#just having a debate with the irrational voice of doubt in my head

[lightsinthedistancee]

Under the Cover of War: FO!Poe Dameron x Resistance!Reader

Pairing: FO!Poe Dameron x Resistance!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: “‘Let’s go,’ he murmurs. ‘Let’s run.’ His gaze is fixed on you, begging for this. He needs you—he needs you to be there for him so that he has a place in the galaxy, a place he would never have otherwise. ‘Please.’”

Following the destruction of the Hosnian System, a promise and a dire decision are made by you and Poe.

Warnings: Language

“Why?”

The single word is clipped, volatile, dangerously soft in nature. It’s a question, a plead, an accusation, all at once. It seems to scream in the silence, to imply a million other queries that Poe doesn’t want to answer.

He simply remains quiet as he stares at your back turned to him. You sit on the edge of the bed, breath shaking, refusing to even look at him.

He inhales, blinking rapidly. “Sweetheart—“

“Why?” This time, it’s a scream. The sound is ragged, painful, your voice cracking. It makes him flinch, makes him draw into himself.

The loud cry echoes, disintegrates as the seconds pass.

He wishes he could transport himself back to five minutes ago, before either of your holos had rung. Before the First Order had reported a victory to him, before the Resistance had reported a devastating, unfathomable loss to you.

He wants to return to when he’d laid beside you, running his fingers down your sides, when the memory of pressing you into the sheets was still fresh in his mind.

But somehow he knows that whatever the two of you have will never return in any way.

“How could you?” you whisper, the shock of five of the galaxy’s most populous planets being obliterated in mere minutes still in the process of shattering you to pieces.

Poe wants to shrink into the air, disappear in moments. He knows you’re crying, that you can’t handle it. He’d be lying if he said he himself was handling it at all.

“I…I don’t know what happened.” He stares at the sheets, tears running down his own face. He can’t imagine it. The deaths of tens of trillions. Their screams, the pain they must have felt in the blinding light of imminent death.

Your hands tighten into fists as you shake. Your form is locked in tension, perhaps about to abruptly turn around and strike him, perhaps about to break and collapse into a distraught pile of bone and flesh. “You’re a liar.”

The words are akin to a strike itself. He near hisses, unstable in his new knowledge. “Why the fuck would they tell me? I’m not even a colonel.” His volume rises, swirling in the atmosphere, ready to completely burst free. “I didn’t have a damn thing to do with it—“

“But you certainly have something to do with those who ordered it!” You finally turn to him. You’re livid. Eyes red with tears, lips in a tight line, a glare that threatens to break him.

And your statement is not something he can deny. He deflates, silent. He can feel your eyes on him expectantly, but nothing comes.

When enough time passes, you stand from the bed, grabbing your things from the bedside table. As your fingers delicately wrap around the blaster you regularly carry around, he briefly thinks that perhaps you’re about to turn around and shoot him.

But you don’t, and something new finds home beside your anger: a heartbreaking sense of disappointment.

It’s on instinct when his hand shoots out, grasping your arm. “No, wait…please. Don’t go,” he says quietly.

You’re all he has. There’s nothing more to say other than that. Life in the Order is a cold one, always has been. While he may not agree with the side you’ve chosen, you’re the sole warmth in his life, the sole radiant light.

You jerk in his grip, but he tightens it, eyes unashamedly pleading with you, begging you to not leave him.

Even in the place you always meet him, buried beneath layers of rock, surrounded by passages of clandestine activity necessary in your illicitness, his meetings with you never fail to be the only times he’s truly happy.

“Please…,” he pleads once more, thumb running over your knuckles.

A debate takes place on your features, and he can read you better than he can anyone else. He’s the person you’d let into your heart, the person you’d revealed every personal secret to. He’s the one who’d whispered ‘I love you’ one fateful night, the one to whom you’d whispered it back. He’s the one that had challenged your blind loyalty to any ideology, the one to whom you’d done the same.

He can see all those things viciously, ruthlessly grappling with the horrifying events that had just transpired: bodies being ripped to shreds, building being reduced to dust, life being annihilated in fire.

And in an act of emotional obscurity, the two opponents are shockingly close.

It’s evident which wins out when you limply fall back to the bed, body slumping to lie down, eyes tiredly closed.

“Then tell me why,” you whisper, barely audible.

“Why what?”

“I want to know why you joined the people who did…this.”

And at that simple request, he feels his walls rise. Even if they’d fallen long ago when he was around you, they’d never truly disappeared.

“I thought we don’t talk about stuff like that,” says Poe quietly.

“Well, I changed my fucking mind.”

He gazes around the room, reminded of the sole thing that prevents full, unconditional commitment to the other. The space they are in is a brutal reminder of the fact, for it presents itself in sets of two, an embodiment of duality.

Two blasters on top of the bedside table. One polished and new, the other dull and thoroughly used.

Two sets of boots clumsily scattered by the door. One shiny, lacking a single scuff mark, one that’s appearance suggests it’s been passed through several owners.

Two jackets. One with the hexagonal, sixteen-rayed symbol of the First Order, one with the starbird of the Resistance.

It’s a glaringly horrid representation of the two of you, never destined to be the same.

“Did your tongue also vanish along with the five planets?”

He slowly comes back to the present with your words, forcing away his disconnect.

It’s not something he can afford right now. Maintaining his privacy, hiding the events of his past, concealing the cause of his motives—he can’t afford any of that if he wants you.

And somehow, all he does want is you. You, you, you—to the point that he wonders if it’s unhealthy, if it’s even real and true, but that’s something he refuses to consider in the moment.

Even though you’d seen some of the darkness through him, he is certain that your loyalty to light is stronger, if only marginally, and that means he has to tell. He has to reveal.

“My mother,” he simply says, gaze unfocused. “She was a rebel pilot. She died.”

The slight stirring of your body freezes. He’d never talked of his family’s loyalties; he’d always given the impression that they’d passively existed in the deluge of light and dark that had overtaken the galaxy.

“She’s why I joined.” He flinches at the memory, grimacing at the pain he’d felt as a boy. “She died because of rebellion recklessness. Because of belief in blind hope.”

The anger—it’s simmering once more, bubbling higher, inching further and further to the edge of his chest.

And he can tell yours is too. Your fingers grip at the sheets as your eyes narrow. “Reckless…blind…hope?” He’s questioning your belief, accusing it of something dangerously irrational, and you yearn to lash back on instinct, to defend the beliefs you’d lived your life by—even as your own doubts of it conceal themselves in the background.

He laughs bitterly, his voice rising again. “Don’t kid yourself. That’s what the New Republic lived off of, and it was a fucking mess.”

You tense up, practically shrieking your next words, wholly, viciously attacking him back. “Who are you to say that—“

“There were people revolting in the streets!” he yells, his voice perhaps even louder than yours had been. “There were people in the Outer Rim starving! It was chaos—“

“And the First Order is what? Orderly?”

“They’re better than you and your—“

And he falls silent all of a sudden. He stops himself.

He knows where this is going. It’d happened and been resolved before, but he has a sneaking suspicion that that won’t be the case if the two of you continue down this road.

“Fuck,” he groans under his breath, his back slumped as he rubs his face with his hands.

“Me and my what?” you ask quietly.

He just shakes his head.

You fall back to your laying down position, head burying in the sheets, trying to block everything out. He’s right. He’s entirely right. The flaw in the Light, the flaw in the Republic, but you can’t bring yourself to denounce the loyalty you’d inherited.

He sniffles, hiding his tears behind his hands, and his figure—he knows it’s one of pure pain. As good as he’d gotten at hiding his emotions, they always seem to show themselves in your presence, no matter how hard he tries to defeat them, and it’s undeniable that you feel them to the fullest.

“You say ‘mama’ in your sleep sometimes,” you whisper all of a sudden.

At the revelation, he goes still. It’s an unsettling thought…that perhaps you’d known of his weakness long before he’d willingly showed you, long before he thought you deserved to know.

That maybe you’d heard the words of him crying out for his mother before you’d even known the slightest deeply-personal thing about him, when you’d only known the feeling of him inside you and the feeling of his lips on yours and the weight of his body as he slept beside yours.

His reluctance to look at you only increases tenfold when the shame floods in. The shame of a lifetime at this point—of weakness regarding his family, of putting blaster bolts in people who didn’t deserve them, of not being able to let go of his past, something he’d been striving for his whole life.

It all externally devolves into a mere fit of subtle trembles.

“Poe?” Your tone is soft now, gentle. You’re on your knees, sitting up, a single hand on the side of his face joining the space between the two of you. A certain mixture of concern and inquisitiveness finds home in your eyes, and for a second, he thinks your expression reflects one of a person staring at a beaten-down, once-aggressive animal.

“I regret it—joining the Order,” he simply says, voice cracking. The gas, plasma, fire, flesh, and bone of the destroyed system fill his imagination. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“Only if you mean it.” There’s still no sympathy to your voice, but there’s a softer edge to it, the kind that’s always existed but disappears in every fight.

“I do.” He leans back into the pillows, forearm over his eyes. It feels as if this has been going on for far too long, for he’s exhausted.

Your hand finds its way into his curls, tracing from his hairline to the base of his neck. It’s hauntingly reminiscent of what he’d felt so passionately and tenderly before the conflict had even begun.

“All darkness dies in the light,” you whisper.

It’s an ambiguous statement to many, but he automatically knows what you’re asking of him—you want his darkness to die in your light.

And while part of him begs and yearns to submit to your wish, something about your words perturbs him—the words unsaid. His darkness…the one he’d held for so long, you don’t want it to disappear, you don’t want it to transform, no, you want it to die. You want him to kill it.

“I can’t,” he says softly, fingers fumbling with the sheets, almost hoping to blindly find you.

“The Light Side’ll—“

“I’m done with the fucking sides,” he interjects, his words lined with a sharp edge. A puff of air leaves his lips as he desperately wishes for calm, one with at least some semblance of permanence. He finally looks at you, eyes now completely devoid of any anger or menace they’d held before, just the sadness of someone who’d made one too many wrong choices. “It’s just pain either way, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” you admit, a brief expression of hesitance crossing your face. “But you have to choose.” The hesitance turns to anguish, a revelation in its most subtle form. “There’s more pain if you don’t, and perhaps…perhaps that’s why I chose my side.”

He props himself up on his forearms at the mere implication—the implication that your unwavering loyalty to the light is not so unwavering, that you’d gone head in like he had with his loyalty and was now beginning to doubt things.

“Some don’t choose—“

“And they suffer for it,” you interrupt, finishing his statement with your own thoughts. It’s something you’ve seen your whole life: those who don’t choose being made to do so—often in violence.

He laces his fingers with yours, delicately wrapping each of your digits around his palm.“We’ve suffered our entire lives, darling,” he muses. “Born into a galaxy at war, a brief respite, and then yet another one…just suffering, suffering, suffering…within us, around us…what’s a little more?”

The whole room seems to freeze as you peer at him, part curiosity, part doubt, part disbelief. “What are you suggesting?”

“I think you know,” he says softly. The warmth staring back at you is undeniably something you would die for.

“Say it.” Your whisper is said with the deepest conviction, awaiting the words that would cement your decision, perhaps a decision you won’t know until you hear the offer leave his lips.

“Let’s go,” he murmurs. “Let’s run.” His gaze is fixed on you, begging for this. He needs you—he needs you to be there for him so that he has a place in the galaxy, a place he would never have otherwise. “Please.”

Your breath shakes, just barely, contemplating, debating. There’s an inevitable weight to war, the kind that crushes people to pieces, and the temptation to run from such a force—it feels right. It feels right to be free, to live safer, to be with whom you want. “There’ll be sacrifices to make.”

“There’ll be sacrifices either way,” he insists, and you’re certain he’s right. “Darling….” His words fade off, and he surges forward, gently locking his lips with yours. It’s tender and pleading, the ultimate question asked once again through touch.

“Poe….” The way you say his name is filled with something decisive, something deliberate. The seconds pass. He waits. “Let’s go.”

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

Taglist (for everything): @dark-academics-and-florals @theultimateslashgirl @princessxkenobi @djjarins @jitterbugs927 @whovianayesha | Taglist (for Poe): @synical-paradox @paper-n-ashes @spider-starry | This fic: @silkandribbons (i believed you expressed interest once; hope you don’t mind!) @spicemaidenfic (this just seems like your jam tbh)

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[crimsonheart01]

Sugarplums (Oliver Wood x Female!Reader)

A/N: This is dedicated to @thegirlwhowritesfics​ and @juniperjane​. No particular reason. None at all. It’s not like they were the ones to anonymously request this! This is just a random dedication of my love to them! 

Prompt: “Are you humming the Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy?” Word Count: 1.9K words Playlist: Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy - Tchaikovsky [Spotify] [YouTube] Warnings: None

“Statistically speaking, that’s impossible!” Her statement rang across several tables in the Great Hall.

She hadn’t yelled, but her voice carried. All the chatter and buzz came to an immediate halt, nothing but the sound of a bench scraping across the floor. She didn’t even bother looking up from the paper in her hand. She ducked her head down, rolling her lips together to hide the smirk growing. She chuckled to herself as she heard the collection of whispers make their way up the aisles between the tables.

He’d been arguing his point for weeks now, and while she appreciated his enthusiasm, it needed to end somewhere. Everyone knew it was impossible, himself included. Today seemed like a fine day to really rile him up. The final day of classes before Christmas hols, it was the perfect storm. It also helped that he was halfway there on his own anyway. His voice had been climbing up over the chatter from the Gryffindor table. She knew they were on his side. True to their namesake, the pride of lions always stuck together.

Regardless, she thoroughly enjoyed a good debate, especially with one such Gryffindor. Logic superseded a lot of their banter, but on this particular topic, he was a dog with a bone. Refusing to let go or give up. The sounds of his footfalls drifted up into the swirl of his robes while he walked. She knew he had a flair for the dramatic when he was on a tangent, and he was in peak form this morning.

Two of her classmates skirted in opposite directions on the bench across from her. Keen to avoid his approach. No one had ever challenged him in general. Not Oliver Wood, the headstrong Gryffindor. Not Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Not when it came to the one game he was being scouted for. The one game where his talent exceeded everyone’s expectations. Smarts aside, quidditch was his and most definitely, not hers.

“Strong words coming from someone who doesn’t even follow quidditch.” He accused, his voice low and on the verge of shaking.

She lifted her eyes to regard him, her face a mask of indifference, “You think that just because I don’t obsess over it, it means I don’t keep track of the most popular wizarding sport?”

He scoffed at her, reaching down and pressing his palm flat over the paper she held. Their eyes connected as he hovered over the Ravenclaw table, pushing the paper down so that she would give him his undivided attention. She made a show of blinking innocently up at him. He narrowed his eyes briefly, starting to understand the game she was initiating.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” He determined, licking his bottom lip in irritation.

A collective gasp could be heard amongst the other students, even a few smug sniffs from the Gryffindor table. Head Girl and the Captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team in a tiff. In front of all to see. Every eye in the castle trained on the two of them. Even the teachers were straining to listen in. She chuckled to herself. She wondered how many of them were hedging their bets. It was common knowledge to the older students that the professors got a good laugh out of the typical house rivalries. They joined in on their own terms, always in good fun—a way to keep up morale and to encourage healthy competition.  

She tugged her hand out from under his grip and finally lifted her head to acknowledge him fully. The torch he held for Portree was misguided in his patriotism, believing beyond any doubt that they were taking the world cup this year. It was the only time he became irrational about how the game really worked. She enjoyed his dedication to his country’s national team and his childhood favourite team, but again, this argument was weeks old now, and they weren’t advancing anywhere near the top of the league. Not this year.

“Puddlemere has a higher scoring average. Their Chasers score an average of 215 each game, without calculating in the caught snitch points. Even if Portree won their next game by 150 points, they’re still fourth in the league overall.” She dismissively explained, “You saying that they’re on track to come first is like saying the Canons will win their next game. It’s statistically impossible.”

Everyone knew the Canons were just a filler team. They hadn’t won a game in the last century and weren’t likely to win one in the next. She gave him a smug grin as she laid it all out for him. He narrowed his eyes at her, curling his hand into a fist, his knuckles turning white. He knew she was right but didn’t want to admit defeat. Oh no, not him. Not the quidditch all-knowing, Oliver Wood. He could never.

“Scoring average aside,” He countered, “Their newest recruits for the season have played well beyond any expectations, and they still have chance on their side. If Puddlemere loses the next two games, regardless of points, they drop out of the winning and it makes room for the other teams to move up.”

He stood up, straightening his back and crossed his arms over his chest. Proud of his statement, of his deductions. She let out a condescending laugh at his stance, looking back down at her empty plate for a second. When she glanced back up, she could see his resolve starting to crumble. He was doing the math in his head. He’d figured out that he was off base. That even though he had faith, the numbers weren’t on his side.

“You want to place your faith on the best team in the British league losing their next two games? Even after they’ve won every single one up until this point. You want to ride on the fact that they might choke? A maybe?” She cocked her head to the side, knowing that she had him right where she wanted him, “Care to place a wager on that?”

Her eyebrows lifted into her hairline as she stared at him, strongarming him to make the losing bet or admit defeat.  The hall fell into a tense silence, waiting for the outcome. She was sure others had caught up with the data, the proof that Pride of Portree wasn’t winning any cups this year.

He faltered, and everyone saw it. Everyone saw the fall in his confidence. The whispers grew again, as those who knew about quidditch were informing those who weren’t avid fans. Oliver took a deep breath in and stared over at her, shocked that he’d been beaten at the game. Mostly because he’d been beaten by the least likely person he expected it from.

In hindsight, he should’ve known she’d be the only one to best him. She always did. She was the only person who could. It was why he loved her. She could go up against the best in any debate and come out victorious. Without a chance to rectify his downfall, the bells rang, signalling breakfast over and time to get on to their classes.

Excitement rose into the air as benches scratched along the stone floors and books were scraped up off the tables. She grinned up at Oliver, and he shook his head, a small smile creeping in. He turned around and headed back to his table to gather his effects before exiting the hall. He could feel the stares of the younger students were giving him. All the while, they were murmuring behind their hands to one another. The “it” couple of the year had a public row. Little did they all know, it was a ploy. One that she put into place to get him to see reality. There was never a hint of animosity between them, and even if there had been, it dissipated when she thoroughly bested him in his top subject.

~(HP)~

Students continued to file out of the great hall, the volume of their conversations rising as they retold the events of breakfast. Several versions began circulating, all from a different house’s perspective. She enjoyed hearing the snippets as she travelled along the sides of the table. Every version with its own telling features. Quite a few long sighs from the younger kids about how romantic it all was. A few chest thumps from the older ones who defended Wood’s devotion. Almost everyone with a quiet whispered holiday wish that they would find someone to share in their passions as equally as they did with each other.

She found him standing a ways outside the opened doors and grinned over at him. In her glory, she kept up a quiet tune while she strolled in his direction. Something about the electricity in the air had her feeling light. Upon reaching him, she lifted up onto her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Are you humming the Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy?” He asked, mystified at how her genuine good mood had him feeling uplifted even after that spectacular defeat, “It’s incredibly ominous considering our current situation.”

She laughed and shrugged her shoulders. He sighed but smiled over at her. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder while his arm slipped around her middle and clung to her. He tilted his head so that his laid on top of hers while they stood admiring the snowy grounds.

“I’m never going to live this down,” He murmured to her.

She nodded, “Oh, I know.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. If there was anyone in this castle that could school him in the sport of his passion, it was her, hands down—the only person to be able to keep up with him on statistics and gameplay. Even the most die-hard fans couldn’t retain the same amount of knowledge she did. There were times when even she gave him a run for his money. He had to give kudos to her house. She was most definitely sorted correctly. After a long moment, they both turned together and began walking down the corridor towards their next class.

