#it's Strange Foreign Wall Decor okay

[marzipanandminutiae]

“And I...shall think and write for you, as I used to do.”

[theprissythumbelina]

Okay, well I can't find the darn thing after looking for days and as far as I can tell it has vanished from tumblr altogether, so I'm posting this first chapter of Mortal Sparks once again. Hopefully this one sticks around and doesn't get swallowed by the void.

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Chapter 1

Alyss

Maius 5th, 4593 AP

People are bad at describing things. My aunt fought in the first war, and she told me it was like being an ant on a running track. Sometimes you wander around doing ant things, and sometimes a trampling horde of foreign creatures run atop and leave you untrampled by chance as your fellows are smashed.

I fought in the second war, and it wasn't much like anything. It was like nothing. It was war and war is only like itself. It's surviving, and then at some point, you realize to survive you’ve ended someone’s life and you don’t even feel bad about it. And you feel bad for not feeling bad. And then everyone tells you you’re acting strange, but they’re the ones that took normal people and exploded things in their face and made them kill people whose faces they never see and they tell you you’re acting strange. 

They called it combat fatigue like I drank too much disgusting coffee and didn’t sleep right at 9:30 that night and acted grumpy the next day. I don’t have a better word. I like my aunt's word better. Shell shock. Not professional enough for the military, but it's better for me. 

My CO recommended me for leave after the incident. That’s what they call it in the military, an incident. You can’t describe it. I told my aunt that and she told me you can, if you give it time. They gave me a few months. A few months to see if I was dangerous or useful and when I was neither they threw me away. I can describe how I feel. I feel like gum. Old gum. The war was a mouth that chewed and chewed and chewed until all my flavor leeched away, then it spat me on the sidewalk. I’m on the sidewalk to this day. I’m a spot on the sidewalk.

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Here, at the end of summer, roses and wildflowers bloomed one last time before autumn’s cold. Nicolette crouched among them on the side of the road, rooting for the husks of cicadas that had already mated and died. She had fiured out long ago that clients didn’t appreciate knowing the true origins of their patience tea, though that didn’t stop housewives and schoolteachers from buying it in cans that they pretended to their husbands were coffee. 

Her apron pockets full, she stood and began to make her way back through town, past the over-decorated municipal hall, through Main Street with faded advertisements for meats, butter, and milk. At 7:40 on a Sunday, the whole town was empty, the entire populace segregated away in one of the two churches. 

Most respectable citizens sat in the Imperial Cesarian Church, a stately building of thick walls and plaster statues. They called the congregation of the newer Alastrian Church ‘rabble’ and ‘uncultured’, while the Alastrians called the Cesarians ‘esoteric’ and ‘unwelcoming’. The Cesarians were quite sure the Alastrians didn’t even know what esoteric meant, but it was a moot point trying to teach those who did not want to learn. 

Nicolette was fairly sure she did know what esoteric meant, and that the Alastrians were using it correctly, but as neither group took any notice of her beyond buying her charms and teas, she kept her thoughts to herself, and simply nodded when members of either church attempted to impart their wisdom in her earshot. No one cared what she had to say anyway. 

The last two story building marked the edge of town proper, with the pavement petering to a stop a few feet further. Still, the chipper, clean one story homes continued. Nicolette, as was her habit, paused here, her toes right at the end of black pavement. Daisy’s home sat clean and peach-colored three houses down. Her father should have returned from his business trip last night, smelling like bus and cigarette smoke. Maybe he hugged her with his briefcase in his hand. Maybe he went right to bed. Maybe Daisy had stayed up for him later than usual, worrying with a cup of tea in her hand. It wouldn’t have been Nicolette’s tea, Daisy always said it made her sleepy. It would have been raspberry, maybe, or chamomile. 

But Nicolette wasn’t welcome there anymore, father or no father, and so she turned to the right and made her way through the alley between the last store building and the first house. This road wasn’t even gravel, but dirt. A small crevsse made by spring rainwater meandered its way from one side of the road to the other, forcing Nicolette to hop across it twice before it escaped into the house’s fenced yard. She walked past the houses on the other side as well, slightly more dilapidated than the first, and through an empty lot of gravel to the backside of her own house. Houses on this row, those that were inhabited, tended toward small and grey-brown. Most didn’t have a large padlock around the low front gate. Nicolette didn’t bother unlocking it, but stepped up over a cinderblock and slid down the other side, holding her skirt taught. The yard grass had turned brown months ago. The only living thing in the yard besides Nicolette herself was half of a heritage rosebush. It had been her mother’s, and Nicolette did her best to keep it alive. 

Her door was locked as well, this one a shiny, new lock. Nicolette lifted the key from around her neck and twisted it into the hole. Her mother had never had to lock the door. People knew better than to come over uninvited. But this lock was to keep the inside from coming out. 

Inside, Nicolette faced the wall, listening to the thump, drag, thump. 

“Hi, Mama.” She said softly. She turned, and faced her mother’s clouded eyes. 

End

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As an explanation for the way the chapters are set up, each chapter opens with an excerpt from Alyss' diaries in the past, followed by Nicolette's narrative in the present day. At some future point these will converge for the climax.

Tagging those who've shown interest, let me know if you want to be removed or added

@owlsandwich @thetruearchmagos (I know you must have already seen this but I didn't want to leave you out) @amaiguri @supersumc @teacupsandstarlight

@shepardsherd @tabswrites @winterandwords

[shoutascoffeepot]

Chapter Two: Strawberries, Cherries, and Everything Sweet

The Art of Deception: The Deadly Dance - Series

Pairing: Aizawa Shouta x Female Original Character

Themes: Mafia, psychological, age gap, cultural differences.

!!!Trigger Warnings!!!: Age gap, sexual implications, gun usage, deep talk, kidapping, controlling, smoking, drugs.

“So, Shouta, you’ve kidnapped a woman because you liked how ‘catty’ she was?” Hizashi repeated with a smirk after he heard the rumors. The tired long haired man only puffs out of his cigar, smoke engulfing his sharp features. 

“Precisely. And my intentions aren’t--”

“Aren’t what? We’re in the mafia, we are the bad guys in any story.” Hizashi interrupted with a snicker of disbelief. 

“My intentions aren’t to use her.” Shouta finished his sentence unfazed. 

When Lilith woke up in a freezing room, hair in a mess and in a bed harder than what she’s used to. She only thought she was in her apartment. She hasn’t processed what happened until a maid woke her at ten sharp with knocking before she entered the room Lilith was laid in. The room had coal walls and white decor on the ceiling, gold antiques and coincidentally, all her things seemed to be around this strange room. 

Her throat cramped in dread, memories recollecting briefly as her eyes set on the strange servant again, jaw clenched. 

“Ojou-Sama, you are called for brunch with Eraserhead-Sama.” She bowed at Lilith, her light brown hair -dyed- was tucked into a neat bun. 

“O-Okay…?” Lilith asked, still confused. 

“I shall escort you in an hour's time, he has brought for you clothing options,” Another woman dressed like her came in with a roller rack, this one was a blonde with outgrown roots, “you could choose from.” 

The blonde set up the stopper on the wheels with her toe then hurried next to the brunette, whispering something in her ear, to which the brunette nodded. 

“Ojou-Sama, do you have any preferences for brunch? Or allergies?”

Lilith was sat up now, on the verge of panicking, she was kidnapped the first night she had in Japan, fucked up right away. 

“I have a walnut allergy.. I would like..” Her mind clouded with too many things as she trailed off to the sound of scribbling of the blonde on the note. 

Lilith scratched her head, her best option was to obey and not fight with this dangerous guy. He has a gun. A lot of men with guns.

“An egg sandwich with ketchup.” She sighed. The blonde and brunette looked at each other, questioning the weird tastes of the foreigner. 

She got up, going to what she assumed was the bathroom, all her stuff was there, they must’ve brought her stuff while she slept. How come they didn’t wake her? She was quite the light sleeper. 

It’s sort of her fault, she thought, she should’ve not tried being cool by sneaking in to only get a closer look at the man. Especially since they looked shady, curiosity killed the cat, and the adrenaline carried her here. 

After showering, washing her face, doing her skincare, drying her hair, she put on some concealer and mascara, she also found her colored lenses, put in the tan ones. Then she just put Clarins lip oil in cherry. One last look at the mirror before looking at the dresses, yeah, that looks appropriate for brunch. 

Exiting the luxe bathroom to her main room again, she skimmed through the options of clothes. They were all dresses. Did he plan on doing something? One was a tight white dress with scrunchy poofs on the off shoulder. The Second was an ugly orange pattern dress with noodle straps. The third was a pink tight dress with long airy sleeves. The last seemed most tolerable if it weren't for how tight and short. 

She wore the pink one, perfuming herself and flipping her fluffy black hair back to look at herself before the brunette woman came by again. “Are you ready?”

“Do you have nude stockings?” She questioned. 

Shouta waited impatiently by the gardens in a little terrace that had flowers decorated to look ‘grown’ onto the pillars. His creme button up had the first three buttons undone, and his ebony hair pulled back to a messy bun, his hair was also fresh, unlike last night, gelled back to hide the fact he hadn’t washed it. 

He was getting impatient, tapping his feet but soon enough his captive came. His eyes shot to Lilith’s form, she chose the pink dress huh? Fuck; it hugged her all in the right places, he eyed her walking over and taking a seat across him. 

“Good morning.” Her voice soft as she settled down. 

“Good morning to you..?” He questioned. “Your name?”

“Lilith.”

“Shouta Aizawa.”

It surprised him, she’s so tame after putting up such a fight last night? He glanced over her plate, isn’t that an egg sandwich? Is that ketchup inside? He furrowed his brows. 

“Lilith, who eats egg and ketchup?” He asked unamused while biting his own egg roll, her face once composed and angelic now scrunched as she bites into the sandwich. Unhinged. Almost making him choke on his food. 

“What?” She scolded, squinting as he coughed, he glanced at her again, ketchup on her nose and the corner of her mouth. Her glossed lips no more. 

“I’m making this easier for both of us so don’t expect me to fake anything, I can be whatever I want and right now I’m hungry. And this egg sandwich is gonna be messy.” She argued. 

He chuckled, amused, what a strange one she was, was she being obedient or is this an act? He couldn’t tell. Yet he kept pondering as he had his coffee, black with nothing in it. When he raised his gaze again after a good sip she had finished her sandwich, wiping her face with the napkin.

“Fast..” He commented. 

“Am I fast or are you slow?” She got her fork and reached out for the fruit platter, stabbing the strawberry, she couldn’t tell they were fruit kebabs and she broke the strawberry. 

“Are you blind?” He asked, not knowing if he’s amused or irritated. 

“In fact I am, I have minus three vision and I don’t wear my glasses because I look like a nerd in them and lenses aren’t comfortable.” She explained. 

He grabbed a fruit kebab, standing up and pulling his chair next to her, and sat down again. She reached out to grab the fruit kebab but he held her wrist. 

“You’re blind.” He stated then offered the skewer to her mouth, she opened up and bit on the strawberry. She then proceeded to rip it off the skewer and eat it whole. 

“It’s sweet.” She commented, slightly surprised. 

“Are the strawberries you’ve had not sweet?” He debated. 

“I’ve always had bland or rotten strawberries, but I love them nonetheless.” She responded. 

“If I had a rotten or bland fruit, I might just quit eating it.” 

“But then you’d miss out on the good ones. In a pack there might be one of the sweetest ones between rotten ones.” 

“It’s a waste.” 

“It’s a chance I’m willing to take.” 

Are we still talking about strawberries? 

“Interesting.” He reached for his coffee, chugging half of it. 

She got her lip oil and reapplied it. He watched intently as the applicator swiped on her pink lips, glossing them red. Lilith noticed him staring and gave him the applicator. 

He sniffed it. 

Smells like cherry candy. 

“Did you just sniff it?!” She wheezed. 

“What am I supposed to do with it?!” He complained. 

“I don’t know! But you looked weird!” She laughed. 

He had a soft smile, he could get used to this strange one. She eventually calmed down and that's when he dropped his smile, poker-faced again. 

“So, weird dangerous man who brought me here against my will…” She started. 

“What do you want from me?” She continued, boring her doll eyes at him. 

He clenched his jaw, clicking his tongue. “Well, you’re the one who came to me, what do you want?” He countered. 

“I would like to leave.”

“Not happening, anything else?”

“I need to attend my college.” 

“Maybe I’ll think about it.” 

“Where is my phone?” 

“Not with me.” 

“Where is it?” 

“You didn’t have it.”

“Is my friend safe?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay….” She thought deeply of more questions to annoy him with. Meanwhile he brought out a pack of marlboro and lit one cig up, breathing deep and letting the smoke out from his nose. 

“My turn,” Shouta spoke, leaning his head back. “Why did you come to me?” 

“I know the answer, I thought you were attractive. Bingo.” She had a victorious smile, making her captor chuckle. 

“Then like a good girl, you’ll deal with the consequences of your actions.” He gazed down on her. 

“What if I don’t want to?” Her once doll curious eyes turned to siren, challenging ones. 

He stood up, tipping her chair back with his dress shoe, holding the back with one hand as she gasped, helplessly looking at him. His free hand with the cigarette, taking a smoke. “You’ll do what I tell you to.” He blew smoke on her face, she breathed heavily.

Why does she disappoint herself like this?

“Cat’s got your tongue?” He smirked. 

She shook her head lightly, to let her bangs fall out of the way of her face. Flushing lightly as she gathered an answer. 

“I don’t do favors. You’ll have to earn my trust. And that, my fine sir, is mission impossible.” 

“I like me a challenge. If I wanted someone easy I could’ve just hired someone.” He smoked again and she braced herself; anticipating him blowing on her face again, staring at the cig as it left his lips again. 

Such a disappointment, he breathed through his nose and propped her chair back with a thud. 

“So I am a captive here?” Lilith looked at the man with shame that she held for herself. 

“More of a guest if I do say so myself.” He lightly knitted his brows, how could someone change moods so fast? 

The air they breathed now seems to be the density of honey. Her heart pounded, what was this bluff she’s playing? Until when is she going to be here? 

He noticed it, pressing the remains of the cig on her plate to put it out. “Come with me.”  He held out his hand. 

She took it, and only then did he notice how much she’s shaking. Not much of a tough shell was she? 

Strolling out of the terrace on the cobblestones the garden’s aesthetic began to slowly switch the farther they went. From European sweetness to a measured, dynamic traditional Japanese garden with Shishi-Odoshi and little rivers that seemed clearer than the sun of her hometown now that she thought of it. 

“Now Lilith, I sure do have a question.” Shouta spoke as they reached a gun practice point with hay targets. He got his pistol out, attached a silencer then handed it over to her. 

Shit. 

She thought. 

She looked at him, not taking the pistol. 

“Why don’t you kill me?” He asked, taking her hand and giving her the pistol. “Push this part to load the gun.”  He explained as the empty bullet fell with a clink. 

“Now that it’s loaded–” He pulled her close, gun to his chest and her face aghast. 

“I don’t want to.” She breathed heavily, fighting against his grip as she felt her pulse in her head; she was so scared. 

He laughed and pressed over her finger, on the trigger with the clink of the empty bullet.

She felt the bullet be shot as he jerked back with the force before she screamed at him. “NO–” 

“And that’s why, you wear your vests.”  He let go of her and she noticed that there was no blood. 

“Now, if it was another man, that would be a problem. You should be able to protect yourself if anything I wasn’t there.”  He stepped closer again. 

She squinted at him, pistol still in her hand.  “Right, what makes you so sure I wouldn’t catch you off guard and kill you?” Swinging at him with the weapon. 

“Didn’t you sort of show how much you wouldn’t like that?” He chuckled, standing behind her and making her hold the pistol properly, aiming at the target of hay. 

“Keep your posture straight, arms should both be arrows to where the force of the bullet is going, and depending on how far the target, you raise the tip of the gun a milli higher” He instructed, one hand on her arm and the other her wrist. 

His first hand wandered down, straightening her posture by her side then resting gently over her hip curve.

“Now.” He calmly started, but the trigger was already pulled, the haystack jerking as flyaways went into the air. The shot went straight through the heart. 

“Ahh~ Must be my luck~!” She chimed in happily. 

Then turned to him, pointing the gun to his chin. “Keep your filthy things. Away from me.” With that sneer, she peeled her body away and walked to the river decor, touching the cool water. 

He detached the silencer and put the gun in his jacket. Instead he pulled the marlboro box from earlier, into the bite of his teeth the butt of the cig goes and alight it goes. Deep breath, look at the sky and breathe out with closed eyes. Shouta then went to her, touching her shoulder. He wanted to know more about her. He needed to know the reason before the two-faced act. 

“My favorite color.. is this sort of pink.” She picked out a carnation, baby pink. 

“I supposed that’s what you tell someone you like, not hand them a gun.” Lilith spat, her thick brows crease in the middle. 

He stood before her, two feet away, and leaned in after taking a smoke, about to say something, she leaned in thinking it’s a secret. 

He puffed smoke from his lips over her face. 

I don’t know if I should be turned on or offended.

She thought to herself. 

“Mine’s black.” He observed her lips turn to a fine line of offense but could also see her cheeks reddening over her pale yet golden complexion. 

What ethnicity was she? 

He wondered. 

Who eats egg and ketchup and has pretty girls with the perfect shade of pale that doesn’t look too sickly and pretty deer eyes? 

He looked her down as she seemed fuming at him, he blew on her face again with smoke. 

And one hell of a body. 

Shouta’s train of thought came to a spot. He figured out her act. Her name can’t be that, could it? 

Doesn’t fit the picture to him. 

Deep talk about strawberries, liking pink, exotic features… Not quite to his taste of what ‘Lilith’ would be. 

She just stood there and finally muttered one thing: “Knock it off.” . 

If she was cavalier, and a spoiled one, she wouldn’t give hints during the conversations. Was he reading too much into it? Is it a change of culture? What does he know? She might get the looks from her mom but have a European father. 

He wants to know now.

[someone-named-adel]

Okay okay, listen to me

First of all, this is a somewhat (actually not so much) recent thought, so it has no coherence or anything like that.

Listen, listen (actually it would be read?-)

We already have the Isekai through a video game and a series, but but BUT

How about an Isekai a little bit out of the norm?

Like, it has all the usual stuff, the guys stalking (can it be considered as such?) MC since they is the favorite character of the four and blah blah blah blah.

Nothing changes up to that point

BUT

Let's add something else to the formula.

One day, MC feels weird, but in the sense that everything is weird.

The bed they're woke up in, the color of the walls of the place they woke up in, the decor, even their body feels weird.

THte looks down at their hands, and all they can see are green hands, with only three fingers.

Hands that obviously don't belong to him.

Panicking, they starts to get upset (obviously).

Where am I?

Whose body is this?

Is it my idea or am I taller/shorter than before?

Why are there posters, pictures, figurines and more of me around the room?

Is it inside the room of some stalker obsessed with me?

Questions of that kind start pouring out of their mind in a frantic manner.

MC doesn't know what's going on, they doesn't even know if they are sleeping or not, they doesn't even know if they are dead or alive, they just knows there's something terribly wrong.

Okay to make a long story short, MC accidentally mind-melded with one of the four brothers, and the other three don't know that, but they are a bit suspicious of their "brother" because he's not acting like before.

So, MC feels trapped, they are in an unknown world, in an foreign body, and with people who are strangely attached to them.

Notice how their eyes light up when talking about them, how they look at their video game/series/movie like it's their only reason for living, and how they are so aggressive when someone outside of them mentions something about “MC”.

That, plus the strange obsessive thoughts that come up at times in their mind, which are always in the main character.

So there is this situation where MC is trapped in the body of this turtle brother and is bombarded by his obsessive thoughts daily (at this moment they doubt that it is only them in possession of the body, it is not discarded the possibility that both minds merged or both minds are living together, since it is a fact that MC would never have obsessive thoughts for themselves), adding to the demonstration of the other mutant turtles' own obsession, who start to worry about their brother, since he has stopped interacting so actively in conversations about MC (which is, like, almost the only thing they talk about) and seems more distant, also, why does he flinch when one of them mentions a fact about MC? , Why does he sometimes say that what they say is a lie and states the opposite of what they say?

Why does he seem to know more about MC than they do?

It is clear that their dear brother has something on his mind, and they are anxious to know what is so much on his mind, as they wish their brother would go back to his old self.

Because really, this new version of their brother is starting to bother them....

[orbitaldeathwoomy]

‖ ♥︎ 》 Drabble about Cerrin and Ruby after they met, takes place a few days to a week after Cerrin first reached the surface. Just kinda this vomited out and not proofread too much, so expect errors and weirdness

Cerrin raised his hand to shield his eyes from the afternoon sun's light. He had gone through hell to escape the Deepsea Metro and, after a series of what he could only describe as bizarre events, was now following the Inktoling he'd met upon reaching the surface to her home in Inkopolis. It all felt surreal, like at any moment he'd wake up and be back underground on his way to another one of those strange tests...

...Wait, the girl -- her name was Ruby, if he was remembering right -- was talking about something.

