers as he looked at her in concern.

“Is everything ok? Did something happen?” He asked frantically, fearing the worst.

“Yeah, something happened.” She snapped. She stopped abruptly, looking down at her son in her arms who was looking back at her with wide, curious eyes. She pursed her lips and set him down in the chair in front of her before turning her attention back to Jim.

“Where the hell were you last night? I was trying to get a hold of you for hours.”

“I was at Joey’s for a drink.” Jim shrugged, though he was beginning to feel more and more on edge. Worried that something awful had happened and he wasn’t there to stop it.

“So while I was freaking out, you were getting wasted.” Devon surmised, her grip on the back of the chair that Charlie was sitting on growing painfully tight.

“Freaking out? W-what the hell are you talking about? Are you ok?” He asked, his hands moving to grab her waist as his eyes trailed over her face, looking for any sign that she had been hurt.

That was the moment that Devon clammed up. She was sure he was going to think she was crazy, but she couldn’t keep it in any longer. She sighed heavily and ran a hand through her hair, messing up her mass of curls.

“I think-” She hesitated, rolling her eyes at herself in exasperation. “I think I’m being followed.” She admitted quietly.

“Followed?” Jim repeated slowly and the tone of his voice had her back raising immediately and a cold scowl soon followed in his direction.

“Don’t patronize me, I’m not a child or an idiot. I know what I saw.” Devon snapped at him.

Jim pinched the bridge of his nose, realizing this situation was quickly getting out of hand. “I didn’t mean it like - what did you see?”

“There’s this white van I keep seeing. It’s outside my house, at the studio, at Benny’s. Everywhere I go I see that damn van and I can’t help but think of the worse case scenario and if anything happened to Charlie because I didn’t take this seriously-”

“Ok, ok, just calm down.” Jim told her softly, cutting off her frantic ranting. His hands moved to hold hers as he fought to find the right words.

Devon huffed, blinking rapidly to stop the onslaught of emotions she felt from bubbling to the surface. The last thing she wanted was to show weakness. 

“How long has this been going on?”

“A month, at least.” 

“Have you been seeing these vans everyday?”

She hesitated, biting her lip roughly. The more she thought about it, the less of an issue it seemed to be and she began to feel embarrassed for even bringing it up.

“No.”

Jim exhaled audibly and tightened his grip on her hands. He didn’t know how to word what he wanted to say without coming off as an extreme asshole.

“Are you sure you aren’t just paranoid?” He started carefully. “Hear me out, ok?” He continued, noticing the annoyed look on her face. “You lived in Chicago your entire life. Seeing someone twice in the same day is enough to be a cause of concern, but, baby, you’re in Hawkins now. You aren’t used to the small town life. Seeing the same van over and over again isn’t exactly suspicious.”

“I know, I just… I can’t shake what I felt.” 

“What did you feel?” Jim asked.

“I dunno, it was like… mother’s intuition. Every time I saw that van my stomach dropped. I’m not an anxious person, I wouldn’t feel this way for no reason.”

“Alright, let me get this straight. You want me to file a police report based on mother’s intuition? Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?” 

Devon rolled her eyes and wrenched her hands out of his grasp. She couldn’t help but get her back up at his words. She felt like a child with the way he had talked to her.

“If you don’t believe me, then fine, but you don’t have to be a dick about it.” 

“Dev, I’m not - come one, just wait!” He called out after her as she picked up her son and marched out of his office, ignoring his voice that pleaded to her.

“Will you just hold on?” He hissed through gritted teeth as he followed her out, trying to be discreet so his employees wouldn’t notice their lover’s quarrel. 

Flo looked up from her desk at the commotion. Her eyes worriedly watched as Devon left the station, her tight grip on her son never wavering. 

The older woman then turned her gaze to the Chief who watched them leave, his shoulders sagging in defeat with a heavy sigh.

Feeling eyes burning into him, Jim looked up and noticed Flo’s cold scowl on him, as if saying ‘what the hell did you do now?’

Hopper rolled his eyes, biting back the urge to curse out the old woman and rushed back into his office to grab his keys. 

He wasn’t going to let her get away, not Devon. He would be damned if he didn’t fight for her. 

~~~~~

It hadn’t taken her long to get home, she had probably been driving too fast, but she couldn’t get away from Hopper fast enough. She had felt belittled and small. She didn’t need him telling her how crazy she sounded, she already knew it.

Charlie squirmed in her arms, whining as he rubbed his eyes roughly. Devon frowned, hoping he hadn’t realized just how bitchy she’d been. She quickly put him down for a nap, running her hand through his curls softly, which was a sure fire way to get him to fall asleep quickly.

A knock at the door had her cursing under her breath. She looked back down at Charlie who had rolled over, as if he could block out the noise by turning his back on it. She pressed a quick kiss to his forehead before rushing out of his room, closing the door behind her.

Devon opened her front door, ready to tell whoever it was to come back later, but when she saw the guilt ridden face of Jim Hopper standing in front of her, her first instinct was to slam the door in his face.

“Can we please talk about this?” He pleaded with her.

“What more is there to say? You made your opinion pretty clear at the station.”

Jim huffed in frustration, taking his hat off to run his fingers through his hair in agitation. 

“Will you listen to me? Please?”

Devon looked at his blue eyes, the way he was looking at her so intently had her crumbling. She hated that she could never stay mad at him. She moved to the side, letting him step in. 

“I want to understand, ok? And I’m sorry I came across like such a dick. I didn’t mean for it to sound like that, I just wanna know what’s been going on.”

“Don’t you have work?” She asked, suddenly realizing that he’d left his job to follow her.

“I don’t give a shit about that. I need to make sure that you’re ok.”

His words had her pausing and she looked up at him with wide eyes and her mouth agape. His need to protect her was something that had caught her off guard when they’d first gotten together. She always felt overwhelmed when it came to how his hero complex made her melt and fall for him even harder. She sighed loudly, her hand reaching for his, which had him exhaling sharply in relief. 

“Do you think Charlie’s in danger?” He asked quietly, dreading the answer. 

There was a part of him that was still wary about being around the kid but he cared about Devon and Charlie too much to let his insecurities keep him from them. He was getting good at ignoring that voice inside his head.

Devon just shrugged in response. 

“I haven’t seen anyone, I don’t know what they want.” She responded quietly and averted her gaze to the floor. “I don’t know why this is happening.”

Hopper stepped towards her, his fingers lifting her chin up so she could look at him.

“No matter what this is, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you or the kid. Where is he, by the way?” He asked, now scared that he hadn’t seen Charlie anywhere.

“He’s napping.” Devon assured him, her heart fluttering at his concern for her child. She always had her back up when it came to her child, despite how much Jim would try to reassure her, she couldn’t help but worry that it was too much for him.

Hearing just how much Hopper cared and looked out for her son was enough to have her insides turning to mush.

“You know, a lot of the time, when it comes to kids, it’s the other parent that gets involved and starts shit. Could Charlie’s dad have anything to do with this?” Jim asked hesitantly. He hadn’t heard much about the father of her child, just that he wasn’t in the picture any longer.

Devon shook her head. “I doubt it. He never seemed interested in him, he never even fought for custody when I left.”

“Did you leave on good terms or could he be holding a grudge?” 

“I dunno. He was always pretty apathetic, he didn’t put up much of a fight when I left. But I never knew what he was thinking, he was always so reserved and he had a really bad temper.”

“Did he ever take it out on you?” Jim asked, his grip on her hand tightening, as if fearing the worst. If he got the answer he was dreading, he’d have to make the trip to Chicago and would soon be taken away for murder. Just the thought of someone hurting her was enough to rile him up.

“No, not me. It was strange, he acted like he didn’t care but then he would yell at the doctor’s at every appointment I had.”

“About what?”

“He acted like he knew what was better for me. He wanted me to be on this medication I’d never heard of, one the doctor’s hadn’t even heard of. I obviously listened to the doctor and not him and he got so bent out of shape about it.”

Hopper frowned, his thumb brushing against her knuckles in the barest form of comfort. He hated thinking that she had been in a relationship like that. He hated thinking about her with another man, period, but thinking of someone hurting her in any way sent him into a tizzy.

“Look, he has nothing to do with this. He made it clear he doesn’t give a shit about me or Charlie.” Devon assured him, sensing that he was getting worked up over this. 

Jim sighed heavily. He was glad that the father of her child wasn’t going to be causing problems, but that still left a burning question.

“Well, if you really think there’s someone following you, there’s gotta be a reason. Can you think of anyone else that would be holding a grudge or would wanna hurt you in any way?”

“No.” Devon answered quietly. She had realized just how ridiculous she sounded, especially having cornered him at the station and subsequently storming out. She hated what people might think about her outburst.

The silence between them was insufferably tense. Devon hated that she’d put all of this on Hopper, that she made him feel bad for not having answers and for trying to look at the situation more logically than she had. 

“I’m sorry for being such a bitch.” She started suddenly. “I shouldn’t have stormed out like that, or even come to your work.”

“Yes, you should have. If you can’t come to me with this kind of shit, then I’m doing something wrong here.” 

Hopper’s words sent butterflies fluttering inside her. She moved towards him, wrapping her arms around him tightly, which he quickly reciprocated.

“Thank you for listening.”

Hopper smiled lightly and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 

“I’ll look into this, ok? And I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you last night. That won’t happen again.”

Devon just nodded. There was a lot more she could say about his drinking habits, but they had just made up and she wasn’t about to start another fight. 

“Sorry for making you leave work. You should probably get back before they notice how long you’ve been gone.”

Hopper just smiled down at her charmingly and she knew she was doomed.

“They can handle it without me. I’m not leaving you.”

“Flo’s gonna yell at you.”

“You know how many times she’s yelled at me? I’m immune to it by now.” Hopper shrugged. Devon smiled, tightening her grip on him.

“So you’re staying here tonight?” She asked hopefully. She would sleep a lot easier with him at her side. 

“I’ll stay until you kick me out.”

Devon sighed in relief. No matter how much they got on each other’s nerves -  the both of them were too stubborn for their own good - she knew how lucky she was to have him in her life. She never had someone who would protect her so fiercely.

When she was with him she felt safe.

~~~~~

Devon felt more energized and alive than she had in a long time. Her night with Jim proved to be her saving grace. She didn’t feel paranoid or scared once and she was able to sleep for longer than she had in weeks.

She was finishing cleaning up the mess from breakfast when loud and frantic sounding knocks at her front door made her jump. 

Every relaxed and easy going thought had left her, especially with Jim now at work.

Devon ran her fingers through Charlie’s curls as she passed him while he sat at the kitchen table drawing. She cautiously made her way towards the front door, her heart racing as more impatient knocks sounded.

Standing on the tips of her toes, she looked through the peephole and sighed, shaking her head at herself when she saw that it was only Joyce at her front door.

She quickly opened the door, putting on a plastic smile to hide every overbearing mothering emotion she had felt in the last few seconds.

“Hi, Joyce.” She smiled politely, but it quickly fell when she noticed how agitated and on edge the woman in front of her was.

“Is Will here?”

“What?” Devon frowned, the question catching her off guard. 

“He didn’t come home last night. I haven’t seen him at all this morning and I have no idea where he is. Did he stop by here at all last night?” Joyce asked, her voice never slowing down or stopping for a breath.

“No, I haven’t seen him.” Devon told her and watching the way her friend bowed her head and breathed deeply as if to stop herself from crying had her heart breaking. She moved to the side and grabbed Joyce’s hand. “Come on.”

Joyce followed her inside without hesitation and once the door was closed behind her, Devon threw her arms around the small woman, hugging her tightly as the mother broke down in her arms.

“This isn’t like him. I know he didn’t run away, something must have happened to him, something awful, he wouldn’t do this-”

“I know, I know, he’s a good kid. He’s gonna be ok.” Devon told her softly, cutting off her frantic rambling and crying. “Have you called the police?”

“I just stopped by the station and talked to Hopper. They’re filing a report now.” Joyce said quietly. “If you hear from him will you-”

“I’ll call you immediately.” 

Joyce nodded, whispering her thanks. She looked over at Charlie, finally noticing the infant’s presence as he watched the two women curiously. She suddenly felt embarrassed for just barging in.

“Sorry, I should’ve called first. I didn’t mean to disrupt you two.”

“Joyce, don’t even go there.” Devon said sternly. “I can’t imagine what’s going through your head. If you need anything you come to me, ok? Whatever you need, I’ll be there.”

Joyce nodded, more tears springing to her eyes. Devon pulled her in for another hug when she noticed. It was startling to see her friend like this. Joyce had always been a very put together woman. She had never seen her so scared before. 

“I should go. Jonathan’s making posters and I need to put them up around town.”

“Do you need help? I can go with you.” Devon offered but Joyce immediately shook her head, her eyes casting down towards the floor.

“No, no, you stay with your boy.”

The remorse in her voice had Devon’s heart in her throat and she longed to pull her in for another hug and never let her go. She couldn’t imagine the kind of horror she was experiencing. It made her sick to her stomach to think of sweet little Will in any kind of danger.

“If you need anything, just call, ok?” Devon told her as she followed her to the door.

Joyce just smiled weakly in response before turning to head back to her car. Devon watched her go, her concern for her friend having her take a few steps forward, as if to stop her and talk to her more to make sure she was going to be ok.

She definitely wasn’t going to be ok, not unless they find Will soon, but it didn’t feel right to Devon to let Joyce just walk away knowing she was so distraught.

But Joyce clearly didn’t want to talk. She wanted to find her son and Devon wasn’t going to stand in her way.

~~~~~

Devon cradled her son to her as she let him hold the paint brush. She had stopped working on what she was supposed to and decided to just let her son have some fun. She had planned her usual day at the studio and drop Charlie off at Mrs. Carlson’s, his usual stop when she had to work, but she refused to go anywhere without him and brought him to the studio with her.

Knowing that sweet Will Byers was missing and possibly in danger had her heart dropping to her stomach, it made her feel physically ill to think about and there was no way in hell she was letting her son out of her sight.

She couldn’t help but think about the white van she’d been seeing and her paranoia grew exponentially at the thought that everything could somehow be connected.

Devon pressed a kiss to the top of Charlie’s head. She looked down at the blank canvas she’d given him which was now covered in colourful scribbles and doodles. 

“Looks beautiful, baby.” Devon told him, her smile growing at the concentrated look on his face. She was sure she looked the same when she painted, tongue poking out and all.

“Me and Mommy,” Charlie started, pointing to the stick figures he’d painted. “And Jimmy.” He pointed to the tall figure with the comedically tall hat on his head.

Devon swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling her cheeks grow warm at the knowledge that her son was developing such a bond with her boyfriend. It was heartwarming, but terrifying at the same time.

“And doggie.” 

Devon huffed out a laugh. “Doggie, right.” She said lamely. She wondered when he’d stop pleading for a pet, probably not anytime soon.

The door to the studio opened, making her head snap up and her grip on Charlie tighten. She relaxed instantly when she realized it was only Hopper. He smiled at her and Charlie as he walked into the room, but she could see how tense he was, how meaningless the smile really was.

“Hey.” Devon said quietly.

“Hey, sweetheart. How’s the little one doing?” He asked, reaching forward to mess up his curls, which earned him a delightful sounding giggle from the kid.

“He’s turning into quite the artist.” Devon smiled, motioning down to his painting. 

She watched as Jim’s curious eyes wandered over the doodles and when he realized who the stick figures were. The moment he realized he had made it to the child’s drawings, his heart both jumped in excitement and dropped in fear.

He didn’t know exactly what to think of it. On the one hand he was incredibly touched and delighted that the kid had taken to him so well, but on the other hand, he still had Sarah lingering in the back of his mind. He couldn’t handle that kind of pain again.

Devon could see that Jim was speechless, but touched nonetheless. She reached out, placing her hand on his cheek, which made him look up at her, his eyes wide and swimming with emotion.

“He’s good.” Jim smiled, looking almost bashful. “I especially like the dog. I think he’s trying to tell you something.”

“Oh god, not you too.” Devon groaned.

Jim just laughed and smiled down at the kid that was looking back up at him with a wide, toothless grin. His smile suddenly fell and he reached out to grip onto Devon’s hand.

“Have you heard?”

“Yeah, Joyce stopped by looking for him.” Devon responded quietly. “Do you have any leads?”

“No, not yet. We found his bike a few miles from their house, but not much else.”

Devon tried to hide how much those words affected her. She kept her eyes averted from him, afraid that she’d break down if she looked into the pools of blue. 

“Are you done for the day?” Jim asked, quickly changing the subject when he noticed the tense atmosphere between them. Devon nodded and moved to stand, bringing Charlie into her arms to lean on her hip. “I’m taking you two home.”

Devon was thankful she had Jim in her life. She didn’t know what she’d do if she didn’t, she’d probably go crazy.

Jim had his hand on the small of her back as they left the studio, taking the keys from her to lock up so she didn’t have to put her son down, the last thing she’d want to do.

“I heard there’s gonna be a search party tonight.” Devon spoke up suddenly.

“Yeah.” Hopper shrugged and looked over at her with trepidation. “Don’t feel like you have to go. Walking in the woods at night isn’t really the place for a kid and I know you don’t wanna leave him with some neighbor for the night.”

“I don’t, but I can’t not do anything. I can’t do that to Joyce.”

“Dev, there’s a million other things you can do to help. I don’t want you feeling stressed about this, not with everything else going on.”

“Excuse me? Are you Devon Wicklow?” A voice called from behind her, stopping her from responding to Hopper.

She turned on her heel, instinctively holding Charlie closer to her as she stared at the stranger in front of her intently.

“Who’s asking?” Jim chimed in, taking a step to the side to partially block Charlie and Devon. 

“I’m Mary. Mary Thompson.”

The last name had Devon’s face dropping and she stared at the woman in front of her with her mouth agape in shock. Her chest constricted painfully as panic gripped her tightly.

“You’re Jake’s mom?” She choked out, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“I am.” The woman smiled sweetly. “And this must be my grandson.” She cooed, stepping to the side to get a glance at the infant.

Jim was quick to take another step to totally block him and he scowled at the lady in front of him.

“Do you need something?” He asked tersely and Devon nudged him with her elbow as subtly as she could for his attitude. Hopper didn’t care. After learning about the man who had fathered Devon’s children and his piss poor attitude, he wasn’t going to let the woman who raised him waltz in their life like it was no problem.

There was no way in hell he was going to let Devon feel any kind of animosity or stress from that man again.

“I just wanted to introduce myself. I was hoping we could get a coffee and talk? I know you and my son aren’t in a relationship anymore but I would like to have a relationship with my grandson. He’s still my family.”

“I … uhh, I don’t know if-” Devon floundered for words. She couldn’t help but feel extremely put off by the interaction. The timing of it had her back raising, but the innocent looking woman in front of her had her rolling her eyes at herself for being paranoid.

She always knew this would be a possibility. She just hated that she had to deal with all of this now.

“You know, it’s not a great time right now. Why don’t you leave your number and she’ll let you know when she can.” Hopper answered for her, sensing how flustered she was feeling.

“Of course.” The woman smiled and quickly scribbled down her number on the back of a receipt she had in her purse. “It was lovely to meet you and I hope to see you again soon.”

Devon nodded, smiling weakly. 

The woman looked to Jim, not seeming to be intimidated by his tall stature and cold scowl and she smiled politely, before stealing one last glance at Charlie before making her leave.

Devon breathed deeply, not even realizing she’d been holding her breath as she watched the woman walk away.

“You ok?” Hopper asked, placing his hand on her waist, his thumb brushing against the fabric of her shirt.

“Yeah, I just, I dunno. I can’t deal with that right now.”

Jim nodded and leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

“C’mon, I’ll take you home.”