“I guess I’ll have to get you a new present now,” He sighed, purposely sounding forlorn.

She furrowed her brows as she glanced up at him, “Why’s that?”

He frowned, “I can’t very well gift you with a Portree jersey that has my name emblazoned across the back when you don’t even support the team, now can I.”

She stopped abruptly and grabbed his hand, tugging him around to face her. He trained his face into a cool mask of disinterest, hoping that she could piece it together herself.

“Ollie, what are you saying?” She bit her lip, the shock of his statement settling in.

He smirked at her, and she squealed, jumping up to gather him in her arms.

“They signed you!” She whispered excitedly into his chest, “You got first draft! You’re going to be the Keeper for Portree? To think, the term is barely over, and they’ve already committed!”

He laughed along with her, keeping his arms tight around her back. He held her close to him, enjoying how thrilled she was for his news. It was an anxiety he’d had since the end of last year, but thankfully all the extra training he put in over the summer and with the first few games of the year under his belt, the recruiters were impressed and offered him an early contract.

When she let go of him, she held his biceps tightly and grinned, “I’ll proudly wear the losing team’s jersey if it has your name on it.”

His mouth dropped open in disbelief, but he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped.

He took her hand in his, threading their fingers together and held his head high, “With me as their keeper, we won’t be the losing team anymore.”

[kuroos-moon]

xiii. “Interhigh” • Part Three

Smau Masterlist

You missed Oikawa Toru so much and you regret not giving him the chance to talk to you. You knew you were being irrational but what were you supposed to think? How could he take you seriously and see other girls at the same time?

Pushing all doubts and thoughts aside, you descend the stairs, finally reaching the ground floor. You’ve decided that whatever you were to him, it wouldn’t matter, you just wanted to apologize and let him know how you feel.

Makki’s eyes widen at the sight of you as you get nearer, the boy knew something interesting was about to unfold. Iwaizumi can’t help but facepalm himself because he knew it wasn’t the right time, Toru’s possessive fuck buddy was there after all. He simply sighs as he sees his best friend take pictures with his fans while receiving their gifts.

“Trashykawa,” Mattsun calls and the oblivious boy looks up to see you, standing beside his friends. He was so puzzled he doesn’t have a clue on what to do, he wanted to run away, how was he supposed to deal with his feelings?

He just stands there though, debating whether to ignore you or head over. What the hell was he supposed to do? And were you always that pretty? For a second he got scared his heartbeat would be heard all over the lobby.

“Toru, can we talk?” And just like that, his heartbeat got even faster. Did you miss him as much as he missed you?

His fans mumble among each other as he approaches you quite slowly, he was afraid, what were you going to say? But despite that, he was just so happy to see you up close.

“Toru can we go somewhere else to talk?” You ask him again once he was merely small steps away from you as you look down on your feet, refusing to stare back at his eyes.

“Here’s fine,” he says, he didn’t mean for it to sound cold, he just couldn’t handle how overwhelming his emotions were right now and being alone with you might actually cause him to do or say something impulsively.

You flinch at what he says, but let the sting in your chest go with a heavy sigh.

“Toru, I’m sorry about that day,” you start, your voice was only loud enough for him to hear. He doesn’t say anything so you go on. “I do like you, I like you a lot,” you mumble, the fact that you were confessing with such a huge crowd surrounding you made you nervous.

Not having heard you well, though he knew what you said, he takes a step closer to you and swiftly bends down so that his face was right in front of yours. You were too stunned by his bold actions, your breath hitched, you ought to take a step backward but he grabs your wrist to keep you in place.

“You’re gonna have to speak louder for me to hear y/n,” he says, however composed he looked, he too was flustered at how close your faces were, loving how you reacted to his touch on your wrist and the breaths that you fanned against each other.

“Toru I don’t think I can speak to you this way,” you nervously say, tilting your head back down.

“That won’t do, you have to look at me,” he says. “You did hurt me after all,” he guilt-trips with a pout.

“I really like you Toru,” you blurt out in frustration. Surprised by your sudden outburst, he drops his hold on you and leans away.

“I like you a lot,” you say again, your cheeks flushed and your heart rapidly beating from your newfound courage to look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry I said all those things to you, I was scared,” and he was surprised to hear that. What were you so afraid of when he liked you so much more than you liked him?

“I don’t know what I am to you Toru, the last months might’ve been just some fun or whatever for you or maybe I did mean something to you too,” he understood now. He knew why you were so upset. He feels so guilty because he could’ve proven his sincerity instead of resorting to Jen for distraction.

“I just want you to know that I care about you, no matter how weird you are or how freaking annoying, I love every text message I get from you, even if it’s at 4 in the morning, asking me what I’d do if aliens invaded,” you chuckle. Never in his life has he received such an honest and nerve-wracking confession; he wanted you so badly, the more you talk the more he wanted to smash his lips against yours. How could you stand there all pretty, not knowing he was completely wrapped around your finger?

“Y/n,” he says, and you look up at him not knowing what to expect. Were you going to get rejected? The fear of rejection took over you so you cut him off.

“Look, Toru it’s ok—

“So talkative,” He rolls his eyes before he places a hand at the back of your head, pulling you close and kissing you for everyone to see. You couldn’t even process what was happening but find your hands against his broad shoulders anyway.

He was kissing you gently at first, savoring the warmth and softness of your lips against his. Heat tingles within you as he deepens the kiss, he had entered his tongue in your mouth and his arms found its way around your waist pulling you even closer. He made sure to express everything he felt for you, the pain of your words, the love he felt, and the anxiety of not knowing how to handle such strong feelings.

Giving you one last soft peck, he pulls away and rests his forehead on yours. “I’ll show you how much I care for you y/n,” he says, wiping the sides of your lips which were a little bit too wet because of him with his thumb. “Y/n-chaan I missed you so much,” he sighs as he slouches and burries his face on your shoulder, his arms still wrapped around your waist, the exhaustion from his game earlier taking a toll on him.

“Can you give me a hug?” His voice was muffled but you heard him anyway. Wrapping your arms around his muscled back, you genuinely felt so happy; being in Toru’s arms felt like the rightest place to be. “Is it only me Toru?” You ask, making him chuckle as he pulls away from you once more.

He slings an arm around your shoulder as he faces his fans and his friends who were bewildered at how Toru acted. Some of the girls recognized you from his tweet, glaring daggers at you. Makki was just so proud of you two he was recording the whole thing.

“I would like to say that I am now off the market,” he grins and Makki and Mattsun goofily clap their hands for the both of you.

“Is she your girlfriend Oikawa-senpai?” One of the fangirls ask. Curious to know what he’d say, you look up at him and you felt your knees weaken because he was already looking at you so softly with his beautiful chocolate eyes.

“Uh no, but if you’re not her then I won’t kiss you, get what I mean?” He lightly says with a chuckle and a polite smile. “She’ll be my girlfriend soon enough though, just you wait and see,” he grins at them before kissing your cheek, chuckling at how red you were.

All was well, there was no intervention from anyone, Iwa just looks at the two of you from outside with a pissed-off Jen he blocked from entering the building. The smiles on both your faces were enough reason for him to drag Jen out when she was about to interrupt you two.

“Iwaizumi what the fucking hell do you think you’re doing? Let me in I’ll make sure that ugly bitch knows her place,” she hisses with so much hate and Iwa simply gives her a glare which was enough for her to back down.

“That girl who’s much more beautiful than you is my friend and Crappykawa’s happiness alright? Don’t ruin it,” he casually says, not wanting to sound mean because after all, he was in no position to get involved. Lmao but he did sound mean, serves her right for calling you ugly

“Did that girl get fucked good by him last night? No I don’t think so,” she smugly says, looking at you with Toru, wanting nothing more than to ruin your life.

“That’s all you ever were Jen, a fuck buddy, you knew that from the start,” Iwa says before heading back inside, punching an overjoyed hyper Oikawa who was about to hug him. He smiles at you though and pats your head.

Jen merely grits her teeth at the sight of Oikawa acting so gentle and loving towards you, she felt sick seeing him kiss your forehead, hold your hand and do everything else he doesn’t do with her. There was no way in hell she’d allow you to be happy.

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[ikaris-whore]

I posted 1,548 times in 2021

100 posts created (6%)

1448 posts reblogged (94%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 14.5 posts.

I added 999 tags in 2021

#bucky barnes - 176 posts

#sebastian stan - 138 posts

#chris evans - 124 posts

#richard madden - 102 posts

#taron egerton - 96 posts

#marvel - 85 posts

#tfatws - 78 posts

#sam wilson - 69 posts

#fatws - 68 posts

#steve rogers - 63 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#we will be the first people to see the house but we can’t physically see it until tomorrow and our realtor has already drawn up the offer 🙈

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

I just had to do it after finishing the movie tonight ☺️

ETSY LINKED IN SOURCE

135 notes • Posted 2021-07-10 04:21:42 GMT

#4

Do You Love Me?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Pregnant!Reader

Prompt: sent in to @the-ss-horniest-book-club and I just had to. “Do you love me?” “We’ve been married three years.” with Bucky

It had been quite a week for you. Self doubt settled in. You were going through the motions of the day. Shower. Comfy clothes. Checking off the few things on your to do list that your body would allow because you had some energy today.

As you were cutting vegetables for dinner Bucky came through the door and headed straight to the bedroom as if you weren’t even there. His usual kiss to your temple and a snag of raw veg non-existent.

You pouted to yourself as you slowly, carefully finished prepping dinner. Bucky eventually made himself known again, sitting down to finally get a breather himself when he noticed you weren’t your usual self.

“What’s wrong doll?” He questioned.

“Buck.” You paused, debating whether to say ‘nothing’ or what was really racing through your mind even though you could tell yourself you were being irrational all you wanted you didn’t believe it. A sigh follows as you make up your mind. “Do you love me?”

“Do I love you?” He couldn’t believe you would ask such a thing. “We’ve been married three years.”

“That’s not an answer Bucky.” Tears started to burn your eyes, you sat the spoon down you were stirring with and started for the bathroom when his arms wrapped around you from behind.

His chin rest on your shoulder. “Don’t run. Talk to me. Why did you ask?”

“You didn’t kiss me when you walked through the door. You acted like I wasn’t even there.” As you said it out loud you knew it was irrational to jump straight to him not loving you for that one instance but you couldn’t help it.

He made up for missing you the first time by pressing a kiss to your neck— the same move that got you pregnant in the first place. His voice was as gentle as a lamb, his hands splayed on your belly. “You’re about to give birth to our daughter. You’ve stuck with me through thick and thin. Of course I love you. I’ll love you until my last breath.”

“And I’ll love you until mine.” You replied softly placing your hands over his.

238 notes • Posted 2021-02-16 17:48:15 GMT

#3

Creme Bru-lasers

Pairing: Ikaris X Reader

Word count: just about 400

A/N: This came about when my friend texted me about something Ikaris could do with his lasers. And it of course, knowing me, tumbled into thinks he could cook. 😂 Enjoy!

“Ike! Have you seen my blow torch?” You yell through the house as you dig through the drawers looking for it. You know you put it away right in the front of the first drawer you pulled out. That’s where it always was. But you had to admit your kitchen hasn’t been in its perfect order since he started experimenting in the kitchen himself.

On the opposite counter set a whole tray of ramekins full of a cream, yolk, and sugar mixture. Baked to a custardy perfection and waiting for their shell of sugar topping. But you couldn’t possibly get the perfect consistency without your blow torch which was now… missing. Gone. No where to be found in the kitchen. As you pulled out the last drawer with a huff Ikaris made his way to you finally.

“What do you need it for?” He asks curiously, looking around the counter until his eyes land on the ramekins. “Oh. I think I broke it when I went to use it last time but uh… just give me a minute.”

You were understandably mad that he broke it and didn’t tell you. Now you were going to be late with dessert for you and your friends dinner at Desi’s house because you would have to stop and grab one to finish there or worse —buy store bought.

You started to grumble to yourself as you put things away you’d pulled out in your search when you kitchen lit up just slightly more than it already was. Turning around you saw Ikaris, eyes ablaze melting the sugar, he’d spooned into each one while you had your back turned, to the perfect consistency. Anyone else would have been shocked, but for you? No this was a normal occurrence now. After he started to trust you with his secret, felt comfortable in your home there was no turning back. You weren’t sure how your home survived the first few weeks of that.

When he finished and his eyes returned to their normal grey-blue his gaze turned to you with a soft smile. “Good?”

Returning his smile you checked the custards —perfectly crisp, lightly browned, crystallized tops. Probably better than you would have done in your flustered state. “Yes. Yes. Ugh you’re a god send.” Grabbing his face in your hands you kissed him square on the mouth with a *mwah* and ran to change your clothes.

273 notes • Posted 2021-08-24 17:51:53 GMT

#2

A Little Less Conversation. A Little More Action.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Prompt: This one is from @the-ss-horniest-book-club I saw the prompt this morning and it sort of wrote itself. 🥳 Enjoy! As always 18+ only.

The room was dark, your friends surrounding you, the two of you laid on the couch toward the back of the room. A movie you really had no interest in watching was playing on the TV. Why everyone wanted to watch an action movie in your own lives were an action movie, you had no idea.

You had unknowingly started a game of chicken. A wiggle of your butt against his groin to snuggle in and get comfortable on the couch. His hands slowly venture up your thigh. Up twice as high as he’d return back down. Anticipation fills you as he gets to your hip, you could feel him getting hard against you. He isn’t. He wouldn’t. Not here.

Oh but he would, with the lightest pressure he feels you over your panties. A kiss to your ear. “Don’t make a sound, they’ll know.” He whispers his warning as he traces the edge of your underwear, hooking his finger and slowly pulling them down just far enough that his fingers can slide in you from behind. It takes everything in you not to moan as he does, a half a meep escapes and Steve’s head snaps towards the couch the two of you are occupying but quickly returns to the movie.

“Shh I’m trying to watch the movie.” He tells you to try to cover it up. The arm you’re laying on bends so he can grip you under the guise of a snuggle hug. His head burries into your neck— licking and sucking gently— and just as slow as he removed his fingers, his cock slid in filling you up. He sits there unmoving despite your best efforts to gain subtle friction.

Five minutes pass like that. Ten. You plead with a quiet whine of “Buck.” And he obliges with slow, through, intent thrusts.

You close your eyes, pursing your lips between your teeth as your climax builds trying to be quiet as a mouse. Not being able to help it you let out a “Oh fuck” as his fingers dance along your clit bringing you over the edge. But thankfully it lines up with the movie as Sam agrees without taking his eyes off the screen.

“Atta girl.” He praises you quietly as your walls coax his own end from him.

Once the two of you relax, he pulls out slowly and pulls your underwear back up. Moments later the movie ends and Steve quickly excuses himself.

Everyone returns to their rooms or towards the kitchen for a snack. Bucky hands you a glass of water as his phone pings. STEVE. Opening it you read it with him. “Next time, remember your best friend *also* has supernatural hearing. Ruined the damn movie for me.” You choke on your water as Bucky laughs.

“You’re not subtle.” Natasha remarks sipping her straw as she walks by giving you a knowing look.

314 notes • Posted 2021-02-11 18:16:15 GMT

#1

16029 notes • Posted 2021-01-06 03:50:20 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[misterewrites]

Cheers from Newton Haven ( Mirror’s Edge)

Hey everyone E here with a surprising amount original works. haha so you can blame my good friend @hains-mae for this because she enabled me. So long story short I love writing. I love creating ideas, story plots, characters all that jazz. Often there's a lot of leftovers that i put away in word document just so I have stuff to work with or ideas i can use later. Most of the time I might write something just to get it out of my system but it usually just ends up gathering dust in my computer.

I've been getting more into modern urban fantasy stories and watching the unsleeping city which is a modern dnd show (highly recommend it. first season's free on youtube over at the dimension 20 channel) and naturally I wanted to write some so here we go.

I don't know how often I'll be writing this because this accidentally became my side project whenever I need a break from the underground but who knows might turn into another big layered project.

so basic summary is there are a group of friends, associates, reluctant allies, organizations and frenemies who work together to keep the peace of the supernatural world in check and to ensure it remains secret to everyone else while living their lives as best as they can. Today's chapter includes Finnrick Drift a private investigator wizard and his best friend Casey Remington, cleric of the hearth

that's it for me. have a great week! stay safe, take care of each other. wear your mask, wash your hands, get the vaccine if you can and I'll see you soon!

and if you wanna an easier place to read and leave me some good old comments or reviews you find the chapter right here https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/75486005

Not gonna lie i promised I’d try to promote myself more and it’s weird. it feels so weird. haha 

It was a busy Friday afternoon in Midtown. People in designer named suits and dresses bustled across the sidewalks in all directions, too caught up in last minute phone calls or sudden late night work orders to notice anything else. The buildings that scraped the bottom of the sky were clean with a fresh coat of paint and maintenance, a testimony to the wealth and power that was found here.

So naturally Casey felt as out of place as fish out of water in his purple baseball jersey and black shorts just standing outside some fancy restaurants doors with his friend.

“Finny” Casey started awkwardly, his sea green eyes darting back and forth awkwardly “Any reason we’re out here being creepy? I got a Neighborhood Watch meeting at like 6.”

Finnrick or Finny as Casey referred to him, was no better dress than he was for the environment. A long black trench coat that was more stitching than fabric, a matching frayed faded fedora sitting comfortably on his head. He wore a nice collared dark red shirt tucked in a black vest but even that felt cheap and tacky compared to the thousands of dollars worth of clothing that passed them on the street every second. At least his black dress pants were dark enough to hide the patch up jobs and naturally the only kept squeaky clean were his loafers.

Finnrick sucked on the thin white stick for a moment before speaking up “I’m debating if it’s worth the trouble. I didn’t realize you had a meeting tonight.”

“Well we always meet up on the fifth. You know talking about treaties, clean up jobs, if any undead hordes have been spotted. My birthday cake.”

“Ah shit” Finnrick rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his dark brown eyes apologetic “It’s your birthday? Did you want to go? I think I can handle it alone.”

Casey lifted the hat off Finnrick’s head and playfully ruffled his already messy black hair “You getting old Finny. My birthday is the tenth.”

Finnrick waved off his assault “I’m six months younger than you.”

“But” Casey gestured to the smattering of sliver streaks in Finn’s hair “You look older.”

“At least I don’t look like I’m 15. Dude you need a haircut. Everyone here thinks you’re a hippie.”

“A good looking hippie.” Casey gave a dramatic shake, his wavy dark brown hair flowing in the breeze.

The pair burst out laughing, doubling over trying to catch their breath as the business suits eyed them distastefully.

“Alright, let’s get this over with.” Finnrick made his way over, smiles and charm as they approached the doorman.

“Your cigarette sir.” The doorman spoke dully.

Finnrick pulled out the now finished lollipop “Don’t smoke but done anyway.”

The doorman gestured to the nearby trashcan but Finnrick opt to tuck it away in coat pocket. Disgusted but professional, the doorman gave strained smile as he allowed them entry into the building.

Casey nudged Finnrick curiously “Wizards? Warlocks? God not druids.”

“Probably. This is guy doesn’t have an ounce of magic in him but I wouldn’t doubt he’s got some casters on the payroll. Try not to leave anything behind.”

“I’m a freaking walking carpet here!”

“That” Finnrick grinned playfully “Is why you need haircut.”

Casey gave a fake snarl “Shut up and call the elevator.”

Finnrick whistled, amused by the near silence of the opening doors “Such fance. Barely a sound.”

“So what’s the plan?”

Finnrick scratched the little bush of hair he had on his chin thoughtfully “Ask some questions. Probably get no answers. Be threatened more than likely.

Casey cracked the tension in his neck “Think it’s gonna get ugly?”

“Depends on how many witnesses.”