"...And, once you get settled in, we can go on a shopping spree! We'll get you some new clothes -- you can't just wear that leather outfit everyday after all! -- and stuff for your room, anything you want! Sound fun?"

Cerrin's gaze shifted downward, before a quiet, unsure "Yes...?" escaped him. Her kindness, her hospitality, it all felt so foreign to him, but he couldn't explain to himself why. He tried to shrug it off, blame the amnesia or all the horrors he had endured in the Metro for his odd feeling about all this, but somehow, he knew there had to be more to it. He just had to—

“Aaand we’re here!” Ruby said as she abruptly stopped, a small ‘oof’ escaping her when she felt Cerrin bump into her. She then turned to give him a smile, before she unclipped her keys from her bag to unlock the front door…

Leaving him to just stare in shock, awe, and mild confusion at the sheer size of her home. Amnesia or no, he was sure he had never seen anything like it before, especially given the undoubtedly cramped nature of the underground domes he initially escaped from.

And she was inviting him to live here??

“There we go!” came the taller girl’s voice a few moments later, the quiet squeaks of the front door’s hinges snapping Cerrin from his thoughts.

He barely had time to speak, however, as Ruby immediately took his hand and began leading him through her home, his blue eyes wide with that same confusion and awe as they walked and she talked. Everything looked so clean and pristine, from the somewhat reflective floors of the main entrance room to the stairway that led to the mansion’s second floor. Even the end tables in the halls were decorated with vases of flowers and trinkets, and the occasional artworks that hung on the walls were ornately framed. It was all so much to take in, and he hardly made a sound until they stopped in front of a door.

“This’ll be your room!” Ruby cheerfully said as she turned the knob and opened the door, gesturing for him to enter first.

The room felt a tiny bit more down to earth than what he had seen of the rest of the house, with a queen-sized bed up against the back windows and a glass door on the left leading to a balcony. There was a large wooden shelf against one of the adjacent walls and an open door next to it that led in to an empty walk-in closet, and another door that he could only assume led to a private bathroom of some sort on the opposite side of the room. A rather comfortable looking chair sat across from a big, wall-mounted TV near the door.

…It was still a lot to take in.

“Sorry it’s a little empty right now.” she apologized, her sheepish smile immediately brightening when she looked at him. “But, we’ll definitely fill it with whatever you want soon! So don’t worry, okay? It’ll feel like home in no time!”

The pink Octoling shook his head a little, trying to gather his thoughts. It was a lot more than he had expected…

“It’s… It’s fine.” he replied softly, part of him still expecting this to end up being some kind of dream. “You don’t need to—”

All of a sudden, quiet buzz interrupted him. Ruby immediately pulled a phone out of her pocket, her smile widening as she hastily typed something then turned back to him.

“Come with me!” Ruby seemed even more excited now as she shoved her phone back into her pocket. She then took hold of his hand once more, not bothering to close the door behind them as she led him back downstairs.

By the time Cerrin had come up with something to say, they had already reached the kitchen. Ruby pulled him toward where another, even taller Octoling stood, his attention shifting from the phone in his hand to the two of them. He looked to be rather stern…

…That is, until he spoke.

“I take it this is the new friend you mentioned?” he asked, a slight laugh laced among his gentle voice.

“Yup!” Ruby replied, her smile bright as she gestured to Cerrin. “Dad, this is Cerrin! And Cerrin, this is my dad…”

“Akihiko Aroz.” the taller Octoling said, holding out his right hand for a shake. “It’s nice to finally meet the friend my daughter has been so excited about.”

Cerrin paused for a short moment, before slowly taking the other male’s hand and giving it a hesitant shake. “I-It’s nice you meet you too, sir…”

Akihiko softly laughed again as he released Cerrin’s hand. “No need for formalities, just my name is alright.” he said with a small smile. He then leaned back against the counter, his hands in his pockets. “Now, Ruby told me that you recently left the Octarian army and came to the surface?”

“Y-Yes, Mr. Aroz, sir…”

“And at such a young age, too… That was very brave of you.” the older Octoling said, still smiling. “Well, you’re more than welcome to stay with us for as long as you want.”

Cerrin’s eyes widened a little. “A-Are you sure?”

“Of course. I know how hard it is to leave that place, and I’d hate to see someone as young as you have to face this new and unforgiving town alone like I did.”

“But, sir, I’m seventeen—”

“Aw, c’mon, Cerrin!” Ruby interrupted, a bright smile of her face. “There’s no reason for you to fend for yourself out there when we’ve got plenty of room for you here!”

“But what about the costs of me staying? I can’t expect you to pay for me…”

“It’s not an issue.” came Akihiko’s reply, another small laugh escaping him when Cerrin opened his mouth to protest again. “We have more than enough money. And beside that, I don’t mind helping a friend of my daughter, especially one who has already had to struggle so much just to get here.”

Cerrin fell silent. Were they serious? The idea that they were perfectly fine with taking in some strange teenager and offering him everything like this, for free… He just couldn’t wrap his head around it. Surely they wanted something in return…

“But now that that’s taken care of…” Ruby said, her smile remaining as she wrapped her arm around Cerrin’s shoulders. “It’s time for us to go shopping! We gotta get you some new clothes, and some decorations for your room, and—”

“Ruby…” came her father’s gentle interruption, causing her to stop and watch as he nodded toward the window across the room.

Ah, the sun was setting.

“Right, right…” she said sheepishly. She then released Cerrin from her hold, a small smile on her face. “You’re probably really tired from all this, huh? You should take tonight to rest, and I’ll bring some dinner up for you later!”

“Wait,” Cerrin began, his brow furrowed slightly in confusion. “I… I can help with the food—”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head!” Ruby replied as she gave him a pat on the back, causing his entire body to tense up for a few seconds. “Just take some time to chill, watch TV, take a nice, hot shower, whatever!”

“But—”

“So what do you like on your pizza?”

He gave her a confused look.

“…Oh, that’s right. They might not have had… I’ll just get a regular one for you.” she said, before pulling her cellphone from her pocket. “Now go on, and let your auntie Ruby take care of everything~”

Cerrin watched as she called a number on her phone, a defeated sigh escaping him a moment later. He moved go back to the room she had offered him, only to feel a tap on his shoulder before he could leave.

“May I come with you?” Akihiko asked, a small smile forming on his lips when Cerrin gave him a nod. Once they left the kitchen, he spoke again.

「I’m sorry if Ruby was overbearing.」 he apologized. 「She’s just happy to have you staying here.」

Cerrin’s eyes widened for a split second, before his gaze focused on the floor. 「It’s… alright.」 he mumbled.

「Is something wrong?」

「N-No, sir, I just…」 Cerrin paused to take a breath, still avoiding eye contact with the much taller Octoling. He wasn’t in any position to complain, he thought, but there was just so much on his mind… 「I’m a little overwhelmed. That’s all.」

Akihiko laughed softly. 「Believe me, I understand. I was too, when I first came to Inkopolis after I left the army.」

Cerrin fell silent again. His words were stuck in his head, unsure of how to come out without sounding rude or ungrateful. Because he was the exact opposite — Grateful, and more than they knew.

But part of him was afraid. Afraid that this was all too good to be true, that eventually, they would leave him to fend for himself…

Soon enough, the pair reached Cerrin’s room, with Akihiko remaining in the hall as the younger Octoling opened the door.

「Thank you for your hospitality, sir. 」 he said softly.

「It’s no trouble at all.」

A moment of silence passed, before Cerrin took a step inside the room.

「Oh, and Cerrin?」

He froze.

「Y-Yes…?」

「Try not to worry.」 Cue a smile from Akihiko, his voice even gentler than it had been before. 「You’re safe here.」

Cerrin turned to stare at him, disbelief in his wide eyes before his voice came out on an unsure breath.

「…Yeah…」

And with that, he quietly closed the door and immediately walked across the room, unceremoniously flopping onto the bed the second he reached it. It was soft, but not too soft, the blankets equally comfortable as he rolled onto his side.

「Safe, huh…?」 he thought as he reached to pull one of the pillows at the head of the bed down and clutched it tightly against his chest.

「…Anything’s safer than that place…」 he mumbled, closing his eyes and doing his best to keep his breaths calm and steady.

It was all so much to take in…

…But at least that uneasy feeling from earlier had passed.

[jlalafics]

"Photograph"-a Royal!Everlark story

This was inspired by this prompt from @writing-prompt-s:

When you were seven, you held a fake wedding by the swings with a kid you met at the park. You never saw your childhood “spouse” again after that day. Today you received a letter summoning you to a foreign country… where your wedding to the heir to the throne twenty years ago is seen as valid.

This is totally unedited. Thank you to @sparklingdust4612 for bringing this prompt to my attention. Looking forward to everyone else's interpretations along with this one and the story by @jhsgf82!

I actually have more of this but I thought I'd show y'all a little bit of my interpretation of the above prompt.

****

We keep this love in a photograph

We made these memories for ourselves

Where our eyes are never closing

Hearts are never broken

And time's forever frozen, still…

-Ed Sheeran

Photograph

Katniss Everdeen loved building castles.

In the massive sandbox, she packed another bunch of sand into her bucket before placing it upside down to set. While waiting, Katniss imagined how she would decorate the inside of her palace, a delighted smile growing on her face as she thought of the possibilities.

First, the walls would all be yellow. Not the ugly yellow that looked like snot—but yellow like Prim’s, her baby sister, golden locks.

Yellow meant hope: that’s what Daddy always said.

Knocking on the sides of the bucket to loosen the sand like Mommy showed her, Katniss slowly lifted it revealing a perfect tower for her castle.

“Yes!” she hollered, jumping up in excitement.

Her eyes went to Mommy who was sitting on the bench across the way. She was talking to a pretty, yellow-haired woman with a big tummy. Prim was asleep in her stroller, her binky hanging from her mouth.

“Mommy!” Katniss rushed over, stopping just a scant from toppling over on the concrete. “Look! I’ve made the perfect tower!”

Her mother smiled proudly.

“That’s wonderful, Katniss.” She turned to the woman next to her. “My Katniss is always building and dreaming on how to make her perfect home. Her teachers tell me that she has such a creative mind for a seven-year-old.”

“How absolutely charming,” the woman responded kindly, a smile on her pink lips.

Katniss tilted her head at the sound of her voice. There was something different about the way the lady talked—the dips of it sounded strange—but still nice.

“Why do you sound like that?” she asked bluntly.

Her Mommy frowned. “Katniss Everdeen! Please apologize!” She looked to the woman once more. “I’m so sorry—”

“That’s perfectly alright,” the lady assured her. The pretty woman turned to Katniss. “I have a little bit of an accent because of where I’m from, that’s why my voice sounds different.”

Katniss nodded. “Okay, but it does sound nice…like a song!” She smiled. “What’s your name?”

The woman glowed like an angel. “My name is Marguerite.”

“Hello Miss Marguerite.” Katniss looked to where her sandcastle waited. “I better go before someone takes my stuff! Bye!”

Throwing a wave at the woman, she plopped back down onto her space in the sandbox ready to add some detailing to her newest tower—

The foot crushing her tower landed straight in the middle of it creating a space between each side.

Katniss fumed and her eyes went up to the blond-haired boy with the snooty face.

She stood, her hand slamming into his chest. “Hey! You destroyed my castle!”

The boy stared at her in shock. “No one ever touches me!”

“Until now—”

Katniss was suddenly blocked by another boy, tall and dark-skinned.

“No one touches his royal highness,” he declared, and the blond boy stuck his tongue at her.

Another boy, this one dark-haired and sharp-eyed, approached.

“Prince Peeta has decided that you will be his bride,” he stated with a scowl.

Katniss made a face, crossing her arms to show them how disgusting that sounded. “Gross.”

The so-called Prince Peeta walked over to her.

“As my bride, you can make as many sandcastles as you want,” he explained. “I’ll build a bigger sandbox than this for you!”

Something inside zinged at the thought. “Really?”

The boy shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

Katniss eyed him suspiciously. “Why would you want to marry me anyway?”

Peeta shifted in his stance, the confidence in his blue eyes suddenly wavering. “I like your eyes.”

“My eyes?”

A rise of pink colored his cheeks. “They’re soft…and pretty.”

That had been it for her.

On that warm afternoon, by the swings of District 12’s only playground, Katniss Everdeen married the so-called Prince Peeta.

“You may now kiss the bride,” Gale, the dark-haired boy, said. He looked at Peeta, a teasing smile on his face. “Go on—kiss her!”

“Close your eyes,” Peeta told her.

Katniss, wearing her paper towel veil courtesy of the park’s public bathroom, did what he said and closed her eyes.

SPLAT!

She barely registered being shoved down into the muddy puddle.

Katniss looked up at the sneering boy, feeling the rise of anger in her body.

“That’s what you get for pushing me.”

++++++

Twenty years later…

“Katniss.” She looked up from laptop to find Prim at her open doorway. Her sister held out a Fed-Ex envelope. “This just came for you.”

Without even glancing at it, Katniss tossed the envelope on her bed, going back to the open page on her screen.

“Don’t you want to open it?” Prim stepped into the room and plopped onto the bed, picking the post up to examine it. “It looks important.”

“Probably one of those things saying that I’m eligible for another credit card.” Katniss frowned, sitting back, and staring at the blinking cursor. “I’m so stuck on this blog post!”

“Is this the one about kitchen flowers?” her sister asked, and she nodded. “You got some great pictures from Madge’s shop.”

“I know but my writing inspiration is zilch,” Katniss explained. “I need to get this done if I want to post by Mother’s Day.”

“Speaking of Mother’s Day, mom is wondering if you’re bringing anyone to Sunday dinner,” Prim informed her.

“I love our mother but lately every conversation we’ve had is either about my lack of a dating life or my withering eggs,” Katniss said. “Right now, I need to focus on getting more attention on the blog. It’s just gaining momentum!” She rested back and turned to her sister. “This is important to me.”

“I know,” Prim replied. “And you are good at it. I mean, look at what you’ve done to our apartment! To this room!”

Her sister’s bright blue eyes looked around the buttercream room, beautifully decorated with white-washed furniture. The console that her television sat atop was bought at a nearby thrift shop and refurbished by her. Katniss had sanded it down before putting a whitewash over it and adding lacquer to give it a more modern look.

In fact, most of the furniture in her and Prim’s apartment was completely refurbished by her. She had always had an eye for decorating and instead of going to a four-year college, Katniss had opted to go to design school.

Creating something new from what people considered junk gave her a special kind of thrill—almost akin to being in love.

At least that’s what she thought it might feel like.

“Whoa!”

Katniss whipped over to her sister—who was holding an unfolded paper in her hands.

She stood from her seat and went to Prim. “What?”

Wordlessly, Prim handed the piece to her—it was a letter.

The letter was on marbled paper, an elegant insignia atop it, and she could see that the elegant calligraphy was done by hand:

Dear Miss Everdeen,

You are hereby summoned to the kingdom of Panem to present yourself to His Royal Highness, King Peeta.

Photo documentation has validified that you are the Queen Consort to His Royal Highness.

Attached is my business card, please contact me to arrange your travel to Panem.

Respectfully,

The Rt. Hon. Effie Trinket

Private Secretary to His Royal Highness

“This is a joke!” Katniss tossed the letter onto her desk and laughed. “Photo documentation? There is no such thing—”

The laugh fell from her lips as Prim turned the FedEx envelope upside down and a single photo fell onto her bedspread.

“There’s a business card in here, too,” Prim told her carefully.

Walking over, Katniss could see that the photo was facedown.

Trembling, she picked the print up and read the elegant cursive atop it:

‘Peeta and his new bride, Katniss Everdeen!’

Next to the caption was a happy face; it was obvious that this statement was made in jest.

Turning the photograph, a wave of nausea hit seeing the image of her seven-year-old self, a paper towel veil atop her head, joining hands with a blond boy—

Prince Peeta.

Or to be more precise, His Royal Highness King Peeta of Panem.

[minshookie]

Petting Zoo.

Pairing | Stalker!Jungkook x reader

Genre | yandere,angst

Summary | “your secret admirer turned close friend wants to be more than just that, and he always gets his way.”

!warnings! | 18+ mature language, stalking , mentioned sexual acts, violence, sick pets, pet death...

| this is not in anyway shape or form a true depiction or representation of BTS, this is a work of fiction and is not to be taken seriously. For entertainment purposes only.|(this is my work, please don’t repost or steal)

Requested [closed for request] words: 2k.

A/N: another request done! I love taking a finishing request I just get so nervous in the end. Also trying something new. Any type of interaction is greatly appreciated! Edited, but please excuse errors. {should petting zoo be my first series?}

He knew you’d love it, you’ve always had a tender heart. The bunny coo’ed as he gently placed her into the plush box. He knew you were lonely, your roommate recently left you for her boyfriend, he knew fully that you were struggling. He’d push his ear against the wall to hear you two bicker in the deep hours of the night. He didn’t mind, he’d save you...but only if you let him.

Knowing your financial struggles, Jungkook went all out to make sure your bunny had the best even providing a months supply of food. He fully planned on this being the light of your month, you’d never stop thinking of him. He secured the new pet under one arm and the equipment under the other, he pushed his door open checking if the hall was clear. Of course, nice and clear just how he needed it, he slipped through the door with stealth leaving the gift in front of your door. With care he pulled the note card from his pocket perching it on top of the punctured box. Heavily he knocked before slipping inside his rightful apartment.

Leaning against the wall he listened for you to open your door. Finally when you did, it felt like his heart was attempting escape. Expertly he creeped to his door looking through it cracked ajar, he heard you read.

“I’m hopping mad for you, take me in as a friend, from your lover.” Fearfully you opened the whining box. In awe you gladly took in his gift, without a second thought. His heart fluttered he felt like floating in love, like in the cartoons hearts in his doe eyes.

Shutting the door he skipped to bed, exhausted his mind finally at ease, he finally has a shot with you! His heart was racing. He rolls onto his bead, head full of sweet thoughts of you, the plans he had for you. Closing his eyes he knew, this is only the beginning.

Overtime you’d grown fond of your new furry friend, inviting people over to meet your mysterious new fur ball of joy. With this new happiness and motivation, you started leaving your apartment more often. As a result Jungkook started seeing you a lot more and he loved it. He loved it so much that for some reason his schedule now aligned with yours almost perfectly.

You have a class? Oh so does he....would you like a ride? Time to head to work? How funny,him as well.....hop in!

Jungkook planned to be just what you needed, in a foreign place like this all you really needed was a honest friend. And he planned to be that and more. It isn’t hard to notice Jungkook loves it when you depend on him, you need him, your life would be in shambles without him. He knows it deep inside he believes it, but he knows you don’t. No worries for him though, you’ll see the truth soon...

Like any other day, like clockwork, Jungkook waited for you in front of your door like a royal guard. Today though he had plans for you, for days Jungkook perfected today’s schedule...big plans to tell you his feelings. Plans to pour his heart out to you, and to get yours poured to him, but something wasn’t sitting right.

you didn’t come on time, checking his watch like a mad man he paced in front of your door in anticipation. Your prolonged time inside threw off the agenda severely. Beside the settle irritation, he was worried something happened to you he was going insane. What if you left him? What if you died...what if someone kidnapped you?

Two seconds from ramming his fist against your door...Finally, while on the edge of his sanity your door creaked open. “Hey, running late today huh?” He looked your figure up and down. You weren’t dressed for the day, pajamas and Nikes weren’t your usual fashion choices.

“Oh, Kook it’s Bella she’s sick.” The whining animal sat curled into a ball inside of the pink carrier. Your voice floated to his ears, soft and worrisome. He crouched, looking into the dark cage. “Sick? Sick how?” He prodded his limber finger inside rubbing the frail animals head. “I-I don’t know she hasn’t been eating,her breathing is strange.” He could hear you on the verge of tears as he got up, slightly annoyed though he tried to hide it. “We’re late to class y/n maybe you should just leave her, she’ll be better later.” The way you batted your lashes told Jungkook he’d said something wrong. You griped the carrier locking your apartment door before begging to leave towards the elevator. “Wait Y/n where are you going?” You Kept walking carful not to rock the poor bunny too hard. “Kook, Bella is half dead and you want me to leave her? I’m taking her to the vet.”

He groaned coming closer as you waited for the aged elevator to reach you. “Yeah? Okay well wait for me I’ll take you.” The elevator stoped with a horrifying screech, you stepped in Jungkook was kicking your last nerve this morning. “I already had it planned for today.” He got closer barley missing the door, “Jin offered to take me.” The door closes quickly and you descend.

Jin? Did you say Jin? Like a angered child he almost stomped back to his apartment door. he threw his bag against it, crouching to search for his key inside. “If I knew she was going to bitch over the thing-” he cut himself off opening the door,kicking his bag inside. “ I bought the fucking bunny, who is he to take care of our bunny.”

He threw himself down onto his couch, unmotivated to go to class now, or do anything for that matter he decided to miss today, and maybe even tomorrow. He mentally facepalmed, of course Jungkook noticed you and the new older man downstairs getting closer. He didn’t think anything of it, until he saw him walking into your job when he came to pick you up. Handing you his cheap flowers and gifts whenever he’d see you around the building. Jungkook thought you were smarter than that, it made him fiery with anger thinking about him manipulating you. The only person that loved you was Him. How could you blow him off for some guy downstairs, some guy you didn’t even need.