~~~~~

Mary Thompson got back into her car, her hands tightening on the steering wheel. She wanted to bang her hands against the wheel in frustration. She hadn’t expected the Chief to be there. The woman was much more vulnerable without him there and the kid would’ve been an easier target.

“Agent Frazier,” The static of her walkie came to life.

“I’m here.”

“We need you at Benny’s Diner. We got a tip. The girl’s there. Leave no witnesses.”

“Got it.”

~~~~~

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! xx

Tags: @agirlinherhead @thatprettymvthafvcka

[aureumjeon]

Wonderland (M) || JJK || Oneshot

♡Pairing: Jungkook x Reader. ♡AU: Best friends to Lover AU. ♡Genre/Warnings: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF and Smut, Fingering, Oral (Both end receiving) ♡ Word count - 6K

You’ve known Jeongguk for at least 7 years now. And it took you forever to realize that you were truly, madly and deeply in love with your best friend. 

(A/N: Go listen to John Mayer’s “Wonderland.”  I hope you enjoy this cliched and not so uncommon fic. hehehe I'm sorry if the reader's an insecure mess. I added a few of my personal insecurities so that I can make the story on a more personal and emotional level.)

"What else do we need?" You stated as you pulled the bowl of freshly popped popcorn from the microwave. It was about 3:48 in the afternoon and while you were waiting for Jeongguk, your best friend of 7 years to arrive, you decided to get everything ready for your movie marathon that's held every Friday. You made a mental note of everything you guys might need "Chips? Check. Popcorn? Check. Soda? Check." You arranged all the mentioned items neatly on the surface of the living room table.  

"I already ordered pizza which will probably arrive in about a 1 hour. So..." You turned around, now face to face with your long-time enemy, the sofa. "You got this, Y/N." You unhinged the lock at both sides of the furniture and gripped its underside tightly followed by a strong pull "Ahhhh-" You heard the clicking sound that indicated the release of the lock mechanism allowing you to pull it upward then lay it flat. "Not today, sofa." You chuckled and made your way to your room to get your newly washed fluffy cream blanket and matching pillows to go with it.

It was a gift from Jeongguk last Christmas and you found yourselves using it every Friday or whenever Jeongguk decided to sleep over. With much delight and excitement, you delicately made your not-so-appealing 4-year old sofa bed that you promised yourself at least 10 times now that you'd get it replaced once your paycheck arrives, a little bit more comfortable to look at. The two pillows side by side against the backrest and the fluffy blanket perfectly draped over the rest of its structure.  

"Y/N!" a voice called out accompanied by the sound of loud knocking filled your small apartment "Sheesh. I'm here!" You shouted while sprinting towards the door unlocking it as fast as you can to avoid disrupting your neighbors. The door sprung open and you were met with an excited Jeongguk. He pulled you into a warm hug and the smell of his body wash immediately invades your nostrils as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. Not that you hated it, in fact, you loved how he always smelt like peppermint and cinnamon. Having his arms around you and being completely immersed in his scent gave you a weird feeling, not the bad kind though. You never managed to figure out why it happens, so you just shrugged it off every time thinking to yourself that it was no big deal.

Finally, he released you from the hug and said: "Missed you so bad." And a soft smile made its way on his lips. "I missed you, too." You replied cheeks tinted pink. "What should we watch?" You added while fiddling with the strings of his black puma hoodie. "Whatever you want." He grinned "It's your turn to choose the movie, ya know."

You walked over to the sofa and belly flopped yourself onto the squeaky mattress. Jeongguk noticed that your silk camisole rose a tad bit, exposing the small curve of your back. His eyes widened at the sight of your skin and couldn't help but bite his lower lip. "What are you waiting for?" You stated while patting the empty side of the sofa, gesturing him to come and sit next to you. Your words seemed to knock him back to his senses. "Ah--" there was a pause "Yeah.." His words were faint as he cautiously made his way over to your direction.

"Horror, romance or comedy?" You asked while the remote was in your hand, browsing through the list of movies on Netflix. "Any." He replied, leaning his body against the backrest and making himself comfortable. "This one!" You cheerfully exclaimed, eyes fixed on the TV screen which was frozen to a chick-flick titled  "To All The Boys I've Loved Before.". Jeongguk couldn't help but smile seeing this side of yours. "Jimin watched this one with his girlfriend the other day and told me that it was a solid 9/10."  You looked at him with serious eyes and added  "And Jimin hates romance films." voice low and over-dramatic. Jeongguk bit his bottom lip hard, cheeks puffing out trying to suppress the laughter climbing out of his chest. It was useless though, within a matter of seconds he was uncontrollably wheezing from the lack of air. 

There it is, you thought to yourself. A smile crept its way onto your lips. There was a lot of things you like about your best friend; his angelic voice and the way he sings to you every time you go to karaoke; the not-so-funny jokes and puns he makes which he insisted were his, only to find out he got them from his senior, Jin; the funny faces he would make to cheer you up whenever you were down; but among all the things you like about Jeongguk, the way he laughed was your favorite.

The way his eyes disappear into crescent-shaped lines, completely wrinkled at the end. OH. The way his big cute nose would scrunch up in the middle of his face. MY. His The way his two front teeth, resembling those of a bunny, would become more obvious as the smile on his face widens. GOD. That's it. A light switch in your head was turned on. That was all you needed to confirm the feeling boiling inside you whenever you were with him. You couldn't believe that it took you so long to figure it out, after all the things that had been going through your head, only now you realize that you were truly, madly and stupidly in love with your best friend.

It felt like the air was sucked out of your lungs, your blood started to rush to your face. You can feel your cheeks starting to burn under your skin. "Y/N, are you okay?" Jeongguk asked voice laced with concern. You blinked twice looking all confused. "Are you sick?" He looked more flustered with the way you responded to his question and immediately moved a hand on your forehead. "You don't have a fever." He sighed in relief. "My head hurts a bit." You chuckled awkwardly hoping he wouldn't see right through you. "Wasn't able to sleep last night." A tired smile appeared your face.

To your surprise, Jeongguk stood up and carried you in his arms bridal style. "Wait! What are you doing, Gguk?" You shrieked as you wrapped your arms around his neck, hoping not to fall. "Movie's cancelled." He stated, making his way to your bedroom. He gently kicked the door open and entered your room. The moment his knees hit the side of your bed, Jeongguk carefully put you down on the soft mattress. With no hesitation whatsoever, he hovered himself over you, face dangerously close to yours and laid down on the other side of the bed. You tried to hide the fact that you were freaking out, on the inside at least "What about the movie?" You whined arms crossed and faced your back towards him.

He smirked and cocked an eyebrow at your child like attitude. "Meh" Jeongguk replied, his hands tracing over the curve of your hips. His movements sent shivers down your spine and core. You closed your eyes and held your breath, wishing for whatever he was doing to end. It didn't. It only got worse. His hand was now on your stomach, caressing it. Your eyes looked like they were about to pop out of their sockets when he wrapped his arms around your waist and drew you closer to him. Your back was now pressed against his chest, butt merely inches away from his manhood and you pray to God that he doesn't feel your heart rapidly beating inside your rib cage. "I like this better anyway." He added, warm breath dancing behind your ear as he drowned himself with the scent of your shampoo, burying his face in your soft locks.

"Y/N..." He hummed. "W-- What?" Your words were broken, voice slightly agitated. "I love the way you smell.." He pulled you closer again, this time you were glued to each other. Your clothes were the only thing separating you from touching skin to skin. And with that, your breath hitched a new height and your mouth went dry. This wasn't new to you and surely this wasn't the first time you were in the same bed with your best friend.

In fact, you've done it plenty of times. Too many to count, frankly speaking. Sleepovers, parties and even family vacations, you two were inseparable, always wanting to be together every chance you had since both of you were 11 years old. Knowing your true feelings for Jeongguk now, made it more complicated. Before it was just about having fun and enjoying the company of a friend but now there were more hidden intentions behind every moment to come. 

"Jeongguk..." You wiggled your body, trying to loosen his hug, sucks for you he only tightens it more after your attempt of breaking free. "Heyyy...." He giggled  "Stop squirming, Y/N... You're not a worm." He joked. You sighed loud enough so that he can here. "What's wrong? I thought you were tired." He purred. "I am.. But..."  You paused, trying to come up with an answer. "But what?" Jeongguk asked, his right hand now wedged between your thighs. Fuck, you screamed in your thoughts. The feeling of his hands on your skin was electrifying. Shock waves were coursing through your veins, sending signals to your core. The way your underwear was sticking to your folds was extremely troubling. There's no way in hell that you would reach down your shorts and fix your underwear while Jeongguk was beside you.

You were fucking embarrassed at the way he got your panties soaked without even doing anything sexual. "I need to... to go the bathroom.." You insisted but Jeongguk was too stubborn to let go of you. "No." he hissed, squeezing your thigh. "Stop it...."  you pouted. The more he touched you, the more aroused you get. "You're making me feel uncomfortable..." You finally managed to spit it out. Jeongguk was actually shocked with your words, it felt like betrayal coming from you. He abruptly broke off from the hug. "What?" He questioned, holding himself up with one arm. You can feel his presence linger over you. You made sure that you will not turn around because you fucking bet that your face was red as hell and you didn't want Jeongguk to see you in this kind of state. 

"Y/N.." Jeongguk called out, voice cracked and he seemed like he was on the verge of tears. You wanted to turn to him, to look at him, to comfort him but you yourself weren't in the best state to do so. "Did I do something wrong?" He added. "No.. You did nothing wrong, Gguk." You lightly chuckled, trying to lift up the mood. "It's all me." You assured him. "You don’t have to worry about a thing. I'm sorry if I ruined the mood but today isn't really a good day. You can go home if you want. I can take care of myself." You concluded as you felt a lump in your throat when you spoke those words to him. Jeongguk's face was dazed. He thought of all the time you were together, trying to figure out what went wrong. He nit-picked every puzzle piece but none of them seemed to fit. Everything was perfect. Your relationship was perfect. You barely had fights, you almost agreed on everything besides the "does pineapple go with pizza" kind of shit, but other than that there was nothing he could come up with that would cause this sudden fall out between the two of you. He was utterly silent, he couldn't think of something to say. What if the words he says next would make things worst? What if he's hard hardheadedness makes you more upset with him? He didn't want to risk anything. He didn't want to risk losing you.

 "Okay.." He mumbled under his breath. "I'll guess I'll go. Sorry." He slowly stood up from the bed, smoothing the creases of his hoodie. "See you." was the last thing he said before exiting your room. The moment he stepped out of your room was the moment a wave of guilt crashed over you. Jeongguk didn't deserve to be treated this way. He doesn't deserve to be stood up like this just because you couldn't come clean with your feelings. A good friend was all that he has been to you. No, Actually he was the Best. He has been always by your side, from your first heartbreak to celebrating your first job, Jeongguk was there. No matter how busy he was, heck, even when he was in a relationship, he would always make time for you. And you were sure that you'd the same for him. And acting like a fucking brat is the exact opposite. 

 You crawled out of your bed as fast as you can, hoping the boy was still on the premises of the apartment. Quickly, you walked out of your room just in time to call out to him before he leaves through the door. "Ggukie." Was the nickname you gave him when you first met. He wasn't fond of it when other people call him that but when it's you, he surely doesn't mind. You took small steps towards him with your head faced down. Jeongguk literally looked like a deer caught in the headlights with the way his eyes were filled with shock, mouth slightly agape. "I thought you wanted me to leave.. " He sounded so sad and disappointed. You never thought that you, of all people, would ever make Jeongguk feel this way. Seeing him like this felt like a knife stabbed you through the heart. "I need to tell you something." You stated while pulling his hand, guiding him back to your room. He did not complain or contradicted, he simply obeyed and follow you. Once you were bad in the room you shut the door and said: "Sit down." 

He was still shaken up with the whole ordeal and remained quiet. You sat beside him and pick up his hand, pulling it closer to you and locked your fingers together with his. Jeongguk was mute the entire time, you knew he was like this. Whenever you had something to share or something to rant about, he would not speak or interfere. He would only listen. You didn't know why but he has always been that way. Because for him, seeing the way you light up when you tell him about the little things that happened to you that made you happy, made him happy too. And the way you'd pour your heart out whenever you were broken made him want to give you a piece of himself so you could put yourself back together again. But you didn't know because Jeongguk himself was quite hesitant to say anything, he didn't want to ruin the relationship he had with you with his own selfishness.

"Jeongguk.." You paused "I've known you since forever and I just...." Tears were forming in your eyes, your vision became blurry. The feeling of Jeongguk's hands holding yours tightly gave you comfort and strength to push through. "Just don't want to lose you.." Beads of water fell from your eyes and landed onto Jeongguk's hand. He wanted to say something but held himself back because he wanted to hear what you wanted to say first. "Promise me, whatever I say today won't change the way were are now." Your voice was barely there and he simply nodded in response. "I think I love you, Jeongguk. I know I shouldn't---" Your words were stopped by the boys figure pulling you into the tightest hug. "Huh????" You were bewildered by his sudden response. "Jeongguk?" You said, lightly tapping his shoulder. "I love you too, Y/N."

Your eyes shot open at his words. "What?" You question him again. He pulled away from the hug just enough to see your tear-stained face. Both of his hands made its way to your cheeks, wiping away any more wetness it could find. "I said,  I love you TOO." Your brain couldn't process anything right now. If there were flies in your room right now,  they would have surely made a home in your mouth that's hanging wide. "You love me too?" You asked, still not believing his words. He just shook his head with a shit eating grin on his face. "How many times do you want me to say it?" He chuckled as he placed a kiss on the tip of your nose. "I love you, a lot." He hummed. "For the longest time, too." He smiled from ear to ear. You were flabbergasted with the revelation unfolding before your eyes. "Hmmmm. Really?" You were skeptical "What happened to the girl you were dating a while back?" Your words were doubtful. "Didn't work out." He shrugged his shoulders "None of them did." He let himself get lost in your warmth again as he placed his head on your shoulder and continued "When I realized my feelings for you, I held myself back as best as I could cause I knew that this was a one-sided love kinda thing." A soft smile surfaced from his lips "I tried to date other girls but it didn't work out because they weren't you. I can't believe a day like this would come." He faced you, eyes glittering from euphoria. 

There was no more word said after that, only the sound of your lips crashing onto one another. The sound of hungry, needy and desperate kisses echoed in your room. Dominating you were Jeongguk’s wet and sloppy kisses filled with the intent to devour you whole. "You don’t know how much I wanted to kiss you." He moaned through your lips and with that, you replied a whine urging him to continue. His soft and plumped lips tasted like candy, insanely sweet. The flavor was completely whimsical, something you haven’t tasted before. Every contact leaves you wanting more. You've had your fair share of kisses before but this, this was the first that you felt completely drowned in the sensation of kissing itself. None of the boys you kissed before Jeongguk made you feel this way. You thought it couldn't get better than this but boy, you were completely wrong. 

 Another inexplicable feeling knocked you out again. The way his tongue danced with yours was truly spectacular, every move it made somehow synchronized with yours. As the saying goes, it really does take two to tango. You sucked at his wet muscle every time it went past your teeth. You couldn't help yourself but sank your teeth into it. Luckily, Jeongguk did not mind you biting his tongue, oddly enough it felt like bubble gum. The kissing continued for at least a few more minutes before Jeongguk finally snapped. In his thoughts, kissing wasn't enough. He needed to taste you; he needed to feel your body against his; he needed to be inside you. 

He pushed you further until your back hit the headboard. He licked a stripe over the line of your jaw, first peppering your neck with light kisses then sucking harshly at your flesh, to which purple marks bloomed immediately. Jeongguk stared at the bruise proudly and said: "It's only right to mark my territory." You simple laughed and swatted his arm. He chuckled and playfully said, "Better than peeing on you." Stunned by his words you jokingly flicked his forehead and stated: "Way to ruin the mood!". He rubbed the area of his forehead and insisted "I mean, it's not my thing but if that's what you're into maybe----" You stopped him just in time before he could say any more disgusting stuff and dragged him back to your neck. His lips automatically did what they were meant to do. 

He nipped at your collarbone with his teeth, forcing you to bit down on your lower lip. Occasionally adding a few licks here and there. He held onto the hem of your camisole and pushed it upward, only to be stopped by you. "Wait.." You shyly stated. "What's wrong, baby?" He questioned your actions. "It just that... Most of your past girlfriends were well-endowed and..." you gestured over to your small physique emphasizing on your minuscule breast "I'm a sold 4/10, heh." His smile turned into a frown after hearing what you just said. He held both of your hands, cradled it with his and said "Baby. I don't want you comparing yourself to anyone." His voice soft and assuring. "Especially my exes." He combed his fingers through your hair and went on saying "It was just pure coincidence that a few of them were well-endowed. I swear I don’t really have a preference when it comes to dating. And, none of them worked out. Wanna know why?" He paused, waiting for some kind of response from you "I guess I never truly loved them the way I love you. Maybe I was only looking for someone to help me get over you." He smiled. "What you are today, what you are tomorrow and what you will be in 10 years.. I love and will love all of it. Y/N, I love you." Jeongguk kissed your knuckles one by one. "No more comparing okay? You're the only one I want and the only one for me." 

He gripped your top again, successfully taking it off you. He marveled at the sight of your bare body. Eyes taking in every bit of detail, savoring the glorious moment. His line of sight flickered up and down. "I'll make you feel good with my hands. Trust me, okay?". You simply nodded. His hands gently caressed your face before moving down to your chest. His hand ghosted above your hardened nubs, when you felt his touch merge together with your skin, you quickly melted like putty in his grasp. His touch was warm and endearing, the one that can lull you to sleep if he wanted too. 