The two made their way to the seventh floor, the elevator smoothly slowing to a stop before the doors opened with a ding. Two burly men in suits were waiting, flanked on either side as they gestured to an empty restaurant dining room.

“The boss will like to speak to you.”

Finnrick and Casey shared a look.

“Sure!” Finnrick beamed cheerfully, patting both the brutes arms as he passed “I was hoping to talk to him anyway.”

The men growled in annoyance but did nothing as Casey and Finnrick made their way to the center talk, unsurprised to find two glasses of wine waiting for them.

“After you” Finnrick joked, pulling out Casey’s chair for him.

Casey gave a mocking smile “Such a gentleman.”

“Only one I bet” Finnrick whispered before taking his seat.

Casey could hear the low hissing of whatever spells were on their chairs being dispelled.

Yep there was going to be trouble.

Casey eyed the room carefully in search for options: The room itself was pretty dark, dark reddish walls with dim lights to set the mood. Most of the tables had been left alone for whatever event this room was scheduled for later with the chairs stacked in the corner. A few feet to their left was the bar, unmanned but well stocked and a window to the outside nearby.

“Well, well, well!” A voice called out from some shadowy part of the room “Who do I have the pleasure of meeting this fine Friday afternoon?”

Finnrick rose to his feet, politely motioning to himself and Casey “My name is Fredrick and this is my friend Charles.”

The man’s hazel eyes shone with suspicion “No last names?”

“Of course” Finnrick grin “But there’s no need for friends, right? We are friends Robert?”

Robert paused, a barely contained rage shimmering just under the surface. His slicked back graying hair and tailored perfect dark blue suit were signs of a precise, irrational control. This was a man that was never told what to do and considered himself above everyone and anyone.

“Of course.” He answered a moment too late. He was not happy. “Of course. What are polite manners among friends?”

“Thanks Bobby!” Finnrick gave a friendly wink before retaking his seat.

Robert fumed but followed Finnrick’s example as a trio of secret service wannabes took their spots across the room: Inhumanly beautiful men with dark suits and shades. Something was off about them but Casey couldn’t put his finger on it.

“What do I owe the pleasure Freddy?” Robert sneered, hoping to see how Finnrick a taste of his own medicine.

“Well Bobby.” Finnrick went on, purposely ignoring the older man’s jab “As you know you have been stealing countless money from your employees.”

Robert chuckled darkly “I am afraid wherever you have been getting this claim is very misinformed. I am a simple, honest businessman.”

Finnrick nodded in agreement “Of course. Of course. That’s how you can say that with a straight face. Honest businessman of mundane practices.”

Casey felt his hair on his arm stand on end as the atmosphere in the room tensed. The brutes growled unhappily, the trio of bodyguards shifted uneasily and Robert’s eyes shone with understanding.

“I see.” He spoke simply “You’re from the other side.”

“Naturally.” Finnrick confirmed “No need to peer around the bush, is there?”

“No need at all. It is refreshing for such transparency. You don’t get that often in the world of business.”

“I doubt you give much either Mister Walker.”

“Enough games. What are you doing here? Some kind of union rep for magical freaks? Blackmailing me?”

Finnrick sat up with pride “Private investigator. Building a case against you actually.”

Robert carefully studied both men before him, trying to piece together their plan, their angle.

“Either.” He spoke after a few moments “You have all you need or more than likely you have nothing and you are simply here to smoke me out, hoping I will give you something to use against me.”

Casey felt Finnrick’s hand move underneath the table and a rush of chilly air brushed his leg.

Casey gave a quick nod to let Finn know he understood.

Finnrick cleared his throat “You’re aware of the works of Tolkien Mister Walker?”

Robert was caught off guard “What?”

“Elves.” Finnrick answered with a calming voice “Elves are the most famous of his characters that aren’t humans of course but there’s more: Elves, dwarves...”

“Hob…” Robert began but Finnrick cut him off.

“That’s a legal matter but yes. Wonderfully fantastic creatures.”

Robert narrowed his eyes “And?”

Finnrick leaned in close, smile mocking and cold “I hate when people take advantage of them.”

Robert was a cold, calculating heartless man who was used to being the smartest one in the room. The one who rigged the playing field in his favor, held every ace in his hand and led his prey exactly where he wanted them to be. He played with people before he destroyed their hope. He was the apex predator in the world of business.

It was satisfying to see that swagger and pride drain out of his face.

The businessman went for the button hidden underneath his side of the table, no doubt the switch to trigger the holding spells on Casey and Finnrick’s chairs. Of course Finnrick had dispelled them first chance he got and since the only other caster in the room was Casey, no one else noticed.

Robert’s face was the second most beautiful thing Casey had ever seen (first being Jaime but there was no need to tell her that). The panic, the fear, the utter confusion. Just poetic justice at its finest.

Finnrick shot to his feet with a surprising speed given his unremarkable build. He muttered the words of power, a magical incantation as his hand made the proper gestures to complete the spell.

The shades squad went for their weapons but Finnrick had gotten the drop on all of them. He pulled his hand back, a burning flame sitting peacefully in his palm. He pitched the flame forward, lobbing directly at the closet goon. The inhumanly beautiful man rose his arms to defend himself in time. The flame, mostly pressurized air, splashed over him harmlessly as the force of the attack shoved him back into the wall.

Casey followed Finn’s example. He stood as well (not as quick as his friend), a soft gentle light glowing from his hands. He glanced at the two remaining shades and aimed directly for them. A bolt of pure light burst forth from his palms. One goon got a chest full of holy energy and skidded backwards but the other was ready. He leapt to the side and narrowly avoided the attack as he slid out of sight.

The brutes charged towards the pair, murder in their eyes. Finnrick barely spared them a look as he snapped his finger. The two flames sigils he had imprinted om them when he grabbed their arms ignited, twin fires eating at their sleeves and sending them into a panic.

“What’s the plan?” Casey shouted, sending more holy bolts towards the shades.

“Up and over the counter.” Finnrick answered, tossing another fireball.

Casey quickly made his way closer, prepping to leap over the bar when Finnrick crashed into him, a strange whistling sound piercing his ears one moment then silent the next.

“Over buddy over!” Finnrick repeated, grabbing Casey by the collar and heaving him ontop of the counter. Casey flailed for a moment before glancing backwards. Finnrick was right behind him, hand outstretched as a blue translucent field of protective magic hung before the two while the shades opened fire with crossbows, the jet black bolts barely visible in the dimness of the room. They bounced harmlessly off the barrier but Casey could see the cracks starting to form.

Casey hopped over the bar gracelessly, struggling for a moment before clearing the jump. Finnrick tucked himself backwards, allowing himself to roll over the counter top and land on the other side with a thud.

“Remember when elves were honorable?” Casey huffed, quickly scanning the various bottles.

Finnrick scoffed “They were never honorable. They just acted better than everyone.”

“Remember when we were kids?”

“Vaguely. Pass the absinthe. I want to really make this hurt.”

“Blue bottle? These are all in German and Russian.”

“Green liquid. Come on Case I taught you better.”

“Right. I miss when the cartoons used to tell us the mafia was honorable.”

“Criminals these days.” Finnrick shook his head disappointingly “Just don’t make them like they used to. It’s all corporate shit.”

Casey began picking other bottles at random, wrapping them tightly with the tape he brought “It’s disillusioning I tell you. How right is he?”

Finnrick smashed a pane of glass. He took the jagged edge and slowly inched it over the counter, catching sight of the trio of shades for a moment before a crossbow bolt shattered the glass.

He flexed his hand, trying to relax his muscles. They were elves alright. They might be dressed in suits and ears hidden by some sort of glamour illusion magic but old habits died hard. Elves habits never died given their long lives. The trio had fallen into a close knit triangle formation: one fires, one reloads with the last taking aim.

“He had this whole operation locked tight. No one was talking. Either bribed them or made an example of them. Broken bones or horns. I had enough evidence to implicate him but bringing him to trial in the mundy court was going to be pointless.”

Casey moved the bottles back and forth to ensure they wouldn’t come loose midair “So what are we doing here?”

“Given his limited knowledge and the numerous magical violations I counted in this building alone, I figured he’s not registered with the Council.”

Casey’s eyes lit up in understanding “Gotcha. How long we got?”

Finnrick shook his hand back and forth “I’d say 10 minutes knowing the Council. Magic in an unregistered area requires a subtler approach for them. “

Casey snorted “Fake beards and stilts for the gnomes you mean? Robert will be gone by then.”

Finnrick’s face scrunched in concentration “He’s still here. Cowering under the table. He’s not used to dangerous wizards up in his face. Let’s scare him put huh?”

Casey spared his friend a glance “Big shot?”

Finnrick nodded in agreement “Aim high Case.”

And with a synchronicity only achieved through years of friendship, the two stood up at once. Casey threw the makeshift bomb high into the air as Finnrick formed the magical shield once more. Arrow after arrow bounced harmlessly off its surface as the bottles sailed through the air. Finnrick focused directly in the center of the payload. The shield dropped but the elves had broken formation and were all reloading at once. Finnrick pinched his thumb and finger together, murmuring under his breath. A small spark of flame fluttered wildly on his finger. He flicked it as quickly as he could towards the bottles. The spark spun and twisted as it floated towards the payload. The spark expanded, growing in size, and intensity, rapidly without warning. The air warmed as the spark exploded, smashing the bottles and engulfing the alcohol within. Flaming liquid, glass and hot air shot out in every direction. The elves were blasted off their feet and crashed against the far wall with sickening series of crunches. The floor above now had a massive hole in it and the brutes sprawled across the floor. Robert himself was thrown onto the ground, ash and soot covering his face as he struggled to breath.

He tried to call for someone but his ears were ringing and everyone was down for the count. He tried to search for the trouble makers but the smoke that filled the room was too thick.

The elevator dinged open once more and three pale suits came scuttling out. They clung to the walls on all fours, unnatural and repulsive. Their blood red eyes shone in the dimly light room, their fangs barred and ready for blood.

“Vampires!” Casey rubbed his eyes tiredly “This fucker has vampires. Loose by the way.”

“Right?” Finnrick shook his head “There are just so many regulations being violated right now.”

The vampires did not care. They dropped to the floor, gliding effortlessly midst the smoke and flame.

Casey took a step closer to the encroaching undead. He outstretched one hand towards them while the other clasped his necklace tightly. The vampires tilted their head quizzically at the symbol that adored the chain: It was a house of all things, a simple shape of rectangles and triangles no different than what a child would draw.

The vampires chuckled, their eyes bright with hunger.

Of course in their bloodlust they had forgotten something important: It was not the symbol but the faith behind it that was their bane.

Casey held the symbol as high as he could. The vampire shrunk away from him as his eyes blazed with holy energy, the symbol of home glowing with a harsh light. The vampires barred their fangs as a symphony of noises overwhelmed their senses: the soft hum of an air conditioner, footsteps thundering about, the chill of winter, the heat of summer, the overlapping sounds of cars and buses as the roar of crowds boomed in their ears. The city, the hearth of so many people, filled this room for a moment.

The vampires drew back, white smoking curling off their charring flaky skins. They ducked back into the elevator, hiding in whatever corner they could manage until the doors shut with a satisfying ding.

“Come on” Finnrick gestured to the window “I don’t want to be written up for unauthorized magic in an unregistered area.”

Casey and Finnrick scampered to the window. Casey’s face turned a sickly green when he realized how high up they were.

“Ugh I don’t feel good.” his stomach churned queasily.

Finnrick broke the window with his elbow, the fresh smoggy air of the city bringing some color back into Casey’s cheeks “I know buddy but it’s only eight floors up.”

“I hate you so much right now.”

“Okay cool jump now!”

Robert regained enough sense to see the troublemakers leap out the window without hesitation. He struggled to his feet when flickers of something began to form. Before he knew what was going on, the previously empty room was now filled with various creatures: Elves, dwarves, a gnome on silts had appeared out of thin air. They weren’t dress in any ancient medieval garb but rather dark blue jackets, jeans and combat boots with the initials M.R.R.D stitched on their clothing. They were no different than any one on the street aside their more unique physical features.

“M.R.R.D!” the gnome cried out, brandishing a strange clockwork pistol “Everyone freeze! We sensed a magical disturbance and a violation of the Arcane Veil!”

Robert rose to his full height “I am Robert Walker and I…”

The gnome opened fire and Robert could feel exhaustion overtake him. Sleepiness began to ebb at his resolve and before he could mutter another word, he closed his eyes. A dreamless sleep until he woke up in a council prison cell a few hours later.

-----

Casey didn’t scream as he fell through the air. He was too busy trying to keep his lunch in his stomach.

Finnrick waited a moment to make sure everything was in place and with a wave of his hand, the two began to fall much slower. They landed on their feet as if they had taken a step off the sidewalk instead of several stories up.

Casey began hyperventilating, trying his best to get his stomach settled. Finnrick began fanning his face when a man walked up to him.

Casey and Finnrick said nothing, waiting for the Arcana Veil to fill in any blanks they were missing. They could’ve told this man anything but they found from experience that it was just easier to roll with whatever the magical blanket that separated the mundane world from the magical decided.

The man peered at them, his gaze unsure and confused.

“Hey, you guys okay?” he asked helpfully.

Casey and Finnrick remained silent.

His eyes glazed over for a moment, a strange shimmering sheen within his pupils telling the duo that the veil was in effect.

“You guys are oddly dressed for window washers.” the man chuckled.

Finnrick glanced back to find a ghostly image of an electrically operated scaffold behind them, water buckets and squeegees included.

They shared a look.

“Would you believe it’s national window washer day?” Casey filled in.

Finnrick added “Yeah, they let us wear whatever want today. It’s only one day out of the year anyway and most of the time we work by ourselves so no harm done.”

the man nodded like that was the most reasonable thing he had ever heard “Right sorry. I’ll just be on my way.”

Finnick and Casey ducked out of the alleyway behind him, heads low and nonchalant as the human M.R.R.D members began to shut down the restaurant from the outside.

“Well that sucked.”

“Just a little. Here let’s go some dinner on me.”

“Damn straight on you Finny. Brutes, elves, vampires?”

“Oh my.”

“Now I’m ordering extra bread for that.”

[sor-vette]

one, strike!! (index/description)

☜ profiles II

two, down!! ☞

Naturally what was estimated into an hour quickly grew into three hours and naturally, those three hours involved a decent amount of manhandling and lots of loose fists. All in all, you limped your way into the annual celebration late and with a busted lip and a nicely settling lilac shade on the cusp of the jaw. The celebration was nearing the end. There were no speakers on the stage or even in the front row. The crowd had mingled already long before.

Jin is actually the first who you notice in the crowd. Uncharacteristically he’s sitting alone by one of the side tables of the room. In front of him, there’s a small gathering of empty champagne glasses, even as you’re looking he’s playing with the thin stem of the glass, face completely blank. You sidestep into a larger group of people to avoid any eye contact. Namjoon is of course the next.

He’s standing listening to someone unfamiliar to you speak. He nods along with the conversation but you can see his jaw clenched in a death grip. He’ll need a brace soon, you think dryly. The rhythmical bops on the sides of his cheeks were amusing, yes, but not when directed at you. At the moment where your legs hesitate by the banquet table, there rings a shutter sound of a camera. You try to peek as subtly as possible and upon seeing a mop of dark curls sticking above the lens, you dip towards Namjoon. Anything but that. Anything. Yeah, you’d rather deal with angry Namjoon than any jabs of resentment with V. Namjoon, in fact, does notice you and his veins, in fact, do actually start showing. He’s one split hair away from foaming at the mouth. And yet, and yet-

“Ah, Mr. Reyes and Mr. Kuznetsov, I’d like to meet R.D. It’s the woman I’ve talked to you about earlier in the evening,” earlier when you were supposed to show your ass up. His voice is completely neutral as if you’d showing up late, tousled, and looking like a digested raccoon was part of the plan.

“Sorry for meeting you this late, there was a situation that needed my attention,” even if they’re not placated by the excuse, the polite hmm’s are still given.

“Mr. Kuznetsov had heard how you declined positions in all of the other departments and he was wondering why.” And you once had thought that Jin and Jimin were award-worthy actors... Namjoon doesn’t give off anything, not a single clue. He paraphrases the belated questions so casually as if he didn’t know. As if he didn’t know that the answer was him all along. Sure, there were other… reasons, other circumstances but no matter how the dice was turned, the primary descent into your suicidal career choice was pushed by Namjoon himself.

“I like the freedom of the cleaner department.”

“Freedom?” Mr. Kuznetsov echoes and you politely wait for his interpreter thinking it’d be rude to intrude on his job.

“Freedom?”

“Yes. There are certain characteristics to other departments that require um… putting on airs? Being a cleaner means I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not and I’m largely responsible for my own choices.” Namjoon snorts. It is an ugly, mocking sound.

“Furthermore,” you continue, glaring at him “our department is very friendly and honest. We say what we want and don’t rope people in situations that are only beneficial to us.” Namjoon’s jaw makes an audible tick. For a split second, it seems he has simply managed to dislocate it entirely.

“I thought they were also supposed to be punctual.” He snarks through what was supposed to look like an amicable smile. A miserable fail on his part.

“Yes, they are. It’s just not me. Not a postcard material, you see.” If Mr. Reyes and Mr. Kuznetcov pick up on the rapidly increasing animosity, they at least have the working social sense not to remark on it. Both of them thank you for your answers and then stay a little longer to talk to Namjoon again. At that point, you start to zone out of reality and have something alike Ducktales intro loudly playing in your mind.

When they bid their goodbyes almost twenty minutes later, the re-purposed great conference hall is nearly empty. Jin had disappeared without you seeing. And so has V, thank God. Briefly, you try to find someone else familiar but there is none. Finally, the pair leaves, and Namjoon is left openly fuming. He takes those purposeful, long strides and you almost double in two, growling:

“Don’t you even-!” He does not listen and catches your elbow in a death grip, dragging you to the first exit door into those gray nondescript hallways you loathe. You shove him away unceremoniously.

“Do you enjoy creating a mess? Or are you simply incapable of keeping a promise?” His voice is low, monotone, kicking your self-esteem right underneath Earth’s crust. It was hard - to argue with Namjoon. Just…not impossible. Overall it helped to think of it as the world’s snidest debate match.

“I distinctly remember not promising anything due to this very reason.”

“Your reason being?”

“My direct duties as a custodian.” Namjoon actually snarls.

“To the boy?”

“His name is Erik,” you lightly correct and for some reason, he gives a mirthless laugh. As if that’s faintly amusing.

“You’ve never treated your duties seriously.”

“Actually, I have. You just don’t like it if I do something on my own.” It’s a deja vu at this point. You’ve had this conversation, point by point, five years ago.

A beat of silence passes.

Then another one.

“You’re happy now?” Namjoon asks. You suspect largely to make you feel guilty over something not defined.

“Of course. We just had a perfectly pleasant conversation.” You say matter-of-factly. Yes, it is hard to argue with Namjoon but once you learn that his biggest weakness is someone brushing off all of his righteous fury aside and not let it underneath the skin... Well, it is a couple of hundred steps towards mastery on this very vague debate team.

“Clean yourself up.” He bites his last and stomps away. You wait until he disappears up the exit stairs and let out a long sigh, letting your spine relax.

You turn around all too ready to go home and drown inside your mattress but freeze upon seeing Jimin. He stands quite far away, by appearance having just exited the conference hall. There are faint creases in his face and mute worry reflecting in the eyes. No doubt, he heard at least half the conversation. You both stand awkwardly in the silence of the hallway, each rooted in their own spot. He gives a small smile, an attempt at comfort. So very like Jimin. You lightly shrug as if to say - “it is what it is”. To not look him into the eyes, you turn your head to the top of his head. It is pink now. Looks nice. You point to the top of your own head and give a thumbs up, hoping he’d get what you’re trying to gesture. He does. Jimin gives another smile, a touch shyer as he lowers his eyes in silent gratitude at the compliment but the worry doesn’t decrease.