He let his mind jump from one angering topic to another. Oh! And that fucking rabbit. Bella had been getting a lot of love from you recently, he didn’t mind he saw that pet as a connection between you two. But to suddenly you kick him to the side because the rodent refused to eat? From Bella to Jin, his head spun. He could feel his face heat up at the thought of Jin getting close to you in the car, touching you, playing with your hair. It made him sick, he could almost feel the bile in his throat. If it wasn’t for that walking ball of fur, you’d be in his car, getting touched and loved by him.

He sat up with a groan. “I’ll wait until she gets home.” He stood going to the kitchen grabbing a drink. “And I’ll talk to her, I’m sure she can explain, she’ll tell me the whole story.”

It seemed like decades before your laughter was heard coming into the hall. He’d been sitting facing his door, waiting for you, his hair disheveled his mind distraught. “Thanks Jin, talk to you later.” Your voice so sweet to him he felt himself physically react, oh how he missed you today. He heard the creak and slam of your door. What am I to say? Maybe I should ask about Bella? He got up fixing his appearance before leaving and turning to your door.

He cleared his throat before letting his knuckles beat against the hardwood. “Coming hold on!” He took a step back painfully waiting. Thankfully you arrived quicker than expected. “Hey Kookie.” You answer in hushed tones. “Hey, going to work today?” You shook your head “no, I called out on emergency.” He nodded hands in his pockets. “How’s Bella?” You looked behind yourself quickly, “Uhm, she’s a bit better just weak would you like to come see her actually?”

He nodded enthusiastically following you in, “sit down if you’d like.” You left him to go retrieve the sickly pet. He stood admiring the room, everything from the pictures to the decorative items resembled you, not only did it look like you but it smelt like you. Jungkook could swim in this scent all day.

“Here she is, a sleepy little one.” The soft hum coming from her sleeping figure earned endearment from you. Jungkook came closer rubbing her back softly. “So, why didn’t you ask me to take you this morning ?” You looked up from Bella. “I thought that you were gonna to be in class.” Your head tilted adorably. “Mm no, I’ll always wait for you.” He took Bella from your motherly arms. “Oh how sweet of you.”

“Hm So, since when have you been taking to Jin?” He looked at you inquisitively. “Jin? Eh Jin is... We’re...complicated, I’ve known him since I moved here he’s helped me quite a bit.” You answered keeping a loving gaze on Bella.

Jungkook felt himself grip the rabbit tighter he looked at you with furrowed brows. “Huh?” “I met him in a bar with my ex roommate, we’ve been talking since then.” You explained lightly trying to not hurt his feelings, of course you knew how Jungkook felt, and it wasn’t mutual.

You plopped onto the couch patting the cushions inviting him to sit. “He moved downstairs to be closer, he’s making a good effort but I’m not sure how I feel right now.” Sighing you toyed with your fingers, unaware of the grimace on Jungkook’s features.

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he felt that he’d been lied to and he didn’t a appreciate that. “What do you think Koo, what should I do?” You asked, getting anxious at his sudden silence. He was upset and he was doing his best to hide it, with a sigh he sat next to you. “Don’t let him fuck up your mind y/n.” Confused you looked up to him, “we both know what you want.” You crossed your arms, curious. “What’s that?” Already being aggravated, he sighed deeply,letting the now awake rabbit escape onto the floor. “Me.” You were visibly taken aback by his unusual boldness.

“Uhm Jungkook.” Anxiously you rubbed the nape of your neck. “Y/n don’t pretend for Jin’s sake, I can hear you through the walls talking to friends about me.” Without noticing he started leaning towards you. “I’ve heard you in here being lewd with yourself, who was on your mind.” He could read the fear in your eyes, you grew uncomfortable at the personal information he was throwing at you. “Jungkook please wait-” “who was it?” You pushed a firm palm into his chest in attempts to get him away from you, the sweet dorky neighbor you’d befriended now lurking over you like a beast. “Who do you love y/n, c’mon?” “Kook-” “before you answer, know that I’ve always loved you it’ll never be complicated with me y/n you want better I can give you much be-” you pushed his muscular chest roughly to shut him up, your back now touching the arm of the couch. “I’m with Jin, Jungkook please leave I’m afraid.” A statement you thought would save you, turned to bite you right in the ass.

You could visibly see the anger play along his features, grimly he chuckled. “I’m not going any-fucking-where until you come to your senses.” He gripped the hand you had up against him. “Jungkook that hurts please I’m scared!” “You should be, how dare you use me, fucking whore I loved you!” He ran a finger over his lips, his emotions clashing harshly with each other. “I love you...but you probably let Jin fuck you silly, disgusting...but don’t worry you’ll learn.”

He proclaims pushing you to the floor, he rushes to slam and lock your apartment door. He turned and saw you clutching the coffee brown rabbit,sobbing. “Y-you fucking stepped on her Kook!” the whining of the pained animal began to creep onto his nerves. If that rodent wasn’t here you would’ve been going out with Jungkook today, and Jin wouldn’t stand a chance. He bent down pulling Bella from your clutch, with little to no struggle.

“You get what you want, and you run with it, you get what you want and you go snuggling under some other asshole huh?” He held the injured animal in a primal grip. Uncontrollable he’d held in his anger, his love,and his thoughts for far too long. “Kookie please...please...please no, l- I love you!” You desperately pleaded for your pets fragile life. “Never have I met a bitch that lies as much as you.” Coldly he responded, not appreciating your falsehood, he gripped Bella’s neck harshly putting the disturbed animal to death. “Jungkook!” You let out a shrill scream. “I bought her I can kick her to fucking curb if I want, go ask Jin for one, or did he lie and say he bought her.”

Silently all you could do is whimper and sob, the thud of Bella’s body made your throat constrict. His heavy steps near your quivering figure sending chills through you. “Say it like you mean it.” With no mental strength to look up, you collected yourself enough to speak. “I lo-ve you j-Jungkook.” He groaned. “Suck it up it was a fifty dollar animal, you’re pissing me off.” You’ve never heard him in this tone. “I love you so much, Kookie.” He gripped your chin forcing you to look at him. He pulled up his other hand slowly touching your face causing you to flinch. “Ah Ah don’t run.” He cleaned your glistening face.

“Now, tell me who we hate.” He looked into your eyes darkly. “J-Jin.” His once adorable smile, now made you want to vomit. “Good, and I’ll snap his puny neck if he gets in our way.” He brushed more tears from your features. Giving into his temptation he gripped the back of your neck, bringing his lips to yours before pulling back to whisper. “Now tell me, who were you thinking about during those lonely nights?” You shook swallowing thickly “and you better not lie.” Closing your eyes in defeat, warm tears spilled from you like a fountain. “You Jungkook.” Pleased he kissed you warmly, while you resisted the urge to react. “Keep being such a good girl, and I’ll get you a whole petting zoo of bunnies baby...would you like that?”

Not my image

[yanderenightmare]

Hello, I have been looking at your content and I must say that I really like the way you write and I hope you are doing well.I don't know if your applications are open now but I want to give you an idea, how would the yanders react if their beloved has depressive periods and low self-esteem?It may be a bit of an anguish at first but I would like how they would react, use it on purpose or go soft on their beloved.

yandere ! BNHA headcannons

Support me at KO-FI if you feel like it<3

goodiebag WARNINGS: depression, self-harm, abuse, manipulation, abuse, profanity, amnesia, anxiety, panic-attacks, arson, bipolar disorder, blood, death threats, eating disorder, guilt, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, mental illness, mind control, paranoia, noncon, dubcon, starvation, suicidal ideation, trauma

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

MELANCHOLIA –

She’s always biting her tongue, the inside of her cheek, her lip. So much so, he doesn’t even know what her lip normally looks like without it being bloated and swollen and red from having her teeth sink into to it. He’s okay with her chosen silence as long as she answers when she’s spoken to, which she does, lacking the will to refuse, knowing it will only cost her valuable energy, energy she needs in case Bakugo decides he wants to rip the breath from her lungs while he hunches over her, his hips snapping into her again and again, ramming at a pace so rough she both dreads it and welcomes it, for on the one hand it’s exhausting and she always wakes up with aches in the morning, yet on the other hand he makes her appreciate breathing which is always a nice reminder when she often times wonders what tranquility would be found in not breathing whatsoever.

He doesn’t want to confront her about it, sensing how she might not enjoy confrontation all that much, and not really wanting the whole ordeal to result in making her cry at the mere sound of his voice. He won’t alter the volume or the roughness of his tone, no matter how many times she cringes at how loud he’s being, but he does try being gentle, at least with his criticism. He showers her in compliments, which is a huge contrast to how he would usually handle fixing things. But, he finds using softer methods benefit him as well, loving the blush that adorns her face each time he does so, his own confidence probably boosting more so than hers.

He does nice things, not really knowing what or which way to help. He doesn’t make her do any chores, ignoring the nagging feeling that keeping her busy would probably help more so than having her sit and look cute all day, but… he’s afraid of admitting it, but… he quite likes taking care of her. He quite likes hugging her throughout the night, feeling her small tremoring sobs against him while stroking her back. He likes comforting her on those same nights where she wakes abruptly from some nightmare, stroking glossy diamond tears away from her cheeks, loving her bloated lips and that cute red wet irritation flushed on her nose and cheeks.

The only times he gets upset with her is when she refuses to eat. He tries so hard to make things she might like, but it’s scarce he sees her taking more than a few bites, if she makes a move to eat at all. He doesn’t want to make her cry, despite it being a constant hobby of hers, he doesn’t want to be the reason to her crying, but… he can’t have her starving. He finds the fear-tactic surprisingly effective on someone who spends most their time fantasizing about death. A few sparks in his palms has her all but quaking, scared half-way into catatonia or even comatose, so much so he has to pull her into his lap and spoon-feed her. Not that he minds that either, he comes to enjoy it quite a lot actually. How her small frame melts so perfectly against his chest, legs swung over his lap, head on his shoulder, remnants of her fear-stricken cries still evident as small spontaneous jolts run through her, being slowly comforted away with the same hand that caused the trouble in the first place.

DABI - TODORKI TOUYA

ANXIETY –

He couldn’t be happier with his little ball of blue wrapped up in soft-tinted crushed dreams with a heart made of honeycombs and dandelion-fluff. Whereas his misfortunate lack of happiness stems from a place of violence, where violence breeds violence, she’s nothing but a tender trauma. Such a soft despair, such a sweet despair, such perfection found in something so devastating. It’s artwork really. How she can cry herself to sleep, trapped in his arms, feeling as though she’s dying, yet wake up the next morning all velvety and soft in his arms, her heart finding comfort in what her mind rejects, what her mind fears.

He tries being a source of comfort for the most part, but teasing and haunting and poking fun at her is such a delicious past-time he cannot simply just refrain from. He’ll be a real villain about it at times. Having her as a complete blubbering pathetic hiccupping mess, poking fun at her crybaby-face as he licks the tears from her cheeks and gorges himself in her panic, his fingers dancing small patterns on her stomach as she wiggles beneath him.

She used to be so scared of him. So skittish and paralyzed, cold-sweating and eyes constantly leaking he had to imagine what her eyes would look like without being rimmed with red. She used to shiver and shake and quake and reel in on  herself, curl up until her limbs ached from how small she was trying to make herself become, backed up into the corner beneath his shadow, his leather-boots looking like the onset of everything horrific as she coward in front of them. But wild untrusting childlike beings such as her is quick in nature to tether themselves to the first or only source of light. And though the transition was slow, her anxiety soon shifted from being directed at him and soon for him instead.

It was too easy, and it benefitted him so undeservingly as well it was cruel. How he simply took all those fears of hers, all those fears for everything residing in the new foreign room she’d been taken captive in, manipulating them into becoming paranoia for everything found outside the bedroom door instead. He went from being the source of her dread, of her panic, of her misery, of her pitter-patter heart and shattering teeth to her savior. Soothing her in her frenzied quakes as she spluttered on sobs containing what hellish monsters and dangers found outside, begging him to be careful, to come back to her, to stay.

She will hug him close throughout the night, hanging almost like a noose around his neck when he needs to leave in the mornings, tracing his scars with a stream of endless worried thoughts blubbering in her groggy voice. And he’ll humor her worry and tame the oncoming panic-attacks by giving her a little light-show of blue flames in his palm, words of his own coming to assure her how nothing will ever happen to him and how he will never let anything ever happen to her, assuring however many times he has the time for.

She’s too cute it’s unfair. Unfair that small creatures like her exist without anything to protect them from hungry wolves like him. And though he was never the type to fantasize about clingy things, he has to admit… coming home to someone who lunches at him in the most secure yet clumsy and desperate embrace, he feels as though that feeling of coming home is all he’ll ever need in the world, that she’s all he’ll ever need.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

INSOMNIA –

It’s nice. He knows it shouldn’t be the word he describes it with, but… that’s what it is. It’s nice. It’s nice to stay up with someone who expels the same type of energy as him, and not to mention the same amount of energy as him, or… lack of thereof. It’s nice living off of fumes together. It’s nice slipping to and from consciousness and how it almost turns into a game of who can survive the longest before collapsing, with the other shortly following, too tired to even bask in their victory.

It’s nice irritating over the same sharp sounds that attack their sensitive ears, not at all like the familiar sound of soft clicks of the controller in their hands. It’s nice communicating almost purely through mellow moans and groans and croaks, always understanding what the other is emitting despite it being but shapeless sounds.

It’s nice finding agreement in how the lights should always stay off, how it’s turned into some religious rule never meant to be crossed. It’s nice annoying over the same crisp bright light of the sun that violate their eyes those times they forget to shut the blinds before passing out after having counted stars and eating in the dead silence of night like nocturnal beings ignoring the light of day as though it were the plague. It’s nice how they can both find comfort in the glow of the moonlight or computer screen, leaching off of the energy like flies.

He’s found kinship in her presence, and despite it merely being himself and her in the darkness of his room, with flying specs of dust decorating the air and their computers the only windows to the world beyond their four walls, he feels as though the whole universe is looking at him when the softness of her glinting, beaming, sparkling eyes set their gaze and lock with his. It’s strange, but he always found angel-bright smiles and supersonic eyes to be too intrusive and annoying and scary to stand before, whereas her sunken dark eyes, ringed with shades of lilac contrasting her otherwise pale porcelain skin, kept almost albino in the darkness of his room… she couldn’t be more perfect.

Come to think of it, it’s perfection. Her in all her sleep-deprived glory, all her drowsy silliness, her sloppy harsh movements, tripping and stumbling with her droopy-eyes, in her soft giggling fits, where she’ll catch her stupidity just a moment too late and roll around on the bed, trying to shrug off Tomura’s teasing judgement as he pokes fun at her idiocy. Giving up on forming complete sentences as she almost always ends up toppling over her own words, settling for whining or sighing as she turns her head to bury it in his chest.

Utter perfection. Never bothering to get dressed, walking about like a little tease in only underwear and Tomura’s ill-fitted hoodie, hair pulled up into a messy-bun too messy, always defeating the purpose of keeping her hair from out of her face. Her unstable movements, disconnected to the ground as though she’s floating. Too grabbable and easily defeated in her weariness when being pulled into his lap, simply humming and moaning in response as he plants soft kisses down her neck, his fingers coming to destroy whatever’s in the way of him and her body.

HITOSHI SHINSO

HYPERSOMNIA –

She sleeps so soundly, like a little couch-kitten. All soft and cute, playing in her dreams. She’ll sleep whole entire days, only opening her eyes in small flutters every now and again and moaning ever so softly once he wakes her, though quickly scrunching her nose and twisting to fall asleep again. Her drowsiness rendering her pride invalid, causing her to pull at him to better comfort herself against his body, whining when he shifts, his warm presence leaving the bed when he needs to go to work. Her little unconscious protest making his heart twist in his chest, tempted to stay in bed with her all day long, yet comforting himself with the fact that he’ll probably come home to find her in the exact same position.

She’s so cute. She’ll curl and stretch, resting anywhere she finds comfortable: in bed, in the sofa, in the armchair, on his chest, his shoulder, his lap. Adorable with her little snores, all knotted up, remnants of her dreams spilling out from her sleep and coming to life in her limbs as she kicks and shakes her head, delving further into the pillow and twisting intricately in about the blanket. Eyelashes fluttering, eyes skittering beneath her puffy eyelids, caught up in whatever hurricane her mind has conjured up.

She seemed unfazed once she woke up in his room for the first time, and even then, she only gave him enough time to explain himself before nodding with heavy eyelids, laying her drowsy head back on the pillow. The situation dawning on her gradually over the first month, and if whether she was startled or angry, he couldn’t tell. If anything, sept for sleepy, he’d say she seemed confused, but alongside the confusion was the look that told him she couldn’t find the energy in herself to think too much about it without her fuzzy head hurting. Settling for eating breakfast with him in the mornings, and even thanking him on those occasion where she would forget the circumstances that led her to live there.

She doesn’t struggle when he pulls her limp body close to his own in the dead of night after he’s done for the day. He’s only mildly concerned, but it’s not his affection that shakes her from her sleep. He’s a selfish person, and he’s not one to hide those ugly aspects of himself. He’s selfish, greedy, controlling. He has to use his quirk on her sometimes… often times. Though she’s cute when she’s sleeping, he wants to do more than just watch her. He wants words, conversation, he wants to know what’s going on in that dark dreary head of hers, he wants to know what eerie things she’s been dreaming about, where she escapes to when her eyes slide close.

What more: he wants those eyes on him, those puffy, sleepy beautiful doe-eyes. He wants her to pay attention as he touches her skin and not simply to moan in response to it, he wants her to hang onto every single moment his skin touches hers. Telling her to focus reaches a long way. Those otherwise sleepy doe-eyes widening in such moon-bright curiosity, slaving at the hands of his quirk. Her otherwise limp and soft body shaking under his overwhelming touch, goosebumps springing to the surface under his tongue, a wicked glint evident in his lilac eyes.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

BIPOLAR –

She’s fragile on most days. Whether that fragility is in the shape of a daisy or a bomb is impossible to say until she either falls apart or blows up. It’s all rather uncertain, sporadic, spontaneous, where he’s given only a few signs where which he can predict what state of mind she’s in and how stable that structure is.

Most things depend on sleep, and upholding a balanced sleep-pattern has become one of the most important things in Keigo’s life after having taken his little darling. But, she manages to slip past his schedules more times than he would like to admit. When she refuses to go to sleep, his mind drifts to all the fun things they can do if they weren’t sleeping, and when she’s sound asleep and drowsing far beyond what time she should have woken up, he can’t find it in himself to wake her, not when he is the reason as to why she was so spent and sore and exhausted from the events and methods he used to make her fall asleep in the first place.

On little sleep one of two things can happen. She can either have the energy of a hummingbird or be tired to the point she almost looks sickly. On her lack-of-sleep-high she’s confident, cocky more so than Keigo, where she’ll test her luck on how far Keigo’s willing to bend his rules when she misbehaves, calling him all types of names, laughing in his face when he snaps and cackling even harder even madder when he decides to punish her, as though it’s all a game to quench her boredom.

With the absence of sleep causing her exhaustion she becomes irritated, seething with boiling rage, red in annoyance, whatever energy she has left focused on making her discomfort known as she scowls at him each time he smiles too loudly, but being too drained to physically act on her frustration or to even make up a snide comment without evoking a headache, left to simply snarl. He thinks it’s cute, where he knows well enough that if he pushes her limits too far she might just break. Break, and therefore let him gather her up into his arms and hush and tut at her to stop crying while he strokes her back, feeling her tremble with unparalleled frustration weighing down on her shoulders.

Then there are the days she sleeps too much. The same options are present here too. She’s either too energetic or too well rested. Either black or white. No grey. But with too much sleep she isn’t ever hostile, but still wild. Wild and enthusiastic and self-destructive and prop-full of ideas and insane in her passion. She’ll be unable to focus on anything, she’ll forget things seconds after they’ve been said or done, but… she’ll laugh and she’ll smile, and it won’t be one of those haughty nasty smiles she gives him when she’s feeling spiteful, but genuine in its playfulness or even bliss.

Then on other days sleeping half the day only results in her being even more drowsed out, yet accompanying her exhaustion isn’t irritation, but soft-tinted melancholia, where all she does is stay wrapped up in her blanket, quiet and still, silent tears dripping down her cheeks as she focusses on how hollow her chest is, as though caving in on itself, where she’ll fall all limp and snuggly in Keigo’s embrace, humming appreciatively as he wraps her up in his wings. All the while a treacherous smile of satisfaction on his face.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

DESPOND –

When Izuku chose his darling it was done without compromise, without fault, it was done with perfection. Meaning, he fell for all of her, invested in all of her, determined to preserve all of her. Even her inexplainable unfounded absurd plethora of self-doubt that make her delirious and hopeless with anxiety and guilt. He let himself fall hungrily in love with her little terror-wide heart. He fell viciously in love with how desperate in need of him to come help ground her she was.