Your anxiety flew out the window the moment he touched you. You weren't scared or intimidated anymore. You felt safe; you felt secured under his ministration. You breath heaved high and low as his lips kissed your erect nipples. With one hand, he kneaded one breast it slowly while he sucked on the other. You felt like you were floating in the air, wind brushing against your body. He wanted you to feel confident about your body so he made sure that you were well taken care of. Not just physically, mentally too.

You hands magically found itself tangled with his soft black locks, coaxing him to indulge more. He pulled away and placed both of his hands back on you mounds, drawing tiny circles around the areola, making you giggle. He took the nubs and played with it with his thumb and index finger. You tried your best not to make any noise and it was written all over your face. "No need to hold it in, baby. Let me hear you moan. I bet you sound so good when you say my name." He encouraged you well enough for you to release a sweet moan from your lips. The sound of your vulnerable voice made all the blood in his body rush to his member, now visibly erect underneath his sweatpants. "Jeongguk-ah~" You hummed with your eyes shut, enjoying the way he uses his hands. Every touch was filled with magic, spell after spell, drawing you deeper and deeper into an enchanted trans-like state.

He hummed back while his hands slid down to the hem of your silk shorts. As much as he loved seeing you wear these matching camisole top and short shorts that always turned him on, he would love it more if it were on the floor. He took his time sliding the clothing at each end making sure to engrave this very moment in the confinement of his brain and label it as the greatest moment of his entire existence. When the piece of clothing inched closer to your feet, you jammed your thighs together. "Hmmmm." Jeongguk whirred, cocking an eyebrow at you while throwing the silk shorts on the ground. Your juice soaked panties were the only thing on you right now. 

He massaged both of your thighs with his manly hands. You hadn't noticed it before, but Jeongguk hands were really pretty. His fingers were long and slender, knuckles had a slight pink undertone to it partnered with nails that were shaped beautifully. His hand running up and down your flesh made you shiver and caused goosebumps to emerge from your skin. "Jeongguk.." You moaned out his name, and he swore that it was the sexiest thing he has ever heard. "Baby, open up." He cooed "Don't be shy. Show me how wet you are for me." He purred and you obeyed. 

You carefully opened your legs together, looking at Jeongguk’s reaction. The moment you had your legs spread wide open for Jeongguk to see, he hissed out a faint "Fuck.." and ran a finger up the soaked area of the cloth. "You're drenched. Is this all for me?" He asked. You nodded as your cheeks were hued a light red. It made Jeongguk's insides twist and turn at the image of you totally soaked from the arousal he caused. His chest swelled up with confidence, ego boosted up a few steps higher. A spark ignited a flame in his stomach and before you knew it, he had already ripped off the last piece of clothing on you and helped himself. He was now lapping up your juices with his tongue. 

Squelching wet sound filled the air each time his mouth met with your core. He kissed your left fold then the other, making sure he was giving each fold the same amount of attention it needed. Your clitoris was caught between his teeth, you let out a gasp at the action. He sucked on it like there was no tomorrow and caused you to throw your head back in pleasure. "Aaaahhhhhhh---" you cried out in complete ecstasy.  

Your legs were uncontrollably shaking, breaths heavy, feeble moans that were smooth like syrup dribbled pass your lips. Just by looking at the mess you are now, Jeongguk knew that you were already at your limit and that you'd be screaming his name while seeing stars. He inserted two curled fingers in your center, pumping it at a slow pace. Jeongguk was trying to locate your sweet spot by twirling his index and middle finger inside you, and at the same time he was stretching you out so you can fully take in his hard cock. Your velvet walls were clenching around him when he finally found your G-spot. "Right... there...." You voiced out, desperate to find release. He positioned himself on top of you, fingers still inserted, and left a chaste kiss on your forehead. His speed quickens, the lewd sound got louder. You heard ringing inside your ears and pressed your hands on his chest. Grabbing a fistful of his hoodie, you were pulling at it while the exhilarating sensation traveled from your head to your toes, and back again. "Come for me, baby." He whispered lips near your ear. "I-- 'm.." You mewled. Your walls clenched even tighter around his fingers and after what felt like forever, you managed to cum. Jeongguk was sure to keep his digits inside you until you rode down from you high. Your juices seeped out from the sides of your opening and dripped down onto the bed. He pulled out his fingers out which was coated in slick, glistening, viscous liquid. 

He put his digits in his mouth and licked your juices clean off. "You taste so good, baby." He then proceeded to remove his hoodie from his body which revealed his masculine and toned frame. You simple gawked at the sight of him bare, mouthwatering. His 6-pack was a work of art, well defined and breathtaking. "You like what you see?" He snickered, with a dirty smirk on his face. "This ain't even the main spectacle." "Are you ready to see all of me, Y/N?" Jeongguk slid both of his thumbs under the garter of his sweatpants and dragged it down at a tortuously sluggish pace. Beads of sweat formed at your temples in anticipation. "Oh my." You gasped while his hard member sprang free, slightly tapping his abdomen. You kinda knew Jeongguk was big, but not this big. You stood there utterly amazed at how hard and big he was. The tip was red and swollen, spilling out droplets of precum. His shaft was thick, as thick as your wrist even, angry with its veins popping out. You looked at Jeongguk with honest eyes, eyes filled with desire. He knew exactly what you wanted.

 "Go." He said, pulling you upright. You reached out to touch his throbbing member. He instantly jerked when he felt himself in the palm of your hands. It was warm, thick and hard, and you can't wait to feel it inside you. But before any of that, you wanted to make Jeongguk feel good, just like the way he made you feel a while ago. You started pumping his shaft at a slow and steady rate, warming it between your fingers and palm. A low moan escaped from his lips. Your movements caused him to tilt his head back in satisfaction. Seeing Jeongguk come undone before you, by you more so, urged you to take in his member whole. A guttural moan came from Jeongguk as he felt his cock buried deep inside your mouth. "Damn, baby " He panted, looking like a complete mess.

 You swirl your tongue inside your mouth, brushing it against him. You hollowed your cheeks and started bobbing your head up and down, pushing even deeper after every stroke until the tip of his cock reached the back of your throat. You felt yourself gag at his length and eyes sting when tears started to fill it. Jeongguk was totally out of his mind from the immense pleasure you were providing him. "You frustrate me so much, do you know that, Y/N?" He grabbed your hair and formed it into a makeshift ponytail, encouraging you to move faster. You placed both hands on either side of his hips, gaining more leverage to increase your speed. Wanton moans were quick to leave Jeongguk's mouth as you sped up your movements. The thought of him spilling his seeds in your mouth was tempting, but he only had one vision in mind. And that was to fuck you balls deep onto the mattress while you scream his name.

 "Y/N.." He whined, rubbing your face. He looked at you with hooded eyes. "I wanna.. " His was out of breath and looked so sexy with his hair stuck to his forehead. "I-- I wanna come inside you... " You simply nodded and turned around, positioning yourself on all fours, displaying your cunt and all of its wet glory. The coldness of the sea of blankets beneath you relaxed your body. Jeongguk can see your reflection from the mirror beside your dresser, there was something about the way your hair falls in your face that gets him all riled up. He grits his teeth while palming himself "I can't, you look so good that it fucking hurts." Jeongguk reached his boiling point and growled at you. He hastily positioned his dick directly in front of your dripping core. He swiped his dick along your slit, lubricating it with your juices so it can easily slip in and provide a more smooth transition.

 "You good?" He asked, pushing the head of his cock a few centimeters in. "Y-yeah." You hummed with a small nod. "Uhhh--" left your lips as you felt him stretch you out deliciously. "God, you're so tight, Y/N.." He mewled while your walls hugged his member. "Did you ever get this tight for someone else?" He huffed through his nostril. The feeling of him finally inside you was unreal. The way his cock filled your insides wholly made your senses go haywire. "N-no."With your entire body drowning in bliss, giving a one-word reply was hard enough as it is. "Ggukie.." You pleaded, voice weak. "Fuck me..." you whimpered. "What did you say?" Jeongguk teased while casually moving his hips to and fro. "I can't hear you, Y/N. You need to sp---" You cut his word short "Fuck me! Fuck me hard until I can't feel my legs!" You exclaimed. He slapped your ass cheek with his hand which caused you to jolt. "That's what I'm talking about." He stated while rubbing the area he hit. His maneuvered his body just right so he can place his other hand around your chest, keeping you upright. Because he knows that after he's done with you, you won't be able to feel your arms and legs.

 He kissed the back of your neck and said "You're mine, Y/N... All mine." With no warning, he drilled your pussy hard and deep. Every move was precise and calculated. His member slipped in and out of you with ease, thanks to enough foreplay. Without it you'd be crying in pain instead of pleasure because of his size. Jeongguk was without a doubt the biggest you've encountered. Maybe that was the reason nobody has ever filled you the way Jeongguk did. He held onto your hips and threw another explosive thrust your way. "Jeongguk!" You cried out, chanting his name religiously as he continued at the same pace. You're nailing were digging into the white sheets of your bed as he continued fucking the life out of you. You can feel him hitting you in all the right places. Your body felt surges of electricity every time his cock pushed further in you, digging deeper into you. His grip on you never loosened, he made it sure that you were in his arm all the while he was making love to you. Because for him, just fucking isn't enough, for you at least. Sex wasn't just lips against lips or body against body. He wanted to make you feel good. He wanted to make you feel a certain way that nobody has ever made you feel. He didn't just want to touch you, he wanted to touch you.

 He pulled out of you for a second which caused you to whine at the feeling of emptiness. He flipped you on your back and pushed your hair out of your face. "I wanna see your face when you cum on my dick." His voice was deep and sultry. You bit your lip while in a state of complete awe, admiring a sweaty Jeongguk towering above you. He placed a hand over your pelvis and rubbed your clit with his thumb. His ministrations made you curl your toes and moan out his name. With his knees, he pushed your legs further apart, readying himself to enter you again. "Jeongguk...." You pleaded. "I want to cum..." And so did he. He then penetrated you once again, the feeling of him filling you was one you'd never forget. Now, the accuracy of his movements seemed to falter by the second. Every thrust becoming sloppy and uncoordinated. You can feel yourself nearing the end, your body was convulsing, sweat dripping out of every pore on your skin and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. "Y/N... I'm close.." Jeongguk exhaled. He leaned closer to you, body just inches away. He intertwined his fingers with yours and kissed the tip of your nose. "I love you.."

 There it was, your release. You exhaled deeply as your walls wrapped around his length, juices dripping out of the corner of your core.  He managed to do a few more strokes before following your lead. You can feel his cock spilling out his seeds inside you, It made you feel warm. His hips slowly grinding both of your highs out. "That was amazing.." He hummed in satisfaction, still catching his breath. He rolled over, now laying next to you. His eyes met yours, gaze filled with happiness. "Your all mine, right?" He asked. "Yeah." You replied with the softest smile written on your face. 

END

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I will proofread and edit tomorrow. Thank u. 

[okayyeli]

oh, baby! | jjk (07)

pairing: reader x jjk

genre: fluff, angst, humour, ceo au

summary: a social media interactive au where a hypothetical situation sets you on a highly illegal quest to help out a friend.

parts:  one  ★  two  ★  three  ★  four ★  five  ★  six  ★ seven ★

                                                           + + + 

jungkook isn’t coping well. 

He knows this, yet every single time he remembers what he’s done, he panics. It surges through him like wildfire, the severity of the situation, the consequences, the future and oh god, what if his father finds out? 

His grip on the vodka bottle tightens as he brings it to his mouth and downs a bit more, tilting his head back as the rush electrifies him, slowing his racing thoughts a tad more. 

“You’re going to poison yourself at this rate, Kook, slow down.” The younger looks up at the source of sound, eyes zeroing in on Jimin, the older staring down at him with a frown. “I’m serious man,” he grabs the bottle from Jungkook, ignoring his groan of protest, “you have to deal with this like the adult you are.” 

“I got a woman pregnant, Jimin,” he slurs, “and I’m twenty-fucking-two. I don’t know how to deal with this like an adult.” 

“Well, for starters,” Jimin places the bottle on his end of the table as he takes a seat opposite Jungkook, “consider some options. You could just pay child support and distance yourself, you could pay her off with some silence money, you could even ask her if she wants to keep the child—” 

“Absolutely not!” Jungkook is pointing at Jimin’s left temple, but his tone is firm. “I am n-not going to force her into abortion.” 

“I wasn’t suggesting that, I’m saying you should ask her what her take on all of this is. She’s young too, I doubt she’s ecstatic about being a mother. This concerns the both of you, especially given you’re reputable people. You bolted when you found out, which is making you looking pretty shitty cause it’s been a week. Talk it out. Start there.” 

“I’m not ready to be a father,” the younger wails, “why can’t I just keep it in my pants? Stupid, s-stupid me! I’m so weak for women!” He falls on his back, the soft, plush cushions of the sofa decreasing the impact as they mould to his frame. “I’m doomed.” 

“Alright, I’ve had enough of this pity party. Where’s your phone?” Jungkook pulls out his phone, obediently handing it to Jimin with an expression akin to that of a scolded puppy. “Don’t do anything stupid.” 

“Yeah, I won’t,” Jimin scoffs, “you should’ve followed that advice at the party, you idiot. Okay, now shut up, I’m going to make a call.” The taller hums in response, murmuring incoherent nonsense to himself as Jimin dials your number. 

You answer on the fourth ring, voice a little breathless as you say, “Hello? Jungkook?” 

“Actually, this is his best friend, Jimin.” Under his breath, he adds, “I’m basically a glorified goddamn assistant.” 

“Hi, Jimin,” you sound slightly alarmed, “is everything alright?” 

“Yes, yes, Miss Miller, everything’s peachy. I’m calling you on Jungkook’s behalf, he’s been booked all week and hasn’t had a chance to contact you, I’m sorry.” 

“No, it’s alright, I understand it’s rather difficult to process. I’ve been struggling myself. Is he busy at the moment?” 

“Yes,” Jimin answers quickly, “yes, he’s meeting with his father. At midnight. It’s their thing.” 

“Oh, did he tell him—” 

“Absolutely not, Miss Miller, he wouldn’t dare. Anyway, I know it’s rather late, I only called to arrange a meeting. Are you free this coming Tuesday, around eight p.m for dinner? The two of you have a lot to discuss.” 

At this, Jungkook begins to vocalize his protests rather loudly, to which Jimin shoots him a glare and places his palm atop his face to silence him, forcefully shoving his head into a cushion. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing! That was nothing, your answer?” 

You clear your throat, voice breaking as you say, “Yeah I, I can make it. The Ruby Grill again?” 

“No.” He quickly mutters, “I doubt he’s ever going back there again.” He says to you, “No, not the Ruby Grill. I’ll have him text you the details by Sunday. I hope you two figure this out and come to a reasonable compromise, Miss Miller. Sorry to have disturbed you, good night! Sweet dreams!” 

He hangs up and removes his palm from Jungkook’s face as the younger had begun to lick him in an attempt to free himself. 

“Why are you so annoyingly unhinged when you’re drunk?” He groans, wiping his hand down his pants as he grabs a cushion and smacks Jungkook with it. “You brat, why am I doing all of this for you?” 

“I can’t go home!” Jungkook pouts, “Pa will murder me if he f-finds out.” 

“Yes well, you’re making a mess out of my sofas, so get your ass up to the guest bedroom. I’ve left you some pills and water for you, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Get some rest. You’ve got one hell of a storm to battle through.” 

“I’m scared, Minnie,” the younger whispers, doe eyes glossy, “I’m scared I’ll fuck this up.” 

“There’s no way not to fuck this up, buddy,” Jimin smiles, “the important thing is that you handle it privately and quickly. Whatever you decide to do, I’ll support you. Just, just don’t make this anymore difficult, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

“Good. Now, go to bed. I’ll figure out where you’ll meet her on Tuesday.” 

As Jungkook gets to his feet, he shoots Jimin a lazy smile. “You’re, you’re the best, Jimin.” And then he’s trudging his way upstairs to the guest bedroom.

“I know I am.” Jimin sighs, rearranging the cushions as he pulls out his laptop. “The things I do for you, honestly.” 

                                                           + + +

You’re sick. 

It isn’t the occasional cough or sneeze, you are bed-ridden, highly feverish and nauseous, and it’s a Friday night. Irene had offered to come over and take care of you and you fiercely refused, afraid you’d spread it to her and cause problems with her pregnancy. 

A part of you is slightly regretting that choice, because now you’re painfully ill, lying in bed alone and onto the third season of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, though you suppose the show is the only positive aspect of your day. 

Because everything else sucks. 

Your throat is dry and hoarse from coughing, nose stuffed and easily irritable, causing you to tear up every other minute. Which means of course, your left eye is swollen from constantly tearing up; to top it all off, your body temperature has you believing you’ve entered the seventh circle of hell. But hey, at least the migraine’s died down. 

“I’m a sad, sad person.” You whisper, coughing a little as you reach for your glass of water.

You have no idea if you’ll get better in time for your meeting with Jungkook on Tuesday, especially considering it’s only three days away. The thought of it makes you writhe with anxiety, because you know it’s going to consist of discussing your next move. There’s a looming, imminent fear of him wanting a paternity test carried out that has you sweating, a) considering you are deathly afraid of needles and b) because you are not pregnant and hence the paternity test won’t work. 

Hey, maybe this fever will take you before you have a chance to dig yourself in further! Maybe by the time you’re found, you’ll already be explaining yourself to the devil himself because there’s no way you’re ever going to see the light after executing something so absurdly extreme. 

You’re just about to shut the T.V off and take a nap to silence your thoughts when your phone rings, startling you slightly. Gingerly, you reach over and pluck the device from your bedside table and answer without checking the caller ID, assuming it’s Irene checking up on you. 

It’s obviously not Irene. 

“Hey, I’m doing better now, don’t worry—” 

“You’re sick?” 

You freeze. That voice, it’s definitely too deep for Irene’s timbre. Nah, nah it can’t be, surely your luck isn’t so fucked that—

“Hello? Are you okay?” 

—of course it fucking is. 

“Hi, Jungkook!”  You try your best to brighten up your voice, but find it extremely difficult when a familiar irritation begins to ring at the back of your throat. 