The conversation if it could be called that ends there and after another heavy sigh, he walks back into the hall.

“Life is like a hurricane, here in, Duckberg,” you bop quietly walking down the empty hallway.

***

Namjoon sags into the chair of his office in total darkness as he didn’t bother to turn on the lights. The only faint illumination is provided by the neon lights of the city below. The walk of twenty-five floors has taken all the wind out of him, along with it the anger. Thirty minutes ago he was mumbling it like a mantra in his head. He’d wrangle your neck if you dared to show your face and now he finds the very idea irrational. Jin had said his temper has gotten worse over the course of six years. The unrelenting stress taking a toll, he said. Maybe, maybe it was the stress. But Namjoon begrudgingly had to admit it was you who hit the nail of the problem. He took an issue wherever you or really anyone in his care did things on their own. He was the leader, the face of everything they try to do here. To save the world, that’s what the tag line said. But years after years of trying to save the world and years after years worth of sacrifices piling up, he’d rather start not to save the world but just save someone.

And then you came here, nearly six years ago, forlorn and bent on killing yourself and he lets you into this hellhole. Let's you stay so you could find meaning in the vague promises of being an underground hero, a vigilante. And then when it becomes peaceful when life seems to be good, you take a dive. A dive that just keeps ongoing. And it’s not that Namjoon doesn’t trust you. You’ve matured in heaps and bounds and reached a notable level of professionalism within the cleaner department. But the world is another thing. A shelter sometimes can be confining but it is ultimately safe. Isn’t safety better than running around jumping from one risky decision to another for the sake of “living adventurous life”?

Namjoon lets his head drop into the palms of his hands. Lately, this is all he’s been doing. Getting angry and then feeling like a complete villain. A pulse begins to form behind his eyes. The telltale sign of an incoming migraine.

God, he just wants to sleep.

***

“Get out,” you murmur half-heartedly, closing the doors to your small apartment. Pop music blasts inside the apartment with Erik lazily enjoying cherry candy sticks on the top of your bed.

“Oh, you’re home.”

“And you’re here. See how upset that makes me?” Erik stared at your stilled expression.

“Devastating,” he murmurs, “did your get your ass kicked? For being late?”

“Well, as long as never show my face there ever again and die on this very spot, no, I’ve handled it quite well.” He points at you with the red object, voice insinuating a captivating intrigue -

“I’m sorry for tonight but I promise tomorrow you’ll have reparations.”

- when it was just plain annoying.

“Instead of thousand sorry’s, I’d like to hear at least once you ask for my permission.”

“You’d say no.”

“I like saying no. It lowers your enthusiasm.”

Erik grumbles something indecipherable. A person busts in through the doors along with the hearty clanging of two bottles smacking against each other.

“What is he doing here?” Irina throws a disapproving look towards the bed.

“No idea.”

“Get out.”

“No, but -”

“Get lost,” you echo Irina.

“Okey-dokey.” And with obnoxious curtsy accompanied with “ladies!” Erik is gone without another whine. You sigh heavily, absent-mindedly poking at the small tower of empty coffee mugs sitting in the sink. There has been no time during the week. You’ve been far too busy spending your free time in alteration between watching old cartoons and staring at a wall.

Irina places her coat and shoes next to her, frowning at the door.

“Why do you even like this kid?” You give a simple shrug. Maybe deep down you know the answer, maybe you don’t but largely you don’t think it matters. Erik was your trainee and that was the end of that. Well, that was how much you were willing to share with the outer world.

“He thinks differently.”

“Isn’t it just the fact that he wears red eyeshadow?” You still for a moment, looking at the paper bags Irina places on your kitchen table.

“Omelas?”

“Yeah.” She puts down the two faded tourist mugs from inside the small kitchen cupboard. I love Vienna and Someone in Paris misses you respectively. You look at the mugs almost apprehensively as if their appearance was somehow offensive but say nothing. They were just mugs after all. Nothing more.

Irina pours the champagne and pops open the white takeout boxes, pushing one in your direction.

“Snagged this from the anniversary party.” She proudly proclaimed, “they had really big banquet tables.”

“Yeah, I saw.” You take a sip of the champagne wincing at the taste. The label of 2004 Philipponnat Clos des Goisses Brut promised its tasters lively energy and tastes of lemon peel, pear, hazelnuts, and mint. What was on your tongue tasted like pure acid. No better than the cheapest energy drink found in the shadiest small stores peppered across the town.

“What are you thinking?”

“The name is obnoxiously long.” Irina huffs while dutifully stuffing her mouth full of chicken.

“No, I meant -” she takes a breath, gulping down on the champagne. For a second you almost worry she’ll end up hacking herself to death at this rate of consumption.

“Did our CEO invite you?”

“Yes.”

“And something happened?”

“Yes.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“No.” She falls silent. After a moment, she unexpectedly reaches across the table and pushes a bite of her rice into your mouth.

“Let’s never be sad over anyone, okay.” You push the rice on the one side of your cheek to push through a flirtatious -

“Only over you.”

Irina gives a wry smile.

[purplerose244]

Irrational - Chapter 2: Restless

Hello everyone!! Here’s another piece for the @spacecampweek!! 💙

This shot if for the second prompt, “Sleep/Nap”, I got a little angsty on this one but there’s also fluffy hurt/comfort. Also this is a CollegeAU... of a future college? Krel is still an alien... and they were roommates 😎😎

I saw some amazing work for these prompts, my Campers mutuals you are amazing!! Enjoy!! 🥰

Summary: After just another night without sleep, work is still piling up for Seamus, and so is the feeling of doing everything wrong. Luckily, he got his roommate there to scold him.

Warnings: Mention of past emotional abuse

Read it on the AO3

Seamus used to think that being used to the all-nighters he used to pull in high school, with a heavy breath over his neck and a new list of problems to solve poking his back, facing college was going to be a breeze. He Had been an Elite student, he had graduated early thanks to his grades and he had been pulling through the weirdest Arcadia had to offer for a whole summer and more, coming out of it without a scratch – only a minor migraine whenever he thought about it. All being said, he had genuinely, absolutely, naively thought that his weekly cram sessions to stay in touch with the generic studies at the good old Arcadia Oaks High would have been enough preparation for what was waiting outside Mrs. Janeth’s classroom.

He really, really, really didn’t like being wrong. Especially since being wrong meant having to prepare a kilometric essay in a week about history of burrito engineering – huh, uhm? – in a week because he had decided it was absolutely normal taking four exams in the same period and leaving the hardest work for last.

Spoiler alert, it was not. It only made him regret his entire existence.

Or maybe that was the lack of coffee.

Which he was out of at the moment, great. It was the third time he had picked up his mug – ‘Count on me’, a little stupid graduation gift from Logan –, hoping to find restless juice only to suck air instead. It was also the third time he had groaned, holding his head between his hands and massaging his temples for a few seconds before continuing. It was getting harder and harder to focus on the screen of the computer at this point, even with the brightness at minimum.

He pinched his eyes with two fingers. Fourth time he did that.

Dang it, dang everything, his eyes were being tortured and only because he didn’t have his glasses at the moment. He had left his glasses in Eli’s castle in the sky – huh, huh? – last time he and Steve had dragged him along to watch another marathon of Earth Invaders – perfectly aware that he didn’t admit he liked it only out of pride. He didn’t absolutely need glasses, but it made it harder to keep his focus and the light was getting on his nerves. Everything was slowly starting to get on his nerves, but it was debatable if it was the inevitable stream of time extending his failure or because he had started the introduction of the essay right away instead of for last and was now doubting his entire half page – he would have screamed if he wasn’t this tired.

There were three more exams after this, the floating in midair one, the dreadful upside-down multiple choice and the GoGo Sushi exam – what? –, he couldn’t pull it off, he couldn’t!

This was hard, way more than he would have expected. He knew it was going to be tough nonetheless in a way, but he felt like whatever he was doing, it wasn’t right. He was learning nothing, all he was trying to memorize just didn’t stick with him. This papers, this situation, all the stressful work he was putting into, everything felt absolutely wrong.

Was he… was he the problem?

“Struggling to work your way through, huh? I’m not surprised.” Seamus gritted his teeth, pressing a hand over his forehead.

“Not now, dad.”

“Remember what I told you, when you decided to do be stupid and choose engineering instead of accounting? Remember what I said?” He wasn’t going to turn around, he wasn’t going to turn to find him in the room of his campus, with that awful scowl from whenever he found anything less than an A+ in his hands. “Try to go through the first college without me, see how you do! Guess what son, you’re making a mess. Just like I knew you were going to.”

He took his head between his hands, feeling it boiling. Stupid, stupid, irritating thoughts, always working against him. Always making him think that he was right. He wasn’t. He wasn’t right. He wasn’t… right?

No. No. No.

“I said not now, dad.” His room started to burn.

“When will you learn, Seamus? What are you trying to do, reach for the stars or some philosophical crap like that? You know the chances of being an astronaut are minimal, that is, if you manage to even get a master.” He could even feel him march behind him, his big and heavy steps, calculated in order to intimidate him. Every. Single. Time. Even here. “You should’ve followed the path I traced for you, the one I trained you for. You wouldn’t be struggling this much if you did.” There was a press on the back of his chair. “You would be happy.”

“Stop it.” Flames raised up from the ground.

“You’ll never make it without me.”

“Not now!” His notes and his desk were turning black.

“All I ever did was for your own good, you know that!”

“Not now dad!!” The photo he had left there gone as well.

“If you even think for a moment that an absolute failure like you will make it to the world, or even worse, that you could actually caught the attention of that foreigner-”

“I SAID-”

A noise. The door of the apartment was slammed closed after it had opened.

So did his eyes.

Seamus blinked, his entire perspective had changed. He wasn’t facing his desk, his face was right onto it, and he was looking at the door. In the way, the photo he had taken with all of their friends from high school, completely intact.

He felt the echo of his dream roaring into his ears before slowly disappearing.

Then, the absolute frustration took over.

Dang it, he had fallen asleep. He should had known, heck, he had known that he was going to feel miserable the moment he had decided to avoid the useless sleep. His cheek was attached to his notes, he was drooling over the equations, and he knew that the moment he was going to move his back was going to kill him. It was the horrible kind of tiredness, the drowsy one that was meant to stay, one hour nap was never going to suffice. His eyes felt like they were aflame, his stomach was growling horribly menacing to be emptied any time now.

On top of that, there was a good chance he hadn’t gone past the introduction for the essay. Oh how much he wanted to die right now. He closed his eyes, not to sleep, only to try to remember if his life was going somewhere. He was too tired to consider if this was realism or pessimism.

The was a thud outside his room, steps and stuff being moved around that caught his attention. A bigger thud, and half-screamed “Kleb!” in the air.

A voice emerged from behind his door. His shoulders relaxed.

“I am back! The morning shift at Hex Tech ended early, and Electronics did not have customers… again.” His annoyed tone was so intense, it made Seamus chuckle without having the strength to. Maybe Krel was the only person aside for himself that hated wasted time the most. “I hope you do not mind carnitas again, it was all Stuart had left from his truck!” Quick steps got closer, the door was opened. “It is good though, I wonder why it is always- Oh, you look horrible.” There he was, in human form as he preferred to be when he got out, even though he worked with friends.

Seamus cracked a laugh, without moving his face from the desk. It wasn’t comfy in the slightest, but the uneasiness went along well with how he was feeling inside.

“You’re sugarcoating it for me, how nice of you.” Krel did not look amused, that meant a discussion was coming and he had no strength into his body for that. “… okay, I get the feeling I did something bad, but my brain is all fried up so can you help me out on this one?”

The prince crossed his arms. Ouch, bad sign.

“You have been awake the entire night.”

“Is that a question?”

“Seklos and Gaylen, again?” He shook his head in disapproval. “I did not check on you this morning because I thought you were resting! Did you sleep at all??”

“… is that a trick question or…?”

“No tricks, not stunts, I am corpse serious.” It was a hobby of his, learning new expression and push them to the maximum. It was the funniest when he got a saying wrong. “Granted that I am no expert in regard of human necessities,” It was an old excuse considering he had been on this planet more than a few years now. “But there seems to be an agreement that sleeping is an important part of the day, so I am questioning if you are deliberately trying to destroy yourself.” That was actually a very good question, coming from a very good mind. As expected from this engineer genius.

Seamus shrugged, trying to gather around the best brain cells his brain had to offer at the moment.

“If it’s lunch time I got… huh, two hours at least. That’s something right?”

“Something very insufficient. You do know that is not okay, right?” Despite the scolding tone he got closer, placing his hand over his shoulder. Gently.

It was hard to get distant with him being worried, because despite the arrogance and the rationality this Akiridion cared so much about the people around him. Seamus was lucky enough to be one of them, and he wasn’t that interested in keeping up his pride anyway – he blamed his stupid sleep deprived brain for this. He leaned into his touch, covering a soundless sob with a yawn.

“… this is hard. I knew it was going to, but I don’t get if it’s supposed to be this hard.” He crossed his arms over the desk, hiding his face in the middle of it. “Is it normally this difficult, for everyone, or am I… really, really wrong?”

The hand on him twitched. There were a multitude of words unsaid in the air.

“You dreamed about him again, didn’t you.” Ah, the prince really knew him well at this point. “Can I begin by saying that your father is the biggest gloober I have ever met in my life and nothing he has said will ever be even the slightest bit useful?” His brain was hardly keeping up with his convoluted answers, but Seamus knew from the tone it was something uplifting. “I know that his words are hard to forget. Trust me, I understand what it is like to be conditioned by someone that is supposed to show you how to live your best life.” They really were too similar, the two of them. “But you are making progresses, you want to deal with your choices, and you are doing your best to become an astronaut like you have always wanted… that involves a procedure for some reason.”

How could he stay grumpy and melancholic with that pout on his face? This country had been pretty clear on the matter, the Akiridion was not allowed to improve space travel for humans. It had something to do with ‘allowing our specie to grow independently and finally reach the stars’, but Krel had taken it as ‘we can’t let someone else help us or we would look like soolians’. To be honest, the prince probably got it right.

Seamus looked up at him with a little smile.

“You’re never gonna let this one go, aren’t you.”

“Earth would be connected with the rest of the galaxy in a few months if they let me use even a single optimizer for the fuel capacitor. So yes, I am very not letting this one go.” Another laugh. Krel smiled as well. “Despite this ridiculousness, you are moving forward. I suggest you focus on your achievements, not on what you have not accomplished.”

It sounded so doable said from him, he simply had a way of being convincing. The blonde wasn’t sure if it was about his smarts or the way they had grown to care for each other.

He sighed, pressing his lips tightly together.

“It’s hard to do though…”

“I never said it wasn’t but might not be the best moment to think about it. Remember that time I told you Stuart got a sprain?” Miracuroulsy, inside his boiling brain, he remembered. Perhaps because the poor durian had gotten it after slipping onto a drop of guac – he had almost broken in coughs while laughing. “I brought him to the hospital back then, and I met Dr. Lake.” His hand started to rub his shoulder in a soothing motion. Ah, this felt nice. “She told me a lot of interesting facts, especially for humans that are going through college. Between those she recommended a good sleeping schedule, because restlessness affects the mood, which is additional stress.”

Ah, so not only his brain was making him feel absolutely miserable, it was also trying to make this even harder than it already was. Great, like he wasn’t a total failure already like dad always said… huh, maybe this was a little more internalized than he thought. He had left that house since months now, dad hadn’t called him at all, not even once. It was both a relief and a downer.

Seamus swallowed, turning again. Krel was looking at him, he smiled when their eyes crossed. It was really hard to keep his scowl with him around right now.

“… I have work to do, I… I don’t have time to sleep.”

“Seamus, when was your last exam?”

“What part of ‘my brain is out of service’ you don’t understand?” He got the eyes of no joking around, and he was forced to try and use his mind. “… like, yesterday?”

“Precisely. Now, again, I am in no way entitled to tell you how to take care of basic human necessities,” Okay now he was just enjoying playing the ‘I say I’m dumb but I’m really not’ card. “But I believe that studying all night after studying all night is not a good way to treat yourself, especially while you look like you got pummeled to the ground by Aja after telling her she was never supposed to be a warrior.” Whoa, that bad? “You have given a successful exam I believe, you will not receive the result for a while. There is no need to strain yourself, you are doing good.”

The blonde snorted, because motivational Krel was absolutely hilarious.

“I’ll let you convince me that I didn’t complete fail yesterday only because I have no proof of the opposite.” He did end before everyone else after rereading his answers three times. “But am I doing good? I’m a shell of a man right now, where exactly am I doing good?” He was probably admitting that this wasn’t good for himself, but there was no victory for the last statement anyway.

Krel hummed. Then he smirked, in his special way of his.

“Well, when I left, I asked you to rest every once in a while, and even though I was not conscious your body did obey. That was a wise choice of your subconscious, how about the rest of you follow suit?” This little irritating- “Not like my roommate should absolutely follow my rules, but still, how is not listening working out for you?” He snickered, shrugging a little. “I could also add that you are a mess, but not because of an overly high consumption of alcoholic substances. That is quite the accomplishment, congratulations!” He raised a thumb, something very off on him.

It took Seamus two blinks to grin back at that attempt at distracting him from his negativity. It worked, but just because he was grateful and feeling like his soul had left his body to go to a dance club, to respond to this guy he had all the energy in the galaxy.

“You sure you’re in the position of scolding me? What happened during Lake’s birthday party?”

Yep, there it was, the smirk turning into a pout. A super adorable pout.

“Akiridions are not able to sustain your alcohol, big deal!”

“Less about Akiridions and more about you, since Aja had a drink for each hand and was still able to beat her boyfriend at arm-wrestling.” An even bigger pout, if there was an argument, he could annoy him over was his rivalry with his sister. It was an easy victory. “Look, I get what you’re trying to do, but I have the essay for mech… stuff… something, to finish.” A massive eyebrow was raised. “Just because I can’t remember it very clearly right now doesn’t mean it’s not important!” Stupid brain, he was supposed to win the argument, collaborate!

No use, Krel was already on it, pulling him up by the shoulders. He was considerably less strong than his sister but still slightly better than the human average, which made him being pulled around towards his bed impossible to avoid. It did weird stuff to his chest. Seamus pondered if there was any reasons into trying to fight back – something that wasn’t going to gain him an even bigger scolding later –, deciding that even if it was a good idea he really didn’t have the energy. It was no use anyway, a moment later he was pushed onto the mattress. At that point it was impossible gathering the strength to get up once again, everything was beautifully bouncy and soft over there. He was keeping his eyes up out of pure will.

Krel moved him so he was laying down.

“Seamus, how long does it take to become an astronaut?”

“Again asking me stuff Mr. Tarron, you’re really pushing me on my limits.” Silence. Seamus struggled, but even right now it was a pretty easy information to remember. “Well, I need a master’s degree which is what I’m trying to get, then two years of professional experience, a thousand of hours pilot-in-command time on jet aircraft…”

“It’s quite a lot, is it?” He blinked, a little taken back by the interruption, slowly nodding. “Then why making it miserable? The way towards your dream does not have to be awful.”

Oh. Right.

Dad used to say that it had to be, that until he was accomplished, he was nothing. He had never said anything useful, for real. Seamus smiled.

“Yeah… yeah, I forget about that sometimes.”

“Try not to, space does not go anywhere. Literally, space-time does not move.” Krel sat onto the bed. “One day you will get there, and it will be because of your effort, but you don’t need to rush it. I hope you will have a good memory of this time as well.” His eyes were so soft right now. It wasn’t very often that he could get the most of this guy’s kindness. This was definitely a memory he wanted to keep. With that being said, the smirk coming back was also pretty welcomed. “Besides, I will be there holding your hand the entire time. No need to be anxious.”