It was as though she’s made for him, he would argue. It was as though he’s made for her. Some breeds of people are just too vulnerable to take proper care of themselves. Some people just aren’t meant to take care of themselves. Whereas others are made to help, other people need to help.

Emotions are abstract fundamental tools meant to be used. Lesser minds might look down on his methods, yet Izuku came to understand quite early in life that things such as morals are chains meant to keep you from achieving your goal. He has no quarrels with using and abusing those tools presented to him, where her irrational feelings of doubt, hopelessness and worthlessness are a delicious opportunity to achieve his goal. Besides, her emotions are too easily abused and give such great unshakable responses, and even though he doesn’t want to tamper too much with her instability… they’re just too in-reach for him to ignore, too tempting for him to stay away.

The feeling of responsibility sits like an extra organ inside him, where his toes curl each time he sees her large doe-eyes look at him as though he were the sun, as though her whole life revolves around him. She’s just so dependent on him, so in need of his guidance and advise and praise, where he’s afraid she might just drown in her own guilt if she senses she’s displeased him. She makes sure she wears what he likes, has her hair the way he likes, letting him play with her like putty in his hands if he asks it of her. How can he be expected to not exploit what is so clearly offered?

Besides, he spoils her as well. He returns the favor so to speak, even though he knows she has given herself no choice but to worship him in her mindset of inadequacy. She’s so sweet he nearly feels undeserving, because she’ll blush so preciously when he compliments her, bashful and adorable and too good to be true, he wonders how such a creature can ever feel like less. He adores her, yet that doesn’t stop him from finding such satisfying bliss in the fact that he’s infinitely stronger and faster and not to mention smarter. Whereas she’s gullible and too eager to please, another attributing factor as to why he loves her, despite it is also being the cause of her demise, or maybe even because of it

The truth is she’s lucky that she belongs to him. Lucky that he won’t ever let anything happen to her, no matter if she’s the source of her own harm. She’s lucky to have him to anchor herself to as so to avoid floating away in her hopelessness. This is safer for her. Despite him sticking his bloodstained inky fingers and twisting her heart in his deadlock of a fist, she’s safe, safer than she could or would ever be on her own.

CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL

AMNESIA –

It’s cute. He won’t deny that it’s cute, because it is. It’s adorable and unbelievable and annoying all the same. She’ll forget the rules, she’ll wander too far from her confines, not greeting him at the door, not kissing him on que, leave questions unanswered despite him having told her to always answer him when she’s spoken to, all things he feels he’s made blatantly clear through threats and countless reminders. But, not only will she forget his rules, but basic living necessities, she’ll forget to eat and drink, forget to get dressed, forget where she is.

She’ll say the strangest things sometimes. Mild and mellow passionate thoughts regarding the clouds and stars and moon and gods and how pretty his snake-eyes are, like great big lakes of molten gold. It’s strange but he finds such great comfort in her little philosophical blubbering, her soft voice kissing his ears like gospel. It’s a tender type of relief or resolution found in listening to nonsense as opposed to the serious matters he has to deal with in his position in the underworld, her view of the world somehow painting everything, even the ugly and the dangerous, in beauty.

Sometimes she’ll drift a bit too far away though. She’ll daydream more than sleep, absentminded when he’s speaking to her, unable to focus on him or anything for more than a few minutes at best. All dizzy and fuzzy, as though she’s just woken from some dream or as if she’s always dreaming. Irritation festers in his chest when she doesn’t answer, but as she turns her head, expression all soft and oblivious, his chest caving in at the sight of those doe-eyes, all anger simmering into nothing, rendering his annoyance nonexistent, replaced by a sense of hopeless forgiveness and somehow appreciation.

When it comes to her for once actually remembering what she’s supposed to do she’ll weigh each task as though one wrong decision would cost her life. Greeting him at the door in nothing but underwear, already having failed at picking out an outfit and resorting to wearing the lingerie Kai picked and laid out for her on the bed in the morning. The simple task suddenly becoming a battle where she’ll spend much too much time deciding whether to take his jacket first or give him a kiss or welcome him home. Too many decisions with too faulty statistics and unsure outcomes she ends up merely standing there doing nothing but hold her head in her hands and whimper slightly at all the noise that suddenly crowded her head, tears already threatening to fall as she stands before him, all guilt-ridden and trembling.

He can be patient as long as he knows she isn’t disobeying him on purpose, especially when he sees how guilty and how terribly sorry she is each time she fails on acting out simple tasks such as those he gives her. She’ll cry and apologize for the mere act of breathing on some days where she’s extra fragile, where she seeks nothing but his praise, his comfort, his hand stroking through her hair as she sleeps restlessly in her sobs on his chest, unaware of the mild smile of satisfaction and endearment displayed on his face.

TODOROKI SHOTO

SELF-CONSCIOUS -

She’s always hiding. Like a little mouse, she’s always squeaking and squealing and hiding. Hiding her face, burying it in the pillow when he compliments her gorgeous eyes, begging him to stop, small timid hands pushing ever so slightly at him. Hiding her chest, her nipples, when he admires them, his hands playing with the soft and supple flesh, whimpering as she tries to twist away. Her knees trying their best to wrench shut, to hide and protect what sensitivity find between them from Shoto’s hungry fingers and tongue.

She’s always hiding… but he likes to hunt anyway. If she drapes herself in pitch-black hoodies he’ll gladly rip them off, or scorch them off and expose her delicious artful body. If she refuses to leave the bed he’ll gladly attack her where she’s sleeping. She’s always hiding, but she quickly comes to understand that there will be no hiding from him.

He doesn’t understand why she would ever want to hide divinity, and therefor doesn’t respect the wish. Having made it his mission to expose every little piece of her, licking up long lines of bumpy purple and white scars, sucking and biting at those pointy cherry nipples strutting at the coolness of his breath, kissing those plump lips of hers despite her cringing to cover herself up in thousand layers of clothes, dark clothes, where only the very least of her skin is remaining on display. He won’t have it.

He has to tie her up on most occasions where she’s too difficult and shy to listen and let him play with her beauty. He’ll have to tie her up like a starfish on the bed, limbs spread in each direction, scars running along them, quite like the ones he receives in battle, only precise and matching and purposeful, his hands coming to touch them in reverence, worshipping every little altercation she’s added to her skin, further pushing its ever-changing perfection, watching as she hopelessly struggles to hide herself, yet the both of them knowing how she’s fully his.

He can’t allow her hurting herself anymore though, not with the fear that she one day might slip up and kill herself just a little bit too much, but he’s happy to help her through the tools of fire and ice. Frostbite flowers look even more as though they belong on her body, as well as blotches of burns, his markings, his teeth. He’ll never forget the moan he received on his first indulgence branding her body with his elements, how she purred in gratitude, small blissful squeals and mewls following, further egging him on.

Once she grew more comfortable with his hands and his stare… or rather… once the need for his hands outgrew her discomfort, she became somewhat addicted. And now, she can be wild in her cravings on some days, demanding it of him, threatening him, fighting him. She’ll bite and claw, begging for him to retaliate, longing for him to push her into the bedsheets and teach her what it’s like to feel alive by teasing her with the promise of death.

Without him she’s left to pick at scabs, counting the seconds until his return. She’ll pull at her hair until her scalp is screaming. She’ll ball her fists, creating those blood-red crescent moons in her palms, biting her nails until they bleed and then some. Then bask in relief upon his return.

Support me at KO-FI if you feel like it<3

[generalobi]

What if Obi-Wan stayed on Melida/Daan after their war was over to help them piece together peace. As a foreign advisor, he’d have plenty of time to read up on his nerdy interests, like maybe the only Mandalorian Jedi. How would Jango react to a warrior poet former Jedi who speaks in flowery ancient Mando’a?

It was never Obi-Wan’s intention to become a politician. But, things being as they are, he didn’t really have much of a choice.

In the beginning, it was fine. He was appointed Minister of Education, after helping Cerasi and Nield form a government. He enjoyed being Minister of Education. He got to help shape the next generation of children, and watch them grow up in a world without war. It was great, actually.

But, of course, nothing good ever lasts. MelidaDaan needed to rejoin the wider galaxy, and who better to lead that project than Obi-Wan? No one, because no one else had ever left the planet. No one else speaks another language, and no one else knows how trade deals work. So, Foreign Minister Kenobi is born.

¬

When his buir tells him he’s considering reaching out to MelidaDaan for a trade deal, Jango nearly laughs. Not only does MelidaDaan have nothing of value, nothing is known about them. The planet only recently emerged from centuries long isolation. 

He does laugh when his buir tells him that Jango will be the one to head this negotiation.

¬

When Jango brings the ship into the atmosphere, he understands. MelidaDaan resembles Mandalore. The planet is a wasteland, remnants of towns and cities amongst barren fields and bomb craters. A civil war tore the planet apart, every continent and city ravenged by it. That’s why Jaster wants this deal. Their planets are similar.

Next to him, Myles whistles lowly, “Fuck, they destroyed this place. I reckon the Manda’lor’s got a point. They’re not so different from us.”

“Maybe,” Jango says, still scanning the surface.

They’re approaching a city, and the coordinates his buir gave them. Like everything else, the city shows signs of war. But progress too. Buidlings have been fixed, and strengthened. They fly over a street market, and a school, before their stop comes into view. A small landing platform.

“I think they found peace in a very different way,” Jango points out, jerking his chin at their welcoming party.

Myles stares at the group of barely adults that awaits them, “Shit.”

¬

“Olarom,” Minister Kenobi greets, accent strange but the word undoubtably Mando’a, “We welcome you to our city.”

“We thank you for your welcome,” Jango inclines his head, “You speak Mando’a?”

He shrugs, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth, “Oh, only a bit. I’ve had some time on my hands recently.”

Next to him, the woman (girl, really) who has yet to introduce herself rolls her eyes.

Jango has no idea what to make of these people. The three members of their welcoming party can’t be older than twenty. And that’s being generous. Jango himself is young for his position, at twenty-five. How have these... children ending up in charge of a planet? And why?

“Your accent is good,” Myles says gruffly, when Jango has been silent for too long, “For a beginner.”

Minister Kenobi laughs, “Thank you, Ser Myles. I try my best. Would you like to see your rooms? Negotiations start tomorrow, as I’m sure you’re aware, and dinner is in three hours. I’m sure you want to relax before then.”

Jango trades a look with Myles, “Thank you, we would appreciate that.”

Unlike Sundari, MelidaDaan doesn’t have a palace. The girl, who introduces herself as Dari, explains that this is the Fortress. At Myles’ raised eyebrow, Minister Kenobi explains that the building was one of the few that still stood at the end. He doesn’t specify at the end of what, but he doesn’t need to. 

The third member of the welcome committee is presumably a guard, as they offer no introduction and remain at the back of the group.

As they walk, Dari and Minister Kenobi point out things of interest and explain the next two weeks itiniery more thoroughly. The latter is mostly Kenobi. The building is mostly duracrete, wood and some strange material Jango can’t identify. It’s clearly designed for practicality more than anything else. Apart from tapestries lining the walls, the decoration is sparse.

Frankly, Jango would be hard pressed to find his way without the tour. All the corridors look similar, and the doors have no sign to differentiate one from the other. How Dari manages to point out each one baffles him. 

“And these are your rooms,” Kenobi stops at an unassuming wooden door, “Someone will bring your bags from the ship, and fetch you for dinner. Please, rest. You might need it.”

¬

“This place is strange,” Jango groans to his buir, when the only person to witness his lack of decorum is Myles.

Jaster sighs, “And why is that?”

“They’re kids,” Jango says, running a hand through his hair.

“What?”

Myles pops his head into view, “He’s not lying Jaster. They’re off age, but only just. This is an elected government, and for some reason they’ve chosen to elect children. Scary children, sure, but I swear I saw a twelve-year-old in a guards uniform.”

Jaster frowns, “I’ll look into it. But other than that?”

“Minister Kenobi speaks Mando’a.”

“Okay,” Jaster nods, “That is weird. I have to go, but I will look into it. I’ll talk to you tomorrow Jan’ika.”

The call disconnects and Jango is left staring down at his comm. 

“Come on,” Myles slaps his shoulder, “Let’s get ready for this dinner.”

[alch3mic]

Beast or Prince's darling discovering their yandere tendencies? I'd love to see some drama go down

Strange how the twisting shadows of night made the estate halls feel so.. unfamiliar.

Those once pristine and well decorated walls that lured you into the estate so long ago now looked tainted by the darkness scrawled upon their surface, while the tile flooring felt even colder beneath your bare feet as you traversed the dim halls with nothing but a cellphone flashlight and the rain to keep you company.

Thunder and lightning crackled outside distantly, enlightening the hallways briefly in brilliant white flashes before plunging them back into the depths of obscurity. It, along with the deafening sounds of rain pattering against the windows, was enough to make your heart nearly pound right out of your poor chest.

.....

Was this some kind of classic horror movie set up or what?

Sheesh!

Talk about cliché! The only thing that was missing from this scene was some kind of terrible scary monster or knife wielding psycho lurking around the corner, and then you’d be the star of the next box office thriller!

At least the thought was funny enough to make you chuckle before another flash of lightning and crackling of thunder made you nearly jump out of your own skin.

...

.....Maybe.. you should’ve stayed in bed..

The thought of turning your butt right back around and just returning to your room was rather tempting.. but..

You had three burning questions in your mind that you just knew would keep you up all night if you turned back now.

Number one, what was that loud crashing sound that had woken you out of your dreams? You’re at least very certain it wasn’t thunder because the storm only started a few minutes after you left your bed.

Number two, why was the power out? Never, in all of your time of staying here, had the lights ever gone out like this. Papyrus once told you they ran on their own line out here on the estate with their own generators, separate from the city grid just so they could keep things on in case of a city wide power outage. So.. why? Why was the power out, even before this crazy storm even started? What happened?

And lastly.. number three..

....Where was Sans?

He had bunked with you in your room today after a late night of playing some video games together, but when you suddenly awoke he was... gone.

That had concerned you, because he wasn’t there when the crashing sound happened, which meant he left sometime before the storm started. It wasn't until you found his phone still placed upon your nightstand that your worries grew. He always kept his phone on him..

Now straddled with anxiety you gathered yourself before heading out in search of your boyfriend.

Just where in the world did he go?

.....

You checked your cell phone again.

...Still no service.

Dammit.

Great.. juuuust great.

...Maybe Sans' would..?

Nope.

That was a bust too.

You let out a huff of annoyance, even trying to wave his phone above your head in the hopes of getting a single bar of service, but it was to no avail.

There was another moment where you looked back to the hall you had just been wandering through, wondering if you really should just head back.. but..

It was foreign now.

You in all honesty had no idea where you were.

Like, you weren't even sure if you were in the west wing anymore, the once bright halls becoming like an endless labyrinth or darkness and spooky noises.

....

..Well, looks like your only choice now was to press on in hopes you’d find one of the brothers. The estate really was big, but they had to be somewhere..!

...Right..?

.........Right.

So onward you walked.

......

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Even the soft steps of your bare feet made eerie echoes that resounded with the quiet hum or rain.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Another flash of lightning and crackle of thunder, another small scare.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A left..? Or maybe a right? Well that flower pot looked familiar at least. ...Maybe..? K-kind of?

.....

Alright maybe you were a little scared now.

How could you not be!?

Everything felt tense and haunting, your anxiety spiraling the more you wandered around in the dark! Maybe this was just a dream.. a weirdly realistic dream.. and you’d wake up to find yourself still nicely snuggled in bed with your bone friend all safe and soun-

Wait.

.....That was..

Oh! You recognized those doors! They led out to the garden!

That sinking feeling in your chest was replaced with a sense of hope as you finally gained a sense of your surroundings, taking a few hopeful steps forward.

BANG.

You nearly screamed as the double doors out to the garden swung open accompanied by a flash of lightning. Thankfully the light faded just in time for you to see..

"Sans!" you called out as your skeletal boyfriend stepped inside and shut the doors behind him.

You quickly approached, stopping just a few feet away.

"You're...!" you inhaled sharply, gazing upon him. "...Soaking wet!"

And also dressed.

No longer was he adorned in one of his cute sets of pajamas, but a clean white button up, dark pants, heavy boots and thick work gloves, all now sticking to his bones from being soaked by the rain.

A deep sigh came out from your boyfriend and he shook his head, drops of water twinkling as they caught the light before splattering to the floor, while other droplets were just encouraged to finish their run down his face.

"HEH. IT'S REALLY IS RAINING SOMETHING FIERCE," he muttered lightly. "I'M THANKFUL TO SEE THAT DAMNED SKY TUCKED AWAY SINCE IT'S BEEN SO SUNNY THESE PAST FEW WEEKS BUT.. WHAT TERRIBLE TIMING."

You closed the distance between you two, stopping once more right before him and looked up and down in worry.

"Are you-" you began, but he merely reached out to gently catch your chin in his gloved hand.

It felt wet and cold, sending shivers down your spine.

"I'M ALRIGHT DEAREST," Sans chuckled, his eyelights roaming over your face.

"..Really?"

The ever so familiar hearts in his eyelights seemed to grow a bit bigger as he looked at you, his hand leaving your chin to carefully brush a few strands of hair.

"REALLY," he confirmed.

You found yourself shivering once more as his cold gloved fingers lightly lingered on your cheek before he fully retracted his hand and began pulling his gloves off.

"AND WHAT ABOUT YOU MY DEAR? ARE YOU ALRIGHT? IT'S QUITE DANGEROUS TO BE WANDERING AROUND SO LATE ESPECIALLY IN THE DARK."

"..I'm fine," you said, your hand reaching inside your pocket to pull out his phone. "I just.. woke up to a crashing noise and you weren't there. Then I saw your phone and it started raining like crazy and the lights wouldn't turn on so I got.."

You flushed a bit when he smiled at your ramblings.

"..Worried."

"HEH. THOUGHT I DO APPRECIATE YOUR CONCERNS MY SWEET, YOU SHOULD NEVER WORRY ABOUT ME," he chuckled, taking his phone. "I'M HERE TO PROTECT YOU, ALWAYS."

He didn't even give the device a look over before stashing it into his wet pocket, shoving his gloves into another one and began rolling up his sleeves and loosening his collar.

A strange silence fell for a moment as you both stood there, a small flame being ignited in your chest as you watched him move.

"..Sans?"

"YES, DEAREST?"

"Is everything really okay?" you asked quietly, your hand scrunching up the fabric at the end of your pajama t-shirt.

"OF COURSE!" he said, giving you one heck of a cute smile. "...WELL, I MEAN.. THE POWER IS STILL OUT AND I AM SOAKED TO THE BONE, BUT YES EVERYTHING IS FINE MY LOVE."

....

"...You're lying to me, aren't you..?"

....

Sans didn't say another word, instead just keeping that impossibly sweet smile swept over his features as he stopped unbuttoning his collar and looked at you for a moment.

His silence was calculated, just like his expression and his movements. For he knew that if he spoke anything more, you'd catch on more to the underlying anger in his tone.

It was the exact kind of anger that always stuck around after something happened.

You've.. gotten better at hearing it over the months that you've become closer to him.

At picking up the emotions he hid behind that princely charm and smiles.

It's how you could tell that things were absolutely not alright.

That he was lying to you.

...Again.

Once again you were being kept in the dark about something.

Once again Sans was covering your eyes from seeing clearly.

Why..?

Even though the two of you had grown so close. Even though you've swore to him to the moon and back that he could trust you. Even though you promised..!

Why does he still..!?

.....

He offered his hand to you, catching your eye before you looking back up at him. That smile of his turned just a bit fonder, and he merely tilted his head in a quiet encouragement for you to take his offer.

Stand your ground.

Don't let him do this!

Not again!

....

Quietly you took his hand, the feeling of his bones damp and clammy against your warmed skin from having your fists clenched so tightly before.

He bent in, and placed a tender kiss upon your check, making you shiver from the cold water that trickled on to your neck and shoulder.

Then he pulled back out, giving you one more loving smile before taking a step, and then another..

And you did the same, following as he led you away from those double doors out to the garden and back into the blackened halls from whence you came.

His boots squeaked against the marbled floorings and loose raindrops continued to descend down his skull, followed by the soft patter of your feet as he led you without another word.

...Again.

Again you were.. too afraid to say anything. The words came bubbling up your throat, threatening to break free at any moment.

But you kept your mouth shut tight.

You were afraid....

Of what the truth might be.

Of this fairytale that you so desperately sought and now finally had.. falling to pieces.

Of who your Prince Charming might really be.

Was he really the soft, sweet and lonely skeleton you saw beyond all of the make believe? Or was he..?

.....

Another distant flash and strike of thunder, and once again the halls were enlightened.

Your gaze dipped only for a second from Sans' back, enough to catch a bare glimpse of something before it became dark once more.

....

That..

Couldn't have been right..

..Right?

Something like that... shouldn't be...

.....

..No..

Your eyes were certainly not deceiving you.

You know what you saw.. without question, even in the passing light.

For at the very edges of Prince's dampened white shirt.

...Was red.