“Hey, hey, you don’t sound so good. You’re sick, aren’t you?” 

The cough you’re struggling to hold back forces its way out, leaving you to sigh in defeat. “Yes,” you admit in defeat, “yes I’m sick.” 

“And you’ve got someone taking care of you, right? I’ll drop by to get you some medicines, you’ll be alright—” 

“No, Jungkook,” you counter softly, “I can't take any medication, remember? I also can’t risk spreading it to people, so I’m alone. I just need to sleep through it, I’ll be okay soon enough.” 

“You’re, you’re alone?” His tone is one of pure shock, to which you raise an eyebrow. “Yes, because I can’t risk spreading it to someone else, I—” 

“I’m coming over.” 

“Wait, what?” 

“You live close by anyway, right? I’ll bring some stuff over and help you out. I’ve got a strong immune system, so I’ll be fine.” You immediately panic, scrambling to find some kind of excuse to keep him away. “No! No, there’s absolutely no need to come over, Kook, listen to me, I’m fine! I can handle it, seriously, don’t risk it.” 

“I promise I’ll be a good nurse, trust me. It’s just not wise for you to be alone. Besides, if do end up catching it, I can heal quickly because I can take medication. Let me help you, I just—I just kind of don’t like that you can’t use anything to speed up your recovery process. Plus, I’ll be good company too!” 

Okay, well, fuck. 

He’s got you backed into a corner, albeit unintentionally. The more you refuse him, the more he’ll insist, and eventually, he’s going to get suspicious. And hey, if you decide to come clean while there’s still an inkling of a chance, maybe he’ll go soft on you because you’re sick! 

Yeah, you definitely need to sleep. 

“Okay,” you finally reply, hearing him hum in glee, “okay, fine. You know the complex, right? I’m on the twenty-second floor, apartment two-two zero one. I’ll buzz you in.” 

“Great, I’ll be there in five.” 

He hangs up shortly after, leaving you to lie in bed with a groan, wondering why the universe is so hellbent on punishing you when you’re sure a fate much worse awaits you at the end of this ride. 

                                                           + + +

“Okay, so, make sure she’s drinking hot soups, and some easily digestible solids if she’s feeling up to it. Keep her hydrated at all times, and help regulate her body temperature. She’s bound to have bouts of chills and then feel hot, so keep some extra blankets and a cold compress nearby. Also, make sure you’re constantly sanitizing yourself to decrease chances of you catching it. If she’s not getting any better by Sunday, I’ll come over to check if everything’s okay.” 

“Thank you,” Jungkook exhales in relief, “thank you, you’re the best!” 

“Yeah well, you kind of have to be if you want a medical degree,” Seokjin chuckles, “just make sure she’s comfortable, alright? You can explain why you’re so concerned about this woman later.” 

It’s because she’s pregnant, Jungkook wants to say, and I’m fucking terrified. 

Instead, he says, “Yeah, I will. I’ll keep you updated through text, alright? Get back to me when you can.” 

“Sure, my shift ends early today, so I’ll get back to you on time. Good luck, and remember to sanitize.” 

“Yeah, Dad, I got it.” Jungkook rolls his eyes as Jin begins to chide him for being disrespectful when he was ‘saving his ass’ and being ‘generous enough to give him advice’ and that he could ‘potentially kill this woman if he didn’t have the right knowledge’ and finally that ‘he was going to beat his ass if he called him dad’. 

Finally, as he’s pulling into his parking spot, Jungkook manages to get off the phone with Jin, laughing to himself as he does so. His friend had always had a dramatic flair, and loved to bicker every chance he got. 

However, Seokjin was one of the most renowned doctors in the medial field, and Jungkook trusted him with his life. The older man had spent years on his passion and he was amazing at it, making him the pride of his family. 

And it was through him that Jungkook had met Hoseok and Yoongi, the hand-in-hand pair of cheery and composed, energetic and calm. He smiles at the memory of the two together, always in sync and seeming to share one mind when it came to their work. 

“Who are you off to see, sir?” 

He gives the receptionist a bright smile, silently admiring the sleek look of the complex you lived in. He gives the man at the desk your name, then signs his own on the guestbook and makes his way up, pulling his phone out to text you as the elevator surges upward. 

It’s only as he's walking down the hallway towards your apartment that you respond, telling him you’ll buzz him in once he rings the bell. Jungkook notices that there are only a maximum of four apartments on this floor, and he immediately realizes you live in a penthouse. 

The complex is close by to where he lives, so it’s on the wealthier side of the city, although not too close to the private estates. He gathers you must be one hell of a consultant as he rings the doorbell, hearing a whirring sound seconds later as a ding sounds and the door unlocks.

He enters slowly, immediately finding himself drawn to the advanced technology of the place, The door locks automatically behind him, the small screen above the handle now blaring red. The lights turn on as he moves, removing his shoes. 

Jungkook hears you faintly calling for him, and follows the sound of your voice, silently marveling the place as he does so. It’s a mix of modern, minimalist and urban, with lots of small decorative pieces and abstract paintings adorning the walls, either mounted or atop shelves. He thinks it’s so you, and that you’ve got great taste. 

When he enters your bedroom, he’s surprised at how similar it’s laid out to his own. There’s a queen sized bed at the center, with floor to ceiling windows to your right. As he walks further in, he sees a mahogany desk on the left side, papers strewn atop beside a rose gold MacBook. 

The last thing he registers before shifting his attention to you is how cold the room is. He remembers Seokjin telling him that your body temperature was bound to fluctuate and only speaks to you after increasing the temperature on the thermostat. 

“You’re going to make it worse by keeping your room so cold, you know.” He pulls your desk chair beside your bed to take a seat, fixing you with a warm gaze. “How did you even manage by yourself for so long?” 

“I just kept telling myself it was a couple more steps,” you reply hoarsely, “and it kinda worked.” He smiles, shaking his head. “It’s great that you’re so independent, _______, but it’s okay to ask for help sometimes.” 

“I told you,” your tone is whiny, “I couldn’t—I couldn’t risk spreading it to someone else. You didn’t have to come here.” 

“But I’ve done this before,” he gives you a teasing smile, “remember? You were always prone to intense colds during winter, and I was always the one who took care of you.” 

At the memory, you manage a weak smile. It’s so vague to you, the only thing coming to your mind is Jungkook sitting by you with a cold compress, keeping you engaged in conversation until you slept. 

“I guess h-history is repeating itself, hm?” You clear your throat, shifting away a little and patting the space beside you. “Might as well sit next to me then.” He playfully cocks an eyebrow at this, saying, “Wow, weren’t you against me falling sick too?” 

“I’ve warned you several times,” you shrug, “if anything happens it’s on you and I’m definitely gonna tell you I told you so. Plus, I could use the body warmth, it is starting to get pretty cold in here.” 

 He laughs in response and obliges, sitting upright beside you as he adds, “Looks like I’m going to be the one who gets to say ‘I told you so’ first. I told you so!” 

“Shut up!” You smack him lightly as you too follow suit and sit upright beside him. The chill hits you almost immediately and you tug the second blanket you kept underneath up to your chin, shivering slightly.

There’s a moment of silence, wherein Jungkook’s expression slowly grows solemn as he remembers your last interaction. He’d panicked and bolted the second the check had been covered. 

And then he’d left you with no response for a week. 

“Hey,” his voice is soft, “I’m sorry I reacted so harshly. I pretty much scrambled to get out of there and I kept you waiting for a whole week. It’s not an excuse, I promise, I just needed to process and cope and I wasn’t really doing either of those very well. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have acted the way I did.” 

“It’s okay, Kook. It’s a lot to take in. I understand, and I forgive you.” You smile up at him, and Jungkook can see you at twelve, when you were a few inches taller, smiling down at him the exact same way. Your eyes crinkle slightly at the corners just the same and that’s how he knows you’re being sincere. 

“Thank you. I promise moving forward, I’m going to be as mature and level-headed as possible.” 

“You’re not going to tell me I should get rid of it?” 

“No. Never. That is up to you and it will always be. This was a two-person job, and I refuse to make it so that one person carries the full weight of it. I will never, ever pressure you into anything you aren’t comfortable with. You have my word.”

You stay silent for a moment, fighting back the guilt rising within you. Here you have the kindest and most understanding man sitting beside you, telling you he’s ready to support whatever decision you make with a non-existent baby. 

And he’d also asked for your forgiveness, which you had no right to give in the first place. You know for certain if the roles were reversed and you’d found out the truth, you’d never be able to forgive someone for manipulating you that way. 

The way you’re manipulating him. 

“_______, hey, hey,” Jungkook turns his head fully to face you, expression one of concern. “Please don’t think about it right now. Neither of us are ready to dive into the technicalities, and it’s hardly the time either. We’ll cross that bridge when we’re ready, okay? One thing’s for sure, you aren’t going to go through this alone.” 

The guilt is getting stronger now, chest tight as you lower your head, too weak to meet his gaze. You really don’t deserve any of this, his concern, patience and kindness. You know it, but he doesn’t, and it makes it all so much more painful. 

Sensing your sinking mood, Jungkook grabs the remote beside you and says, “Okay, let’s continue watching whatever it is you were wa—Brooklyn Nine-Nine? It’s my favourite show! Yes, you’re on the The Audit!” 

“I’m rewatching, it’s gonna be a long road to season six after all.” You manage a genuine smile, turning to face the T.V. “I love the Halloween episodes.” 

“Who doesn’t? And, not to sound like an absolute fanatic but hey I am one—I can recite the whole monologue from The Box word for word.” Jungkook looks pretty smug, and so you turn to him with a raised eyebrow, stretching your hand out to select The Box from the list of episodes. “Those are bold words, Jeon. Prove it.” 

“Forward to that part and I’ll do just that. That’s right,” he’s grinning, “I’m about to monologue, son.” 

And you very quickly find, he does know the whole monologue word for word, even getting the inflection on each ‘oh damn!’ perfectly right. You then spend the next hour or two watching your favourite episodes, laughing and making commentary on the best parts. 

You fall asleep at around one-thirty, at which point Jungkook slips out of your bed, taking a seat on your desk chair and draping a blanket over himself. He finds it’s pretty comfortable if he places a pillow on the right armrest and lies horizontally. 

He knows you won’t mind if he shares your bed, but he truly cannot risk catching a fever so close to his scheduled hell Monday of board meetings. So he dozes in and out of sleep, catching you every single time you rouse to get something without his help. He helps you cool down with a cold compress when your body temperature flares, and tucks you in neatly when you begin to shiver. He’s tempted several times to get you some cough medicine, but he’s not sure what’s safe and what isn’t, so he settles for the lemon and ginger lozenges he finds in your drawer and hands them to you when the coughing gets bad during the night. 

It’s around five forty-five a.m when he’s roused by you shifting in your sleep, murmuring something incoherent with your eyebrows furrowed. He shakes his head, trying to wake himself up as he registers your shifting getting more vigorous, your murmurings growing louder. 

And he remembers—you’re a sleep talker. 

“I’m sorry,” your voice is now a whisper, “I’m so sorry.” 

He frowns. Are you having a nightmare? He’s been told that people should be allowed to sleep through nightmares, but he doubts it’s effective, considering how you seem pretty distressed.  

“I’m sorry!” Your voice grows louder, breaking slightly at the end. “No, n-no don’t l-leave!” 

Jungkook adjusts himself into a vertical position, sitting upright with the blanket around him as he leans forward, taking your outstretched hand in his own as he softly says, “Shh, it’s okay, no one’s leaving. _________? If you can hear me, it’s Jungkook. I’m sitting right here. No one’s leaving, alright? You don’t need to apologize either.” 

“I’m sorry.” Is all you say in response. 

“You don’t have to be, sweetheart,” he coos, “there’s nothing you need to apologize for.” 

Your shoulders begin to relax. 

“Good, there we go, that’s it. You can hear me, hm? I’m right here. No one’s leaving you, ________, no one. I’m here. I promise I’m here.” He continues this way, until you’re fully relaxed, breathing no longer erratic and panicked, but slow and drawn out. With a sigh, Jungkook leans back against chair, hand still holding your own as his voice slips into decrescendo. 

“I’m...not...leaving.” 

When you woke up later that morning, amidst the residual fear from a nightmare you couldn’t recall, you feel the slightest, strangest feeling of comfort, stemming from a distant voice promising you it wasn’t leaving. 

[featherymalignancy]

Tender Jar: An Elriel Experiment                            

            “Like a jar you housed infinite tenderness, and the infinite                                              tenderness shattered you like a jar”                                         -Pablo Neruda

Synopsis: Six months after the war, Elain is still mourning all that the cauldron took from her, and it’s only Azriel she trusts not to judge her for her brokenness. However, when she has a vision concerning both Lucien and Graysen, she steels her courage and braves first the Spring Court and then the Mortal World, Azriel at her side. When lines are drawn and Elain is pushed to her emotional limit, she must decide whether she will let her past shatter her or give in to the desires of her tender heart.Warnings: Elriel with brief Elucien. NSFW. Contains some graphic depictions of sex and foul language, and minor violence.

See The Masterlist here

                          Previously on Tender Jar…

“Az,” she said, daring a step forward to brush her fingers to his broad back. As always, he stiffened when she made contact. He’d been careful to keep their physical contact to a minimum since that night in his room, and she tried not to feel stung at how much her touch clearly repelled him. “What is it?” she pressed. "Has something happened?”

He didn’t respond, though his wings flared slightly in agitation, the way Illyrians' often did when they were experiencing some extreme emotion.

“Is it something I—“ she began, but she was cut off as he abruptly turned, wings snapping to his back as he backed her against the wall and kissed her.

Part VI: Azriel

Azriel winnowed deep into the hedge maze at the Southern end of Tamlin’s lurid estate, wrapping himself in darkness and snarling his pained frustration. When he was done, he let his body go limp, resting his forehead on the cool lip of a nearby fountain as he tried to gentle the roaring hiss of secrets the shadows whispered into his ear. He’d trained for nearly half a millennia to master them, and normally with his unassailable control, they were easy to filter. However, what happened with Elain had fractured his composure, and with the floodgates broken, Azriel was struggling not to drown in them.

Your absence has been noted. Three sentries disbatched to follow. The wraiths are with the girl. The Autumn lordling is looking for her as well. He suspects—

Azriel let out another pained snarl, struggling to overpower a foreign sensation clawing up his chest that was making it difficult to breathe. He hadn’t felt anything like it since the day the Illyrians had dragged him out of his father’s house screaming nearly six centuries ago. He took a shuddering breath, fighting to lower his pulse. It was only after he mastered the feeling and took a full, deep breath that he recognized it for what it was: the urge to cry.

Azriel had once heard Rhys describe him as a creature of icy rage, and his brother was right; Azriel had always kept himself cocooned in ice, because to him, heat was nothing more than pain. Heat was the scorch of the oil on his hands as they caught alight. It was the ruination of his flesh, the smell of his skin as it burned off his bones. Heat was the look in Morrigan’s eyes as they fell on Cassian that day in the camp, and the searing pain when he’d learned that she had chosen his best friend over him.

So Azriel plunged his heart, ravaged by all he’d seen and endured, into a darkness so frigid that it too had burned, and he’d held it under the cold until it had hardened to bitter ice, and nothing could touch it. Not his desire for Mor nor his hatred of his brothers, and not the searing knowledge that in both instances, he’d been unwanted, unworthy. The numbness, though imperfect, had worked, and for hundreds of years his heart had remained that way: savagely frozen, impervious to heat.

But Lucien had been right; Elain was like Spring. She was the warmth of new beginning, and like all wintery things, Azriel’s frigidity had thawed under her careful touch. She’d done it with her smiles, and her fragile courage, and her enduring belief that no matter how bitter the winter, the flowers would bloom again at the turn of the seasons.

He’d known it had been happening for awhile, known it since the day he’d risked everything to go to Hybern and rescue her, and had tried to guard himself against it, but the last few weeks had completely undone him. Seeing her smile at him, hearing her laugh and cry—both of which were so achingly honest—it had all worn away what little resistance he’d still had.

And tonight, when he’d seen her with Lucien, watched them dance and heard the shadows whispering to him the offers the spoiled little lordling had made her, Azriel had felt a heat, unfamiliar and dangerous, blooming in his chest.

It was anger, first and foremost, anger towards the cauldron for granting an unworthy vulpine like Lucien Vanserra Elain as a mate. It was also jealousy, the same he’d felt towards Cassian when he’d bedded the female he loved. It was the white-hot pain at the realization that just as it had been with Mor, it could’ve been him that Elain had chosen, but wasn't.

More than anything, though, it was desire. He wanted Elain, had wanted her for a long time, and as he'd listened to his newly-revived heart pounding hot blood into his ears, he’d been nearly overcome with the need to have her, mind, body, and soul.

And when she’d come to him, when she’d left Vanserra to seek him out, he'd snapped. He’d spent centuries honing his control, teaching himself patience and restraint, and she’d shattered it all in a single evening.

He could still feel the soft material of her gown under his fingertips, and the press of her gorgeous breasts against his chest. And when she’d touched his wings, Cauldron damn him, he’d been ready to push up her skirts and fuck her in the hall, he’d been so blinded by want.

But had only taken two syllables from her to bring it all down, and in point of fact, it had been perhaps the only word capable of breaking the fugue her touch and taste had thrown him into.

Lucien.

And the way she said it, the desperation and need in it, it had broken Azriel. He felt all of it—everything he’d spent centuries holding at bay—crash into him all at once.

Whatever slow, slouching agony Azriel had endured over Mor, whatever lessons he thought it might have taught him about managing disappointment, hearing Elain say another male’s name while she was in his arms had been so much  worse. At least with Mor, he’d never allowed himself to touch her, or to fully acknowledge just how badly he wanted her to return his affections, however pathetic and unrequited. That last little distance—that barest stretch of dignity he’d retained by not seeking her out—had been his salvation through centuries of wanting.

But with Elain…

He’d ceded the majority of hope he’d ever had of not wanting her for the rest of eternity when he’d let her touch his wings that night in his bedroom, and he’d yielded the rest when he’d kissed her tonight and let himself fully imagine what it would be like to be loved by her, to have her always at his side.

He let out yet another pained snarl, banging his fist on the fountain’s lip so hard that the water within shuddered in fear.