This guy was the worst. And the best. And Seamus could do nothing else but sink his head into the pillow and laugh out loud, feeling the last of his energy slowly disappearing into that sound. He was almost in tears, moving to wipe them away.

“Why are we friends again? Scratch that, why are we roommates even?”

“Because Steve snores, Logan is not ready to leave his house, and I can hack into all streaming services without the need to log in.” The last reason would have been enough. “Also… you were there when my parents passed away, no matter how isolated and insufferable I was. I have every intention to do the same.” His cheeks reddened slightly. Never mind, this one would have sold him. Immediately. “If you are truly not feeling like sleeping, could you at least consider eating something? You need to gain your energy from somewhere.” He had gained this little mom tendency by being his roommate, finally letting his most caring side take over. It was still a little new for him, but also pretty… very endearing.

No one had really taken care of him before. Not since mom left, definitely not with dad around. Seamus could hardly get used to how he didn’t have to deal with every conversation ending with shouts, that an argument didn’t mean he was going to be punished, and that he didn’t have to gain his privileges like watching TV or go out with his friends through grades. Even with his brain all messy, it was a warm feeling.

It made him want to try to at least make Krel feel less worried.

“… no, I… I think I’ll try to sleep some more. Properly this time.” The prince made a surprised face, probably not expecting him to give up this soon.

He was clearly pleased by it though.

“Very well, I will leave you to it.” He got up. Seamus’ hand was on his wrist almost unconsciously.

“… Krel?” The prince hummed, clearly taken back but still close. “Can you… stay around? You don’t have to do anything, you can read a book or watch something on the phone, and only until I fall asleep.” He was too tired to feel embarrassed. “I… kinda don’t wanna stay on my own.”

“You’re never gonna make it without me!”

For a moment there was no reaction. Then Krel smiled, nodding. Seamus expected him to take the chair or something, instead he found himself naturally shifting away as the Akiridion lied next to him, his shoulders touching the pillow. He took a book from the nightstand, – ‘Love Amongst the Dragons’, he had forgotten where he had taken that from – one Seamus hadn’t had the time to read with his stressful study schedule happening. It was something the prince used to rarely do, reading, considering his general reluctance at accepting the terrestrial method of learning. It turned out you cannot learn college stuff through thermogenic osmosis – not without overheating apparently – so he had begrudgingly accepted the educational method.

As it turned out, he did not mind it as much as he showed. It was a peaceful view every time.

“I will be silent, please get some rest now.” Seamus nodded. His mind was too foggy to register how he was leaning his head over his shoulder, hearing a little gulp from him. Was he doing something he wasn’t supposed to? Whatever, Krel was warm. Comfy too. “… Seamus?” The blonde hummed. “Are you still tense? From before?”

Right, he asked not to be alone, it wasn’t a mystery why. He was too tired to care about keeping his pride, so he nodded, fighting the urge to sleep for a few more seconds.

“A bit.”

“… very well, then.” His voice got softer, as soft as the feeling blossoming onto his forehead. Krel had brushed it with a kiss, in a sound that barely moved something into his mind. Seamus’ chest felt lighter, as the prince quickly went back with his nose between the pages. The blonde didn’t understand why the reluctance. Was this important? It sure felt nice. “T-there, you should feel slightly better now. Have a good rest.” Seamus gave him a look. His cheeks were getting redder. He was cute. Krel was really cute.

The blonde smiled lazily, snuggling closer, finally closing his eyes.

“I always do when you’re with me.” All he registered after that was the prince holding his breath, like he had said something meaningful. Who cared, he was tired and warm, it could wait.

…

…

… three hours later Krel had left for the afternoon shift and his usual tutoring lessons with Steve and Lake. There was a burrito still wrapped left onto his nightstand. And Seamus, with a more rested body and a finally functioning mind, was having a full existential crisis while screaming into his pillow.

Dang it, four exams still to finish, and a crush on a snarky genius from another planet.

Studies were not the most stressful part of college anymore.

[alpacaparkaseok]

Where you should be

Chapter 4: Atychiphobia

Genre: Hobi x oc

Warnings: this series contains stalking, blackmail, and similar stressful/fear inducing situations. Also unrequited love, which is perhaps the most terrifying of all.

Word Count: 2.2k

Atychiphobia - an irrational and persistent fear of failing

August 2019

I’ve received two more notes. One was taped onto my studio door before I arrived for the day, another was placed on my keyboard when I left for a couple of minutes to use the restroom.

Bang PD has reviewed the security footage over and over again. The first incident did show a man in a hood and mask, matching the description I offered.

However, the other two times showed different people. A slender woman taping the letter on my door and checking over her shoulder. And a young man, rushing inside my studio when I left and leaving supposedly leaving the note on my keyboard.

As a result of the multiple breaches in security, I now get to have my very own little friend to shadow me while at work.

By little friend, I mean bodyguard. Ha-joon is fairly new to the job, but he’s definitely excited for his new position. I can tell by how he can never stay completely still.

“What time are you taking your lunch today?” He asks me, pacing beside the door. I’ve just lowered the headphones from my head, making a grand show of stretching before swiveling around to face him.

“How about now? Are you hungry?”

Ha-joon’s eyes light up. “Yes. Where should we go?”

I shrug. It’s not very often that I go out for lunch, I’m more the type to just pack a lunch or call up some takeout. However since acquiring a bodyguard that resembles an oversized puppy, I’ve come to learn that he needs to be taken out or else he goes a little crazy.

“Wherever you want, I don’t have a preference.” Following Ha-joon out of the studio, I make sure to lock the door behind me. Ha-joon’s eyes are wide as he looks up and down the hallway, waiting for some stranger to jump out of the shadows.

The air is thick and muggy as we exit the building, the two of us chatting quietly as we head toward the bus stop. Neither of us owns a car, but it’s fine. The bus will take us straight to the downtown area of Seoul where all the good street vendors hang about.

“-so then I graduated just over a year ago. To be honest, I really didn’t expect to be given an assignment so quickly, but-”

“Ha-joon, we’re in public, remember?”

The tall man gives me a sheepish smile. “Right.” We try our best to act like normal friends out in public; there’s no need for people to be wondering why I’ve got a bodyguard.

I fan my face, trying to breathe in the muggy air. “You think it’s gonna rain today? I hope so, this weather is horrible.”

“Probably, but it’s worse after it rains sometimes, don’t you-” Ha-joon is interrupted for the second time when a car pulls up to a stop in front of us, parking illegally in the bus stop area. People all around immediately start whispering and glaring, although nobody has the nerve to approach the shiny car.

Ha-joon steps in front of me, blocking my view before I can remember where I’ve seen that car before. Peeking around his body, I watch as one of the tinted windows rolls down.

“As much as you enjoy taking the bus, I’m not going to let you melt out here.”

My breath catches in my throat as I see Jung Hoseok sitting behind the wheel, Do-yun beside him. Ha-joon exhales, looking visibly relieved that there’s no real threat.

“Hop in,” Doyun says, getting out of the passenger side and gesturing for me to take his place.

I try to give Doyun a look that will soften his heart into letting me sit in the back, but he looks away from me and greets Hajoon. Holding my breath, I duck into the passenger seat.

Hoseok sits tall and rigid despite his show of casualness earlier. I feel like I could throw a bolt of lightning with how charged up I feel, too afraid to move too quickly for fear of exploding. Hajoon is oblivious to my current predicament, although I do catch Doyun’s eye in the rear view mirror.

He’s smirking.

“Where to?” Hoseok asks, quickly driving away from the bus zone. I turn around to look at Hajoon.

“Oh,” my bodyguard speaks up. “We were just going for lunch, I hadn’t decided where, yet.”

“I see.” I think he glances over at me but my eyes are glued to the road, refusing to look anywhere else besides those yellow lines that dot the street. Reminding myself with every line that there are some very clear lines here that I must not cross.

“...don’t mind, right?”

Hoseok’s voice sounds like it’s underwater as I only catch the last few words. Turning to him with wide eyes, I can feel the stares of both Doyun and Hajoon upon me. “I’m sorry, what? I didn’t catch what you said.”

Keeping his attention on the road ahead, Hoseok repeats himself. “I was asking if it was alright if we joined in on your lunch today. Doyun and I have been wanting to try this new place not far from here.”

Ignoring Hajoon’s puppy-dog gaze, I shrug. “That’s fine.”

♟

Sitting around the table, I sit directly across from Hoseok who keeps glancing at me every few seconds. Doyun and Hajoon are swapping stories, which means that Hajoon is practically drooling as Doyun talks about his time as a bodyguard for one of the most famous groups in the world.

It’s nice here. Probably too nice for a simple lunch before heading back to the agency, but I let it slide. Despite the knots in my stomach from Hoseok’s conflicted stare, it’s nice to be on good terms with him again.

He hasn’t reached out to me since I turned down his offer a couple of months again, but my mind has been elsewhere anyway. He’s been busy with work, I’ve been busy with stalkers.

Our food has just arrived when I see Hoseok staring at me, trying to get my attention amidst the neverending conversation between Doyun and Hajoon.

I furrow my brows. “What is it?”

“I think your phone was going off.”

Frowning, I take my phone out of my pocket. I had it on silent, how did he know-

The three occupants at my table appear to be completely engulfed in the meal before them, their eyes wide as they begin to taste the food and offer up their thoughts. I notice Hoseok’s phone sits beside his plate, face down.

“You’ve hardly touched your food,” Hajoon remarks, glancing over at me with a concerned expression. “Are you feeling alright?”

Setting my phone down and fighting the blush in my cheeks, I start to attack my food. “Sorry, got distracted.”

My blush only deepens when I hear Hoseok’s breathy laugh from across the table, and I stare down my noodles.

Lines, Ha-rin. Remember what side of the line you’re on.

Maybe I can’t resume what relationship we had before. This, however...this might work. Group lunches and harmless conversations might be just enough to help me move on.

As I see how Hoseok’s dark hair falls into his eyes and he brushes it back, looking up at me and smiling, I offer a small smile of my own.

September 2019

In September I learned that I would still love Jung Hoseok even if he did leak the tracks I labored over to the entire world. I also learned that he was still interested in listening to my work.

October 2019

In October I learned that friendships can be salvaged when it’s a true friend. I also learned that there’s more to a name than just letters. 

November 2019

In November I learned that Jung Hoseok will always come through, even if he’s been rejected. 

That little fact made me even more distraught over the fact that I had to reject him in the first place.

December 2019

In December I learned how to set my pride aside and reach out to him first. I also learned that I have very thin walls, because my neighbors were very upset when they heard me yelling at my TV. 

March 2020

I enter the Bighit building with a skip in my step, humming as I head toward my studio. I’ve just settled down in my chair and powered up my computer when Adora appears at my door.

“Hey!” I greet her, grinning wide but my smile slipping away when I see her concerned expression. “What’s wrong?”

She shakes her head. “Bang PD just called a meeting, he sent me to come grab you.”

My eyes widen as I follow her out into the hallway, Hajoon appearing and walking in front of us. “Are the boys…?”

She knows that I’m asking about BTS, who’ve just returned from their promotions in the states. It’s been a couple of months since I’ve seen them around. Today I was hoping to get to see them. I guess my wish is coming true.

“They’re fine. I think this has more to do with that virus?”

Frowning, I enter the conference room with her, my worries fading as I see Hobi sitting with the rest of his group in the far corner. He looks up at my arrival, giving me a small smile.

Sitting beside Adora, Bang Si Hyuk does a head count before getting down to it. “Thanks for coming up, everybody. I know this wasn’t in the schedule for today, but we really need to talk about some pressing matters here.”

The room is deathly quiet as Bang Si Hyuk begins to explain COVID-19, and possible repercussions. I watch as Yeonjun and Soobin whisper to each other, worried expressions painted on their faces. Namjoon sits up straight, his shoulders tight as he hangs onto every word being said.

When the words ‘tour’ and ‘postponed’ are brought up, the silence is broken by Yoongi. “How long do you think we’ll need to postpone it for? Just until the summer?”

Bang Si Hyuk’s face does little to hide his thoughts. “I...I really don’t know. I just think we have to hope for the best and prepare for the worst.”

After further discussing our options, we break to head back to work. Hobi heads straight out the door before anyone else, his polite smile hiding his distress.

Heading back to my studio, I debate whether or not I should go up to the top floor and check on him. There’s no doubt in my mind that that’s where he is right now, but I’m not sure if he’s really in the mood to talk. Should I bother him right now? There’s a lot on his mind, I’m sure. And we’ve all got a lot of work to do if we’re going to get ahead of this virus-

“Fancy some fresh air?”

I’m torn from my thoughts as I hear a deep voice from before me. I gasp as the same tall man from all those months ago outside of my apartment complex appears in the doorway of my studio, a smug grin on his face.

Turning around to call out for Hajoon, I hear him clicking his tongue.

“Now, we don’t want to make a scene, do we?”

I scowl at him. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He chuckles, the sound ugly coming from his mouth. “Cutting right to the point. Good, I like that.” Holding up his phone, he extends it to me. “Take a look for yourself, darling.”

When I don’t budge, he shakes his head as though annoyed with me before tossing his phone. I catch it, keeping one eye on him as I look at the screen.

It’s a photo.

“Feel free to scroll through, there’s more.”

I’m fairly certain that I’ve forgotten how to breathe as photo after photo of Hoseok and I appear. There’s one of the two of us eating in my studio, several of us in the parking lot and getting into his car...there’s even one of the two of us outside his apartment, Hoseok reaching out to steady me as I descend his stairs.

“And?” I muster up the courage to look back up at the man, trying to be as discreet as possible as I move my fingers in order to delete the photos. The man scoffs at me.

“You can delete them if you’d like.”

I pause, mouth dropping as his words hit. “...then-”

“All of these photos are backed up already in my own personal file. They’re ready to be sent off to Dispatch first thing in the morning, along with a write-up of Jung Ha-rin, the coveted producer from a failing company that Bang Si Hyuk bought out for one of his beloved idols.”

My blood begins to boil as I look back down at the last photo. It’s a more recent one, taken just a few months ago when we went out to lunch with Hajoon and Doyun.

I know what it looks like. Hoseok and I smiling at each other across the table, our bodyguards flanking us on either side. Dispatch will tear this apart.

“How about we take a walk together? I’m sure we could come to some sort of agreement, don’t you?” He grins at me, taking a step closer and resulting in me taking a step back. “It won’t take long. Fifteen, twenty minutes tops.”

Sparing the empty hallway one last glance, I take a deep breath. “What do you want from me?”

The man’s smile reminds me of an evil, over the top Disney villain. “Now that’s the golden question.”

Previous - Next

taglist is open!

taglist: @taylorroe3​ @dreamcatcherjiah @diorhoba @eusticenatalie @ddaeng-i-need-help

[mavzoon]

Risotto x fem thief reader smutt

In this one, I will basically be unleashing all of my thirst for Risotto. The only one who requested this was my horny soul. This man makes me feral. He’s one of my top 3 favourite Jojo characters and it’s an absolute disgrace that I haven’t written a full-length fic for him yet. 

TW: very mildly dubious consent vibes at first because Risotto wrestles the reader down because she stole his wallet but then she gets horny, size difference, rough sex, dirty talk, some degradation here and there, extra submissive reader, choking, creampies, kinda anonymous as this is the first time you meet Ris in this fic, minor violence, just a lot of horniness for Ris in general.

Word count: 3278

cut for length

When you snatched the wallet of a random person, you had not planned for things to turn out this way. You panted and huffed as you raced down the deserted alley. You held the wallet near your breast, debating whether throwing it away would be the smart option. 

The man you'd robbed had noticed and began chasing you down. At first, you thought nothing of it when his footsteps disappeared. He must've given up and left, you'd thought to yourself. 

Then a knife had been thrown at your ankle. It'd only scratched you. To your surprise, you saw no one as you turned back to look at the person who'd thrown it to you.

As you went on running, you weighed the wallet in your hands, debating if stealing it was worth it. It was a lot of money… You tucked the wallet under your belt.

Your thoughts were cut off as you tripped on something as you were taking another turn. You landed on your stomach, barely stopping your head from hitting the pavement with your hands. 

Then you heard it. Footsteps. You threw your head around to see who it was but saw only a faint shadow of a person. You shook your head and blinked, but the shadow was still there. 

Your blood ran cold. Though you didn't see it, you knew that there was a person there. His shadow moved. Forgetting all about the wallet, you tried to crawl away, your palms stinging as the shallow cuts in them pressed against the concrete. 

You yelped as one heavy foot pressed on your back. You whipped around and kicked blindly. One kick hit its mark, and you heard a low grunt. The foot left your stomach, and he seemed to kneel over you. A hand took hold of one of your wrists and twisted it above your head. You snarled and slapped at the air, trying to hit him. Your hand found his neck, and you squeezed. Had you any coherent thought, you'd have laughed at your pathetic attempts to overpower him. You did comprehend one thing; the man wasn't actually trying to kill you.

Your nails dug into his skin, and you felt a little warm blood run down his neck. You twisted your legs about and tried to kick him off, but he didn't budge. Another hand found its way to your neck and squeezed. A flash of something dangerously close to arousal went through you at the feeling of his massive hand over you. You were so tiny and frail compared to him. 

Against all rational thought, you moaned as you began feeling lightheaded from the blood flow being restricted. The man eased his grip for a moment. You wanted to giggle. Bet you weren't expecting that, eh? Well, neither was I.

You were mildly disappointed that your vision was getting cloudy as you wanted to see the surprised expression he no doubt had on his face. To your astonishment, the man chuckled. You body tingled with warmth at his voice. It was so deep. It almost felt as if his voice resonated within you, turning your knees to jelly. At that moment, you wish you had taken a better look at him when you stole his wallet. To feel this needy for a man whose face you didn't even know was unbearable.

At some level, you realized you were being ridiculous. There was no telling what this stranger could do and yet you almost wished he'd choke you just a little harder. You barely noticed that your ankle was still bleeding.

To your delight, he took both your hands and pinned them above your head. His hand easily covered both of yours. You almost felt his breath hit your face. Your face was burning with a mixture of embarrassment and an irrational need for this stranger you hadn't even seen yet.

"Please-"

"Do you really think you're in any position to be making demands?" he interrupted you. A part of you felt like you could get off from his voice alone.

"N-no, I'm sorry," you whimpered as tears threatened to slip down your cheeks from the way he was still choking you. 

The stranger seemed to study you for a few seconds. He hummed. "You're awfully timid for a dirty little thief." He leaned closer, and you shivered as his hot breath hit your ear. "Could it be that… you want to be touched by a stranger? Hmm?" 

You watched in astonishment as his body appeared before you as the spell keeping him invisible was slowly lifted. Your breath hitched as you stared at his hypnotic red eyes. To your delight, he was wearing a jacket that revealed his defined abs. There was something about the way he watched you that left you feeling like a fly trapped in a spiders web, the only difference being that you relished being bound down by him.

Never once before had you felt this attracted to someone. 

He smirked. "Well go on, be a good girl and tell me what you want." 

You were so turned on you felt like you could cry. The stranger's voice had such an impact on you that your body tingled with warmth all over. "I w-want you," you whispered, barely audible. 

The man above you chuckled. You nearly moaned just from the sound. "Well, aren't you a desperate little thing." He gazed at you as if he were about to devour you and at that moment, and you couldn't be happier that he was the one you tried to rob. 

He took his hand away from your neck, and you couldn't help but whine.

"Oh don't worry, we'll get back to that, but first, won't you be a good girl and tell me where you hid my wallet, mm?" The man trailed a hand down your side, and you shivered.

"I-it's under my… belt," you mumbled, your voice weak.