"DEAREST."

"Y-yes?"

"JUST REMEMBER, I LOVE YOU VERY, VERY MUCH... AND THAT EVERYTHING WILL BE ALRIGHT."

check out my other writings | feel free to drop me a ko-fi!

[jengis-morrangis]

Lip Scarf

I made this for the Summer of Pinecest Contest hosted by @pacific-ship. I’d like to thank her for motivating me to get off my lazy butt and write this story. I hope you all enjoy it.

A red, green and white radiance filled Mabels room, giving it a dimly lit warm feeling. Normally she had different string lights hanging in her room that included a variety of colors, but for the holidays she decided to decorate her room in accordance with the season. She took another look around her room, proud of how the decorations came out but feeling strangely foreign in this room.

She had only been at college for a semester, but so much had happened in that time that it felt like an eternity. She had met so many new people and made many new friends. Between college classes and other activities she was swamped. So much so that she even had trouble finding time to call Dipper every once in a while. Which made today all the more exciting.

Mabel had arrived home from college for winter break a few days earlier than Dipper, and had to find things to keep her occupied while she waited for him. After she had unpacked her things and settled back into her room, she decided to explore her old stomping ground. She had visited old friends from high school and greeted her neighbors. She visited an old park her and Dipper used to frequent with her friends and went sledding down one of the snow covered hills.

Back in her room, she heard the distinct sound of a car door slamming outside and quickly ran to the window. She peeked outside and saw a taxi pulling away, as well as the distinct figure of Dipper walking up the walkway to their house. She excitedly skipped into the hallway, downstairs and to the darkened front door. 

She saw the doorknob turning and reached to open it and beat Dipper to the punch. She yanked the door open and Dipper's larger form came falling through with it. Both of them yelped as they collided and tumbled to the ground. 

“What the- Mabel?” Dipper asked, startled.

Mabel giggled as Dipper climbed off of her and got to his knees. He stood up and helped her up as well. Mabel reached through the darkness of the foyer to find the lightswitch and flipped it on. Both her and Dipper flinched as their eyes adjusted to the light. 

Mabel looked at Dipper, and as his face came into focus, Mabel noticed that something was off. It was different than when she had last seen it. It took her a few seconds to realize. Atop Dipper's lip sat a big, bushy chevron mustache.

Mabel couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her jaw fell open and she gawked at him for a few seconds. Dipper looked back at her, clearly feeling suddenly self conscious. He gave a bashful smile in response.

“Hey Mabel.” He said.

Mabel burst out laughing. She couldn’t control herself as she backed into the wall behind her and slid to the floor. She wrapped her arms around herself as she was overcome with laughter and felt a stitch in her side.

After what felt like an eternity, her laughing died down and she looked back up at Dipper. His arms were folded in front of himself, and the lower half of his beet red face was tucked into the neck of his sweater, effectively hiding his mustache.

“Well… I thought it looked good.” He grumbled, clearly embarrassed. 

“Nooo, nooo! It’s great!” She assured him, trying hard to stifle a laugh.

“Oh, please.” He said, starting to sound a bit annoyed. 

“No, seriously. I’m not being sarcastic.” She stood up and walked close to him. “It’s cute.” She said as she lightly brushed it with her fingers. “It’s like a fuzzy little caterpillar.” 

Dipper sighed, clearly this was not the reception he was expecting.

“Well let’s put it to the test. Bring it in for a kiss.” Said Mabel. Tapping a finger to her lips. 

“Okay…” Dipper said, sounded slightly uplifted at the prospect of finally being able to kiss his girlfriend that he’s missed for so long.

They came close and kissed, just as they had countless times before. 

Mabel jumped away with a yelp, rubbing her top lip. “Ow. You stabbed me.” She whined.

Dipper let out a noise that was a mixture of a sigh and a groan. “Fine. I’ll go shave it.” 

Mabel grabbed his sleeve as he turned to walk upstairs and held him still. “Nooo, come on, one more time. I’m sure it’ll be better this time.” Mabel said, still trying to not laugh at the humor of the situation. 

Dipper stared at her. His face wore an expression of clear embarrassment and exhaustion. With one foot on the first step of the staircase, he looked upstairs, then back down at Mabel giving her best puppy eyes

“One more time.” He relented. He took his foot off the steps and turned to face Mabel again. He quickly combed and straightened out his mustache with his fingers to try to reduce the odds of stabbing her again.

They came close again, this time being extra careful during the kiss. It was slower, and thankfully without any stabbing. This time Mabel was actually able to enjoy the kiss, and she realized just how much she missed this. The last time they kissed was just before leaving for college a few short months ago, but in that time she could already feel herself having withdrawals. 

They broke apart and Mabel wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned against him.

“Feeling better?” Mabel cood to him. 

“Yeah. A little…” He really did sound better. Mabel cupped his face in her hand, running her thumb across his jawline, taking a moment to admire his facial hair. It really was a good mustache. It was fuller than she thought he was capable of, and surprisingly well groomed. This may actually grow on her. Figuratively. 

“You look like dad.” Mabel added. 

Dipper chuckled. “Okay, don’t make this any weirder than it already is.” 

Mabel giggled. “Come here.” She pulled him close and kissed him again. “No go put your stuff away,” Mabel shoo’d him toward the steps. “Mom and dad will be home any minute.

Dinner that night was almost just as awkward as the kissing debacle. The Pines family all sat around the table, eating their food in near silence as they all stole obvious glances at Dipper's mustache. 

He pretended not to notice, trying to start conversations to draw attention away from his face. He asked about what they had done since he and Mabel left, how Mabel’s classes were, and trying to talk about his own experiences. But the conversations were always short lived. 

Mabel looked back and forth between Dipper and their father. The similarities between their mustaches were simultaneously uncanny and comical.

“Saving that for later?” The twin’s father asked when Dipper had a piece of broccoli stuck above his lip. 

Dipper stretched his lip out in search of what his father was referring to, swiping at the hair in search of the particles of food. The rest of the family laughed as he did so.

Dipper sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Only joshing you.” The Pines father said.

“Yeah…” Dipper said.

“I think he looks handsome.” Mabel said from beside him. 

Dipper peeked over to her and smiled. “Well, I guess that’s enough of a reason to keep it.”

[lis-likes-fics]

Second Chances (Ending 1)