The shadows continued to roar in his ears, but even through the chaotic, cacophonous disappointment eddying his thoughts, he felt something foreign lurking at the edge of the poisonous fog that made up his mental shield, seeking permission to enter. He rolled his neck and let go of his strangling grip on the shadows, allowing the presence into the antechamber of his mind.

What the hell is going on? Rhys’s voice echoed. Mother’s tits, I can feel you seething from here.

Azriel clenched his jaw but didn’t reply. He couldn’t bare to voice what had happened, even knowing Rhys of all people would understand.

Talk  Rhys commanded. What’s going on? Is Elain alright?

"She’s—beautiful, brave, in love with another male—she’s fine."

And you?

“You know me.”

Yes, I do. That’s why I’m asking.

Azriel felt the prescense in his mind rallying its strength, seeking to gain further entry.

“Get out my head,” he snarled, snapping at a tendril of Rhys’s power with a barbed one of his own.

Then tell me what’s going on with you! I can feel your distress from Velaris!

“I’m not distressed.”

Unhinged, then. Seriously, I—

"Can you never mind your own damn business?”

Azriel felt Rhys’s energy change, felt it sharpen and grow dark.

I’m still your High Lord. Tell me what’s going on or I swear to The Mother Az, I will unleash Nesta Archeron on you. Or maybe I’ll have Cassian kick your ass, I haven’t decided.

"Go ahead,” Azriel snarled quietly.

He could take Cassian and they both knew it. Besides, a few broken ribs would be a welcome distraction from the evening so far. Anything to numb the memory of Elain's hands sliding through his hair, down his chest...

Is it Vanserra? Has he—done something? Said something to you or Elain?

"He’s a child; I can handle him."

Yes, but does he need handling?

"It’s nothing,” Azriel replied, clenching and unclenching his left fist. He needed to hit something. Or better yet, someone.

Fine, Rhys snapped. But I want you back in Velaris in three days, or I will send Feyre and Nesta to sort whatever this is out.

“We leave for the mortal lands tomorrow. Depending on what happens with the boy, we could be back in Velaris by sundown.”

I will hold you to that, then.

“Fine,” Azriel said. “We’ll speak when I return.”

There was silence on the other end of the sinuous connection, but Azriel could feel Rhys’s presence linger.

Az, are you sure you’re alright?

“I said I was fine.”

Is this about you and Elain?

Azriel’s throat ached with the effort of keeping his voice even.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You don’t have to lie to me, brother. I see the way y—

Azriel snapped down his shields without so much as a goodbye, feeling with grim satisfaction as Rhys’s voice was smothered by the dark fog.

He stood alone in the darkness for several more minutes, fighting to force his pain back into the icy chest he’d kept it in all these years.

Some sick, tortured part of him yearned to go to Elain even now, to hear what she’d been about to say when he’d disappeared. She’d kissed him back, after all, and the way she’d touched his wings with such careful intent and writhed against him…

No, he wouldn’t. She’d made it clear enough where her heart lay. He wouldn’t burden her with the odious task of formally rejecting him, and he couldn’t trust his fractured composure not to betray him. No, he would stay here until he could master himself, even if it took all night. He had no choice but to face her when they left the following morning, but he promised himself that by then, he would be in control again. He didn’t have a choice: their mission was far from complete, and the journey would only get more difficult from here.

He forced all the tension, all the frustration and pain, from his shoulders and back, down his arms and stomach until the power of it was concentrated in his scarred hands, his favourite reminder of just how unworthy he’d always been, always would be. He snarled, and he felt the lip of the fountain strain beneath his grip, a thin tracery of  cracks spidering through the marble.

The violence of it made him feel—if not better—at least less manic, and he let out a shuddering breath, head hanging low enough that he felt his shoulder blades touching, his wings forming a dark mandorla behind him that shielded him from prying eyes. Tamlin's sentries where still trying to sniff him out, the shadows warned him. Azriel let himself fade deeper into darkness. If someone were to pick a fight with him now, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back from tearing them apart, and he didn’t relish in the prospect of igniting a war with Spring over something so petty and selfish.

He tensed when he felt a shadowy presence appear behind him, but he forced himself to relax as Nuala approached. She stopped a measured distance away, waiting calmly for him to speak.

“Report,” he said, forcing his voice flat.

“Three sentinels were dispatched to find you, but they have been misdirected. The Lady Elain is in her room, and Cerridwen is with her.”

She paused, and he knew what she was hesitant to say.

“And the Autumn lordling?” he asked for her.

“Still at the festivity. Though he’s begun to make inquiries after her. Would you like me to…keep him distracted?”

Azriel clenched and unclenched his fist, tempted—so bloody tempted—to say yes. Because he’d seen the way Lucien had been looking at Elain, heard the subtle offer he’d made her. Not that Azriel could blame the spoiled prick for wanting Elain. She was his mate, after all, and she was so unbearably beautiful—the most beautiful female Azriel had ever seen. Even now, he could feel his own desire for her roiling like poison in his gut.

“No,” he bit out after a beat. “Just…keep an eye on him, and tell me where he goes.”

Nuala paused again. She’d been in his service enough to know his moods, and she must sense how black it was at present, how snarled and jagged the usually polished edges of his demeanor had grown.

“And if he should come to My Lady’s room?” she asked finally.

Azriel felt a surge of fetid emotion swell at the thought of Lucien’s hands on Elain, his lips on her bare skin…

“If she wishes to invite him in, that is her choice. I am her companion, not her keeper.”

He felt Nuala’s consideration as she debated commenting. He prayed she wouldn’t. He knew he’d trained her too well and that she’d seen too much of what had passed between him and Elain not to know the score by now, but he couldn’t bear the humiliation of all of it being dragged into the open.

“And you?” she said at length.

He felt more than heard as she chanced a small step forward. Not close enough to touch him, but enough that he could feel her shadows, cool and nimble, twining with his.

His own surged at the quiet caress, rising to whisper her silent invitation in her ear.

Ask her to your bed. She will not refuse. She will be attentive, she will—

Azriel turned, forcing himself to meet Nuala’s obsidian eyes. It would not be the first time he’d bedded her, but this was different. He could sense her offer, though sincere, was perfunctory, not born of any real desire for him. He wouldn’t be so selfish as to use her sense of duty against her. She was a loyal lieutenant, and she deserved better than to be a stand-in or a warm body. Besides, even if he hadn’t respected her as much as he did, he doubted bedding another female could lessen the pain of wanting Elain.

“I’ve heard the scouts report of trouble along the Northeastern border,” he said in answer. “I want to find out more before we leave. If Beron Vanserra is up to something, I would know what it is before we leave here.”

She nodded, stepping back dutifully.

“Of course,” she said, giving a small bow. “I will stay here.”

He nodded too, wishing he could find a way to express his gratitude to her without losing his grip on the reigns of the weak bit he’d managed to wrestle between his pain’s sharp, stubborn teeth.

“Thank you, Nuala,” he managed, and she inclined her head again.

“Anything, my lord.”

He bristled at the title, an ill-fitting moniker only the wraiths ever forced on him, despite centuries of protestation. Unable to find the strength to fight her on it tonight, he unfurled his wings in tacit farewell, offering her only the barest nod before exploding into the night with a leathery boom.

Azriel stayed awake until dawn, flying unseen over the territory, all the way to the outskirts of the Autumnal border. There he listened to the scout’s reports of what they’d seen, of the few Autumn spies they’d caught lurking to close to the demarcation line between their two terrorities. None of them seemed to know what they wanted, even Tamlin, who showed up to receive reports of his own just before daybreak. Lucien, Azriel noted, was not with him, and Azriel tried to assure himself it was because he was no longer Tamlin’s emissary, and that despite their professed friendship, he was no longer privy to Tamlin’s secrets. It was a desperate hope, but Azriel clung to it, not able to bear the alternative. He’d heard nothing from Nuala after he’d left her, but she seemed to understand the situation well enough that she likely would have withheld any information she knew would hurt him, unless it compromised Elain’s safety.

Azriel arrived back to his room in the early hours of morning, feeling weary to his very bones. He’d expected to have a better grip on his emotions by now, but he still felt hollowed out and raw. A few more days, he reassured himself. It was only a few more days, and when he got back to Velaris, he’d beg Rhys for something—anything—to take him out of the city and away from Elain and Lucien for a time. He hoped the distance might lend him perspective, and peace, and that when he returned, he and Elain could go back to the friendship they’d shared before all this, just as he and Mor had done so many centuries ago.

It was the prospect of losing that, he realized, that scared him more than having to watch her mate another male. He wanted Elain, yes, he likely always would, but it was her spirit—her soul—he loved best about her, and it would be worth any other pain to be allowed to keep spending time with her as they’d done in the months after Hybern’s defeat. He only prayed now that she would accept it, and that as her mate, Lucien would find the restraint to bear it.

Once in his room, he practically tore the fine velvet jacket he still wore in his haste to get the garment off. It still smelled faintly of Elain, he realized, and the scent had been quietly driving him to madness all evening, even as he struggled to get her out of his thoughts. He tried not to breathe in as he wrestled the monstrosity over his head, but he couldn’t escape the whisper of rose and magnolia that brushed against his senses. Even now, even after everything that had happened, he could feel his body react to the smell, to the memory of her soft body undulating against—

He growled, ripping off his boots and hurling one at the wall hard enough to crack some of the gilded moulding. Satisfied, he prowled into the bathing room, filling the tub with scalding hot water and generous amounts of eucalyptus to cool his sizzling nerves. He still didn’t feel entirely in control of himself, and he feared what would happen if he faced Elain with anything other than full restraint.

He felt his shadows rise in a flare, whispering to him as he settled into the bath.

The lordling did not visit her during the night, but he is with her now. They are sharing a private meal. She is calmed by his presence.

Azriel considered this before pushing the shadows outward, letting them slip from beneath the door and slither across the hall, until they could hear what was being said in the room beyond.

“You retired early last night,” Lucien commented. His tone was light, carefully observational, but the shadows could sense the underlying desperation in the question.

He suspects, they whispered to Azriel. He fears that Elain sought you out. He wishes to reassure himself.

“I’m sorry,” Elain said in response to Lucien’s unspoken question. “It’s been a trying few weeks, and I just wanted to be well-rested for our journey.”

Lucien remained silent as he considered. The shadows noted his elevated pulse, the way he seemed to fight to keep him muscles relaxed.

“I hope it isn’t because of what I said,” he finally managed. “I would never want you to feel as if I expect…“

He trailed off, and the shadows drank in the younger male’s quiet desperation.

“I don’t,” Elain assured him, and there was a soft affection in her tone. Azriel knew she could sense Lucien’s distress as well, and it wasn’t in her nature to allow someone to flounder in their own pain, particularly not someone with whom she shared such a holy bond. “I am flattered you find me so...“

She trailed off, and the shadow noted as Lucien’s heart rate continued to climb.

“I do,” Lucien said in a soft, intent voice. “More than any other female I’ve ever met. Elain—“

Azriel let out a pained snarl, withdrawing his shadows to avoid hearing any more. He watched as they bled into the water of the bath instead, leeching the it’s warmth and mirror-bright reflection until the water was obsidian and bitterly cold. Azriel forced himself to remain for several minutes, letting the chill center him. Only when he felt his muscles begin to go numb from cold did he let himself get out, dressing with brutal Illyrian efficiency. Even still, he felt his fingers trembling slightly as he attached Truth-teller to his leg. He flexed his hands several times in an effort to dispel their shaking.

He could do this. He’d faced far worse than this in his life, and he wasn’t seventeen anymore. Rolling his shoulders and letting his wings flex in agitation, he finally tucked them to his back, feeling better as he slid his sword home into the sheath along his spine. He was free from the insidious restraints of court, he reminded himself, and it made him feel a fraction less manic. An hour, tops, and he would be free of this place and the mess he’d made for himself here. If he was lucky, it would be a hundred years before he was forced to return here, if not longer.

Touching Truth-teller’s hilt to steel his nerve, he crossed the hall and knocked on Elain’s door.

“Who is it?” Lucien called, and Azriel grit his teeth in irritation.

He debated a sharp retort, the same kind Vanserra himself would have given were their positions reversed. Instead he merely admitted himself, closing the door behind him with a soft snick.

He forced his eyes to pass over Elain in an assessing arc, as if merely insuring she was safe and suitably outfitted for travel. In reality, seeing her, having her scent wash over him, was the most exquisite agony, a twisting of the knife the previous evening have jammed into his gut.

Elain was dressed in a simple gown in midnight blue, which set off her creamy ivory skin and made her brown eyes seem almost gold. Someone—likely Cerridwen—had plaited her hair down her back, and even now, Azriel had to fight down the urge to run the silken rope of its length through his fingers. He settled for flexing them instead, letting his expression grow harder as he turned to Lucien.

“Alright, let’s hear this plan of yours.”

Lucien had—to Azriel’s furious chagrin—kept their travel route to himself for the past several weeks, insisting that its secret needed to be guarded until it was absolutely necessary to divulge it. Azriel had bristled at the enduring insult of the gesture, of the suggestion he either couldn’t or wouldn’t keep the stupid, spoiled lordling’s secrets if asked.

Lucien crossed his arms.

“We winnow to the coast, and take a ship to the continent from there.”

“A ship?” Azriel repeated incredulously.

“A clever invention to safely transport one across a body of water,”  Lucien replied in a glib tone, giving Elain a small wink that had Azriel seeing red. “Have you truly never heard of one?”

Azriel loosed a soft growl, fighting to keep his wings from unfurling to express the full measure of his agitation. It was Illyrian instinct to show one’s wings when challenged, and the urge was especially strong when a contested female was present. He’d already slipped up and done it once in front of Vanserra. He couldn’t afford a second time. Besides, he reminded himself, there would be no more contesting for Elain’s favor from his end.

“We don’t have time for your childish games, Vanserra,” he warned in a quiet, deadly voice. “It’s more than a week to the kingdom by sea, and we’ll be vulnerable to attack.”

“Attack from whom, Shadowsinger? No one knows where we’re going.”

“Tamlin knows,” Azriel shot back coolly. “That’s more than enough threat for me.”

Lucien bristled at the insult to his friend, and Azriel felt his fury growing. How Vanserra could stand there, after everything Tamlin had put Azriel’s family through—put Lucien’s own mate through—and still defend the prick, Azriel would never understand.

“The kingdom’s borders are warded,” Lucien said prudently instead. "Vassa’s guards have orders to shoot anyone who tampers with them on sight.”

“Leave that to me,” Azriel said. “I can get through a few wards.”

“And if you do?” Lucien said. “How will you explain our presence at court if we simply appear out of thin air?”

“Perhaps if I’d known this was your plan three weeks ago, I would have an answer to that question.”

“Spare me. You couldn’t even—“ Lucien began, but Elain cut him off.

“Please, let’s not fight,” she said, worrying a pair of soft riding gloves in her hands. “Azriel, if Lucien says this is the best way, I think we ought to trust him.”

Azriel felt the knife sinking in just that much deeper, and he had to keep himself from flinching at her words, and the realization that lay behind them. It was Lucien she trusted, Lucien she’d chosen to follow.

“Az,” she said, and he stiffened at the gentleness of her tone, and the intimacy in evoking a diminutive he’d only allowed a handful of people to ever use. “Please.”

He couldn’t help it; he glanced up at her, and the look she was giving him was enough to make him regret it. Her expression was a bare echo of the pained one she’d given him the previous evening, after things had gone so terribly wrong between them. Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to undermine her decision by refusing to honor it, and anyways, he wasn’t sure he could resist attacking Vanserra if they kept arguing.

“Fine,” he said, needing to get out of this room, out of this damn territory. “But if something should go awry, Vanserra, know that it’ll be on your head.”

Lucien rolled his eyes like the petulant child he still seemed to Azriel, and he had to fight not to spring at the other male. He flexed his left hand to keep it from straying to Truth-teller’s hilt.

“Make your preparations, then,” Azriel said. “We’ll leave at nine bells.”

Lucien bristled at the command in Azriel’s tone, but he ignored the younger male, letting his eyes pass over Elain and hoping she couldn’t see all the things he was still longing to say. 

With a bare nod to her, he left the room, crossing into his own and making for a small table in the back arranged with a number of ornate liquor bottles. Not bothering with one of the crystal glasses, Azriel unstoppered one and took a long, bitter swig. It burned going down, but he ignored the cloying taste, taking another sizable draught, then another.

“Is that wise, My Lord?” a soft voice echoed. “You have a long journey ahead of you.”

Azriel didn’t turn, but he did set down the bottle he was holding, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. He hadn’t eaten since dinner the night before, and his empty stomach rioted in protest at the liquor now heaving in his belly.

“Not now, Nuala. Please.”

“I would not see you make yourself sick, My Lord.”

Azriel grit his teeth, even as his stomach continued to roil.

“If I wanted a lecture,” he said. “I would have brought Morrigan.”

She didn’t reply to this, and Azriel knew her training was telling her she’d said what she needed to.

“I need you to go back to Velaris,” he said. “The plan has changed, and Rhys needs to be informed.”

“My Lord—“ she began, but he turned, holding up a hand.

“It’s not a dismissal, Nuala,” he assured her. “But I don’t have a way to reach The High Lord, and I gave him my word that I’d be back in Velaris by last light.”

It wasn’t strictly true, he could drop his mental shields and call out, but he was still having some difficulty keeping his shadows on a leash, and he didn’t want Rhys to know, though he likely already suspected.

“You could send Cerridwen,” she pointed out.

“I could,” he agreed. “But I am sending you. Can I trust you to follow my orders?”

She nodded, and he felt a whisper of her darkness brush against his in a gesture of silent comfort.

“Thank you,” he said, and she nodded again, already blurring into shadow.

Azriel let out a long breath when she was gone, resisting the urge to take another swallow from the bottle. Nuala was right, it was a long journey, and he wasn’t Cassian; he knew better try and drown his problems in liquor. In the end, they never died, only resurfaced gorged on drink.

Retreating into the bathing room, he washed out his mouth instead, splashing cold water on his face and neck.

The High Lord waits in the Receiving Hall. Your presence is expected. The guard has been doubled, and they grow restless.