Risotto seemed to find it all terribly amusing. "Oh? Is that so?" Agonizingly slow, he trailed his hand down to the edge of your pants. Ever so gently, he pushed up your shirt. You trembled. 

Finally, he slipped his hand down under your pants and belt. He pulled the wallet out, his fingers brushing against the edge of your panties, and smiled at you. You almost felt your heart melt at the sight of his dimples. "That wasn't so hard now, was it?" he asked, still smiling.

You shook your head, timidly. 

He tossed the wallet to the side and caressed your cheek with one hand. He placed his thumb on your bottom lip. Before you had any time to stop yourself, you licked it.

You watched with delight as he sucked in a breath, his eyes widening. He hid his surprise fast and smirked. "Don't think you can weasel your way out of this by acting like a good girl when we both know you're just pretending." 

You whined at that. A part of you wanted to feel ashamed for acting so desperate, but you couldn't be bothered when the way this stranger was acting felt just so right.

This time, you took his finger in your mouth and swirled your tongue around it. The potential danger of the situation had almost disappeared from your mind.

In a second, the man pulled his hand away from your mouth and placed it on your throat again, choking you and cutting your breath off. "Don't think I've forgotten that you stole from me," he leaned over, his lips brushing against your ear. "You still need to pay for what you did." He bit your earlobe, and you yelped. 

He trailed kisses down your neck, his tongue brushing against your skin. He kissed under your jaw. The presence of him on top of you was overwhelming. You could only whimper and arch your back as to get closer to him in response. Your chest was tight with nervous excitement. Then it hit you. You didn't even know his name. 

"W-wait!" 

He pulled back immediately, making you feel all the more confident about your choice to do this with him. 

"What… should I call you?" you bit your lip.

 He studied you for a second and then smiled. Oh God, those dimples… "Risotto is good for now. And you?"

You told him your name.

"Cute," he, Risotto, kissed the side of your neck and whispered.

For a moment, you let yourself get lost in his soft touches. He pushed your shirt up and let go of your hands so you could take it off along with your bra. You winced as the feeling of the cold concrete against your back. 

Risotto chuckled and gently bit your exposed nipple. "Oh, is the concrete uncomfortable? Tsk, tsk, poor you..."

You mewled as he flipped you over on your hands and knees and leaned over you. Your pussy throbbed as you felt him unbutton your jeans. He pulled them down along with your panties. You shivered as the cold air hit your exposed cunt. You nearly jolted up when Risotto ran a single finger over your soaking folds. You were sure that by that point some of your juices must've dripped down onto the concrete. 

"Well, aren't you a dirty little slut… I've barely touched you and you're already soaked!" He curled his body over yours, and wrapped an arm around your stomach, placing the other one on the back of your neck. 

You whimpered at the feeling of his warmth over you. You couldn't help but try to wiggle closer to him. As you did so, your ass brushed against his groin, the feeling of his hard cock sending a bang of arousal and nervousness through you. While you had known he was way bigger than you, that had not prepared you for the sheer size of his cock. 

Risotto chuckled and pinched one of your nipples. "Aw, are you scared it won't fit?" He squeezed your throat and leaned down, trapping you under him. "I'd tell you not to worry, but… we both know that I won't be gentle."

Your pussy throbbed around nothing as you heard Risotto pull his pants down. You whimpered as the warm leaking head of his cock pressed against your entrance. You turned to look at him, your eyes pleading.

Risotto hummed. "I suppose I should prep you at least a little. It would be a shame if I broke you too soon."

Holy shit. You could swear you were burning up and getting closer to the edge from just the way he was talking. You mewled as Risotto pushed two fingers into your soaking pussy, curling them so they hit your g-spot. His two forefingers were almost as big as an average cock. He left a row of kisses and licks all over your neck as he worked you open with his fingers.

You moaned downright shamelessly when he pushed the third finger in. You gasped as he reached your cervix, feeling equal parts incredibly turned on and sad because there was no way you could fit all of his cock in you.

Risotto kept on teasing you, never letting up his pace. You were steadily growing near your release even though he had only been playing with you for a few minutes. You could hardly believe it.

Risotto, I'm c-close," you whimpered, your hips trembling.

He pulled away immediately, making you whine from the sudden emptiness. You gave him an agitated look. "W-why'd you stop?" 

Risotto smirked. "You don't get to cum until I let you, and I don't think you've been properly disciplined yet."

You watched with your face flushed as he licked his fingers clean from your juices. You couldn't get your eyes off of his tongue. You barely noticed it when you licked your own lips at the sight.

"Oh, do you want a taste as well?" Risotto asked, amusement obvious in his voice.

You nodded without hesitation. 

Risotto smirked and pulled you in for a kiss, his hand still lightly choking you. Before you had time to react, he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You moaned at the taste of yourself on his tongue.

He guided his cock to your entrance, making your breath hitch. "Try and be a good girl for me now, won't you?" 

You whimpered and nodded. "I'll be good, I promise-"

He pushed the tip of his cock into your tight cunt, cutting you off. The walls of your pussy burnt from the stretch, and your tongue lolled out of your mouth as you moaned with abandon. 

"F-fuck, you're tight…" Risotto groaned. Your pussy throbbed at the knowledge that he'd lost a bit of his composure because of you.

That sense of pride was lost as soon as he pulled back and thrust back into you. He set a slow pace at first, but you still almost lost balance from the sheer weight of his cock. Your moans echoed through the dark alley. On some level, you realized that you'd be caught if you didn't quiet down. 

Risotto seemed to realize this as he squeezed your throat just a little harder, effectively cutting off your moans and turning them into gargled whimpers and incoherent pleas. You threw your head back, hoping to see his face.

Risotto snarled, slamming his cock deeper into you. "Oh no, you don't get to see my face when you've been a bad girl. Just stay there," he snapped his hips forward and buried his cock in so deep you felt your insides struggled to accommodate him. A high pitched moan left you as you realized he was only halfway in and you already felt like you were ripping apart. 

"Ri-Risotto! I, fuck! You're too big, I can't- Oh, fuck!" The breath was knocked from your lungs each time he took you, his thrusts turning nearly vicious. Or maybe they weren't as rough as you thought and his incredible strength was just making it feel more intense. 

Risotto thrust in as deep as he could and for a brief second, his balls brushed against your clit, sending waves of warmth through you. "What was that? I thought you told me you were going to be a good girl for me," he kissed your neck almost gently before biting down. 

Your pussy throbbed and clenched around him.

"C'mon, be a good girl and take my cock." His chest pressed against you back, surrounding you with his warmth. "I know you can do it," he whispered, voice husky next to your ear.

The contrast of his warmth over you and the cold hard concrete beneath you was driving you insane. As if to challenge you, he quickened his pace, nearly knocking you off your balance again. Your hands trembled as you struggled to stay up. 

"Fu-ck, Risotto! Y-your cock feels so good, p-please! Oh god-" you cut yourself off with a string of choked up moans as your hands began to give out.

Seeing this, Risotto pushed your face down onto the concrete. You whimpered as you finally let your hands relax. To your surprise, you didn't mind the feeling of cold concrete pressing against your cheek when from that position because you could finally see Risotto's face. You had barely heard him over your moans, but just by looking at his face, you could tell he was also lost in pleasure. His eyes were clouded, a bruise was beginning to form in his lower lip from him biting it, and his jaw was clenched. A bead of sweat was running down his cheek.

You could only moan and clench at the sight of him. From the new position, he could go so much deeper. His balls slapped against your clit with each thrust, sending you consistently toward your release. The feeling of his cock hammering against your sore cervix sent sharp bangs of pleasure through you. Through the blinding haze of fucking, you could feel yourself drooling on the concrete and tears slipping down your cheeks. 

He chuckled, his voice breaking all the while into something almost akin to a guttural whimper. "God, you should see yourself! You're drooling like a bitch in heat. Go on, why don't you tell me how much you want this." He loosened his grip on your throat.

You didn't waste even a second. "I love your cock so much! Fuck, I can't get enough, pleaseeee give me more!" 

At some level, you realized that your hands would be covered with cuts and bruises afterwards, but you couldn't bring yourself to care, not when Risotto was using your body so deliciously. Your legs trembled and gave out, but Risotto held you up with a hand wrapped around your stomach. You tried to whimper out an apology.

"Shh, all you need to do is take it, so just let yourself relax, and I'll do the rest, okay?" He kissed just under your jaw and licked off a single tear from your cheek. 

You did just as he ordered and let Risotto control your body as he wished. He pulled your hips back, meeting his thrusts. Each sharp jerk of his cock into your pussy sent you barrelling toward your orgasm. With the incredibly size of his cock, he was hitting your g-spot with little effort. Had you any coherent thought, you would've found it unbelievable how easily he could turn you into a desperate mess of moaning and pleading.

Your moans neared sobs as you neared your release. You almost felt as if you might burst into small pieces from the immense weight of Risotto over you and the overwhelming feeling of him using you like a toy. Your toes curled at the warmth of his ragged breath hitting your cheek. 

You came with a shriek, trembling uncontrollably, your voice breaking into a mixture of moans, bleats and screams. You clawed at the concrete, not caring if your fingers stung. From somewhere behind Risotto's relentless movements, you realized that he had made you cum without even playing with your clit. It occurred to you that you'd do almost anything as long as he took you like this again.

"Cum in me, please! Oh fuck, please, fill me. Fuck! I want it so bad, please!" you begged without caring about how pathetic you sounded.

"Good girl…" Risotto groaned and kissed your neck, muffling his noises. 

He came with a loud moan and trembled, making you feel as if you might cum again just from the sound. You moaned as his cum filled you to the brim. You almost wanted to sob when he pulled away, some of the cum dripping out. 

Risotto's cheeks seemed to redden at the sight of you with your face pressed against the concrete and his cum dripping out of your sore pussy. "Fuck, you're beautiful," he nearly growled.

You tried to reply but could only muster a whimper. You tried to get up, but your arms and legs felt like jelly.

Risotto chuckled, pulled up his pants, sat down and pulled you up on his lap. You watched as cum dripped from your pussy to his black-striped pants. 

"Are you going to punish me for ruining your pants?" you buried your face on his neck and mumbled with a faint smile.

He smiled and wrapped an arm around you. "Hmm, perhaps later but for now, I think I'll just hold you like this."

You took hold of his jacket and cuddled against him. Perhaps you should've hurried out of the alley before someone caught you two, but for now, you just wanted to relax in his warmth and the promise of there being a next time.

[pocket-void]

Some Stuff About Marcus Pt.1

Alright, I’m finally gonna talk about Marcus in more depth for a lil bit because honestly the more I think about him the more I want to talk about him. So I’m gonna do just that! Both for fun and to get some stuff out of my creative system. ^///^

So let’s start with the man himself, shall we?

Marcus

Marcus is my personal version of the mysterious Orange side, and he’s more of an OC than a theory and I just really enjoy talking about him sometimes. So I do! I talk more about what he represents in this post (there’s also other miscellaneous scraps of info about him in the orange side tag), this one is gonna focus more on his exact relationship with each of the other sides (I always welcome more specific asks if you ever wanna know anything else! Since I’m very rambly and believe me when I say that I have answers to basically everything >///<). These are longer than I thought so I’m splitting it up...but if you’re still here, then strap in folks! u///u

Roman

Marcus doesn’t dislike Roman, but he’s not a big fan of him either. Theoretically they could have a better relationship but it’s hindered by a perception of Marcus that someone else had set a long time ago. (We’ll get to that)

One of the bigger reasons why Marcus and Roman don’t quite get along is simply due to their completely opposite levels of self respect. Roman is insecure and often unsure about his accomplishments and how others feel about him, while Marcus is too sure about his skills and how others perceive him. There are clear flaws to both.

In Marcus’ case, it’s made him incredibly stubborn and bitter as a result of being seen as a problem and not being able to do anything. It’s very difficult to convince him he’s wrong, and while he’s not dumb enough to think he’s right about everything, he gets more aggressive than necessary in the face of opposition at times. But more than anything Marcus is honest. He’s blunt and isn’t afraid of just stating how he feels to people, and Roman’s reluctance to do so really bugs him at times. In fact, he’s sometimes angry for him.

The fact that simple phrases can shatter Roman’s entire ego drives Marcus up walls, because if he were in his position he’d probably deck someone in the face right then and there. Being insulted? Getting what he fears most spat at him like venom? Marcus would never stand for that. Beyond that he’s also mad for the people who care about Roman. Why can’t he believe them? Can’t he see how much he’s cared about? How worried people are? Does he really? Marcus thinks that distrust and insecurity feels like an insult to them.

The thing about Marcus is that he’s been through being branded bad and evil. He’s still the bad guy in a couple of ways. He’ll play the bad guy if he has to. He’s over it, though not quite over it as he’d like to be... In a way, he’s also envious of Roman. Roman is important. The others do actually love him. And deep down, Marcus also respects the things he does and doesn’t want him to be crippled by his self doubt because what the two have in common is passion. A drive and determination to do the things they want, and to achieve the goals they aim for. It’s just a shame that their relationship is soured by their general perceptions of each other.

Marcus also just isn’t big on theatrics, but that’s because he uh, can’t see. He likes to make fun of Roman just like anybody else in casual conversation and only ever refers to him as “Red”, “Princey”, or on occasion “Ruby”. He jokingly takes Roman’s threats seriously when they quip, and while they never actually get into fights, Roman is aware that Marcus will actually throw down.

At the end of the day, Marcus wants Roman to consider himself his own hero. He doesn’t understand Roman’s need to keep up an image because he’s never had an image to live up to, let alone anyone who'd look to him for inspiration. Whether Roman likes him or not doesn’t really matter to him, he doesn’t care about people who’ve made up their minds about him and are too set in certain ways of thinking.

Which is hypocrisy at its finest, but we’re not there yet.

Janus

Right off the bat, they do not get along. Which you might find kind of odd, considering they’re both under the umbrella of “dark side”. The truth is, they’re tentative colleagues at best. Hilariously Logan probably gets along with Janus better than Marcus does, and there are a couple very fair reasons behind this.

On the one hand, they both agree on doing things for the “self” (Which in their case is c!Thomas). They both agree that the self should be the most important person in one’s life, and will do whatever it takes to protect it. However, the biggest difference between them is the methods they go about doing so. And it’s here that Marcus’ righteous anger often clashes harshly with Janus’ need for self preservation. Marcus doesn’t lie, he doesn’t see the need to. If he wants something, he’ll do it. If he believes something, he’ll say it. He does it because he knows he’s right, and that’s what matters. Obviously this would cause a lot of problems in real life if you actually are that blunt 24/7, and in those cases Janus has to reign him in quite a bit.

Marcus is fundamentally reckless, brash, and prone to getting carried away if not kept in check, which makes him kind of a danger to Thomas’ wellbeing at times. The thing is, both of them are aware of this. Which is actually why Marcus isn’t as spiteful about stepping down as he could be. He knows that he can do more harm than good if he ever steps out of bounds. This won’t stop him from feeling like his input would infinitely accelerate certain debates, and on a personal level he does still feel like he has the right to fight for that recognition, but he doesn’t because he’s not dumb enough to actively cause harm to others for the sake of himself. It’s not what he wants. What he will and often does do however, is do things that end with him getting hurt in the end. Maybe the reason he disagrees with Janus so much is because his own sense of self preservation is surprisingly poor.

A mildly exaggerated analogy I like to think about is that: If under any circumstance the two of them would have to plot revenge, Janus would focus more on personal safety and Marcus would focus more on personal vindication. Marcus has zero qualms about actually throwing hands, no matter the resulting physical consequence (If his scars were any indication) which Janus would 100% be against. Imagine the consequences of a physical confrontation! Absolutely not. Snake man would prefer more subtle and manipulative tactics, and would probably prefer to frame someone without being implicated himself if possible. They usually compromise, but always butt heads one way or another.

In casual conversation, Marcus is more snarky to Janus than anything. They trade sarcastic remarks often and tend to be a lil snippy, but they often agree on similar points? But also insist that they don’t get along, which is pretty funny. Marcus calls Janus “Yellow” or “Snake”, and sometimes a few yellow flower names like “Tansy” or “Marigold”.

Remus

Would it come as a surprise if I said these two actually get along ok? Think about it: They’re both blunt, forthcoming with their ideas (As wild as Remus’ are), and are at times prone to violence. They’re both seen as “bad” and both have experienced being forcefully repressed one way or another. They kind of just vibe on a similar plane of existence if I’m honest with you. More than that however, both are relatively accepting of themselves, Remus more so than Marcus actually. There are some things Orange unfortunately still has to come to terms with.

On a casual level, they probably can do some pretty reckless and dumb things together. Marcus respects anybody with self confidence really, and the way Remus just owns being the garbage man he is definitely gets a pass in his book. It doesn’t mean they never disagree though. In a lot of ways, Marcus is still tied to logic, and Remus’ chaotic nature isn’t always suited to how he works. They conflict the most when it’s time to put the chips down and actually get things done. Remus totally does his best to bug the hell out of him too, much to his chagrin. He makes it pretty clear how he feels about it, but the duke isn’t fazed. Tackle the blind man, he dares you.

Marcus isn’t exactly good with creative input, it’s not his function. In fact, he himself is actually locked in a very specific type of world view from his experiences over the years. It’s not intentional, he just tends to grow irrational when he gets too heated. Sometimes he forgets to take his hand out of the fires that burn him, and it inevitably comes at a detriment to himself. Remus has the capacity to make him incredibly furious under bad circumstances, and if they aren’t careful he might actually act upon dangerous suggestions that Remus just casually suggests. If Remus is the voice behind intrusive thoughts, Marcus is the impulse that actually acts upon them. He won’t, obviously, but spite and anger can push people to do rash things. They both know better than that of course, but it’s a possibility that will never go away.

Marcus calls Remus “Green”, though he also refers to him by odd green things sometimes like “moss” or “seaweed”. I like to imagine the two of them going off and smashing up random things to blow off steam/just for fun. But that’s just me. u///u

---

If you’re still reading then thank you??? This is honestly more self indulgent than anything, but I just have way too much stuff I could talk about and it needs to go somewhere akjbefkaefk.

I shall talk about the rest in Part 2 perhaps. o///o

[marjansmarwani]

The Boss’s Son (Part 4)

A 911: Lone Star Role Reversal AU

[Read on Ao3]

[Part 1]   [Part 2]   [Part 3]  

Firefighter Carlos Reyes and Officer TK Strand’s secret relationship is out in the open now, thrust into the spotlight when TK was shot.

They’ve taken their time to regroup and heal, growing closer all the while. Now the recovery period is over things are going back to normal and they’re learning that there is no such thing as business as usual anymore. This experience has changed both of them, and now they have to find a way to live in this new reality. Thankfully they have each other, and that is the one thing they know for sure.

---

Tarlos Week Day 7: Writer's Choice

Finally finished Day 7 of @tarlosweek2020 just in time! If you haven’t read the rest of this AU requested by @buttercupstrand that I started back in May and thought I was done with (I was wrong). Essentially, Carlos is a firefighter at the 126, TK is a cop with APD, they meet and hook up not knowing Carlos works for TK’s dad and then things happen from there. The first three chapters follow season 1 fairly closely, but this new one concerns events after the end of the season. 

Should I maybe not have written a 10k extra chapter to an AU for an event? Probably, but I did so here you go. It has been a pleasure writing for this week and seeing and reading what everyone else has put out. I am once again in awe of this fandom. I sincerely hope you have all enjoyed my works this week and that you enjoy this one!) 

------

TK tucked his shirt in neatly, before moving his hands to do up the last two buttons of his uniform shirt. If still fit just as well as it always had, but it felt foreign now; unfamiliar. It felt like a remnant of a different lifetime and in a way, it was. 