Pairing: Carlisle Cullen x Reader Warnings: Mention of death? Sorrow? Idk, what for the second ending. Author’s Note: I got bored and wanted to write something, so, here you go. Prompt comes from @maxkirin​. Thanks! :)

~~~~~

"Hey, promise me. Promise me you'll move on."

"You know I can't do that."

"Say you love me. Can you do that, please?"

"You'll get to hear it forever."

"Carlisle, I love yo-"

...

...

...

Three years.

It had been three years since he lost her.

Carlisle tried to move on, he did. Losing her was the hardest thing he ever had to experience in his very long life.

His family supported him, they tried to help anyway they could. They were the only reason he was still holding on, they needed him so he would be there for him.

But it wasn't enough to keep him alive. Even his new granddaughter, Renesmee could only bring so much light into his life. Everyone knew of who he lost, everyone knew why the excellent doctor of the town wasn't as radiant as he used to be.

But no one would understand his loss. No one would understand his pain. Even Jasper, who could feel it.

Even now as he drove to work, using the same route he did everyday, he missed her with all of his being. He couldn't help the emptiness that threatened to seep into his skin again as he thought about the times she decided to join him on his way to work. She would claim its "on the way", but she just wanted to spend the morning with him before turning around and heading the complete opposite way to get to her workplace.

He felt like a small smile was supposed to be threatening to creep onto his face, but all he felt like doing was crying at the memory.

All he had to do was tell her that he loved her too. But he didn't, he didn't even get to say that to her before she was gone.

He sucked in a deep breath to try and calm his nerves, his eyes scanning through his windshield, glancing over at the trees surrounding the road he drove on alone. His eyes caught onto a strange sign peaking out of the trees. He'd driven down this road hundreds-- thousands of times, and he'd never seen that sign there. He looked closely at it:

"For Sale: Second Chances"

He blinked at it, his brows twitching. Before he could pass the sign, he turned into the strange natural path the sign stood next to, driving into the trees and parking his car. He stepped out, looking down the path.

Carlisle narrowed his eyes, tapping into his hearing to see if he could get a clue as to what this was. He sighed and started walking down the path, extra careful of his surroundings to make sure there wasn't some threat lurking in the shadows.

After walking for a few minutes, he came up on a small shack. There was an open sign hanging on the door spray painted on a piece of wood. The windows were slightly dimmed, but he could see through just fine. There were shelves with empty and filled jars, little boxes, and much more.

He lingered at the door for a moment before opening it and stepping inside. He look around the slightly dusty place with curiosity. What was this place? The items on shelves and sitting on the floor along the walls were strange, but they seemed mundane enough.

"Hello?" He called, filling the silence with his smooth, velvety voice.

An lady peaked her head from a door behind the counter with a smile. She seemed to be in her early forties. She wore a hippie dress, a scarf tied around her head, her lips glossed. Her hair was white, but her skin was a rich, youthful brown. She wore gold hoop earrings, and her hands were decorated with rings. There was an excessive amount of necklaces hanging from her throat, but it somehow worked.

But it was her eyes that caught Carlisle's attention. They held an antiquity to them, like she was older than she looked. But she wasn't a vampire, he knew this.

The woman gave a warm smile, a kind of radiance in it, "Hello, how may I help you?"

He formed the question in his head before saying it out loud, "Who are you?"

She shrugged, her smile never faltering, "Just a shopkeep. Did you come in for our sale?"

Carlisle thought again, he was still confused and curious about everything, so he didn't exactly know how to answer, even with a mind as quick as his. "What is the sale?"

"Our Second Chance Sale," she shopkeep said, tilting her head politely.

"What is that?"

"Exactly what it sounds like. A second chance. Is that what you are in search of? A second chance?" She asked, fluttering her lashes, folding her hands together in question.

He hesitated, "A second chance at what?"

"You tell me, dear," she shrugged, "What is it you wish to fix?"

There was only one thing that came to mind, one thing that was always on his mind every second of every day. He would trade in his life to make things right. But this could easily just be some cruel joke.

But, if it was, the worse that could come of it would be the painful thought that he could have made things right but didn't.

He gave a nod, "I would save her."

She smiled again, holding her hand out to him, "Give me your hand."

Again, he was hesitant. He didn't know what to trust about this. In fact, he should have just gone to work and avoided the contact at all, but he hadn't. He felt a strange pull to this place, to something within it. Some feeling.

He handed her his hand, laying it in her palm as he held his breath. She looked down at it, flipping it over in his hand to reveal his palm. She looked closely at it for a while, as if seeing something more in the lines and creases than just lines and creases.

She nodded, grabbing a jar off the counter and opening it without breaking eye contact with his palm. She took a handful of the contents of the jar, the unknown powder being sprinkled in his hand and then the excess powder being discarded on the floor with little to no thought from the woman.

Carlisle watched the shopkeep worked as she closed his hand over the strange powder, kneading his fingers into his palm firmly. When she opened his hand again, the powder had completely disappeared. She looked back up at Carlisle and said, "In a few moments, your second chance will present itself to you."

Carlisle spoke, "What is the cost?"

She shrugged, "Whatever comes of it. If you succeed, the cost is your pain. It will disappear and you shall be happy again. However if you fail, the cost is your happiness. It will never be seen again."

Carlisle gave a solemn look, understanding with each second the graveness of the situation. This wasn't just for her, this was for him. He couldn't fail, he couldn't.

She gave him a stern nod before speaking in a firm voice, "Go."

~

Carlisle's eyes focused on the newspaper in his hands, sat in his home by himself. His children were out hunting, he had stayed back. He looked around, confused and surprised. What had happened?

All he remembered was the shopkeep, how did he end up here?

His phone rang during his quest to understand what was going on. He looked at it and picked it up. 'Alice'

He breathed in deeply before picking up the phone and bringing it to his ear, "Alice?"

Her voice was frantic, disturbed, as she spoke, "Carlisle? Y/N's in danger. She's going to be taken by Victoria."

Carlisle was suddenly hyperaware of everything. Those were the words Alice said to him when he called her that night. This was her second chance.

"How long do I have?" He questioned quickly, already in his car in the garage as he rushed out of the drive.

There was a beat of silence before she answered, "About five minutes. They're at the treaty line."

"Meet us there," Carlisle had no time to elaborate as he hung up, throwing his phone to the seat next to him and rushing to her. He already knew where she was. He'd lived it before. He would not live through what came after again.

He wasted no time in stopping the car with the screech of the wheels against the ground, getting out in no time and seeing the redhead standing with the love of his life. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. He hadn't seen her in so long.

"Y/N," he breathed. If he were capable of it, tears would have sprang to his eyes.

Victoria growled, "It's not as good as Bella, but I'll get to her in time." She was inching over to the edge of the line, closer and closer to the small trench where the river divided the territory.

Carlisle spoke in a demanding voice, "Stop this, Victoria! You won't hurt her."

She redhead sneered, "And why is that?"

"I won't let you, not this time," he muttered the last part mostly to himself. He had his hands held out in front of him.

Y/N looked at him only, her eyes flooded with tears, "Carlisle."

He looked at her, a burning in his throat from sorrow and not hunger. He just needed to save her. "It's okay, my love. You'll be okay."

Victoria yanked her back again, closer towards the edge where she threatened to drop her. Carlisle turned back to Victoria, fury in his eyes that seemed so unnatural on him. She taunted, "Might as well say goodbye."

"Not today," he told her, his tone of voice also sounding foreign on him.

"You made the mistake of keeping her human," Victoria laughed wickedly.

"Hey," Y/N said softly, "Carlisle, look at me."

He did, he would always have his eyes on her as much as he possibly could, especially after losing her for so long. This was his second chance, he would not mess this up.

She, on the other hand, wasn't so confident in making it out alive. She swallowed hard, tears staining her face, "Hey, promise me. Promise me you'll move on."

The words hurt him, they cut like a knife as he heard them again. He would not lose her, he couldn't. Not again.

"I don't have to," he told her just as gently.

She looked him in the eyes with a deepness that touched his soul. How he missed her eyes. "Say you love me. Can you do that, please?"

He nodded, he could do that. "I love you, Y/N," he told her. He hadn't told her this last time. He should have.

She smiled, "I love you, Carlisle."

Carlisle's eyes widened as he reached out as things seemed to move in slow motion, even for him. Victoria scoffed and shifted, moving to throw Y/N over the edge and over where the river was. That's how she died the first time. She'd hit her head on one of the sharp rocks by the river.

But that wouldn't happen again.

Carlisle did something this time that he hadn't done before. He relied on his family for help.

Jasper, at the speed of light, lunged forward and caught Y/N in his arms. He held her close, shielding her head by tucking it in his chest as he curled around her. He fell to the dirt ground, cushioning her fall with his body.

The other siblings appeared from the trees, in hot pursuit of Victoria as she darted the other way for her grand getaway. They ran after her, save for Jasper and Carlisle, who were still with Y/N.

Jasper pulled away from Y/N and Carlisle was by her side in no time, looking over her quickly to make sure she was okay. "Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere? Do you need help?" He drowned her in questions as he looked her over three hundred times.

Y/N nodded, "Carlisle, I'm fine." She smiled widely, throwing herself in his arms. Carlisle froze for a moment, but not long enough for her to register. She had her arms thrown around her in a flash, holding her a little too tight, afraid that if he let go, it would all end up being some dream.

Tears would have stained his face as well if they were able to. He brought her close, inhaling the scent he missed with all of his being, feeling the body he missed holding. When he allowed himself to pull back enough to see her, he was immediately lost in her eyes and in her smile. He never thought he would see her again, and here she was in his arms.

He captured her lips in his, a searing that rocked his world. It was like gravity didn't exist, like she was the only thing keeping him to the ground. He hadn't felt so free, so alive, in years. It felt like longer. Losing her was the most horrible experience he could ever have gone through.

Y/N was left breathless from the kiss. She giggled lightly, still clearly shaken, "I know you almost lost me, but that was something else. Are you okay?"

She laid a hand on his cheek, and he leaned into it, a smile on his face. His face contorted into a look that told her he was wanting to cry. One of his large, cold hands covered hers and held it to his face. "I missed you so much," he whispered, pulling her into another hug he couldn't resist.

"Missed me?" She wondered, confused by his choice of words.

He sighed contently, "I'll explain later. Right now, just...let me hold you."

She wrapped her arms back around him, holding him impossibly close, "Okay. I love you."

If his voice could crack, it would have there as he responded with so much sincerity that the whole world seemed to shake slightly from the truth in his words, "I love you, too. I love you so much, more than anything in this world."

She smiled, kissing his cheek and continuing to hold him.

His children came back, their looks tense and disappointed. Emmett spoke, quite angry from the news, "She got away, jumped over the treaty line."

Carlisle nodded, "I know." But he didn't care. He would later, though. Right now, he would hold the love of his life forever, he would never let her go again.

He got his second chance.

[harrypotterbrainworms]

Forest Retreat

Summary: Remus Lupin finds himself in a forest, in the middle of piss-nowhere after a full moon, but there’s a friendly (unknown) face that gives him a hand for healing.

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Male Reader

Key: (Y/N)- your name, (L/N)- last name, (E/C)- eye colour, (H/C)- hair colour, (Y/H)- your house.

Word Count: 4714

A/N: been a whiLe, huh? heLlo. this is a BIG boy of fanfic, I hope you enjoy.

His vision slowly returned as he looked at his own hands… Blood. Red. Shiny. Thick. If he even glanced for two seconds longer he would’ve realised it was his own, but he was too concerned that he had hurt someone.

“Hello?! Is someone there? Yes! I see you, sir! Do you need help?” He saw a blurry figure approaching him slowly, wary in their steps, but persistent. He instinctively pushed himself back and away from the blurry person.

“I’m not gonna hurt you! I promise” They shouted towards him or maybe just said, Remus couldn’t tell the volume of the noise with his head and heart pounding at an alarming rate.

He kept backing away from the ever approaching figure, he didn’t know if it was his imagination and exhausted eyes, but the figure just didn’t seem to get closer or further and though he had been conscious for some time, his eyes were still blurry.

“Oh my stars. Are you okay?! Oh fucking hell- sir?! Are you-“ Before the blurry face could question him further, Remus realised he was crying, rather uncontrollably. He never has full control even after being conscious, his emotions controlled him for right now.

“IS SOMEONE HURT?! IS ANYONE DEAD?! YOU HAVE TO TELL ME?!” He shouted desperately at the person, laying his head in his hands as he sobbed further.

“You seem to be hurt.” They said blankly, inspecting him cautiously. He reached on to Remus’s ankle which appeared to be broken, but he flinched away.

“No- fuck. Has anyone been reported as injured or dead or anything?” He begged for an answer, the smell of the blood on his hands making him feel nauseous.

“I don't think so. There isn’t a person besides me for miles. How did you get here?” His eyes seemed to dry now, the person standing above him now in view, a man in simple fall attire and a basket filled with forest berries.

“I don’t know.” He wasn’t lying… completely. He knew in a way how he got here, but he didn’t know where here was. The man looked him up and down before taking off his coat, wrapping around Remus’s shivering body.

“You must be freezing. Can you walk?” He asked softly as he tried to help the other man up, but Remus just buckled under his own weight. He silently cursed himself, a broken ankle most likely maybe worse. He hoped not worse.

“My cottage isn’t far, here” He pulled Remus’s arm over his shoulder and slowly walked towards more trees, he watched as the (H/C) haired man pointed and a small arrow flew into the sky indicating a point. Remus felt a hinge of confusion.

“What if I had been a muggle?” He softly yet sternly, limping slightly as they maneuvered through the forest.

“For one, you wouldn’t be saying muggle and two this is wizarding lands.” He replied, shifting his weight as he helped Remus overcome a few large rocks in the way.

“Fair enough.” Remus stared up at the dark green arrow against the light grey sky. He felt a bit calmer, the adrenaline in his veins fizzling out slowly, but surely.

They walked arm in arm silently, the stranger mumbling to himself as the trees seemed to become less and less dense. He saw the odd rusted fence post as they walked closer and closer to the dark arrow in the sky.

“Are you sure no one has been hurt.” Remus repeated at him as he held the man for dear life.

“I’m almost 100% sure, as I said. No one for miles.”

“Okay.” He mumbled as he limped towards the arrow, an arm securely placed on his shoulder.

They were now face or face with a small cottage encased in plants, orange tinted vines growing from walls and small flowers giving their last bloom of the season barely holding on, as the cold breeze brushing Remus’s exposed legs, he shivered.

“Come on” The man led him inside where he was instantly hit with the smell of pumpkin pie and tea through the windows. They were now at the foot of the door where a gorgeous wreath of dried flowers and leaves hung right where the knocker sat, he opened the door and helped Remus sit on one of the small stools in the foyer as he hurried up a small covered staircase.

He looked around at the small cottage, the decor was… interesting to say the least. Small animal figures perched on shelves clashing with band posters and (Y/H) flags. The stranger had gone to Hogwarts, at least he knew one thing. Though he doesn’t remember his face, he heard footsteps in the corner of his hearing.

“Here let me help you, my bathroom is disappointingly on the second floor.” He once again grabbed Remus by the arm helping him navigate the winding staircase revealing a small bedroom and connected bathroom on the floor. He let Remus sit on the toilet as he pulled a small box out of a medicine cabinet.

“I’m no good at healing magic. Sorry.” He apologised again, unpacking the small first aid kit and starting to treat his wounds which Remus finally noticed. His stomach churned at the sight, though he’d seen himself post-moon time and time again, it still made him a little queasy to see the gashes.

He watched the strange man dub alcohol all over his wounds in silence, it was nice. It had been awhile since he saw another person after a transformation.

“All done, here’s a towel. Take a shower and I can patch you up more securely, okay?” He said, handing Remus a soft fluffy white towel that wafted scents of sweet flower body gel, before he left.

“Thank you.” He whispered meekly in response, he turned around and shot Remus a sweet smile which made his heart do a little dive.

“No worries, give a shout when you’re done” He smiled softly once again and closed the door behind him, leaving Remus to his thoughts.

He looked down and for the first time he realised he was naked. He was bare arsed in front of a stranger, his face flushed. He was naked, bloody and in a stranger’s home. He didn’t know the man’s name. Why had it only occurred to him now? He looked at the foreign bathroom, seeing if he could find where the mirror was. It didn’t seem to be in the places you’d think it would be. He ignored it for now stepping into the already drawn bath.

Remus felt the warmth soothe his, now very apparent, sore muscles, he sighed in the short lived content he felt. It was rare for him to feel even marginally safe in a home, not since… He didn’t want to think about it.

“You doing okay in there? There’s some soaps and things just behind the head rest!”” He heard his voice through the door, he opened his eyes and looked behind him. Sure enough there were some different shaped bottles and a small worn bar of soap.

“Yes, thank you” He shouted back through the door. Maybe for once in his life he shouldn’t think, so he didn’t. He sunk into the warm bath water letting it get to his neck as he soaked in the pleasure. He was sure the water was charmed, never leaving the perfect temperature he liked. He slowly started to wash the blood off his body, it just seemed to dissolve in the water as he lathered the sweet smelling body wash onto himself. It stung where his wounds were so he tried his best to avoid them with the small embroidered washcloth.

“I’ll be downstairs, there’s some clothing in front of the door. I hope they fit” He heard the hurried footsteps down the stairs as he slowly scrubbed the dried blood from his hair as well. Soon he could feel his skin pruning and decided it was time to get up.

He pulled himself out of the bath and drained the water, watching it swirl down. Remus grabbed the soft towel and dried himself slowly, trying to keep off his ankle.

The tired man limped to the door and picked up the pile of clothing on the floor, a simple pair of tartan pyjamas and a grey sweater. He took the new clothing and retreated back into the room he came from. They looked a little big for him, but he put them on anyway. He looked down at himself, they were definitely too big, the legs a little long for his own and the shirt hanging off of him comfortably.

Remus limped out of the small bathroom and into the bedroom, his heart stopped, on the large bed sat a large shaggy black dog. They stared at each other intensely. The dog looked rather unbothered that he was there, merely expressing a sniff into the air and a head tilt. Remus didn’t move until he heard another set of running footsteps again.

“Oh you’re done, great”

He didn’t say anything, just stared wide eyed towards the big dog. It just stare back at him with underwhelming curiosity.

“I see you’ve met Onyx, don’t be too afraid. He’s a big softie” He moved towards the dog, scruffing his ears and giving him a kiss on the forehead. Of course Remus knew it wasn’t him, he knew that. He simply nodded as he watched him give Onyx another kiss.

“Come on, then. Let’s get some food in ya” He moved back to Remus’s side, pulling his arm over his shoulder for support. They struggled immensely trying to get Remus back down the stairs, but managed as he limped slowly toward the kitchen.

Remus sat at the small round kitchen table, looking out of the window nook. It was so peaceful here he thought. It would be lovely to live in a place like this away from the city he hated so much.

“Sorry I don’t have much right now, bad hunting season” He sighed and fished out a box of cereal from the cupboard and some milk out of a fridge.

“How do you have electricity here?”

“Yep. outside of magic borders” He said as he prepared a large bowl of cereal for him, he realised how hungry he was. He felt himself drool a little at the promise of food as the man set the bowl and spoon in front of him.

“Thank you.”

He watched him stretch towards a higher shelf, his shirt lifting up. His skin in full view making Remus stare intently before averting his eyes to the cereal, stuffing his face to distract himself from it. He heard the rattle of what he assumed was dog food being poured into a bowl.

“Onyx come down!” He called for the shaggy dog and Remus heard it barrel down the winding staircase, immediately scruffing down the newly prepared bowl of food in front of him.

The stranger put a small metal kettle onto the stove, he watched intently, trying to discern any red flags from his situation. There were definitely a few as far as he could see, stranger in the empty woods of Yorkshire being nice to him and a large black dog who looked rather terrifying. The unnamed man (so far) was searching through the small first aid box, trying to find anything more secure for Remus. He healed fast, but it was helpful.

“Ah! Here it is” He said, pulling out various bandages and bandaids. He hummed in satisfaction as he went to sit in front of Remus again, patching his cuts and bruises with various muggle ointments.

“I’m sorry.” Remus apologised again as he watched the man wipe his brow, he didn’t need to squat the entire time, Remus thought. It was much more inconvenient than just sitting. The man looked up at him and shook his head dismissing his apology, he looked like he was going to say something, but shook his head again continuing to treat his wounds.

“Here” He pulled out a small stool for Remus to put his foot on, it was already feeling better if he was honest, but still hurt like hell.

Remus looked down as the man wrapped the bandage around his ankle carefully, trying not to hurt him further.

“You’re lucky I found you, this could’ve gotten way worse if you stayed out there” He looked up, trying to make conversation to evade the awkward silence between them. Remus didn’t know what to say really as he looked back to his ankle wrapping another length of cloth around it.

“What’s your name?” Remus enquired, looking a little pale and distant. He was half listening and felt weird not having a name to the face in front of him. His ankle hurt like hell, but watching the man slowly patch him up brought a flush to his face. It was rather reminiscent of the past, he thought.

“(Y/N) (L/N)” He answered just as absentmindedly as Remus’s question, looking very focused on his wrapping.

“Remus Lupin.” He said as well, feeling weird that he couldn’t shake his hand at least. (Y/n)’s head perked up slightly as he heard Remus’s name.

“Moony then?” He said looking up, an apprehensive gaze in his (E/C) eyes. He unintentionally twitched at the mention of his nickname.

“What?” He choked out abruptly, his foot moving from the stool in shock. He immediately winced at the pain, (Y/N) quickly and carefully setting the stool back up from where it fell.

“You went to Hogwarts with those marauders kids? You were one of them, I’ve heard them say that. Sorry if I’m overstepping.”

“It’s alright, just been awhile since I’ve heard that.” He chuckled nervously looking away from him for a moment, ignoring the last part. A silence settled between them before he felt (Y/N) tuck the bandage into itself, getting up and moving away after.

They both said nothing as (Y/N) packed up the first aid kit, putting it back in its place. The whistling of the kettle the only sound left in the room as (Y/N) pulled it off. He made tea for the two of them. The silence felt deafening to Remus, uncomfortable.

“Uh- when did you graduate?” He stammered out, nervously fidgeting with a loose thread on the tartan pants. He didn’t dare look up as he heard (Y/N) set the teat in front of them.

“A year or two after you I think.” He said sitting across him “Sugar?” He said, taking one of the cups.

“Three.” Was all he could say, he was out of questions as he looked up seeing the man plup 3 cubes of sugar into the tea. Silence again as Remus poured milk into his tea, mixing the lot. He could hear Onyx lapping up water below as he sipped.

“What happened?” (Y/N) suddenly asked, looking at him. He looked away immediately, his eyes planted to the ground as his knuckles grew white around the mug.

“I’m not sure.” He lied.

He just nodded and sipped his tea again. Remus facepalmed mentally, he couldn’t think of a single convincing lie? Not even one? Idiot, he thought. If he wasn’t sitting in someone’s home he may have just smacked himself for this one. “No more questions. Good deal?” He looked up at when (Y/N) looked up, a small homey smile on his face. Remus chuckled a bit and nodded “Agreed.”

Remus insisted that he could take the next and closest bus back to Yorkshire and be out of (Y/N)’s way, but he insisted Remus stay a few days to heal up. In the end, Remus just nodded and there he was, sitting on (Y/N)’s pullout sofa on a Friday morning with a very sleepy Onyx laying across him. The dog had taken a strange liking to him (Y/N) had said “He’s not usually so friendly, big scaredy-cat when it comes to strangers” He had laughed when he came downstairs the morning after Remus had arrived to see Onyx and Remus as snug as bugs on the small pullout.

“How’s your ankle feeling?” He asked as soon as he saw that Remus was awake, when Remus looked up at him he almost choked. A layer of sweat above his brow, in a tight fitting shirt and a bow draped across his shoulder.

“B-Better.” He stuttered.

“That’s good” He huffed, he seemed a little out of breath, Remus watched his chest inflate and deflate with every exhausted heave.

“Where have you been?” He asked as nonchalantly, switching his gaze back down to the big dog on his lap.

“Checking for tracks. Seeing if I can find what attacked you, I-“ He was interrupted by a frantic coughing sound from Remus.

“I never said I was attacked” He said a little too quickly, heat rising to his face as he quickly shut up again.

“Remus. If there’s something out here I can’t do nothing, it’ll get my chickens and plus I can look like a hero for you”

Remus didn’t say anything the rest of the day, just idly laid around, trying to get off his foot. Not everyone needed to know his business, especially not a stranger. Onyx didn’t come that night, even his dog knew something was up. The fourth day was torturous, no talking, just silence. It felt lonely. Remus felt lonely again, he had pretended to sleep most of the day, ignoring when (Y/N) when he walked in. He seemed to still be looking. He should just tell him. Tell him what really happened, but as brooded in his thoughts.

“I know you’re not asleep, Remus.” He heard (Y/N) behind, he once again pretended not to hear anything.

“Listen then. Whatever attacked you or didn’t attack you is not really my business, but it happened near my home and I’d just like to know if I’m in danger or not. That’s it.” He sighed, sitting on the edge of the pullout sofa. He felt a dog head rest on him too. He felt bad.

“You’re not. At least not now.” He mumbled quietly, still not turning around.

“Thank you. Dinner?” Remus nodded, moving to a sitting position next to him again.

They talked again for a while, over dinner and then dessert about school, (Y/N) told Remus about the simple life in his little cottage and he just listened and laughed at his jokes. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time, a very long time. Now in the crisp autumn evening they sat together, Onyx quietly by their feet.

“Thank you.” Remus turned to him, awkwardly patting his leg in a pathetic attempt to make him feel closer.

“You’re very welcome, Remus. I’m glad I didn’t leave you to die out there, makes life a little more exciting” He laughed sadly, looking up at the bright unpolluted sky. He looked up too, his hand now resting lightly on (Y/N) leg. It felt comfortable there as he felt the other man’s hand rest on top of his. Remus liked this kind of silence, the silence after a nice conversation until.