Steeling himself, Azriel strode from the room, trying to ignore the faint lingering scent from the night Elain had healed his wings. Without even fully realizing it, he’d been preserving it, not allowing it to fade. It had been a foolish decision, especially as it tortured him one final time, but he couldn’t help clinging to it, nor could he deny that with the exception of the night before, her familiar aroma had helped him sleep better than he had in decades. Centuries, even.

Letting the door slam shut behind him, he swiftly made his way down to the Receiving Hall, where Elain, Lucien, Tamlin, and—indeed—a small army of guards awaited.

“I’m not accustomed to being made to wait, Shadowsinger,” Tamlin said in greeting, and Azriel only clenched his jaw in response. He was so close to freedom, there didn’t seem much point in souring it by punching the smarmy bastard in the face.

There was a beat of charged silence before Lucien stepped from Elain’s side, extending a hand to his friend. Tamlin accepted the gesture, and the two males gripped one another at the elbow before embracing.

“See you soon, Tam,” Lucien assured him, pulling away. Tamlin didn’t reply, but his expression was warmer than usual, and when his eyes fell on Elain, he held out a hand for hers.

Elain hesitated so briefly Azriel was sure that only he and the shadows noticed before slipping her gloved hand into his. Tamlin pressed a courtly kiss onto the supple suede sheathing her knuckles.

“It's been an honor, Elain Archeron,” he said in a flat, cordial tone. “And I was right in my predictions. Despite your…” he glanced up at Lucien. “...situation, I have been inundated with requests for your hand in marriage, Princess of Thorns or no.”

Lucien let out a low snarl Azriel himself only barely managed to keep back.

“Tell me the hands,” Lucien said, tone acerbic. “So I can cut them off.”

Tamlin gave a light laugh, and Elain used the opportunity to retract her hand and retreat back to Lucien’s side.

“Don’t worry, Lucien,” he chided, the bitterness edging back into his tone as he watched his friend press a reassuring hand to Elain’s back. “It seems you have little to fear where your mate is concerned.”

Elain flushed scarlet, and Azriel felt his own temper straining at the leash. He knew that Elain already felt enough pressure to fulfill expectations and mate Lucien. It made Azriel’s blood boil to see her goaded about it. Or perhaps that was simply his jealousy rearing its ugly head at the prospect of Elain becoming another male’s bride. No, not another male, he reminded herself. Her match, Cauldron-divined and Mother-blessed.

It was here, while Azriel was still fighting to keep his expression blank, that Tamlin’s eyes slid to him and went cold.

"Tell your High Lord that I expect an invitation to his fabled city of stars. I think after this visit I’m owed the same plunder of secrets that my territory just endured from you.”

Azriel felt his ire bend to near breaking. The shadows told him he was on dangerous ground, furiously noted the rising heartbeats of the soldiers around him. He crossed his arms to keep from going for Truth-teller, and his back was screaming with the effort of keeping his wings tucked in behind him.

"The next time he leaves my High Lady’s bed for more than an hour,” he spat quietly. "I will be sure to let him know."

Tamlin unsheathed his claws and snarled, and Azriel felt his siphons flaring, all the pain and frustration of the previous evening sizzling under his skin, trying to fight free.

“How dare you,” Tamlin seethed, and Azriel only bared his teeth, wings tearing open in obvious challenge.

He would apologize to Rhys later, he thought as he felt the sentries moving in on him. As long as he didn’t kill anyone, he doubted Tamlin would have the balls to go to war over this.

“If I may,” Elain interjected breathlessly, sliding from Lucien’s side until she was in Tamlin’s line of sight, blocking his view of Azriel. Azriel’s agitation grew at seeing the female he loved so close to those lethal claws. “The Shadowsinger doesn’t speak for Rhysand or my sister. If it’s an invitation you’ve been waiting for, then perhaps you’d accept one from me on their behalf. Come for the Winter Solstice and dine as a guest of honour at the High Lord and Lady’s table. I think you’ve find they are both eager to mend the hurt between your two households.”

Tamlin considered Elain, chest still heaving, but something in her expression must have assuaged him, because after a second his claws retracted. Or perhaps it was simply her loveliness that had turned him. It was no exaggeration that she had a face designed to bring males to their knees, a face so exquisite in its rendering that the Cauldron itself had fallen in love with her, besotted enough to give her a gift It granted few others.

“You’ve taught her well, Lucien,” Tamlin said after a breath, still drinking Elain in. Azriel could sense her revulsion, but it didn’t show on her face as she continued to hold the High Lord’s gaze. "I accept your invitation, Lady. And you,” He turned back to Azriel, who let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding since Elain jumped in Tamlin’s path. "If you ever step foot in my territory again, your life will be forfeit. That’s a promise.”

Azriel, feeling at the end of his rope, simply wrapped himself in shadow and vanished, trying to calm himself down, cool the burning in his chest that had ignited the minute he’d heard Elain leave the party to come after him. He winnowed to the first checkpoint he and Lucien had agreed on, flexing and unflexing his fighting hand as he paced.

At the sound of a small pop he turned, sneering at Lucien as he advanced.

"What the hell is wrong with you?” Lucien said, shoving Azriel and nearly unraveling his tenuous control.

“Don’t touch me,” Azriel seethed, itching to teach this stupid, arrogant, unworthy welp the same lesson he’d been itching to teach the High Lord.

"Whatever it is you’re sulking about Illyrian, I suggest you get over it."

Azriel bared his teeth, wishing Cassian was there to knock the prick on his ass.

"I don’t sulk,” he snarled quietly.

Lucien gave a bitter laugh, ignoring Elain’s fretful glance darting between the two males.

"What’s wrong?” he jeered, making Azriel see red. "One of your wraiths refuse to suck your—"

Azriel flexed his power the same way one might a muscle, and his siphons flared, a Quarterstaff of blue admanant appearing in his left hand. He twirled it deftly as he used his right had to block a burst of autumnal fire before swinging it with blinding speed, knocking the spoiled lordling to the ground. Quick as an asp, he’d halved the staff into two wicked batons, turning to square off with Vanserra where he now stood, blade drawn.

“Stop!” Elain cried, breaking the blinding rage Azriel had slipped into. He could see the batons’ azure glow reflected in her eyes, and he let the power slip until they disappeared. “Lucien’s right,” she continued, gaze harder than usual. “That’s enough.”

Lucien was still snarling as he pulled her away from Azriel, as if to protect her. And she—Azriel felt the vice in his chest tighten. She let him, let him sweep her behind him.

Because he was her mate. Because they’d been made—designed—to protect one another from outside threats, just as they were doing now. And Azriel—he was that threat. He’d often felt uncomfortable in his own skin, especially with his scars, but he’d never felt so monstrous as he did watching Elain avoid his gaze from behind Lucien’s shoulder.

“Let’s go,” Lucien said, turning his back to Azriel and igniting Azriel’s savage Illyrian instinct to drive Truth-Teller between the bastard's eleventh and twelfth vertabrae, piercing his heart and severing his spine in one deft move.

Azriel felt another wave of acrid jealousy course through him as Lucien smoothed the tail of Elain’s braid between his thumb and forefinger, and in an instant he had his wings unfurled, flexing them wide before leaping into the air.

“Wait!” Elain cried, her hair whipping in the gust he’d created. “Where are you going?”

Away from you. Away from your scent, your smile, that pleading look in your—

“To scout ahead,” he said flatly. “I will meet you at the harbor no later than midday."

“Stay out of sight,” Lucien warned. “We’re close enough to the coast that Tamlin could claim plausible deniability if he had one of his sentries shoot you out of the sky."

Azriel bared his pearly teeth in a snarl.

“Let him try,” he said before shooting through the cloud bank and out of sight.

It was colder the higher he climbed, but he found the farther he got from Lucien and Elain, the easier it was to breathe. He let the chill soak into his skin, his hair, willing it to cool his blood. He could do this, he’d done it before, for almost five hundred years. That was different, though. So, so, different.

With Mor, he’d been little older than a child, unsure of himself and unable to control his desperate emotions. Besides, he’d been given a small reprieve from his pining for her when, sometime during Rhys’s exile Under the Mountain, Mor had come home one evening smelling of wine, sweat, and female desire and dropped, drunk, into Azriel’s bed.

At first he’d thought it was her own, and the realization that she’d come from another male’s bed had nearly undone him. However, as he’d lain there, trying not to breathe her in, he realized that while there was a foreign scent of desire clinging to her, it too was female. It was in that moment that the shadows whispered to him the secret he’d somehow never been able to see.

She’s taken a female lover, not her first. She is perhaps falling in love, and comes to you because she trusts you, thinks you a safe harbor.

It didn’t lessen the sense of unworthiness he’d always felt where Mor was concerned, the feeling too deeply ingrained to be erased in a single evening, but it was at least a small reprieve. It had still been painful to learn she’d bedded the Lord of Day during the war, but he also knew Mor well enough by then to understand why she’d done it. He was still waiting to hear it all from her, but knowing that it wasn’t Cassian she’d chosen, but freedom from her future, had been a balm.

But what he’d done last night…

With Mor, it had been misguided infatuation, and one that she’d always been careful not to encourage. With Elain, he could no longer deny that he was catastrophically in love with her, and it was a feeling he knew not even eternity would ever diminish.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on the boom of his wings and the howl of the wind to calm himself. He’d been foolish to think he could ever go back to being her friend, and the realization rocked him so thoroughly he nearly lost his balance and tumbled from the sky like a felled bird. He’d ruined the best and most perfect thing that had ever been his when he’d crossed that line between them last night and taken advantage in a way she perhaps hadn’t even understood. He didn’t deserve her or her friendship, and he could no longer be around her, would have to do everything in his power to keep her away.

He was spent by the time he reached the coast and spotted the small schooner docked and waiting for them. It was crewed by mortals, he realized, all of whom bore Vassa’s crest. They all shrank back as Azriel landed on the deck, but he ignored them, grateful at least that to hear that Elain was taking a nap below. It meant that she was safe, and that he would be spared the agony of having to face her for at least a few more hours.

Giving the deck a final assessing sweep, he made to take back to the skies. If he stayed away long enough, she would be asleep again when he returned.

So he flew aimlessly back and forth up the coast, half-heartedly checking for threats and making sure to give the wards at the mortal shores a wide berth. Lucien had been right when he said they were well-protected, though Azriel would never admit as much  aloud. It needled at Azriel, another reminder of his failure to infiltrate the other queen’s courts during the war, a failure which had cost them 78 lives in the attack on Velaris. As he ruminated on his own shortcomings, and the fact Lucien had not only managed what he couldn't, but that his alliance with Vassa and Elain’s father had likely helped turn the tide during the final battle, he felt himself fraying at the seams. It was no wonder Elain preferred him, mate or no. He’d done what Azriel could not; he’d saved them.

It was dark by the time he arrived back on the ship’s deck, back aching from so many hours in flight. He ought to rest, he could feel the lack of sleep tugging at him. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to go below decks. On top of everything, he realized he was eager to get back to the Night Court lands, and being under the stars, dim though they were in this part of the country, helped ease some of his distress.

As he stood, eyes closed as the night breeze rustled his hair, he felt his shadows rise, hearing their whispered warning a moment too late.

“We thought perhaps you weren’t coming back.”

Azriel fought not to tense as Elain’s sweet earthen scent washed over him. It was the most exquisite agony to be this close to her again, especially in a darkness so like the one they’d held each other in last night. Unsure of what to say, he didn’t reply, nor did he look at her as Elain swept forward to stand beside him. Her hair was unbound, and he felt it’s phantom brush on his arm, even through his leathers.

“So is this your plan?” she said softly.  “To simply never speak to me again?”

He clenched his jaw, fighting the tightening in his throat again.

“What would you have me say?” he finally managed, his voice a hoarse croak. “Tell me, and I will."

She gripped the rail so tight he could see her knuckles through her ivory skin. Gone were the tears from last night. He could tell from her hammering pulse she was angry, perhaps angrier than he’d ever seen her.

"Tell me the truth,” she said, grabbing his arm so he was forced to look at her. “Tell me what you feel for me."

Azriel’s jaw ached from the effort of keeping the truth from tumbling out.

I love you. I will love you to the end of darkness itself.

"You have my loyalty and my respect,” he said finally. "You know that."

She gave a whine of frustration, eyes growing glassy.

"That’s not what I want from you!"

“What do you want, then?” he breathed in muted pain, wishing he had the strength to brush the tear that escaped down her cheek without pulling her into his arms and never letting go.

"Your honesty!” she snarled. "You say that we are friends, but this—“ she gestured to the space between then. “This is not friendship. And neither was what happened last night. So tell me the truth, Azriel: what is it you feel for me?"

"I respect—

"You’ve already said that! That’s not what I’m asking, and you know it!”

He was choking, drowning in the ocean of snarling, foaming, broken nothing that lay between them. The distance, which had been merely an unbridgeable canal between them before last night, was now on treacherous sea not even the stupidest soul would dare cross.

“Elain, I—I’m sorry."

She stamped her foot, more tears falling.

“Damn your sorry!"

"What is it you want from me, then, if not an apology?” he begged, panicking at the realization that she would not stop until she’d wrenched the truth from him, and his last bit of dignity with it.

"The truth!” she repeated, voice a touch pleading now. “Why did you kiss me the way you did? Why did you kiss me at all? Please, Azriel, help me to understand!"

“I—“ he began, nearly gagging on the three words he was dying to say to her. He made the mistake of glancing down at her devastating beauty, at the heart-rending warmth in her eyes. If he told her, she would try and forgive him for it, tell him it didn’t matter, and he couldn’t bear it.

Better she think him a cad than a heartsick pup. Better she hate him than pity him.

The hideous lie burned on his tongue, but he forced it out.

"You are a very desirable female, and I…I am not blind.”

She recoiled, and the horror on her face, the humiliation and pain, drove the knife home, cleaving his very being in two.

“You don’t mean that,” she breathed, bringing a hand to her chest as fresh tears welled.

“Elain,” he began, and he could see the barest glimmer of hope in her eyes that the male she’d admired, her friend, was still there. Azriel wanted to be that male for her, but he just…couldn’t. Couldn’t find the strength to spare her this pain by offering her the ugliest and most broken of all his truths: the female he loved did not—could not—love him back. “I’m sor—“

His neck snapped to the side as she hit him with all her fae strength, and his cheek burned from the pain of it. Still, he made no move to stop her as she drew her hand back and slapped him again.

“Elain—“ he pleaded, sense flooding in to drown his own selfish pain and urge him to set things right. To tell her the truth, no matter what it cost him.

It was too late. She hit him a third time, the force of it hard enough to break the skin. When he forced himself to look back at her, her face was a mess of tears, but as he instinctually reached for her, she backed away, the horror and sadness replaced with a scalding emnity that burnt him to cinders.

“You have no honor,” she snarled through strangled sobs. “And you are not the male I thought you were.”

“Elain—“

“I hate you,” she seethed, wiping at her eyes as she retreated into the darkness. “Never speak to me again.”

                  Previous Chapter                            Next Chapter

[where-ls-my-mlnd]

“Okay, okay. I’ll do it.” These words sound like music to my ears more than the fast, lively, pulsating beat blasting from the speakers does, and an excited squeal jumps out of me as he slips out of my grasp and steps to the side. Fuck yeah man, this is your moment... you better make this dancefloor your bitch! The spotlight is on you, what are you gonna do? What kind of wild shit are you gonna pull? What kind of moves are you gonna bust— Oh… Oh my GOD, I’M GONNA LOSE MY SHIT… Jesus, fuck, god, what is that?! He’s not busting any moves, not even close; in fact, I fear I’m gonna bust my ass ‘cause I’m having trouble standing watching this unfold. I want to look away, but my attention has already been captured with such force that I can’t look away. It’s so bad! I don’t even know why, either, it’s just, like, his movements, man… his movements are so deeply unnatural and his posture is so stiff, and yet there’s something endearing about his awkward little jig, something familiar that triggers extremely unpleasant memories, and they play in my head as I realize I’m witnessing once again the awkward and unsure physicality of a teenage boy. It all fucking clicks now. The way his skinny little shoulders shimmy, the way he bops his head, the way his eyes dart across the room. He looks so goddamn self-conscious because he could never be anything but at this age. It’s a curse that will only break with time. Yet this newfound revelation does nothing to stop me erupting into laughter, the sound ringing out bright and full and with an edge of tipsiness to it as I clutch my stomach, fumbling desperately for purchase so my knees won’t give out the way I’m scared they will. “Whatcha laughing at, man?” He asks, like a little shit, “What’s so funny?” Everything. Everything’s fucking funny. His taunting has the exact effect he wanted it to; my laughter is fucking uncontrollable now, and I try to take these huge gasps for air, but each time I get enough of it back in my lungs, I just start laughing again. Every brief pause is immediately followed by a loud burst of laughter —I physically can’t stop laughing, but because I’m fucking unhinged and crazy like that, I still try to talk to him through the fit I’m having. “J… J, fuck, oh my god, oh my fucking god, J…” I force out, “You fucking - you look like the inflatable tube man! Holy shit! You look like the fucking inflatable tube man! Oh my god!” His only response is to raise both middle fingers in the air. “What are you gonna do when I appear?” He demands to know as he performs his weird little dance for me, and that, combined with the fact that he just quoted Azealia Banks, sends me catapulting off the fucking edge. It’s like dominoes falling into place; I lean forward a little too far and then next thing I know I’m abruptly toppling over. Curiously, the hard, unforgiving collision with the floor never comes, and I’m overpowered by confusion and a little bit of shock that I’m still upright before realizing that the only reason I don’t crash down to the fucking floor is because I fall into J, because he’s using all of his strength to hold me up since I can’t stand on my own. “Oh, J, you kill me… you’re such a fucking bitch… ” I slur out in between intervals of laughter, leaning heavily on him for balance because my legs - god, my fucking legs feel like… like jello or something worthless and gelatinous of the sort. Like they’re well and truly boneless. My body is permanently slanted at this point, and my head lolls back on his shoulder as I say, hysterical, “Please, my stomach hurts…” And I really shouldn’t have said that, because what happens inside of my body after I do is downright ungodly. It’s like I just laid a curse on myself, or maybe I already did that when I downed four — no, what, huh? Was it five? Six? Holy fuck it was