 It had been over a month since that night and that call; a month since TK had kicked open a door and been shot by an 8-year-old. He could still feel the ghost of the bandage on his collarbone, could still feel the phantom pull of the stitches. He noticed that his hands trembled over the last button and he let it go, forcing them back to his sides, willing them to stay steady. 

 He was fine, really. It was just desk duty. He wouldn’t be allowed back into the field until he had been fully cleared by a doctor and department psychologist. He could handle this. 

 The most ironic part, he thought to himself as he examined himself in the mirror, studying his uniform for imperfections, was that before this he never would have thought for a moment that he might have even a moment’s hesitation about jumping back into the field. He became a cop to help people, and he didn’t see how he could do that from a desk. (There was also the mountains of paperwork to consider, but that was another matter altogether.) He had never been a very sedentary person - his father had often joked that he hadn’t seen him hold still since the moment he was born and one time he had the flu when he was 8. He had never thought that given the chance there would be any hesitation, any doubt in his mind that jumping back into the action was the right thing - the only thing. 

 Now in the after, he was filled with hesitation. It wasn’t fear per se; and it had nothing to do with the actual pain and injury. It had everything to do with the people he loved and the hurt he had seen in them when he almost didn’t pull through. TK had always known the risks of his job, had always known there was a chance that something could happen to him. But until he had seen it, until he had known the effect that it had on the people he cared about most, he had never truly appreciated it. He didn’t want to put any of them through that ever again. 

 A voice from the doorway interrupted his reverie, “still fits, huh?” 

 He turned to find Carlos, also ready for work in his AFD uniform, sipping a cup of coffee as he leaned on the doorframe. 

 “Like a glove,” he responded glibly. Carlos set his mug down on the shelf by the door and crossed the room so he was standing in front of TK. He studied him closely before reaching out a gentle hand to straighten his badge. TK watched as he trailed his fingers up from the badge to his collar, pausing almost imperceptibly in the spot where just weeks before a bullet had ripped through his flesh and almost ended it all. Neither of them said a word as Carlos pulled himself back to the present and continued his journey up to TK’s collar, straightening it with a gentle tug. 

 “It’s just desk duty, Carlos,” TK said into the silence, “it’ll be fine.”

 Carlos blinked and seemed to come back to himself, “Of course it will be.” But the smile he gave TK didn’t reach his eyes. TK reached down to find Carlos’s hand, still resting on his collar, and covered it with his own. “It’ll be fine,” he repeated using his other hand to softly lift Carlos’s chin so he could look him in the eyes, “I promise.”  

 Carlos nodded again and this time his smile seemed more genuine. “Now that I believe in.” 

 TK returned the smile and leaned forward, capturing Carlos in a kiss. Carlos leaned into it and TK reached down to snake his arms around the other man’s waist, pulling him closer. He deepened the kiss, but Carlos pulled away, causing TK to let out a disgruntled sound. 

 Carlos chuckled, “Sorry babe,” he said as he pressed a light kiss to TK’s forehead,  “as much as I would love to keep going with this, we both have to work this morning. Personally, I don’t think your dad would find this an acceptable reason to be late and am sure Mya will be waiting not very patiently for you at the precinct. 

 “Spoilsport,” TK complained with a pout. Carlos chuckled again as he leaned forward to speak into TK’s ear. “Besides,” he began, voice low,  “it would be a shame to wrinkle that uniform before you go to work. We can save that for later.”

 Then he pulled away, walking back towards the door to pick up his abandoned mug and exited the room. 

 TK stood rooted to the spot, still standing in front of the mirror, dumbfounded. It was several moments before he was able to get words out. 

 “You’re a menace, Carlos Reyes.” 

 ---------- 

“How’s Lover Boy’s first day back in the saddle?”

 Carlos looked up from his phone to find Judd staring at him with raised eyebrows. “Must you call him that?” he asked drily. 

 “Since you knew exactly who I was talking about, yes, I think I do.” 

 Carlos rolled his eyes before returning his gaze to his phone. He could feel Judd’s gaze still on him. He ignored it for several long moments but when he realized the older man had no intention of stopping he sighed and looked up again, “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “He hasn’t sent me more than a mention that Mya says hi all morning and I don’t want to bombard him so I’m just...waiting.” 

 “You’re not very good at waiting,” Judd noted. 

 Carlos shook his head ruefully, “Don’t I know it. I mean,” he continued, “it’ll be fine. I have nothing to worry about. It’s desk duty. He’s fine. It’ll be fine.” 

 “You know if I were to hazard a guess, I might say that you don’t believe a word you’re saying.” 

 “I don’t know,” Carlos replied wearily, “I just...I don’t know.” 

 Judd nodded sagely, “Glad we cleared that up,” he noted as he took a sip of coffee. 

 Carlos was debating whether he needed to dignify that with a response or if a rude hand gesture would suffice when Paul entered the kitchen. “How’s TK’s first day back going?” he asked Carlos as he reached for a mug. 

 “He doesn’t know,” Judd answered helpfully. 

 Paul paused and looked frowned over his shoulder at Carlos, “How do you not know?” 

 “TK hasn’t said much and he doesn’t want to keep texting him so he’s just waiting.” 

 Paul nodded solemnly, “He’s not good at waiting.” 

 “Do I even need to be here for this conversation to happen, or are you two good on your own?” Carlos snapped. 

 Both Paul and Judd gave him pointed looks, “Someone’s feisty today,” Judd noted as he took another sip of his coffee. 

 Carlos groaned, but forced himself to take a deep breath and put his head in his hands. After a few moments, he looked up again. “I’m sorry guys,” he said somewhat sheepishly, “I really didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just…” 

 “Concerned?” offered Judd.

 “Worried?” Paul suggested. 

 Carlos nodded in agreement, “and I don’t really want to say anything to him about it because he looked a little freaked out himself when he was getting ready this morning. He doesn’t need my worries on his mind too.”

 “I hate to break it to you man, but he probably already knows,” Paul informed him.  

 Judd nodded his agreement, “You don’t exactly have the best poker face brother, especially not when it comes to your man.”

 Carlos ran a weary hand through his hair. “You’re probably right, but I wish he didn’t know. I wish I were better at hiding it. He has so much on his plate, he doesn’t need my irrational fear too.” 

 “I don’t know if I’d call it irrational,” Paul responded reasonably, “especially considering recent events.” 

 Carlos turned to him with a raised eyebrow, “So it’s normal to be worried about my boyfriend the cop getting murdered at his own desk in the middle of a police precinct in broad daylight?” 

 “No, I think that might cross into irrational territory,” Paul allowed. 

 “Good to know I’ve got that going for me,” Carlos responded drily. 

 He could see Judd and Paul exchanging looks, but they were saved the trouble of having to respond to his neurosis by the alarm. They set down their coffee cups in tandem and jogged over to the engine bay. 

 “It’s going to be okay man,” Paul assured him softly as they climbed onto the rig. Carlos gave him a tight smile in response but while he appreciated his friend’s effort, he just couldn’t move past this. Not yet. 

----------------- 

TK entered the bullpen to applause. He was so taken aback that he froze, trapped in the entrance like a deer in the headlights. When the familiar faces of his colleagues registered he felt himself relax and smile. He held up a placating hand as he crossed to his desk, smiling at his coworkers and receiving more than one affectionate pat on the shoulder. 

 He paused again when he reached his desk, or where he had at least thought his desk was. What stood in front of him now seemed more like the inside of a recycling bin on Christmas morning than any desk he had ever seen. Wrapping paper and bows covered almost every inch, save for about 8 inches on the front where a sign declaring “Welcome back Strand!” was visible. He raised a bemused eyebrow at his desk before turning his gaze the desk beside his own where Mya sat, looking like the cat that ate the canary. 

 “Your doing, I assume?” 

 “Why would you say that?”

 “Oh I don’t know,” he said mildly, setting his coffee cup down on a corner that was relatively level, “it has a certain kind of flair that reminds me of you.” 

 She chuckled, “I would be flattered, but the Lieutenant's kids were here last night and they helped. They may have gotten a little carried away,” she added with a ‘what are you going to do?’ kind of shrug. 

 TK laughed appreciatively, “remind me to thank her later.” 

 He located his chair between some particularly ambitious bows and pulled it out before taking a seat. Mya joined him, perching herself on the corner of his desk. She studied him intently. “How are you feeling?” she asked. 

 TK rolled his eyes, “You literally saw me two days ago Mya - I’m fine. I was fine then and I am fine now. It’s fine.”

 She peered at him suspiciously. “What?” he asked defensively. 

 “Just wondering if maybe you were a little too quick to say how fine you are.”

 “Why would I lie Mya? I’m…”

 “Fine?” she suggested. 

 “Yes,” he agreed firmly, “completely, totally, 100% fine.” 

 She was still looking at him with a doubtful expression, so he changed the topic in self-defense: “Don’t you have a partner you’re supposed to be patrolling with?”

 “Temporary partner,” Mya reminded him, “only until you’re back in the field. And that better be soon - I don’t know how much more I can take of Thad.”

 “His name isn’t really Thad, is it?” 

 Mya nodded solemnly, “While you’ve been out recovering I have been stuck with the latest rookie - Thaddeus Sterling, the third.” 

 “You’re making that up,” TK accused.  

 “I am not. I wish I was.” 

 “There are two more Thaddeus Sterling’s in the world?” 

 “It’s a ‘family name,’ apparently.” 

 “Ouch.”

 Mya rolled her eyes, “I’d feel worse for him if he wasn’t such a dense pretty boy.”

 TK raised a skeptical eyebrow, “that bad?” 

 “The man has been flirting with me for three straight weeks, TK. He does not understand the concept of a lesbian and the fact that I have zero interest in dating anyone of the male persuasion, let alone him. Not to mention that his entire personality revolves entirely around the fraternity he was in at UT. If I have to hear anymore about the Longhorn’s defensive game this year, I cannot be held responsible for my actions.” 

 TK winced sympathetically, “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?” 

 “Just get better so you can be my partner again,” Mya said with an exasperated sigh, “I can handle him, I just don’t know for how much longer.” 

 Any response TK could have made was cut off when a young guy with artfully spiked hair appeared at the side of his desk. “Ready to ride Esquilin?” he asked Mya, before sparing a glance at TK. Somewhere between the wrapping paper explosion that was his desk and his proximity to Mya, something seemed to click for him. “Oh hey,” he exclaimed, turning to face TK, “You must be Strand, right? The one who got shot!” 

 “Yep, that’s me,” TK confirmed. 

 “That’s intense,” the kid - Thaddeus Sterling III, TK assumed - observed. “But hey, you gotta have a cool scar now, right? I bet the chicks dig it!” 

 “I wouldn’t know,” TK responded drily, ignoring Mya’s dramatic eye-roll from behind Thad’s shoulder. Thad, for his part, simply looked puzzled. TK wondered if he should elaborate, but was saved the trouble by Mya slipping off his desk with a sigh, “Let’s get moving Sterling, we have work to do. And I am not ready to ride, I am ready to drive. Don’t think you’re going to pull a fast one on me.” 

 As Thad walked away Mya paused to glare down at TK, “You better get well soon.” 

 “You know, most people don’t make well wishes sound like a threat.”

 Mya gave a significant look at Thad’s back before turning her expression back to TK with raised brows. He held up his hands in surrender, “Fine, I get it. I’ll do my best.” 

 “That’s all I ask.”

 “Remember, murdering your partner is bad!” TK called to her retreating back. Her only response was a rude hand gesture thrown over her shoulder. 

 TK chuckled and shook his head fondly. It was nice to be back. He didn’t know what he was so worried about. It would be fine, really. 

 He was so lost in thought that the slamming of a desk drawer at a nearby desk startled him back to reality. It caused him to jump and sent his heart racing. He peered around the bullpen only to see that no one else had reacted: to the slamming drawer or his reaction. He closed his eyes and took several deep, measured breaths. 

 He was fine, really. 

--------------------- 

The ladder truck arrived at the scene of a multi-vehicle accident and the crew piled out, each taking in the scene with a practiced eye. There were some scenes that you pulled up to and knew instinctively that they were going to be bad. Full of pain and suffering and images that would haunt you for days or weeks to come. 

 This wasn’t one of them. 

 Sure there was an alarming amount of vehicles involved but the atmosphere radiated annoyance and anger, not fear and despair. A quick survey didn’t reveal anything beyond a minor injury - Carlos hoped that maybe that could hold true. 

 They split up and waded into the crowd and cars, checking in with each person, searching for anyone trapped or seriously injured. Thankfully the initial assessment proved correct and there were none. The scene still needed to be cleared and injuries needed to be looked at, but there was no immediate threat staring them down. They all got to work and Carlos found himself helping Michelle and her team with basic first aid until a familiar voice called his name. 

 He turned to see Mya, a younger guy with very deliberately styled hair at her shoulder. He grinned at her as the woman he had just finished with jumped off the gurney serving as his exam table. “Hey Mya, how’s it going?” 

 She raised an eyebrow as she drew closer, “My day is fine, but that’s not what you're asking, is it?” 

 He gave her a sheepish grin and she rolled her eyes but answered his unasked question: “He seems fine. He says he’s fine.” 

 “What do you think?” 

 She shrugged, “Too soon to tell, but I don’t see any reason not to believe him. If he says he’s fine, then he probably is.”

 The younger guy pulled level with them and looked between them suggestively, “Someone you need to introduce me to, Partner?” 

 Carlos’s eyebrows rose as Mya heaved an exasperated sigh, “Carlos, this is Thad - my temporary partner. Thad, this is Carlos - TK’s boyfriend.” 

 Thad looked puzzled and Mya rolled her eyes at him, “You know, TK. My regular partner: has been out on medical leave, you met him this morning?” 

 “Yeah, I remember,” he said “I just thought that you two…” he trailed off suggestively and Mya took a deep, measured breath. 

 “No, we are not. I don’t like men, remember? We’ve been over this like, 5 times.”

 “Huh,” was all he said and seemed to be seriously considering this information. Mya gave Carlos an exasperated look and gave Thad a nudge. “Go find something to help with,” she instructed with a gesture towards the accident scene, “I’ll be along in a moment.”  

 He obliged with a parting wave to Carlos and they watched him leave before Carlos spoke, “he seems like fun.” 

 “Oh yeah, a barrel of laughs,” Mya deadpanned. 

 “His name isn’t really Thad, is it?” 

 “Thaddeus Sterling III.” 

 “You’re making that up.” 

 Mya rolled her eyes, “I swear you two are the same person, it’s ridiculous.” 

 Carlos frowned at her, “Me and Thaddeus?”

 She swatted at him, “No! You and TK. I had the exact same conversation with him this morning. You two are so alike sometimes it’s scary.”

 Carlos laughed appreciatively before the mention of TK’s return to work reminded him of his concerns. “You really think he’s okay?” he asked Mya again. 

 She shrugged, “He seems to be. Only time will really tell, but right now he seems fine. Almost like nothing happened.” 

 Mya’s name was called and they both looked over towards the accident scene to see Thad waving his hands in the air and looking far too pleased with himself. Mya sighed again, “I better go see what he wants. Hopefully, he didn’t break anything this time. The faster TK is back in the field the better; I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” she flicked her gaze back to Carlos, “Catch up with you later?” 

 He nodded and gave her a smile that she returned before striding off to find Thad. The moment she was gone Carlos let the smile slip. He knew Mya would never put TK at risk and would never push him to do anything before he was ready, but their conversation had filled him with dread. 

 He shook it off and pulled himself up straighter. He had a job to do now - he could go back to worrying about his boyfriend later. 

------------------ 

“Please, take a seat, Officer Strand.” 

 TK sank into the chair indicated and watched as the department psychologist - a woman in her mid-40s - settled into one across from him, crossing her legs neatly at the knees and balancing a clipboard in her lap. 

 “Have you ever participated in any kind of therapy before, Officer Strand?” 

 TK nodded, “I have been seeing a therapist off and one since I was about 16.” 

 The psychologist - Dr. Said - nodded and gave a small smile, “Good, then you should be fairly familiar with how this works. That should make this easier - people who have never done any form of therapy often take a while to feel comfortable enough to effectively share.” 

 TK nodded and drummed his fingers, waiting for the doctor to lay the groundwork. As the silence dragged on he could feel his anxiety growing. “So how does this work?” he finally blurted out, caving to the crushing silence. 

 Today we are just going to have a chat. This is considered the beginning of your probationary period, for lack of a better word - of being cleared for full and active duty. We will meet once more toward the middle of this mandated time, and then once again at the end. Then my reports and recommendations, along with your doctor, and your Captain will all be reviewed and a determination for your fitness to serve - both physically and mentally - will be made.” 

 TK nodded, running all the steps and names through his head once again. “How long does this usually take?” he asked. Dr. Said shrugged, “somewhere between 2-4 weeks. Since your injury was severe I would say that your case will be pushed out closer to the 4 weeks mark so everyone can feel certain about their findings.” 

 TK nodded. He glanced around the office, avoiding the doctor’s piercing gaze as he asked the question he truly dreaded: “and if I am not deemed fit to serve?” 

 Dr. Said readjusted her clipboard and uncapped her pen, “Then alternate options will be discussed at that time. But let’s get started before you start jumping to worse case scenarios. It won’t do any good to dwell on them.”

 TK nodded and Dr. Said continued, peering at him over her clipboard, pen poised and ready: “Now,” she asked, “what can you tell me about the night of the incident?” 

 TK swallowed. This was not going to be fun, at all. 

-------------------- 

Carlos entered his house to find the light already on and upbeat music drifting from the kitchen. He smiled as he dropped his bag by the door, kicking off his shoes and heading towards the noise and his boyfriend. He turned the corner to find TK bobbing his head to the music as he pulled plates out of the cupboard, turning and setting them down beside a platter of food on the counter. Carlos crossed the room and found TK’s phone on the counter. He reached across and using the side buttons, lowered the volume. 

 TK spun around as the music faded, but his surprised look faded into one of pleasure when he noticed Carlos. 

 “Hey babe,” he said, crossing the room to give Carlos a kiss, “I didn’t hear you come in.”

 Carlos raised a single eyebrow, “I’m not surprised. I don’t know how you can hear anything with the music that loud. I am surprised the neighbors didn’t call to complain.” 

 TK waved off his concerns, “They’re fine. Besides, the windows are shut so there is no way they should have heard that. My phone speaker is not that powerful.”

 Carlos rolled his eyes and then narrowed them when he noticed the food. “You didn’t cook, did you?” he asked, glancing around the kitchen, “I don’t see any scorch marks.” 

 TK put a hand over his heart, “Ye of little faith!” he exclaimed dramatically, “do you really think I cannot manage even a basic dinner without property damage?” 

 “Yes,” Carlos deadpanned, “because I have extensive experience to prove that point. Do I need to remind you of the breakfast in bed incident?” 

 “That was not my fault,” TK said quickly, “but no, I did not cook. I ordered this from that Korean place you like.”

 Carlos chuckled and leaned down to place a kiss on the side of TK’s neck, “my hero.” 

 TK laughed lightly but reached forward to grab the food. “Can you grab the plates? We should get to this before it gets cold.” Carlos obliged and once they were settled at the table with full plates, he asked the question that had been eating at him all day.

 “How was your first day back?” he hoped his voice didn’t betray any of the anxiety he had felt all day. 

 TK shrugged and she scooped some rice onto his fork, “Pretty uneventful. Mya wrapped my desk in wrapping paper, and then I had to spend all day at it doing paperwork.” At Carlos’s raised eyebrow he added, “I took off the wrapping paper halfway through the day, the crinkling was driving me nuts.” 

 Carlos grinned, “I ran into Mya today actually. Met her new partner.” 

 “Temporary partner,” TK corrected quickly, like a reflex. 