“You weren’t attacked, were you?” He sighed, his voice sounded a little defeated. Remus’s feet felt on fire, he hadn’t felt this need to run in a long fucking time. He could immediately tell (Y/N) had put the pieces together. He could try and run, get up as fast as he could and break both his ankles trying to run away from this feeling.

“No.” Remus said, a little more emotionally distant than he intended.

“And those aren’t ordinary wounds or scars, are they?” Remus felt like he would throw up given the chance, (Y/N) didn’t turn to him, his eyes still glued on the sky.

“N-No.” His voice quivered as he spoke, his mind running miles in his head as thought about what (Y/N) was gonna do to him. (Y/N) sighed, it didn’t seem like he wanted to say it outloud either, but his hand was still firmly clasped with Remus. He didn’t dare move, he thought maybe if he didn’t let out, neither would he. His throat felt like it was closing up, (Y/N) was still staring up at the sky… not saying anything.

“Please say something.” Remus choked out frantically, his hands shaking slightly as he watched (Y/N) turn to him. He took a breath, grounding himself as he gave Remus’s hand a small squeeze.

“Lycanthropy, right? That’s the term I think. I didn’t really read a lot about it, I didn’t like how people were treated. The texts weren’t v-very flattering, so I only read what I nee-” He rambled a bit towards the end, but was interrupted as he saw Remus lower his head. He was worried. “Are you feeling sick? Is your foot okay?” He said quickly, trying to inspect Remus as he did on the first day he was there, but he watched Remus lift his head chuckling to himself a bit as a few tears streamed down his face.

“Y-You’re an asshole” He stuttered through a few choked sobs. (Y/N) looked like a deer in headlights, did he do something wrong? “What?”

“You’re a stupid asshole, d-dramatic too.” He shoved him lightly, laughing a bit through sniffs. “Couldn’t just s-say “I know you’re a werewolf and I don’t mind.” F-Fucking asshole behaviour.” He sniffed, wiping his eyes with the corners of (Y/N)’s sweater he was wearing. (Y/N) laughed a little out of relief. Their hands were still together, their pinkies interlocked subconsciously, but they both pulled away the heat raising to their cheeks.

“Uh-let’s get to bed, yeah?” (Y/N) coughed awkwardly speaking away from Remus. He grabbed Remus’s arm, the proximity of their bodies making them feel more flushed as he helped the injured man into his pullout.

“Goodnight.” “Yeah. G-Goodnight.”

The next two days felt more natural from there, Remus felt a little normal again. Someone knew and didn’t care. It made him feel like he could burst with tears again and again just thinking about how easy it felt to be around a person for once. Then Monday came, Remus knew it had to come to an end. At least this part, he couldn’t just move in with a stranger in the same week they met and he couldn’t expect one person who didn’t care to kill him, to become his new best friend either. The morning just felt depressing, like the first rain in spring. It had to happen, but he missed the blue sky.

“You can keep the clothes. Can’t just send you out there naked, can I?” (Y/N) chuckled sadly, handing Remus the last outfit he’s wearing here as he went to take the last bath here and the last- “There’s a bus just outside of the tree bounds that will take you to the bus terminal, you can just take this. I bought and never really used it. Wanted to see-“ (Y/N) started rambling again, but Remus cut him off with a simple “Thank you.. so much. You don’t know what this week meant.” He said candidly, might be his last chance to appreciate everything this stranger had done.

“Oh. Uh- you’re welcome.” (Y/N) huffed, a little flushed by the sudden candidness.

The morning seemed to slow as Remus lowered himself into the charmed bath again, his thoughts once again melting away in the smell of the sweet body wash in the bathroom. He felt like he knew the place so well now. He had found the mirror (after a couple of tries and (Y/N) pointing it out), which turned out to be a charm above the sink and knew where (Y/N) kept the cereal… Maybe he would just stop thinking again. The warm water washed over him a final time, the wash smelled amazing, nothing stung anymore, his ankle felt almost new again and he had at least made a new friend. Focus on the positive, James used to tell him. James…

“I’m gonna be out for a bit, help yourself!” He heard through the door, he felt a sense of routine at this point as he picked himself up from the wash, drying himself off and heading downstairs.

He ate and then folded the pullout for the last time, neatly setting the blanket on the end of the sofa. He sighed as he sat down, a sigh of content for once, as he opened the book (Y/N) had let him choose from his collection. He just read to himself before Onyx had come, sitting next to him. “I’ll miss you, big boy” He said scruffing the top of his head, a small grunt of appreciation leaving the dog.

A long two hours passed before (Y/N) came back, as usual a little out of breath with a few small prey hanging off his belt. “Lunch?” He said, Remus nodded and (Y/N) filled him up before they piled into (Y/N)’s small car.

The drive was silent, a certain somber energy between them. Remus felt like he would drive himself crazy thinking of an excuse for him to stay, any excuse.

“Remember which bus to take?” (Y/N) spoke up first. “I’ve taken the bus before, (Y/N).” He shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

“Just- Just making sure.” He stuttered, turning against the dirt road in front of them. Remus just watched the scenery pass by as they got closer and closer to the city. He watched (Y/N) tap the steering wheel more frequently as they approached the last turn, the sign of the bus terminal passing them.

(Y/N) pulled the car into a parking space, The silence felt thick as they sat there, the engine still humming with life before (Y/N) pulled the key out, sighing.

“Here, it’s my address. Write me, okay? Don’t be a stranger.” He laughed, a small tear edging to escape his eyes as he turned to face Remus. (Y/N) bunched his sweater together, wiping his eyes, sniffing heavily trying to compose himself. Remus wasn’t sure what went through his mind, but he put his hands on (Y/N)’s face, he could feel the heat in his cheeks as he did this. There was something that Remus loved about this sadness he felt. It wasn’t what he usually felt, a longing to make sure he takes every chance he can to visit this man whenever he could. The fact that he got to say goodbye, somewhat baffled him, saying goodbye to see him later.

“I promise I will.” He said smiling, how could he cry right now, he thought. This was probably the happiest he’s been in years. (Y/N) chuckled a bit, giving himself one last big sniff before doing something Remus wished he’d had the guts for that day. He grabbed his face back and kissed him.

Remus sat there for a moment, eyes wide and heart in his throat. He didn’t think he’d ever kissed someone, but when the shock wore off, he kissed whole heartly back. They pulled apart, Remus felt like he was in a dream. His head was a little dizzy from the rush.

“A present for the ride.” (Y/N) laughed, still holding his face, pressing their foreheads together.

“Let me return the gift” Remus huffed out, connecting their lips again. His fingers wrapping themselves around his neck, (Y/N)’s finding a home in Remus’s hair. Remus couldn’t believe how well their lips fit together. He smiled into the kiss before they pulled away, Remus tucked the piece of paper with his address on it into the small bag (Y/N) had given him and leaned in for a small peck.

“Goodbye, Remus Lupin.” He chuckled, a hand on his cheek. Remus put his hand over it, giving it a small squeeze as he lowered it.

“Until a later date, (Y/N) (L/N).” He smiled as he got out of the car. (Y/N) waving as he drove away. Remus definitely wouldn’t run this time, he’d be back before he knew it.

[cal-kestis]

If I Could Never Give You Peace

(Javier Peña x Female Reader)

Gif by @pedropcl​ [original gifset]

Summary: Two years after resigning from the DEA, Javi finds himself in Los Angeles, haunted by glares of gunshots and blood-stained hands. He’d succumbed to the idea that he’d never have peace — doesn’t deserve it after everything he did in Colombia. Then, she moves in next door and maybe, he thinks, things could be different. “I hope this doesn’t scare you,” she whispers, her fingers still tracing shapes over his head. “But I care about you, Javi, a lot. I think I could fall in love with you someday...” She exhales, a quiet, shaky sound. “I think I’ve already started.” Word Count: 4,357 A/N: A Reader-insert one-shot with a nameless female reader. No “Y/N” or "you," but the reader can be anyone. Inspired heavily by Taylor Swift’s “Peace.” How many TS references can you find? Lol. Tags: Fluff, Angst (with a happy ending), Mentions of death (but no one dies, I promise), Alcohol, Cigarettes

[Read on AO3]

The rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me... All these people think love’s for show, but I would die for you in secret... Would it be enough, if I could never give you peace? — Taylor Swift, Peace —

When Javier Peña handed in his DEA badge and gun two years ago, he knew he couldn’t stay in Texas. Not forever.

Texas held too many familiar faces, old friends calling him a hero when he felt like a villain. It held too many ties to an old version of himself he’d rather not remember… muddied images of him with a beautiful woman, an abandoned altar, and a shattered promise. No, he couldn’t stay. Not even for his father.

So, Javier Peña and the unwelcomed overcast of his nightmares found a one-bedroom apartment in sunny Los Angeles.

In time, he realized he needed the city: constant motion, endless traffic, and hoards of busy people who would never remember his face. He could blend in. He could be alone.

He could have a clean slate.

But each night, glares of gunshots flashed behind his eyelids and invisible bloodstains marred his calloused palms as if to remind him:

He could never have peace.

Then, she moved in next door.

The first time he saw her, he only caught a glimpse. She and her boyfriend, he assumed, held towering stacks of brown boxes in front of their faces — sweating as they lugged the dusty weight into the empty space.

For a moment, he considered offering some neighborly help but decided against it — When have you ever cared about being a good neighbor, Javi? — closing himself in his quiet apartment with a glass of whiskey.

The second time he saw her, she came knocking on his door the next night.

“Hi, neighbor,” she smiled brilliantly. And for a split second, he swore he felt something foreign flutter in his stomach, but dismissed it as the after-effects of spoiled dinner. “I just moved in next door and wanted to introduce myself.”

He could not take his eyes off her. His gaze stayed glued to a small bead of sweat trailing a slow path down from her hairline, where she’d pulled it back with a makeshift scarf-headband. The droplet slipped down her cheekbone, over a smudge of dust that had settled in from her moving boxes. It drifted down the curve of her jaw, dipping into the slope of her neck until finally hiding away below her tank top. And by some miracle, she only needed to repeat her name for him once before he came out of the trance.

“Sorry.” He gulped, removing the cigarette dangling from his lips. “Javier.”

He extended his hand and she met him halfway. Soft. So soft.

“Good to meet you, Javier.” She smiled again. Flutter. “I’m sure you’re busy. Just wanted to say hi. I’ll see you around.”

And just like that, she swiftly turned on her heel to walk the few steps back to her door, bare feet strutting off, flaunting her daisy dukes, and — God help him, he’s a man and she’s beautiful — he stared.

The nail in the coffin?

When she opened her door and gave him one last smile over her shoulder, she winked.

No, he could never have peace.

—

After that, he hardly ever sees her.

Part of him feels relieved, unduly wary of the strange flutter he’d feel just thinking of her name. The other part, the traitorously curious part, dreams of catching another glimpse of her glistening skin or a quarter note of her honeyed voice. He’ll never admit it out loud, but he finds himself often wondering if her boyfriend gets to enjoy her sun rays and melodies. Lucky bastard.

He blames his roaming thoughts on the fact that it’s… been a while.

This is what you wanted, he’d remind himself when he’d wake to an empty bed — a stark contrast to his time in Colombia. This is the way things should be.

Just when he starts to believe those words, he finds her crumpled on the floor in front of her apartment — the contents of her purse strewn across the hardwood beside her, palms pressed firmly against her eyes. One tiny sniffle and a tremble of her shoulders, and he melts into a puddle beneath her muddy sneakers.

“Hey,” he whispers tentatively, voice raspy with cigarette smoke.

She jolts at the sound, immediately wiping her face with her sleeves and plastering on a saccharine smile.

“Javier,” she tries to say, but her voice breaks on the vowels. “Sorry, I was just— rough day. And to top it off, I think I left my keys inside. I tried Jerry but no luck.”

“Jerry’s a shit landlord,” he sighs, earning a nod from her. He takes out an old, faded receipt from his pocket and kneels in front of her, finding a pen amongst her spilled belongings. “Try this number. He’s usually fast. Can get you back in your apartment tonight.”

He hands her the scribbled receipt and she takes it with a real smile, albeit small. “Thank you, Javier.”

He nods, a tiny dimple forming in one tanned cheek, before getting up to unlock his apartment. The door clicks but he stands there for a moment longer, listening to her waning sniffles as she throws her things back into her bag. His eyes screw shut tightly, a silent war waging behind his forehead, his fingertips feebly trying to rub it away.

He sighs long and heavy when he realizes which part of him has won.

“Would you... like to come inside my place while you wait?” He mutters, mainly to the floorboards. “I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”

“Okay.” Her smile is warm like the sun, despite the cloud of tears still glazed over her eyes. “But you don’t strike me as a cream and sugar kind of guy.”

“No,” he admits with an amused smirk. “But I’ve got some old whiskey, older milk, and a phone you can use, toll-free.”

“Thanks, Javier,” she sniffles. “Coffee sounds nice. But hold the booze and tainted milk.”

And that’s how she ends up in his apartment, sitting at his small dining table, slowly sipping from his coffee mug, using his landline to call the locksmith.

Maybe it’s the caffeine or the three (stolen) pink packets of sugar she found in her purse (“It’s not stealing. Diners offer dozens of them in cute little boxes, I mean practically gift-wrapped, and I modestly accepted three.”), but coffee gets her talking the way alcohol coaxes even the darkest secrets from iron-barred lips. She just broke up with her boyfriend. Or he broke up with her — found some younger, hotter-than-her aspiring actress in Hollywood and left her in the dust of the boxes she’d just unpacked.

“Sorry,” she whispers. “You’ve been so nice. Really, Neighbor of the Year,” she laughs, but he thinks it sounds off. He wants to hear the real thing. “And here I am, taking up your space, drinking your coffee, and dumping all my problems on the table. Tell me if I’m talking too much, Javier. I tend to—”

“Javi,” he says, furrowing his brows as if mildly stunned by the two syllables he just spoke. She looks confused. “You can... call me Javi, for short. And I don’t mind listening.”

“Javi,” she tests the name on her tongue, smiles. His stomach flutters. “A good name for a good guy.”

The argument dies on his tongue the minute he thinks it, even though she’s horribly, terribly wrong.

Sometimes you gotta do bad things to catch bad people.

If she knew...

“I should be out of your hair in 20 minutes anyway,” she says, breaking him out of his dark reverie. “Locksmith’s on his way.”

When she finally gets back into her own apartment, Javi jostles her doorknob, double-checks the lock, and knocks on wood for good measure.

“Find your keys?”

“Got ‘em!” She chirps, jingling her lost keys. “I’m gonna have to memorize that number.”

“I’m next door, too, if you ever need anything.”

“Me too. I can lend you some sugar for your sad-man, bitter coffee,” she jokes. “Thanks again, Javi.”

He sends her a tight-lipped smile and a short nod, a familiar weight settling in his chest as he turns back to his lonely apartment.

“Would you like to come in for dinner?” She asks, quiet and suddenly timid. “I’m no chef, but I’ve never made a spaghetti I couldn’t tolerate.”

He opens his mouth to refuse but she beats him to the punch. “It’s the least I can do after you helped me out. Please?”

And it’s the way she asks that gets him. The way “please” seems to fall from her lips like an unanswered prayer. He wonders, maybe she’s just as lonely as him.

So, he walks into her apartment, she smiles, and his stomach flips.

—

Months pass by with this new routine. He joins her for dinner at least once a week, if their schedules allow. If not at the local diner where she infamously loots sugar, it’s usually at her place. For one thing, although it’s usually pasta, she tends to have more appetizing (read: edible) groceries stocked up than him. But if he’s being honest, something about her apartment just feels more like… a home.

Framed smiles of her and her loved ones line the walls. With each visit, he finds himself studying a new one, imagining the story behind each snapshot. (He noticed after their first dinner, she’d thrown out the photos of her ex, replacing them with Polaroids of the city.) Piles of pillows stack up neatly on her couch, vibrant hues and patterns decorating the space. He adores the soft waves of music always floating around her space. She plays a different record each time, but somehow, each one compliments the sweet tones of her voice perfectly.

Her place feels brighter than his too, and he’s not sure if it’s the east-facing windows or if it’s just her.

Soon, he doesn’t need to decode the photos on the walls anymore. She tells him more than she’s told anyone before — about her hometown, her family, what she studied in college, her travels, her favorite books, her irrational fears, her dreams.

He tells her considerably less, especially when it comes to his time in Colombia.

For now, she doesn’t mind. She likes the way he watches her when she talks — brown eyes soft and warm, brows pinched together as he takes in each word, the ghost of a grin tugging at one corner of his lips when she gestures dramatically.

He realizes, one night after dinner, he comes home smiling now. And he thinks the nightmares have started dwindling, ever since that first dinner.

Maybe, he lets himself imagine. Things could be different.

—

He calls for you over and over, shouting until his throat burns and the echo of his frantic voice pounds in his ears.  

“Where are you?” He screams.  

The narrow hallway is dark, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. He crushes his body into the hard wall, arms sliding roughly against cold brick as he tries to keep himself concealed. The gun in his hand feels icy and impossibly heavy, and his arms tremble as they lift the weapon higher, rounding the corner.

“Llegas tarde, Peña,” a deep, gravelly voice sneers. “You’re too late.”

“Tómame!” Javier yells. “Tómame en su lugar.”

“You would die for her?” The voice chuckles. “Llegas tarde.”

The voice’s shadow moves, revealing a smaller shadow crumpled on the floor — lifeless.

“Javier! Javier!” A distant voice chants, accusing him. Boom! Blaming him. Boom!

“Javier!” Boom!

The pounding sound wakes him up with a jolt, and his sweat-slicked chest rapidly rises and falls as he reaches for the gun inside his bedside table.

Slowly, Javier creeps to the front door where the loud pounding started. But when he peers into the peephole, he only finds her — looking as tired and distressed as he feels. A wave of relief floods through his overheated body.

She’s wrapped up in a blanket, a worried look wrinkling her forehead.

He puts his gun down in a drawer and lets her in.

“What time is it?” He asks.

“Almost 4 in the morning.”

“What’s wrong?” He demands, suddenly worried about why she’d be waking him this early.

“You tell me,” she says, frown lines still etched by her eyes — mirroring his own tired marks. “I heard you yelling. I was worried, Javi.”

“It was...” he starts, squinting as the images flash in his mind again. “Just a dream.”

It only takes one glance into his eyes for her to reach out to him, pulling him in by his neck until he nuzzles into hers.

He breathes her in, holds her like he’s not sure she’s real, like she might be gone tomorrow. “It was just a dream,” he echoes, but he’s not sure who he’s trying to convince.

“It was just a dream,” she repeats after him.

She pulls him by his hand toward his couch, sitting down before patting the space beside her. And just this once, he allows himself to let his head rest in her lap, lets her drape her fuzzy blanket over him, lets her soft fingers draw slow circles in his hair, lets her lull him to sleep with mumbled whispers he can’t quite make out, and lets her ward off the lurking darkness like a nightlight.

He’s asleep before he can hear the quiet secret that spills from her lips.

“I hope this doesn’t scare you,” she whispers, her fingers still tracing shapes over his head. “But I care about you, Javi, a lot. I think I could fall in love with you someday...” She exhales, a quiet, shaky sound. “I think I’ve already started.”

She comes over to his apartment more frequently after that. Whether to bring him dinner or just sit on his couch in comfortable silence, she doesn’t like to leave him alone.

And maybe, she’d rather not be alone either.

—

He doesn’t remember how she convinced him, but here he is... sitting at a crowded bar drinking water, watching his tipsy neighbor bouncing alone on the small dance floor.

Every so often, some cocky drunk comes up to put his hands on her waist and tries to dance with her, but she plasters on a faux smile and shakes her head at them, muttering something while nodding in Javier’s direction. Each time, they sulk away and he chuckles.

Finally, she bounces over to him, tugging at the sleeve of his leather jacket.

“Dance with me, Javi. Please,” she draws out the word, an octave higher than normal.

And despite himself, he follows her voice like a sailor enthralled by a siren’s song.

She puts her arms around his neck, swaying her body against his. And then she shouts over the music, “I’m so glad we’re friends.”

And the heart on his sleeve falls straight to the floor, clanging loudly in his ears like metal.

‘Friends’ is more than you deserve, he reminds himself.

But then she continues, resting her head against his chest, her index finger coming up to tap a tantalizingly slow beat over his collarbone. “Good friends,” she sighs, lifting her gaze until her chin digs into his heart, her lips just inches from his. “Really… good… friends.”

She’s kissing him before he can even process the feeling. And despite his better judgment, he lets her. She’s everything warm and soft and good, with just a hint of alcohol — and he’s what you get when you turn those words upside down, jumble the letters, and crumple the paper into a jagged ball. But he craves the way her curves somehow fit perfectly against his cold, shattered edges. And he knows he shouldn’t.

So, when he feels her tongue trace along the seam of his mouth, he gently pulls away, hands rubbing soothing circles on her shoulders.

“You’ve had too much to drink, cariño,” he says. “Let’s go home.”

“Okay,” she whispers, smiling with half-lidded eyes, drawing her finger across his mustache then below his ever-pouting lip.

She’s passed out in his car by the time they’re back home. When he unlocks her apartment door for her, she stays latched onto his arm as he turns to leave.

“Stay,” she whispers.

“I—”

“Please?” She asks, in that way he knows he can’t fight. “I don’t want to be alone.”

And just like that, the door closes behind him and he stays.

He finds her an oversized shirt to change into, helps her wipe the smudged mascara off her face, and holds her until the sun rises.

When she wakes, the space beside her is empty but warm and indented, the shape of his body lingering in the sheets. A full glass of water, ibuprofen, and the phantom taste of Javi’s lips are the only other traces of her really… good... friend.

—

He’s not avoiding her… per se. But it’s a long, lonely week later when he sees her again, on an uncharacteristically rainy Sunday outside their apartment building.

“I just got home,” she blurts after standing there dumbfounded for a good minute. She nods to the soaked brown paper bags in her arms. “Groceries. Uh, obviously. Were you...?”

“Forgot my umbrella,” he answers.

“Same,” she chuckles awkwardly, droplets hanging on her lashes and the ends of her hair, only partially covered by her hood. “Obviously.”

“Here, let me help you.” He takes the bags from her, keeping the door open with his foot as he waits for her to head inside.

“Thanks, Javi-er.”

He follows her upstairs silently, his wet, squeaking shoes punctuating each slow and heavy step.

“I can—”

“Let me just—”

They fumble and dance around each other in her doorway as he sets her bags in her apartment. And, as if to torture herself, she decides to stand under her door frame when he leaves to grab his umbrella, waiting the longest minute of her life for him with a forced smile.

He waves his umbrella at her after locking his door. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah.”

He nods and walks back down the stairs.

“Javier, wait.”

He pauses, his back still facing her, drenched shoes balanced on two different steps.

“Can we talk?” She hates the way her voice sounds when she asks, tinny and trembling. Clearing her throat, she clarifies, “About what happened... at the bar?”

He sighs, screwing his eyes shut tight and rubbing his forehead.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he says, low and barely audible as the rain starts picking up outside. And he walks away.

She’s stunned still, watching as his figure shrinks with each step he takes away from her. He’s already out of the building by the time frustration fuels her feet to follow him into the rain.

“Like hell there’s nothing to talk about,” she yells over the downpour, hair quickly sticking flat to her face. “Javi, we kissed!”

“You were drunk,” he says, just loud enough for her to hear, still walking.

“I wasn’t drunk,” she argues to his back, remembering with perfect clarity exactly how his lips felt on hers. “Just a bit braver. Javi, stop! Look at me. Please.”

And like clockwork, he turns slowly but doesn’t move any closer.

So, she closes the distance to stand beside him under his umbrella, taking in his features without the obscurity of rain.

“What are you running from?” She wonders, reaching for his fidgeting hand. “I would never hurt you. I—”

The line between his brows looks deeper than usual, as if they’d been stuck in that pinched position for weeks. Shadows lay in rings beneath his eyes, accompanied by smaller lines that carry untold stories she hopes he’ll entrust her with someday. His mouth is parted just slightly, as if to say something he knows could change everything.

And it does.

“I have to go.”

Her hands are empty and wet when he leaves. And the rain buries his parting words into the pavement.

I don’t want to hurt you.

—

She doesn’t hear from him for two weeks. Doesn’t even catch a glimpse of him.

The rain sticks around longer than usual for Los Angeles, making her apartment feel cold and gloomy. But maybe, it’s just missing him as much as she is.

Then, while she’s folding her laundry one night, she hears his door rattle and practically bolts to her own. He’s there. Keys in hand, rolling luggage in the other, hair tousled like he’s been pulling at it with his fingers. He looks at her when she opens her door, just for a beat too long, before hiding away in his apartment.

She sighs, closing her door in defeat.

But just as she starts getting ready for bed, she hears two knocks at her door, heart beating rapidly as she slowly makes her way to open it.

“Hi, neighbor,” he greets her softly, and the sound of his voice after so long without it nearly brings her to tears.

“Where did you go?” She asks. But she really means, Why did you leave?

“Texas,” he says. “I... needed to see my dad.” But he really means, I was scared.

“Oh.”

“Can I...” he mutters. “Can I come in please?”

She hesitates for only a second before stepping aside and he looks around like he hasn’t seen the inside of her apartment hundreds of times already.

He stops near her bedroom, where a new picture hangs proudly: a goofy, blurry photo of him stashing three pink packets of sugar in his shirt pocket.

“It’s the only photo you’ve let me take of you,” she says quietly, standing next to him with a wistful smile on her face. “I miss our diner dates.” But she really means, I miss you.

He doesn’t respond, just silently walks to her couch and sits, fingers rubbing circles into his forehead.

Minutes roll by slowly as she watches him from the other side of the room, battling with some invisible hand covering his mouth, holding on until the end to keep the words locked up.

“I’m not a good man,” he whispers, so softly she almost doesn’t hear it. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of... back in Colombia. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to tell you. I think a part of me is still there, fighting some unwinnable war. Hell, even before Colombia, I—”

Muddied images of a beautiful woman, an abandoned altar, and a shattered promise flash in his mind.

“Fuck. I can’t shake it,” he says, looking up at her with red-rimmed eyes, waving the invisible iron shackles on his wrists to show her. “Any of it. The nightmares...” He recalls her shadowy body and a dark, menacing voice. “They’ve followed me for years. I—” he looks at her, eyes darting across her face. “I could never give you peace.”

His head hangs low and a wayward curl brushes against his forehead. Despite how much space he takes up on her couch, he looks so small, defeated —  the weight of his past crushing him into this tiny, torn, crumpled-up piece of paper covered in red-inked, scratched-out sentences.

“Javi,” she whispers, but he doesn’t meet her eyes. So, she crosses the room and kneels in front of him, her palms reaching for his cheeks and lifting his gaze to hers. “Javi, who said anything about peace?”

The wrinkles deepen between his brows as he studies her, tries to understand what she means in the cloudy orbs of her eyes.