six — shots. Because there it is, that suffocating hot flash, like the hands of the devil gripping the back of my neck, and a feeling of cosmic dread washes over me. Oh no. Through the overwhelming heat spreading over my body and my heart beginning to flutter hard against my chest, I try my best to stay calm, to hold out hope that that’s all it is, a hot flash, but that hope is quickly followed by disappointment — the unsettling beginning stage has slammed to a halt and now I’m fully queasy, floaty in the worst way, like I’m barely grounded in the physical realm. My knees are weak and the rest of my body is pulsating with a strong, constant nausea. Fuck, I’m so nauseous it actually hurts. Everything fucking hurts so fucking bad and I just want to lay down and die. But, as horrendous as the feeling I’ve got is, it’s still not so urgent that I genuinely fear something might happen. It’s not until I feel those awful pangs in my side, and the involuntary way my stomach clenches that I have the terrifying initial thought that I may vomit. I may vomit, oh my god… I really don’t want to, but jesus I don’t know how long I can try to ignore this swirling, sickening nausea. It’s so bad, but I need to hold it together, so I stay frozen in place, terrified that any sudden movements will trigger a fit of vomiting. And I can’t have that… I don’t want to, I don’t want to vomit on this sweet child, so I do the best that I can to suppress the feeling, but once a sudden dizzy spell comes over me, I know this is beyond management, and I know I am beyond saving. Because my heart is racing and I feel deathly and everything in this room seems to be rotating at a horrifying pace and that always happens before I vomit, I get so dizzy… and I think god no, not here, not on poor little JJ, not in front of everyone, holy fuck god jesus please… “Oh, oh god, it really does,” the words tumble out in a rush of panic, and then I’m shoving him away from me and breaking into a mad dash across the dancefloor. It’s truly a wonder how I can even do that in this state; I lost the feeling in my legs a long time ago and I’m so shaky all over like I might— no, definitely will collapse at any moment, it makes no sense, I must be running on pure adrenaline. There’s not a single thought in my head, except for the lone, vain prayer that all the long, grueling hours I put in at the gym weren’t for nothing and that I can speed the fuck out of here as fast as humanly possible because the bright, unforgiving lights shining from up above are giving me a splitting headache and it’s so fucking stressful to try to run around these stupid fucking idiots without crashing right into them. God, I hate them all, why the fuck do they have to do this, I am dying! MOVE! I don’t even give a shit when I accidentally bump into some stereotypical Chad and cause him to stumble about five steps backwards, and when his irritating ass voice shouts, “Hey! Watch where you’re going, dick!” I just flip him off, and I don’t even have time to think about how J would laugh at that, I’m just laser-focused on getting to the bathroom. So laser-focused that I don’t even have the capacity to feel grateful when I do; I just launch myself into the first empty stall I see and let my knees give out so I can collapse onto the ground and violently spew into the toilet bowl. God, please be by my side right now...

[shy-fairy-levele3]

King of the Road ch. 5  On the Road Again

A Strange Magic Trucker AU: 

Read the whole thing HERE

Marianne’s eyelids were heavy and her lashes stuck together as if someone had glued them shut when she tried to open them. When she finally pried them apart it was to find the world had gone sideways. Her head hurt and her throat was sore.

Bog sat in a chair opposite of where she was laying, his eyes were closed and his mouth was slightly parted. The IV was still hooked up to his arm and Marianne watched the gentle trickle of the fluid disappear into his arm. Every second breath had Bog emitting a soft snore. A bit of drool made its way down the side of his stubbly chin. Marianne decides to do the decent thing and wake him up.

“You look like shit” Marianne said, her voice was hoarse.

Bog startles awake with a snort at the sound of her voice, he offers her a weak smile, and then scoffs.

“Kind of you ta say so, luv.” His voice is thick sounding and a part of Marianne wishes to hear it every morning. His tone implied Marianne must look about as good as she feels. She feels like roadkill.

“I had the strangest dream” she admitted as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

She’s thrown into a coughing fit but Bog is quick to hand her a cup of water. It is room temperature and she swallows more of it than she had meant to.  

“Oh?” he asked, eyebrows raised, interest piqued.

“Yeah, I dreamed that your mom and my dad showed up here last night-” Marianne started to giggle but stops when she sees the very serious look on Bog’s face.

She’s just about to ask him what’s wrong when a squat motherly woman comes around the corner of the dividing curtain carrying with her a deliciously scented brown bag that reeks of egg McMuffins and hash browns.  

Bog cleared his throat, “it, ah, wasnean a dream.”

Marianne wanted to roll over and pull the hospital blankets over her head and just disappear. So, Roland causing the accident wasn’t something she had dreamed up, that had actually happened. She had also met Bog’s mother in less than ideal circumstances.  

“I’m glad you’re both awake. Here eat this” Griselda demanded shoving a hash brown in Bog’s mouth and handing Marianne an egg McMuffin with sausage on it. “Are they feeding you in here? Poor thing you look starved.”  

Marianne didn’t have time to protest that she wasn’t the patient here before the woman waddled off with a “I’ll go see if I can find yer father dear.”  

Marianne had almost finished her breakfast when her father entered the room in a frantic panic.

“Marianne” he sighed in relief.

“Hey dad” Marianne smiled sheepishly as she swallowed her last bite.

The last time she’d been home they hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms, her father still begging her to give Roland another chance.  

Bog cleared his throat, “Ah’ll ah, Ah’ll just leave shall I?”  

Bog tried to stand but his knees buckled slightly.

“No, no stay” her father said, motioning him to sit back down.  

“Marianne, I’m so sorry” her father said, coming to sit by her bed.

There was a lump in Marianne’s throat that wouldn’t go away, no matter how many times she swallowed.

“How’s Roland?” she asked, both wanting, and not wanting to know the answer.

“They are bringing him out of the coma now. The doctors think there might be some brain damage.”

At Marianne’s inhale of horror her father began to placate her.

“Hopefully nothing too bad” he father amended, “some mild amnesia, but they won’t know until they fully wake him.”  

“I want to see him” Marianne said bravely, “before we leave.”

“Of course, of course” her father said, nodding in agreement.

“Bog, was it?” he asked, turning around.

“Yes sir?” Bog asked, looking up at the man, as he was still seated.

“Dawn seems quite taken with you, hasn’t stopped talking about you since Marianne brought her home from their little trip” a slight smile quirked the older man’s lips.

“Is that so?” Bog gave a slight chuckle as he remembered Marianne’s little sister and her vivacious energy.  

“Yes, a little annoying actually. Do let her down easy when you tell her you and Marianne are engaged” Mr. Faye said pointedly.

Behind him Marianne spit out her mouthful of water and began coughing, while Bog stuttered until he managed to get out a stunned “yes sir.”

The two men shook hands and Marianne’s father left them alone once more.

After a moment of stunned silence they both burst out laughing.  

“What could you have possibly done to gain my father’s approval so quickly?” Marianne asked from the bed.

Bog stood up and made his way over to join her, slipping under the sheets. The bed was really only meant for one person so Marianne had to turn on her side, their two bodies pressed close together.  

“Last night, when you went out into the hall, you left the door open. My mother’s voice woke me and I followed you out. When you fainted, I was there to catch you.” Bog pressed a kiss to her forehead.  

“Ah dornt have a ring, not yet, but will ye marry me Tough Girl?” Bog asked, his heart hammering away in his chest.

He was earnest and unsure, his hot voice soft on her ear, “Ah dornt think I can live without ye.”

The confession was so tender and true Marianne just couldn’t take it anymore. Tears sprang to her eyes and she cried openly. Bog hugged her tight to his chest where her tears wet his hospital gown. It had been a long and emotional 24 hours but after this ordeal Marianne knew that she and Bog could face whatever life had to throw at them as long as they’re together.

She nods her head against his chest.

“Yes, yes Bog I will marry you, of course!” she cried, pressing her lips to his.

They kiss long and slow until Bog begs her to stop. They are both extremely aroused but the prospect of a quickie in a hospital bed appeals to neither of them. Either of their parents could return in a moment, and it’s been a while since a nurse has checked Bog’s vitals. If he had of been hooked up to a heartrate monitor it would have been going haywire.  

***

An hour later and Marianne had been thoroughly washed and dressed in a new pair of jeans and cute button up plaid top. Bog was also clean and had been cleared for discharge, his mother had run down to the nearest Wal-Mart and had him outfitted with some blue jeans, an AC/DC logo t-shirt, and a grey flannel over shirt.  

Despite the new cuts and abrasions along his jaw and his particularly charming black eye, Marianne thought Bog looked damn sexy. If it wasn’t for the fact his arm was in a sling she’d jump him right now.

“Do ye want me to come in with you?” Bog asked as they stood outside Roland’s room together.

Marianne was so nervous about seeing him again and she didn’t know what to expect. Doctor Plum had told her that he was alert and able to receive visitors but he did seem to be suffering from some mild amnesia and maybe seeing a familiar face would help jog his memory.  

Marianne tightened her grip on Bog’s hand and that was all the answer he needed.

They entered the room together, hand in hand, a nurse in pale purple scrubs with cartoon spiders on them ushered them in.  Her name tag read Beatrice.

“Bea, oh Bea! I was so worried, you were gone so long” Roland’s southern drawl grated on Marianne’s ears.

“I was only gone a few minutes Mr. Green. Look I brought you some guest.” Beatrice said, marching right over to Roland’s bedside, making sure he was properly tucked in.

Marianne waited for the anger she had felt last night to return, but it never did. Roland looked at her with a blank expectant expression, like a child who had been told they were about to receive a present they hadn’t asked for. Looking at him, laying in the hospital bed, face all cut up, and his golden hair shaved off, all Marianne felt was pity.

Some awful part of her thought Roland might have tried to play a trick on them, that he might try to convince her he believed they were still engaged, as a way to try and win Marianne back. That was something the old Roland would have tried to do.

“Do you recognize either of these people, Mr. Green?” Beatrice asked him.

Roland turned to look at her as if she might give him a hint to the correct answer, but the nurse’s face gave nothing away. She was young, and kind of pretty Marianne figured. She was a few inches taller than Marianne perhaps and her long light brown hair was pulled up into a smooth bun that sat perfectly atop her head.  

Roland looked back at Bog and then Marianne, studding each of their faces intently. For a moment Marianne thought she saw a flicker of recognition pass Roland’s features but then he was shaking his head no.

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t” he confessed, with a frown.

“Should I?” he asked worried, again looking to Beatrice for approval, “did I, did I do something wrong?”  

He sounded so unsure, so lost, so unlike the Roland Marianne had known.    

***

They left the hospital together, still holding hands. Bog had decided not to press charges on a man who couldn’t even remember he had caused an accident. No one knew if Roland had caused the accident deliberately or not. How would he have even known Marianne was interested in the trucker?  

Bog’s mother drove them to the place they had towed his truck to. Unfortunately the old rig was in worse shape than they had thought. In the end it would be cheaper to buy a new one than fix the old.  

“Well maybe then you can stay around home for a bit” his mother chastised, “put in some office time, get some paperwork done.”

“Paperwork?” Marianne asked confused, the only ‘paperwork’ truckers usually had was their log-sheets.

“Didn’t he tell you?” Griselda asked aghast, “how long have you two been dating?

“Mother” Bog warned with a growl.

“Not long” Marianne said with a smirk.

“He owns the company, Dark Forest Logging” Griselda explained.

“What?” Marianne felt her jaw unhinge, he owned the company.

“It’s a family run business, Bog started working as a driver for his father almost as soon as he turned 18. After his father died he still had no interest in the office side of things so he kept driving his life away.” Griselda explained.

Bog turned to look sheepishly at Marianne, his face bright red. He gave a nervous chuckle rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. Bog flashed a crooked little smile of embarrassment as she continued to stare at him unblinking in shock.

“You?” she half asked, pointing a finger at him.

Bog gave a confirming shrug.  

“Wow” Marianne exhaled, impressed.

***

In the end Bog was only stuck on office duty for about a month, during which time Marianne took every available opportunity to visit him. Between the insurance money and a fund Bog had set aside for work he was able to buy a brand new Kenworth T680 76” Mid-Roof Sleeper, with diamond interior. He also splurged and got a custom dark forest green paint job with a single black pine tree (his company’s logo) stenciled on the driver’s side door, and because the new colours were just hideous. Bog had also gone out and bought a ring for Marianne since the last time he saw her.

He was waiting for her now, in the parking lot of the Primrose Diner, and he nervously ran his thumb over the soft black velvet of the ring box in his pocket. Bog had no idea why he was so nervous, she had already said yes! But giving her a ring somehow made it more real, like it was finally, actually happening. It wasn’t like they had to get married right away, he reasoned with himself as he paced in front of his truck. They could be engaged for a year or two. Or they could hop in their trucks today and make a b-line for Vegas and be married tonight. Bog smiled brightly at the idea of eloping with Marianne, she would probably be all for it. Bog got the feeling she wouldn’t want a big white wedding anyway after her first attempt. It would be her father and sister who took issue with the hastiness of their marriage. A whirlwind romance his mother would call it.

It didn’t have to be a big wedding, they could have a small simple ceremony, just his ma and Marianne’s father and sister. They could even hold it on Marianne’s family’s property. She showed him pictures of the grand old home with sprawling, park like gardens in the back. It would be nice there in late spring when the flowers were blooming.

A long low wolf whistle distracted Bog from his thoughts of marriage, and halted his pacing. Lost in his own thoughts Bog hadn’t noticed Marianne pull in.  

“Nice rig ya got there” she said, giving him a smirk that made his long legs turn to jelly, “gonna take me for a ride in it later?”

The smoldering gaze she had directed at him was making it difficult to remember his name.

“Maybe” he replied flirtingly.

Marianne ran towards him and he caught her as they crashed together, he lifted her off the ground slightly and the kissed passionately for a moment, before he gently set her down.

“On one condition” he growled softly.

“Anything” Marianne panted, breathless, looking up at him with eager anticipation.

“Will ye wear this?” he asked bringing the ring box out of his pocket and opening it for Marianne to see.  

She brought up her hand, and covered her mouth in surprise, as if she hadn’t been expecting it. It was a simple ring, just a band of white gold with a single small diamond. Perfect for the wife of a trucker, no, perfect for a trucker.

“Yes Bog” Marianne sighed at last, tears shimmering in her eyes, “yes I will wear it.”

The ring fit perfectly and they kissed again to the sound of loud cheering, as the staff of the diner as well as their families had come out to the parking lot to see what was taking them so long.  

They enjoyed a quiet engagement dinner with the people they cared about most and avoided wedding talk as much as they could.  

Marianne was feeling so giddy when they finally let the Primrose, she couldn’t remember the last time she was so genuinely happy.  

“So, you gonna take me for that ride now?” Marianne asked, teasingly, running her hand along Bog’s muscular arm.

He shivered at her touch, and the suggestion of her words.

“Aye Tough Girl” he said with a growl, “Ah might even let ye drive.”

Bog helped her up into the cab, and Marianne swooned over the interior. As they pulled out onto the highway Bog turned on the radio. Marianne reached over and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. On the radio Willie Nelson sang On the Road Again.

[sandydragon1]

13, 18, and 19 for the salty meme, please!

This’ll be fun! I’m going to ramble a lot here...

13. Unpopular opinion about XXX character?

Zira is actually a more interesting villain than Scar.

They’re both well written, but Zira strikes me as more unique and terrifying, especially as far as Disney villains go.

Scar is a good foil to Simba (like Scar, Simba initially has a childish, idealized idea of what it means to be king), and his willingness to throw anyone under the bus to get what he wants makes him pretty scary. However, he’s not as interesting once he gets what he wants. After he becomes king, he becomes more childish than scary. Not a bad villain by any means mind you, but not the most gripping one either.

Zira on the other hand... she scares me. She’s terrifyingly unhinged, especially considering she’s in a Disney movie. She’s still calculating and cruel, like Scar, but she takes things to a whole other level. She weaponizes her children (and straight up abuses them!!!). Scar has lackeys too, but his treatment of the hyenas strikes me as less frightening. Both parties clearly have something to gain in his case (Scar gets the throne and the hyenas get food, at least at first). With Zira, while Kovu would have gotten the throne and her pride would have gotten to live in the Pridelands if she had succeeded, things don’t feel as balanced since Zira would still control her pride with an iron paw and her children would still be treated as mere tools, almost certainly dealing with more of her abuse regardless of how things went.

Basically, Scar and Zira are both tyrannical in their own way, but Scar is less interesting since his behavior seems less extreme, or at the very least it’s not as disturbing to me since I still can’t get over the fact Disney made Zira as terrifyingly abusive as she is. Physical abuse (striking Kovu), emotional abuse (treating Nuka like utter garbage and neglecting him until he was literally dying), raising Kovu in such a way as to give him no concept of what fun is... sheesh. The only other characters I can think of off the top of my head who were that mindblowingly awful as parents is Rasa from Naruto and Show Tucker from Fullmetal Alchemist. Granted, I almost always stick to child friendly works, but still...

18. Does not shipping something ‘popular’ mean you’re in denial and/or biased?

Definitely not in denial, but definitely biased. 

Everyone is biased in some way whether they support popular ships or not since people tend to value different aspects of relationships more than others. What makes two characters seem like a good match to one person might not seem compelling to another, and that’s without even getting into how people interpret characters’ personalities and such differently.

For example, I tend to like ships where characters help each other work through trauma and/or start off as friends before slowly becoming romantically involved over a long period of time. Meanwhile, I don’t care about characters’ physical attraction to each other much, and I often find relationships both in real life and fiction extremely rushed to a frightening degree. This is reflected by my own romantic experiences (it took me three years of being best friends before I felt any romantic attraction to the only person I’ve ever been interested in, and we went through a lot together in terms of emotional baggage), so there isn’t a doubt in my mind other people have biases too regardless of who they ship. 

19. What is the one thing you hate most about your fandom?

I’ll discuss a couple of my fandoms since I don’t have a main one.