“The past is the past. We’ve all done things we can’t speak of. And sometimes at night, we live it all again. God knows I’m far from perfect. But I know you’re a good man, Javi. I see you,” she tells him, stroking the curves of his cheekbones with her thumbs.

“I’m not—”

“Do you trust me?” She interrupts his argument. He stares at her, blinks, before nodding once.

“Then trust what I’m saying. You’re not perfect. But you’re good.”

His eyes close as soon as she sees water beginning to pool behind his lashes.

“I’m not asking for peace. As long as I get to be with you, it would be enough.”

And then his lips are crashing into hers, pulling her into his lap until he’s covered in her. The sound he makes when they touch is devastatingly beautiful, like she’s a balm soothing his freshest wounds and healing his oldest scars. It feels like his entire body has exhaled — lungs deflated, bones liquified, mind released from a decades-old straitjacket. If not for gravity, he could float from the way his stomach is fluttering. His shoulders lower and he sighs as if he’d been holding his breath for his entire life until this moment.

He’s drowning in her, submerged to the top of his head. But he can finally breathe.

“I’m sorry I ran,” he whispers into her skin. “I’m sorry I left, cariño,” he kisses just below her ear. “My dad said I was the biggest asshole on the planet for leaving. I’m sorry, baby. So sorry,” he licks the seam of her lips.

“Mi alma, you have no idea,” he sighs when she parts her lips for him. “How much I love you.”

And she captures the words on her tongue, kissing him with a ferocity that says, Yes, I do.

“Want to know a secret?” She gasps when his lips trail down her neck. Her voice is barely a whisper, as feather-light as her fingertip skating across his shoulder.

He hums, a soft, lazy smile stretching his lips wide, so wide.

“I don’t think it’s possible,” she says, staring into his deep brown eyes. “That I’ll ever love anyone more than I love you, Javi.”

Her finger stops, retracted to shield herself after such a heavy confession. His eyes blink slowly, head lifting off the couch cushion.

He doesn’t say a word. He only stares at her, the softest smile on his face — his edges blurring into gentle curves in front of her very eyes.

“You’re it for me,” she finalizes.

And then they’re crashing into each other again and again and again.

End Notes: Look, it’s been almost 10 years since I sat in a Spanish class and watching Narcos only restored 3% of my limited vocabulary. Here’s what I got from Google Translate: “Llegas tarde.” = You’re too late. “Tómame!/ Tómame en su lugar.” = Take me!/ Take me instead. “Cariño” = Darling, honey “Mi alma” = My soul P.S. Please let me know if I missed any tags/triggers!

[mara777]

Hi! Could you do a blog post on settling into a new place and how to feel okay. Like settling into a new school or activity environment.

Hihi yes ofc - sorry for the late response

Settling into a new place & how to feel okay with it.

First time settling into a new place you will feel frustrated reason being you have so much things to move in also your first few weeks will feel foreign and it requires alot of patience.

The first thing you want to do is unpack your clothes first - Nate Berkus an interior designer stated (Most people start unpacking the common spaces first, but I foucs my efforts on my closest because Monday's are hard enough without having to search for your favorite sweater) - So as he said I think everyone should do this especially if you are moving into a new place where things will feel foreign to you

After you can unpack any other item you want, but don't forget make your bed take care of your room make your room feel like home well I mean you have to make the entire house feel like home but most people spend alot of time in their bedroom so you decorate put cute rugs anything you wanna add to suite you

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

Moving onto Kitchen and Bathroom

I think the Bathroom is the easiest thing to take care of and to unpack....you unpack your skin care stuff & toiletries to stay organized there are containers you can buy from Amazon or any store that household items that way things won't get lost. If you have any other things that you want to put into the washroom and bath area you can put them into cupboards that way you can easily find these things like example bags or hangers etc.

Kitchen for utensils sperate spoons, forks & knives from each other there are dividers you can put them into it helps you stay more organized and it will look neat

The fridge any vegetables you can put them in the last draw of the fridge any meat you can freeze them put them at the top shelf in the fridge or underneath shelf for drinks and other things that you need to put in the fridge can simply go in the middle shelf so nothing is jammed together

Your living room this is a place you want everything to be neat because you can have family or visitors over I would highly recommend you get couch covers for your couch so they won't get dirty the good thing about couch covers you can remove them and wash them if they get dirty.

Your tv can be on a shelf or you can put it on the wall on a tv stand ( always make sure to dust your tv 📺 )

I think that's mostly it that can help you to settle into your new space because I know it will feel foreign to you ...you will feel frustrated because of all these things you have to do but the process of this is going to be worth it in the end.

______________________________________

I can't tell you how to feel with this but you should feel happy right your moving into new place you will feel different maybe sad especially if it's you alone or you may be happy..moving into this new space it will feel strange or foreign to you as I said but it's okay to feel these emotions sad, happy, angry. soon enough it will feel like home to you ..everything will be alright.

I hope your moving process goes smoothly and just how you want it to go.

Love you🤍

[poptod]

The Breeding Kings, pt. 19

Description:

Notes: WC: 4.5k

+

They had yet to tell you the master's name.

You weren't allowed to stand next to Ahkmen in line, either. They wanted you lined up by size, leaving you at the smaller end, and Ahk at the taller. After scanning the new recruits––of which there were only six new people––the estate's stewardess assigned you to gardening, and Ahk to patrol.

"Okay," you said with a nod despite no one else in line saying anything in response to their assignment. "I also do clean good."

The stewardess cocked a single brow.

"You can do that as well then. Share shifts with Zakiti," she said, pointing to a young girl digging into the loose dirt of the garden.

You bowed your head deeply before the six of you were set loose on the property, your slots established. Ahkmen followed you into the sun for a moment before someone caught him, bringing him back to the small hut he'd just been in, and where the tools were kept. He was handed a guard's outfit––long, white robes, unflattering, and reaching all the way to his ankles and wrists. An instant distaste grew on Ahk.

"I have to wear this?" Ahk asked the man, but fortunately he was speaking Egyptian, and the stranger could not understand him.

The job did, to your great comfort, afford you food that was given out in plentiful rations, and despite the dull taste, Ahk found himself enjoying beer and bread in the beating afternoon sun, though he wasn't allowed much due to time constraints. He'd been working throughout the whole day, circling the whole of the property in search of any trespassers. Lean muscles were now strained beneath the weight of his body and of the strange clothes, though certainly no more than his backpack was, and he often found himself rubbing his aching shoulders. He couldn't see his skin there properly, but he was half convinced he was genuinely bruised.

What was hardest about the job didn't end up being the heat, the strain on his muscles, or the overstimulation of long skirts and sleeves––it was the absence of you that he noticed above anything else. No one to listen to the strange comments during the day, a slot that had, for a while, been filled by Piye, and then more recently by you.

You always had something more fun to say. Sometimes way out of range from his own thought process, and sometimes reading his mind exactly.

And he wasn't there to hear what you had to say, either, in those random moments when deep thoughts blurted out in rough translations.

Later in the afternoon––bordering on evening––you were called back to the servant's quarters to be dismissed. The stewardess gave the six of you a rough look at your future schedules, revealing your hours to be lax and concentrated to only three or four days in the ten day week. You and Ahk side-eyed each other, ready to jump out of line at any moment with excitement as you bit back a grin.

The moment she said 'dismissed' you flocked to one another, automatically heading towards your quarters without word.

"I have been with thoughts, all day," you began, moving your hands animatedly. "We need to go to the beer house, like," you pointed over your shoulder, "you know?"

"The one from yesterday?" He asked in mild confusion.

"Yes!"

"Well I haven't got anything else to do," he said, looking to you with a lop-sided grin that you eagerly returned.

Even in the increasingly late hours of the day the market was aflame with life, filled with open carts and tables now half-empty after a long day of business. Ahkmen never had a job before––at least, not one that didn't have to do with politics or, very rarely, singing. Neither of those were any bit like the job he now had, standing on his feet for hours on end, watchful eyes patrolling a property that didn't and never would belong to him.

That ache continued in his chest, a feeling of tiredness that attempted to lag him down as he followed your excited steps. Unlike him, you were accustomed to physical labor, and retained much of your energy despite the hours of cleaning.

Orange and yellow tarps still hung above the darkened market, now blocking nothing more than the stars that shone a little dimmer than the two of you were used to. The small, red flags fluttered high above you in the gentle breeze coming off the Euphrates, twinned by the still fresh scents of baking bread and cooking beer. You needed only to follow the scent and the crowds that grew larger the further you got down the wide, stone street, coalescing into a large city center built by shops, bakeries, breweries, and glassmakers surrounding a pyre of white stone.

Winged creatures on four feet and bearing a man's head were carved into the large pillar, mounted by a disc resembling the light of the sun. Other such decorations trailed all the way down to the base, where lax soldiers lay among the ascending steps, their spears and swords at their side, and their mouths occupied by a stew whose scent tantalized the both of you.

"Did you eat today?" Ahkmen asked, unable to stop staring at the clay bowls steaming with the soup.

"I had a bread, in the - the kitchen," you said quietly.

"Hungry?"

"Yes, yes, we will eat?" You asked as you turned to him.

"I'd like to, considering I didn't really eat anything today," he said with a frown.

"What?? They did not let you eat?"

"More of I didn't have the chance," he said as he scratched the back of his neck, scanning the city square.

"I say we do get beer," you said, speaking slowly so as to fully think through your plan, "then we go to the house, and take their food. It is their job to feed you, yes? We work for them, they give food."

"Ah, Yogi," he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a side hug, "I knew there was a reason I followed you to the end of the earth."

"We are not at the end of the earth now, not yet," you said with a chuckle.

"I will follow you there," he said in a sudden, sincere softness.

You looked up at him and said, "I know," though you chuckled and gave him a funny look.

Thick, warm, and sweet––the beer of Babylon was more similar to porridge than it was to the almost juice-like qualities of Egypt, and by extension your, brewing. You both held one of the large mugs given to you, sitting on the raised half-wall between the public center and the roofless brewery establishment. Below you, women and men churned the alcoholic mixture, and across from you wandered older shoppers and off-guard soldiers.

Both of you raised your cups at the same time, taking a long, slurping gulp as you looked each other directly in the eye. Laughs bubbled in the beer, forcing you to lower the cup and wipe your chin on your sleeve as you giggled. He chuckled as he lowered his mug in a more graceful manner than you had.

"Hey, weren't you here yesterday?" A woman asked in Akkadian. It caught your attention, but to Ahk, it was just part of the conversations he couldn't understand, so he didn't notice until you responded to her.

"Yes I was here," you said grinning, offering a small wave to what Ahkmen now saw to be one of the brewers, her skin glowing in the firelights beneath the churners.

Her skirt was long, the frail edge of it dragging along the ground over neat, red fabric shoes. Despite the modest skirt, she had no sleeves, and the white linen veiled her muscled body, smooth dips and veins built from the nature of her work. Long, curly black hair was pinned in a bun, with neat strands hanging from the pins like vines from a tree. Even with her dark skin he could see a blush on her flushed cheeks.

"Ah," she huffed, wiping her brow, "I thought you looked a little odd."

"Odd?" You questioned with a laugh.

"Well your friend is dressed very... um, different," she said as she gestured to Ahk, who was back in his Egyptian skirt. "You from Egypt, sir?"

"Oh, he does not speak Akkadian," you said.

At this point, Ahk knew you were talking about him, since the lady gestured to him and you brushed him off. The two of you continued for a moment more, the stranger's gaze switching between you and him as incomprehensible words flooded from her mouth before she finally said something he understood.

"You, uh, you speak Sumerian?" She said, and Ahk perked up.

"Yes, I do," he said, glancing between you two. "Yogi doesn't, though. How do you know Sumerian? I thought it was a... a dead language."

"I could ask you for the same," she chuckled, "but my brother is a priest. I live with him, he shows me much of what he does."

"Ah, alright," he said with a nod. "I learned from school in Egypt, trained in the temples to be a priest."

How easily the lie came to him now. Why wouldn't it? No one was around to know any different.

She nodded with him, but before she could reply, you were interrupting and her focus was back on you. You said something followed by your name, and with her reply you muttered to Ahk her name––Tiamat.

Ahkmen managed to finish his beer while you two were still speaking in tongues. Not too great a task for a man of his stomach, but the entire time he was sipping away he could think of nothing more than the feeling of alienation. The languages of the three of you were all mixed up, meaning he couldn't talk to her without excluding you, and you couldn't talk to her without ignoring him, a predicament with ended in the latter's solution.

In the meantime, you were hitting it off rather well with Tiamat; you got to tell her that you'd experimented with your own types of beer, and she was interested––at least mildly so––in your foreign recipes. It wasn't long until she noticed Ahk's silent eyes staring at you, and suggested something you translated to Ahk.

"There is a... a house of books and scrolls near to here," you said. "If you are tired to being here."

A black hole swelled in the pit of his stomach, instilling a sick feeling where his beer once was. He glanced between you.

It would be the first time he was willingly parted from you in months.

"Sure," he said slowly, repeating the word in Sumerian to Tiamat.

She gave him the directions and he left in a fluster, confused and somewhat disappointed in himself. He was a little confused as to the actual directions to the library, but the large building stuck out sorely amongst the middle and lower class homes, tiled in dark blue and having much of a stature of a temple rather than a library. No one came and went from the door, but the scent of searing meat was suddenly overpowered by burning incense. The mark of an inhabited and frequently prayed in temple.

Arches led to extensive gardens, held alight by the glowing moon shining above. There were few clouds out tonight, allowing a better view of the sky––a view reflected in the patterns of the gardens. Riverwater flowed through the terrace as the Milky Way split the sky, the stars marked by flowering trees that bloomed in deep red and a pure, clean white. Beyond the garden stood the temple itself, once more the center of his attention, and once more rising beyond the walls that encircled it.

Stairs led up into the heavens and towards the first door, a strong, metal gate left unprotected.

He slowly entered, passing through the open doors and into a dark threshold. Ripples and veins of wood ran beneath his fingertips, trailing across the large doors, their bolts hanging open and unlocked. His mouth went dry as his eyes adjusted to the light.

Despite the grand stature and preparations for the temple, the first room there was very little––containing not much more than a strange candle sat in front of a small idol representing a bloodied man. Red paint, or perhaps actual blood, was smeared across his face, leading down in claw marks to the offerings at his feet. Ahk's jaw gritted tight as he attempted to swallow through a tight throat.

Two doors flanked the wall behind the statuette. Light flooded suddenly in the pitch black room, only to disappear, the subtle roar of torchlight moving with it. In that single moment, within which the light appeared, Ahkmen's mouth fell open as writings were revealed upon the walls, carved in every available surface, their depths sharpened by harsh light.

Like Egypt, the comings and goings of rituals for the Gods overpowered any prayers citizens might have, leaving only the small entrance room for people to pray at. From there Ahk could safely assume that he would not be allowed in the inner temples, especially since he was a foreigner. Whatever scrolls or tablets Tiamat knew about were inaccessible to him, leaving him alone and directionless in the Babylonian temple, separated from everything comfortably familiar.

He knelt, though he wasn't sure why, and looked the statue straight on. At the stone base was script, cuneiform pressed into clay and announcing the God's name.

"Utu Shamash," he mumbled, reading the words aloud. The Sun God of Babylonian myth.

It made sense, considering the offerings of gold beads and wine in golden chalices––Utu was known as a lover of gold, as it was the lifeblood of the sun. And even though Utu Shamash was the God of the sun, his equal was the presence of Ma'at––the Goddess of truth and justice––instead of Ra, a more widely known God of Egypt.

He took advantage of the rarity of such quiet moments, and delved back into the studies he left behind in Osiris' temple, namely the study of cuneiform writing. The temple must've been an older one––which would explain the somewhat smaller size––as the words in the walls were a script he could recognize, the familiar Sumerian of thousands of years ago. Whoever took power in Mesopotamia could never outrule the hidden language, and thus the words persisted even into modern day. Singing and glowing off the stone.

You suspend from the heavens the circle of the lands

And everything that Ea, King of the counsellors, had created is entrusted to you.

Whatever has breath you shepherd without exception,

You are their keeper in upper and lower regions.

Regularly and without cease you traverse the heavens,

Every day you pass over the broad earth. . . .

Shepherd of that beneath, keeper of that above,

You, Shamash, direct, you are the light of everything.

His gaze fell from the blurry words to the small statue. At some point he had fallen to his knees in front of the altar, his chin resting on the surface holding up the offerings of the people. Staring into its' eyes brought recollection to him, and he remembered the wooden totem he had worked on throughout the Shamiyah desert, how avidly he hid it in hopes of surprising you. He shoved it in his bag somewhere around Rapiqum for the last time, and since then it was hidden beneath his belongings.

There was little else he could think to do in the small praying room, so he left on quiet footsteps, retreating away from manmade majesty and back into the natural flora scattered along the path back to main streets. Chirping crickets digressed into quiet conversation, leather sandals walking across brick stone streets, and the ever-present sound of crackling fires.

He returned to the small circle in which he'd left you, as he only remembered the path back to the estate from that single spot. When he crossed the plaza, he spotted the open-roofed brewer, and made his way across to inform you on his future whereabouts.

Peering over the ledge, he found you still enraptured in your conversation with the brewer. She appeared to be showing you the mixing process required for the porridge-type beer. Ahk jogged down the stairs and over to you.

"Aganu!" You said brightly, a very sudden smile overtaking your earlier seriousness. "How is the books?"

"Couldn't, uh, get inside. It's alright. They had writings on the walls, um – I'm headed back to the estate," he set a hand on your shoulder, "so shall I meet you there?"

"Yes, yes, I will come back close to now," you said with a nod.

"Alright," he said, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead before he bid a hasty good-bye, waving himself out of the brewery. Your giggle followed him.

Things got quieter and less crowded the closer he got to the estate––whose owner he still didn't know––and by the time he stood before the servant's entrance, most of the lights in houses had gone out. The small, hostel-like accommodations for the servants still had a burning rushlight within, dimly illuminating the filled and empty bunks.

He squinted slightly to see through the wooden gate, his brow furrowing. There were very few beds left unoccupied.

With a long sigh he unlatched the gate in the way the stewardess taught him, quietly closing it behind him when he padded through with careful steps. His gaze was drawn to the small patio outside the hut––where you and him were assigned to your respective jobs––and there he spotted the bags the two of you left behind. He knelt and dug into his pack, drawing out his knife and the wooden totem that had been chipped into a much smaller size.

A whiff of the air from inside the bunk revealed to him that they weren't burning a rushlight; they were burning incense, drifting out in gentle smoke that pooled beneath the patio roof. He looked up, chuckling as he ran his hand through the thick clouds.

He took a seat on the dusty earth, his raised knees supporting his elbows that allowed for the proper movement of carving. The knife in his hand had dulled over time, matching to fit the refining scrapes Ahk was now using, smoothing out the harsher edges of the image within. Every now and then he glanced upwards, and each time he found the stars still veiled past the light of the city. He sighed, looked to the gate in hopes of seeing you, and returned to his wood carving after two minutes of silence.

Snoring hummed quietly from inside the servant's quarters, followed by rustling sheets and a smack of skin against skin. Ahk's eyes widened as he heard someone curse in Akkadian. Another slap and then silence.

A little while later, clinking metal and swinging hinges had his head shooting up to see you. A grin split across his face and he stood, abandoning his wood and knife on the ground in favor of jogging over to you.

"Aganu," you said in a giggle, gladly returning his hug when he scooped you up into his arms.

He picked you up easily, spinning you around in slow circles across the garden as your laughter followed in twirls. He chuckled as he set you down, his hands remaining on your waist, and his heart thumping like thunder.

"How was brewing?" He asked.

"So good," you giggled. "I did miss it for more than I think."

"Understandable. You do know a lot about it, after all," he said with a shrug.

"A little. We should eat now," you said, walking past him and leading him to follow you without word or gesture.

The main house of the estate wasn't an especially large house, but it was tall. Three different floors rose out of the ground like pikes, the edges rimmed with decorated shards of cutting stone, and the stairs guarded by figures of Lamassu, though they were much smaller than some of the statues he'd seen in other parts of Babylon.

Of course, that wasn't the wisest entry point. On the back side of the house, opposite of the street-facing side, a doorway led in to the kitchens illuminated by the windows built into the thick, stone walls.

Large domed brick furnaces were built into the home, but the storage cases were all made of wood and completely moveable. None of that mattered, however, because all of the food itself was kept in a storeroom below the ground, a fact you found out after speaking with Zakiti, your coworker. Long accustomed to the art of sneaking, the two of you easily snuck down the stairs and into the underground storage. basement.

A chill set over your skin, and you wrapped your arms around yourself. Every tiny scrape of your shoes against the dirty floor had tiny specks of dirt grinding against each other, producing an unpleasant sound that nearly woke the landowners.

You picked a variety of things, too scared of taking multiples of one object and getting caught by the missing evidence. Once everything was chosen, you and Ahk hid the food in the folds of your clothes, and ran back across the estate to the servant's house.

He barely caught his breath before you were climbing up the stone walls of the bunk, using the wooden pegs to left yourself up to the roof. Ahkmen chuckled, but something else came to mind, and he rushed off to grab something else before he joined you in the midnight stillness. In the end, however, he required your help in lifting everything up, and that left nothing to surprise you with but the totem he could carry in his hand while he climbed.

He huffed as he landed beside you. While waiting for him you'd set out the blanket he fetched, the length of it laying flat on the mud roof baked in the sun. You already had your lute in hand, small fingers tapping thoughtlessly over the strings as he revealed what he'd hidden from you for a good while now; an object of his vigilant attention.

Your mouth fell open when you saw it, drawing a breath between your lips that caught in your throat.

It wasn't of anyone distinctive. Technically. The proportions gave away far more than he was comfortable with, but you'd already seen it now, and there was no taking that back. For weeks he'd been carving the image of two people embracing, one much taller than the other, who pulled the smaller's head into its' chest, an abstract hand petting the absent hair. The only features actually shown on the two were their eyes––closed, and quietly so, with no strain or note of fear.

He let you stare until he grew uncomfortable with your silence, which ended up happening rather quickly as he boiled in his own blushing.

"What do you think of it?" He asked in a voice that nearly cracked.

"I... it is beautiful," you murmured, your hands going lax around the instrument.

You reached forward as he handed it to you, and you held it with such a tender, careful touch that Ahk wished for a moment he was the statue instead. It was a very long moment that stretched into near painful yearning.

"This is what you made in the Shamiyah?" You said, tearing your eyes away from the figures to meet his gaze.

"Yes, well.. I... I had a lot of time," he partway mumbled, feeling suddenly self-conscious about his gift to you. There were edges and areas he could've added better detail.

"And I had a lot of time," you said with a chuckle. "But I did not make any thing. It is beautiful, Aganu."

Burning desire to hear his name. His true name. Not once had you uttered it in any way not befitting a stranger.

"Thank you," he choked out after forcing down the words you're beautiful.

How pathetically cliche, how his cheeks burned even brighter yet, his imagination just barely reigned in by his common sense. He couldn't just kiss you––you depended on him for safety to get to a new home after your last became intolerable, and breeching that trust wasn't something he was so readily prepared to do.

So instead he looked at you, ignoring how his gaze always fell to your lips, ignoring how he leant into you without ever having to feel your touch. Pathetic, he thought, and drew himself back, restraining his rampant thoughts. It all faded as you plucked at the strings, the hum of it filling up the space between you with warmth. Stars that crested your face fell to the earth in the form of fireflies that floated around you.

But you wouldn't sing. You looked to him, waiting for him to start, and giggling when he remained in his strange trance.

"You are the singing, yes?" You said quietly, careful not to disturb the sleeping servants below the rooftop.

"Oh," he said, his back straightening. "Um, alright."

He recalled many of the poems and songs he'd heard at festivals, as well as the more popular ones sung in the house of life. His eyes flickered up to the red dot on your forehead above your brow.

"My love is one and only, without peer, lovely above all Egypt's lovely girls," he began to sing, keeping as quiet as you kept your playing. "On the horizon of my seeing, see her rising, glistening Goddess of the sunrise star; bright in the forehead of a lucky year. So there she stands, epitome of shining, shedding light, her eyebrows gleaming darkly, marking eyes which dance and wander."

He let out a long sigh as he lay down, stretching his arms above his head before he released them, one falling on his stomach, and the other extended to you. You chuckled at his sleepy mannerisms, continuing to pluck thoughtlessly.

"Tired?" You asked.

"Yes," he mumbled, his eyes falling blissfully shut.

The wooden lute clattered against the mud roof before fabric shifted and you were lying next to him, balanced on your side to face him. He turned to you and opened his eyes. You were much closer than he thought.

Neither of you said a word; silence in the hazy stare between you. Ahk only noticed his brow was knotted when it began to ache, at which point he also realized he'd raised his hand, and the back of his fingers were tracing down your cheek. No going back now––you still stared at him head-on, blinking slowly as he drew in a shaky breath.

His fingers drew the rest of the way down to your jaw, melting him at the soft warmth of your skin.

You're going to drive me mad.