It bugs me how fixated the Naruto fanbase is on the portrayal of female characters and, on a related note, ships. I agree Kishimoto could have done a better job with them, although I do think the issue is exaggerated to at least some degree (for example, I don’t think people acknowledge how freaking awesome Temari is enough. The fact she could summon Kamatari as a genin still amazes me considering how strong of a summon he was). I wish the fanbase discussed other aspects of the work more, whether negatively or positively. It feels like there’s a lot people don’t discuss in favor of tearing into one or two topics.

For Pokemon, it irks me that the fanbase seems so creatively sterile. People regurgitate many of the same opinions without bringing much new to the table. Sure they do at least try to add their own spin on things like new evolutions they’d like to see, but I seldom see anything super memorable or creative, which is a shame since their are plenty of aspects of the franchise that have a lot of room for more creative and original content. Maybe I’m just watching the wrong Poketubers... 

I wish several things I like had more active fandoms. For example, Craig of the Creek is amazingly fun and has a great sense of childlike wonder, and Speechless is basically More of This Please the show, at least for me and other people with disabilities. I’d kill to hear more people talk about them!

In general, I hate how focused on romance many fandoms are. Romance isn’t a bad topic to explore by any means (although I often have trouble getting invested in it myself), but I’d like to see more aspects of works explored in depth. Give me more explorations of family dynamics, more deep friendships, and more brief yet interesting interactions. I prefer when romance is at most a subplot, so it can be frustrating to see it brought to the forefront at the expense of many other things. 

Thanks for asking! Feel free to ask me other stuff or message me any time (just about had a heat attack when I got your asks since I’ve been a fan of your fics for ages now). 

[spinach-productions]

Baby Spinach, chapter 9

Summary: Why are secret lairs always in the last place you expect?

Wordcount: 3349

They swing by the facility for Gaster's research, which was too extensive to be packed with the rest of his things.  “You're out awful late,” says the dog on guard duty.  Most of the Royal Guard seems to be made of dogs.

“I'm having a hard time sleeping,” Gaster replies shakily.

“That's right, you're usually at home by this time.”  The guard hands back Gaster's badge with a sympathetic look. “We'll find them, doctor.  There's nothing the Royal Guard hates more than lost puppies.”

Gaster heroically does not point out that he's in the middle of finding Sans and Papyrus on his own.  “Wait,” he says as the guard begins to turn around, “Could you tell me about the case? Has there been any progress?”

The guard cocks his head to one side.  “Didn't you see Lieutenant Donahue just this evening?”

“I-I did, but I was hoping there had been a development since then...?”

He gives what Gaster suspects is meant to be a supportive smile, but falls slightly short due to the tongue still sticking out the corner of his mouth.  “If there are any changes, we'll let you know,” the Guard says, laying a gentle paw on Gaster's shoulder.

Gaster pats the paw a few times, thanks the guard, and stiffly crosses the bridge into the main entrance hall.

Several steps past the main reception desk (manned only by a stack of information pamphlets due to the late hour), Imposter Donahue falls into step next to him. He's now wearing the official Royal Guard uniform, though Gaster would be hard pressed to guess where he got one. “Nice job distracting the dog.”

“I don't care for subterfuge,” Gaster says sharply.  He makes a point of telling the truth and staying out of trouble because he is not good at it.

“Then don't think of it that way,” Not-Donahue says with a grin, “Think of it as the first step towards out collaboration, and believe me, doctor, you'll find what comes next to be worth the difficulties.”

The take the side corridors to Gaster's office.  He painfully notes that these are the same routes he used to take with the children.  While the lab is open all hours to accommodate its employee's variety of schedules, few people work this late; the halls are quiet aside from the florescent lights and humming climate control system.

His office is at one end of the supervisor's wing.  They collect Gaster's research, then head back into the hallway. “Where are we going,” Gaster asks as he relocks the door.

“Patience,” the imposter says, “We'll get there soon.”

“It would help if I had some idea of our destination.”

“I don't see how that's relevent to anyth—”

“Well, hello there Lieutenant,” says someone  Gaster's metaphorical circulatory system begins to run cold. He turns; the well-meaning intern is standing at the other end of the hall, where he has no idea what kind of complications he's just .

“Donahue,” he corrects faintly.

“And Doctor Gaster, good evening!  I thought you'd already gone home for the evening.”

Not-Donahue cocks an eyebrow in Gaster's direction.  The expression reads take care of this, or I will.

“I, ah. Forgot some things,” he says, gesturing to the notebooks and binders in his arms.

The intern eyes the stack.  “Planning to work from home for a while?”  He asks with a sympathetic tone.

Despite the situation, Gaster notes that he can now recognize sympathy in many different forms.  Later, he'll pat himself on the back for the sharpening of his social observational skills; now, he scrambles for some kind of explanation as to why he's leaving the facility with classified information that will also give Not-Donahue a reason to keep from speaking.  “It's a more comfortable environment,” he says desperately.  The weight of his papers keeps his hands from shaking too badly, but they're still rattling quietly against the binders.

“Do you want help carrying those?”  The intern asks.

“No,” Gaster blurts out, “Ah, no thank you.  I think the Lieutenant and I have it covered.”

Not-Donahue seems amused by the Gaster's fumbling.  He takes half the stack, balancing it on one hand like a serving tray, and gives a thumbs-up with his free hand.

“Apparently you do,” the intern says with a smile, “Well, I'll let you get on with your work.”

Gaster heaves a sigh of relief.

“Oh wait, one more thing.  Lieutenant, your niece was looking for—”

“Donnie?”

Gaster slowly turns to look down the other end of the hall.  Silohouetted dramatically in the light from the perpendicular hallway is a young, aquatic girl with blue skin and red hair.  She's wearing a dirty t-shirt and overalls, and bears enough resemblance with Donahue to suggest a familial tie.

The girl grins widely, revealing extremely familiar teeth.

“H-hello,” Gaster says in a shaky voice, “What's your—”

The girl launches herself down the hallway.  It's faster than he can react, but Gaster still see the actions in slow motion: the girl darting past him towards the imposter, those enormous sharp teeth unhinging.  Not-Donahue takes as step back as he realizes what's about to happen, but is still too late to stop Donahue's niece from leaping into the air and clamping down on his arm.

He yells in pain and surprise, and starts flailing in an attempt to dislodge the girl's teeth from his skin.  The force makes he let go, and she tumbles backwards across the floor as the imposter tosses Gaster's research to the side and slaps a hand over the wound.

The binders he was holding crash to the ground.  The intern looks confused.  Donahue's niece blinks up at him from the floor.  Her eyes narrow.

“You don't sound like Donnie,” she says.

The imposter grabs Gaster's wrist and sprints down the hallway, sending Gaster's own stack of papers clattering behind them.  He leaps over the girl and careens around the corner, taking Gaster with him as they veer sharply across the tiles.  “Idiot,” he yells as they barrel down the hallway.

“What?” Gaster shouts back.

“Why didn't you do something?

“What could I have possibly done?!”

“Something!  Anything!  Do you realize what's happened?”  They take two right turns, then run past a series of meeting rooms.  “That brat is going to tell her aunt that someone who looked exactly like her was walking around with you.”  They dash past an intersection, then do a swerving u-turn and run back to it.  The man is still holding Gaster's arm tightly; Donahue's niece managed to bite down on the outside of his forearm, puncturing the cloth the holds the armor pieces together.  Blood is already seeping through the resulting holes in the fabric.  “She's going to put that together with whatever you told her about our meeting two days ago, Gaster.  The jig is up.”

“We have a head start,” Gaster says, trailing after the imposter as he navigates the facility, “We can still work together—”

“Of course we can,” the imposter snarls, “But this wasn't the plan.”

Gaster has no idea what the plan could be, but it apparently involved skidding to a stop in front of the dangerous materials laboratory.  To his astonishment, the man produces a key card with a high enough security clearance to get them inside; he locks the door after them and, still firmly gripping Gaster's arm, marches them past the determination experiments to some disused equipment in the back corner of the room.

“She really got me,” he hisses, pressing down on the wound with the other hand. “Help me move this.”

They wrestle the old equipment out of the way, leaving a clear space on the floor. The imposter begins counting tiles in some kind of pattern, stopping in front of one that looks no different from the others.  He knocks on it.  Apparently satisfied with whatever he hears, he brings his foot down on one side of the tile.

With a sound like heavy stone grinding against heavier stone, the other side of the tile flips up, revealing a long, dark tunnel leading under the floor of the lab. A ladder is mounted against one wall. The imposter looks up at Gaster and grins.

“Please,” he says, gesturing into the hole, “After you.”

-

Gaster has seen the blueprints for the Royal Science Laboratories, and he's certain this tunnel leading down into the earth should not be here.  Yet here he is, descending a ladder into the depths of the facility with a man who murdered a human child and then proceeded to chip off two piece of his own soul to make more children.  Gaster firmly shoves these ideas to the side and continues downward.

The bottom of the ladder connects with a dark green floor.  The room is narrow but long, and the opposite wall is occupied by several large standing closets.  A door with an ominous looking lock is carved into the far size.

The imposter skips the last rung of the ladder and lands on the tile.  “Sorry for the delay, I had to cover our tracks.”

Gaster doesn't know how he did this from inside the tunnel, but nods as though he understands.

Not-Donahue sheds the Royal Guard armor and places it in one of the cabinets.  On closer inspection, each one is is filled to the brim with outfits: Gaster spots the Royal Laboratories' official labcoat, several sets of training gear, a suit, and a number of other clothes he can't identify because they're crammed together into a mess of fabric.  The imposter pulls a plain labcoat and a large shirt from the fray.  At the same time, he appears to be decreasing in mass; Donahue's vibrant read hair disappears, replaced with two reptilian crests that run along his head.  The aquatic coloring fades into pale green scales, and a set of hair-thin spines appear down the sides of his neck.  The final form seems to be some kind of lizard, only an inch shorter than Gaster himself.

The imposter pulls on the shirt, which sits on his frame like a tunic.  “I debated about whether or not to let you see my form,” he says, shrugging on the labcoat, “But then I remembered that you wouldn't dare compromise my boys by revealing the information.”

The threat hangs heavily between them.  The imposter grins.  He has many small, triangular teeth.

Gaster clears his throat awkwardly.  He learned to produce the noise for situations exactly like this. “Well.”

The man continues to grin as he extracts several keys from his pockets.

He flicks on a light switch.  Ceiling lights flicker a few times before they buzz to life, filling the space with dim light.

The room they reveal is, undoubtable, a laboratory.

There are several movable lab benches arranged into a row, each with its own lamp to make up for the inadequate overhead lights. Papers and tools are scattered messily across the tables, in some cases spilling over the edge to form piles on the floor.  Several hallways connect this room to what must be the rest of the base; some have doors, some of those doors have locks.  Bookcases crammed with materials are placed wherever there’s space, creating a furniture maze through the room.  At the center of the maze, which is off to one side of the room, is an open space dominated by a large ominous cylinder.  It’s surrounded with monitoring equipment that looks like a large electrocardiograph, but the cylinder itself is covered with a thick drop cloth.  Gaster can see a faint blue glow leaking under the edges.

He feels faintly ill.

“Welcome to my workspace,” the man says, gesturing to the setup.  “I would have neatened things if there was more time.”

“It’s lovely,” Gaster lies.

“Thank you!  It’s the result of ten years of forced isolation.”

“How did you even find this place?  Let alone gain access to it?”

The imposter looks affronted.  Gaster is fairly certain this is an exaggerated expression.  “Why doctor, I’m surprised!  Don’t you remember the young professor who had an office across the hall from your ten years ago?”

Gaster comes up with a vague memory.  “The one who stole containment equipment before the added security measures were put into place?”

The man grins widely a second time.

“You needed the containment units for this,” Gaster says as the pieces come together, “You already had the soul.”

“This day has been a long time coming,” he replies, clasping his hands together.  “A few more short years and we’ll see to it that the barrier is destroyed for good.”

Something makes a noise.  Gaster tears his eyes from what’s probably a human soul to see two small eyes peering at him around a shelf.  He sprints around the bookcase to find a second, smaller area between the furniture.  A familiar playpen sits in the center, and next to two small pillows is Papyrus. He’s wearing the same red onesie as the day he disappeared, but otherwise seems no worse for wear.  “I was so worried,” Gaster murmurs, scooping him into his arms.

Papyrus looks up at him, then over his shoulder to his father, then back to Gaster.  He looks increasingly confused and upset, and begins to pat his own face in reassurance.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Gaster soothes, gently bouncing the baby in his arms, “I’ve got you.”

The imposter clears his throat.  “I apologize for borrowing your child containment space, but I’m sure you understand that I need it more than you do right now.”

“Of course,” Gaster says without commitment. “May I ask where Sans is?”

“He’s grounded,” the man says, waving a hand as if this is of no consequence, “Until he learns to handle his responisibilities in ways other than running away with his brother.”

“Of course,” Gaster says with even less commitment.

Another moment passes before he speaks again. “Well, as I was saying, welcome to my home.  This is the main laboratory, where you and I will conduct research the human soul specimen.”

“It’s… very functional,” Gaster says, holding Papyrus close as he continues to pat his own face.

“Thank you kindly, doctor.  Ah, where are my manners?  May I offer you something to drink before we get started?”

“Yes, thank you,” Gaster replies, jumping on the opportunity to see more of the base.  He follows the man down one corridor and into a room that serves as a fantastic example of how not to clean a kitchen: the counters are covered in food stains and leftovers, the sink is stacked high with dishes, and there are garbage bags piled up in the corner.  If he had a nose, Gaster is sure it would be unhappy.

“Please excuse the mess,” the man says absently, setting the water on the table and holding his arms out for Papyrus.

“Why don’t I put Papyrus down for a nap, so we can discuss the details of your work,” Gaster says, holding Papyrus tight to his chest.  “We don’t need a toddler getting underfoot for that.  I assume he has a designated sleeping area?”

After a moment of thought, the imposter agrees. The nursery turns out to be one of the closed doors branching off from the main room; the man unlocks it and Gaster steps into what seems like an empty room.  There’s an off-white carpet, a crib, and one shelf with a few books; otherwise, the room is completely barren.

“This is certainly one type of nursery,” Gaster says to himself.

Luckily, the crib has a mattress and blankets.  He reluctantly tucks Papyrus in with a whispered promise to come back for him later.

Papyrus refuses to let go of Gaster’s coat.

“I know, I know,” Gaster says, tugging at Papyrus’ tiny hands, “But I have to find your brother before I can get you out of here.”

Papyrus whines as Gaster pries his fingers open.

“Shh,” he comforts.  He arranges the blankets into a circle and tucks Papyrus in at the center. “I’ll be back soon.”

Gaster left home to pursue a career in science, leaving his family and familial obligations behind.  He’s participated in strategic war planning that involved dozens of human deaths, and he’s watched corporeal friends and colleagues wither from old age.  But none of these are as difficult as walking away from Papyrus as he whimpers to himself in an empty room.

-

 -

Several hours listening to the man’s explanations later, Gaster manages to convince him that, as the guest, Gaster should be the one to make dinner this evening, and that even though he may be barred from leaving his room (apparently for any reason, including food up until this point), a merciful father would be willing to grant Sans his supper.

As such, Gaster manages to cobble together some sandwiches from stale bread and old condiments.  Sans’ room turns out to be another branching off the main room. Unsurprisingly, the door is locked and requires several keys to open.  After some more cajoling, he manages to get the keys from the imposter and eases the door open with his elbow.  

The room shows only slightly more forethought than Papyrus’ nursery in that it has a desk in addition to shelves and a bed. The shelves are filled with books, varying in subject from children’s literature to high-level scientific explanations.  There don’t seem to be any intermediary texts.  Sans is sitting on the bed, reading a book.  He looks up when the door opens and freezes when he sees Gaster standing there.

He’s also wearing the same clothes he disappeared in, but where Papyrus seems to have suffered no further injuries, Sans has a medical pad taped over one eye socket.

“Hi,” he says cautiously.

Gaster takes a breath to calm the emotions ricocheting in his chest.  “Hello, Sans,” Gaster replies, “Are you alright?”

Sans froms with what looks like distrust.  “How are you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Changing your voice.  You sound like the other guy.”

The man in the next room can change his shape at will, of course Sans wouldn’t trust him at first.  “First, though I don’t expect you believe me at this time, I am not your father.  Second, I object to you calling me ‘the other guy’, but I see your point.  What happened to your eye?”

Sans shrugs and doesn’t answer.  He’s clearly taken up Gaster’s invitation to not believe him.

They watch each other.

“I brought sandwiches,” Gaster says, holding up the tray. “I made sandwiches.”

Sans’ one visible eye narrows.

“This one is for you.  It’s mostly ketchup.”

“You could just ask me to get up,” Sans grumbles, marking the page in his book and setting it aside.

“What?”  Sans refusing to eat dinner until he was certain the food wasn’t drugged— “Oh!  No, that isn’t what I meant at all,” Gaster says quickly, setting the tray on the bed, “What was it what was it— ah!  Point to any part of the sandwich, that’s right!”

Sans stares at him.  Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he extends an arm and touches the exact middle of the bread.

Gaster has to tear the sandwich in half to get at the middle, but manages to eat the indicated section.  The real struggle is getting past the knowledge he’s eating ketchup, but for Sans, he’ll do it.

“Dings?”  Sans asks faintly.

Gaster wipes a smear of hellish tomato from the corner of his mouth and gives a thumbs up.

Sans reaches out to touch Gaster’s arm.  When it doesn’t disappear under his hand, his visible eye wells up with tears.

Gaster opens his arms in invitation.  “May I offer— oof.”

Sans collides with Gaster’s torso and grabs on with both hands.  “Dad didn’t catch you, did he?”

“No,” Gaster replies, holding Sans tight to his chest, “I came with him to find you. I’m going to get you out of here.”

“There’s no way out,” Sans says from where he’s pressed his face to Gaster’s sweater.

“There is, and I will find it.  I will get us out,” Gaster promises.