 “Right,” Carlos amended, “temporary partner. Did you get to talk to him at all? He seems…”

 “Interesting?” TK provided. 

 “That’s one way to put it.” 

 TK nodded, “She can’t stand him. She keeps telling me I need to get back out into the field before she snaps and murders him.” 

 There is silence in the wake of the quip, as they both realize the elephant in the room has just been brought into the light. Back in the field is a statement that haunts both of them, for different reasons. 

 “I had my psych eval today,” TK blurted out, cutting through the silence. 

 Carlos looked up from his food, “You didn't say anything about it before,” he noted. He kept his face neutral while all the while his mind raced with implications. 

 TK shrugged, “I didn’t really know what to tell. I wasn’t sure if it was a one and done kind of thing of if it was a process. Turns out, it’s a process.”  

 TK’s voice was neutral, but Carlos knew him well enough to know that it was forced. He wasn’t feeling as calm about this as he was letting on, but Carlos wasn’t sure why. 

 “What kind of process?” 

 TK sighed, leaning back in his chair as he explained, “It’s going to take 3-4 weeks, at least two more meetings with the department psychologist, a recommendation from my Captain, and then they all have to agree on it. But it’s pointless, there’s nothing to agree on - I’m fine.” 

 Carlos considered that before he spoke. He noted that TK’s posture was anything but relaxed. His arms were crossed so tightly against his chest Carlos wondered about the possibility of bruising. He was tapping his foot against the floor in a light staccato pattern. Carlos liked to think he had come to know TK Strand fairly well over the past few months, and this was not TK Strand relaxed. 

 “Isn’t that a good thing though?” he asked eventually, “Isn’t it for the best to make sure, isn’t it smart to be absolutely sure that all the officers in the department are at the top of their game? Letting someone in the field who’s not ready to be there, that could lead to problems. It could be dangerous, for both the cop and anyone else involved. Isn't it better not to risk that?” 

 TK shrugged, but Carlos could see some of the tension leaving his body, “You’re right,” he agreed, “but it’s still frustrating. I’m fine.” 

 Carlos nodded. He turned his attention back to his dinner, but not before adding one last thought: “It’s okay to not be fine yet Ty.” 

 TK met his gaze for a moment before looking away quickly. “I know,” he replied softly, “but I am.”

 Carlos gave him a smile but as they turned back to their meal in silence he couldn’t shake the feeling that TK was lying.

[Read the rest on Ao3 - it was too long to post it all here!]

[ladywynneoutlander]

Letters of Outlander

Jenny Murray to Jamie Fraser, TFC Ch. 99, September 16, 1771

Brother,

  Well. Having taken up my pen and written the single word above, I have now sat here staring at it ‘til the candle has burned almost an inch, and me having not one thought what I shall say.  It would be a wicked waste of good beeswax to continue so, and yet if I were to put the candle out and go to bed, I should have spoilt a sheet of paper to no purpose -- so I see I must go on, in the name of thrift.

  I could berate you. That would occupy some space upon the page, and preserve what my husband is pleased to compliment as the most foul and hideous curses he has been privileged to hear in a long life.  That seems thrifty, as I was at great pains in the composition of them at the time, and should not like to see the effort wasted. Still, I think I have not so much paper as would contain them all.

  I think also that perhaps, after all, I do not wish to rail or condemn you, for you might take this as a just punishment, and so ease your conscience in perceived expiation, so that you leave off your chastising of yourself. That is too simple a penance; I would that if you have wove a hairshirt for yourself, you wear it still, and may it chafe your soul as the loss of my son chafes mine.

  In spite of this, I suppose that I am writing to forgive you -- I had some purpose in taking up my pen, I know, and while forgiveness seems a doubtful enterprise to me at present, I expect the notion will grow more comfortable with practice.

  You will be curious to know what has led me to this action, I suppose, so I will tell you. 

  I rode to visit Maggie early Monday last; she has a new babe, so you are once more an uncle; a bonnie wee lassie called Angelica, which is a foolish name, I think, but she is very fair and born with a strawberry mark on her chest, which is a charm for good.  I left them in the evening, and had made some way towards home when my mule chanced to step into a mole’s hole and fell. Both mule and I rose up somewhat lamed from this accident, and it was clear that I could not ride the creature nor yet make shift to travel far by foot myself.

  I found myself on the road to Auldearn just over the hill from Balriggan. I should not normally seek the society of Laoghaire MacKenzie -- for she has resumed that name, I having made plain in the district my dislike of her use of “Fraser,” she having no proper claim to that style -- but it was the only place where I might obtain food and shelter, for night was coming on, with the threat of rain.

  So I unsaddled the mule and left him to find his supper by the road, while I limped off in search of mine.

  I came down behind the house, past the kailyard, and so came upon the arbor that you built. The vines are well grown on it now, so I could see nothing, but I could hear that there were folk inside, for I heard voices.

  The rain had begun by then. It was not but a smizzle, yet the patter on the leaves must have drowned my voice, for no one answered when I called. I came closer -- creeping like a spavined snail, to be sure, for I was gromished from the fall and my right ankle gruppit -- and was just about to call once more, when I heard sounds of a rare hochmagandy from inside the arbor.

  I stood still, of course, thinking what was best to do. I could hear that it was Laoghaire shedding her shanks, but I had no hint who her partner might be. My ankle was blown up like a bladder, so I could not walk much farther, and so I was obliged to stand about in the wet, listening to all this inhonesté.

  I should have known, had she been courted by a man of the district, and I had heard nothing of her paying heed to any -- though several have tried; she has Balriggan, after all, and lives like a laird on the money you pay her.

  I was filled with outrage at the hearing, but somewhat more filled with amazement to discover the cause.  That being a sense of fury on your behalf -- irrational as such fury might be, in the circumstances. Still, having discovered such an emotion springing full-blown in my breast, I was reluctantly compelled to the realization that my feelings for you must not in fact have perished altogether.

                                                                              September 18, 1771

  I dream of Ian now and then. These dreams most often take the shape of daily life, and I see him here at Lallybroch, but now and again I dream of him in his life among the savages -- if indeed he still lives (and I persuade myself that my heart would be some means now if he did not.}

  So I see that what it comes to in the end is only the same thing with which I began -- that one word, “Brother.” You are my brother, as young Ian is my son --  the both of you my flesh and my spirit and always shall be. If the loss of Ian haunts my dreams, the loss of you haunts my days, Jamie.

  I have been writing letters all the morning, debating with myself whether to finish this one, or to put it into the fire instead. But now the accounts are done, I have written to everyone I can think of, and the clouds have gone away, so the sun shines through the window by my desk, and the shadows of Mother’s roses are falling over me.

  I have thought to myself often and often that I heard my mother speak to me, through all these years. I do not need to hear her now, though, to ken well enough what she would say. And so I shall not put this in the fire.

  You remember, do you, the day I broke the good cream-pitcher, flinging it at your head because you deviled me? I know you recall the occasion, for you once spoke to Claire of it. I hesitated to admit the crime, and you took the blame upon yourself, but Father kent the truth of it, and punished us both.

  So now I am a grandmother ten times over, with my hair gone grey, and still I feel my cheeks go hot with shame and my wame shrink like a fist, thinking of Father bidding us kneel down side by side and bend over the bench to be whipped.

  You yelped and grunted like a puppy when he tawsed you, and I could scarce breathe and did not dare to look at you. Then it was my turn, but I was so wrought with emotion that I think I barely felt the strokes. No doubt you are reading this and saying indignantly that it was only Father was softer with me because I was a lass. Well, maybe so, and maybe no; I will say Ian is gentle with his daughters.

  But then Father said you would have another whipping, this one for lying -- for the truth was the truth, after all. I would have got up and fled away then, but he bade me stay as I was, and he said to me, quiet, that while you would pay the price for my cowardice, he did not think it right for me to escape it altogether. 

  Do you know that you did not make a sound, the second time? I hope you did not feel the strokes of the tawse on your backside, because I felt each one.

  I swore that day that I should not ever be a coward again.

  And I see that it is cowardice indeed, that I should go on blaming you for Young Ian. I have always kent what it is to love a man -- be he husband or brother, lover or son. A dangerous business; that’s what it is.

  Men go where they will, they do as they must; it is not a woman’s part to bid them stay, nor yet to reproach them for being what they are -- or for not coming back.

  I knew it when I sent Ian to France with a cross of beechwood and a lock of my hair made into a love knot, praying that he might come home to me, body and soul. I knew it when I gave you a rosary and saw you off to Leoch, hoping you would not forget Lallybroch or me. I knew it when Young Jamie swam to the seal’s island, when Michael took ship for Paris, and I should have known it, too, when wee Ian went with you.

  But I have been blessed in my life; my men have always come back to me. Maimed, perhaps; a bit singed round the edges now and then; crippled, crumpled, tattered, and torn -- but I have always got them back. I grew to expect that as my right, and I was wrong to do so.

  I have seen so many widows since the Rising. I cannot say why I thought I should be exempt from their suffering, why I alone should lose none of my men, and only one of my babes, my wee girl-child. And since I had lost Caitlin, I treasured Ian, for I knew he was the last babe I should bear.

  I thought him my babe still; I should have kent him for the man he was. And that being so, I know well enough that whether you might have stopped him or no, you would not -- for you are one of the damnable creatures, too.

  Now I have nearly reached the end of this sheet, and I think it profligate to begin another.

  Mother loved you always, Jamie, and when she kent she was dying, she called for me, and bade me care for you. As though I could ever stop.

                                 Your most Affectionate and Loving Sister,

                                  Janet Flora Arabella Fraser Murray

[star-and-the-motherverse]

Chapter 1 - Mother’s Wisdom

The Butterfly Who Lost Her Wings

Word Count: 4501 | AO3 Mirror | Next

Summary: It was on that fateful day when Star Butterfly, the princess of Mewni, disappeared. Mewni was left broken, grieving, and lost. Queen Moon, despairing and left at her lowest point, decided that she would not rest until her daughter was freed, no matter what it cost her.

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* ♦ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

If only her daughter had listened to her, then maybe, just maybe, this situation would never have befallen them.

Oh, who was Moon kidding? It was unfair to blame Star for all of this. If anything, she was just like her mother, pulling practically the same scheme that Moon had when she was her age. She was proud of Star, in a strange way, for taking the matter into her own hands and attempting to fix the problem as best as she could. But only now was Moon in a position to finally recognize how dangerous the situation was.

“Star!”

Her daughter was on an adjacent balcony, standing beside Ludo. She wasn’t that far away at all, and yet, it felt as if the distance between them was far greater than it had any right to be. At the sight of her daughter, Moon’s fear subsided significantly, but she could not shake the feeling of dread that was heavy in the air. Marco and Yvgeny stood next to the queen, confused by the situation presented before them. They probably felt very much out of their element, being thrown into a situation as dire as this.

Star turned to meet their gazes, offering a sad, little smile. Maybe she already knew how her mother felt about all this. “Hey, Mom. Hi, Marco.”

Moon wanted to ask what was wrong, but it clicked into place when a ghostly unicorn escaped from the wand embedded in Ludo’s hand. Her blood turned to ice. No, she wouldn’t have… The half of the star insignia had darkened to an ominous black, confirming Moon’s fears.

“I, uh…” Star’s eyes darted away, as if she knew the consequences of what she had done just as well as Moon did. “I’m sorry, you guys.” The ghostly figure of the millhorse let out a defeated whinny before disappearing into the sky.

“Is she okay?” Yvgeny asked aloud, not to anyone in particular. “What does that mean? Is, is that...”

Marco attempted to answer him, but his voice quickly trailed off. “It’s…”

Tears immediately began to pool in the corners of Moon’s eyes as panic set in. “The... the Whispering Spell…” She slammed her fists down on the railing in front of her, as if it was going to give her some kind of ability to stop this from happening. But she knew just as well as Star did that what had been set in motion could not be interrupted. “No! Star! You... you get away! You run away from there!”

Star’s voice was quiet, but firm. “It's too late, Mom.”

Marco moved forward to stand beside Moon, his hands gripping onto the stone railing in an effort to ground himself. “She’s… why isn’t she running? Why is she just…”

Something must have clicked in Yvgeny’s mind, because he suddenly blurted out, “What?!” and took several quick steps backwards, away from the impending destruction. “Why she use that spell again?!”

Moon was too overwhelmed with horror to wonder how or why either of them would know what the spell was capable of. She was frozen to the spot, her mind, heart and body all at war with each other. She wanted to rush over there and do something, but what could she even hope to do?

Ludo said something to Star excitedly, but Moon was unable to hear him over the wind. The two of them exchanged some words. Star’s gaze never strayed from the wand, her lips pressing together into a thin, contemplative line.

“No!” Moon screamed as the spell began its work. A fiercely bright pillar of green magic shot out of the wand and into the sky, crackling and snapping viciously. There was a sickening moment of silence as the wand imploded before an explosion shook the castle, taking down the entire tower with it. The three of them could only watch in horror as it fell apart and collapsed into a spray of dust and debris.

“N-no, no no no NO!” Moon’s shoulders began to tremble violently, out of fear for her daughter’s life. “Buff Frog, we have to go now!”

Yvgeny, despite his dread, grunted in acknowledgement and scooped both her and Marco up in his arms, jumping down to the crater below. Moon tore through the rubble recklessly, overturning chunks of rock and sheets of stone. A wave of anger washed over her as she found an unconscious Ludo, however irrational those feelings might have been. Now that she knew Toffee was involved in this mess somehow—she should have known better than to assume that he’d finally left her and her family alone—it was impossible to place blame in this situation.

She never should have left Ludo alone once she found out he had the other half of the wand. If she had acted sooner, there was the chance that she could have prevented all of this. She felt so lost without the High Commission on her side, but she knew there was nothing she could do about it in the given moment. Her daughter was her one and only priority right now.

“Where's Star?” Moon barked out, picking up the small monster by his shoulders and shaking him. His eyes opened, but they were glassy and difficult to read. Was that the faintest tinge of pink light she could see in them? “Where is my daughter?!”

How peculiar it was, that it wasn’t Ludo’s voice she heard when he responded. No, it was far more familiar than that. “Mom! Mom, Mom! I'm in here!”

“Star? Is that you?” She wasn’t exactly sure how Star had ended up inside of Ludo’s consciousness—was the inside of the wand and his mind connected somehow?—but the fact of the matter was that she was okay, and that was all that Moon could hope for.

“Yes, yes, it's me!” The relief was prominent in her daughter’s voice, as if she had shared the same fears as her mother.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Moon hugged the kappa tightly. She understood that her daughter might not even be able to recognize the gesture, but she made the effort nonetheless. Behind her, she heard both Marco and Yvgeny let out sighs of relief. They came up on either side of her and looked over Ludo curiously, equally surprised and puzzled by this new development.

“This is very strange…” Yvgeny commented. As comforting as it was to know that Star was still here, it didn’t make it any less disorienting to hear her voice coming out of Ludo.

Marco leaned forwards to better center himself in Ludo’s field of vision. “C-can you see us?”

“Yeah, Marco, I can! Y-you guys didn’t get hurt, did you? You’re all okay?”

“I assure you, we’re fine,” Moon answered for them. “Are you? Where are you?”

Her daughter’s voice was shaky and uncertain. “Well, I-I'm totally fine, but, uh... I don't exactly know where I am.”

“That's okay, sweetie,” Moon assured, hoping that her words could comfort her in some way. “The important thing is that you're safe. Just stay right there. And no matter what, we will find you!”

“Mom? M—yeah, c—“ Her voice was beginning to break up, to Moon’s dismay. “Can y—re—t-tha—“ Ludo’s eyes closed as her voice faded away.

Just as quickly as the brief period of relief had appeared, it was gone, leaving her unnerved and frightened. _No no no, come back to me! Please! _“Star? Are you still there?" She shook Ludo again, a bit more aggressively than she intended, hoping to somehow reconnect to her daughter.

Ludo’s eyes opened again, but this time, the light behind them was a sickly, ominous green. The voice that came out of him was not her daughter’s. Yet it was somehow just as familiar, eerily so.

“Hello, Moon.”

It didn’t feel like her blood could run any colder than it already had. Her fight or flight reflexes desperately wanted to kick in, but she felt rooted to the spot, face to face with the one she recognized as her worst possible enemy. “Toffee…”

Ludo’s body floated out of her hands and up into the air, where he hovered in place, smiling a wide, toothy grin that didn’t quite seem to match what she knew about Ludo’s personality. The emptiness of his eyes made it all that much more unsettling.

All three of them were on their feet in an instant. Neither Marco nor Yvgeny moved into attack stances right away, but they were clearly put on edge by the confirmation of who this was in front of them. Marco looked completely taken aback, as if he thought this was impossible. His mouth was agape, but not so much as a word escaped him. Yvgeny’s eyes were anxiously darting between Ludo’s hovering body and their surroundings like he was expecting more bad memories of the past to jump out of hiding and ambush them. Despite his attempts to appear threatening, he was very clearly incredibly tense.

Moon shook her head quickly, clearing her thoughts. Why Toffee was here did not matter, not right now. She took a commanding step forwards and clenched her fists at her sides. “Give us back Star.”

“Oh, of course,” Toffee chuckled. “But I'd like something from you first. Something that belongs to me.” He outstretched his hand, still bearing the blackened half of the wand in his palm. The missing finger was easily recognizable.

His finger, she remembered. He had mentioned it before, when the rest of the Magic High Commission had been incapacitated. She had found it amid all the rubbish shoved into Star’s closet and had kept it on her since, fearful that Toffee would find it himself. But now, what was she to do? Her sense of reason told her that giving in to his demands was a very poor choice, but did she really have any other options? Her child was now trapped inside the same plane as that monster, that villain. Star needed to be rescued immediately. There was no doubt that her daughter was a fighter, and she was likely already trying to find her own way of escaping. But if Toffee had been inside the wand, after all this time, and had never found a way to escape—

Moon stopped herself from debating it further, reluctantly reaching to remove the small jar from her belt and hold it out towards him. The finger sat inside.

“Your Majesty,” Toffee said, as he floated down closer to her. His hand outstretched further, silently asking for her to follow through with his demands. “Do we have a deal?”

“Take it.”

She tipped the jar upside down and dumped the finger out of it, placing it in his hand before she could convince herself otherwise. The smirk on Ludo’s face widened as he closed his hand around it. The finger immediately began to reattach itself to the severed stump it was once a part of, until it was whole once more.

The light in Ludo’s eyes flickered out, leaving them pitch black. He looked as if his life force had been taken out of his own body, similar to the fate of the High Commission. He hung limply in the air.

Moon wanted to cry out for her daughter again—perhaps she could finally hear her, now—but Ludo’s right arm sharply extended, prompting her to stay silent. The newly reformed finger had yet to stop expanding, as unnatural gray ooze slowly spread from his hand and up his arm, overtaking Ludo’s entire body in a horrific display. The dark sludge took on the shape of a skeleton as it continued to grow. Skin stretched over its form, followed by a jet black suit. As the figure’s shape began to finalize into lizard-like features, his eyes were the last thing to roll into place, and he lightly floated back down to the ground without saying so much as a word. Toffee’s eyes were widened, his gaze settling on the empty space in front of him.

Before anyone was able to even react, he bent forwards and vomited out some of the sickly dark ooze that had reconstructed his body, as well as Ludo himself, who landed in a mostly unconscious heap on the ground. Toffee blinked a few times, shocked silent, before returning to stand upright and examine his hand. It looked as if his finger had never been absent in the first place. His eyes were stretched wide in disbelief.

“Where is my daughter?” Moon demanded, taking a slight step towards him.

“Yeah, where’s Star?!” Marco chimed in from behind her, finally breaking his silence. He chose to adopt a karate stance, lowering himself to the ground with partially bent knees.

Toffee turned his hand out to face them, where the fragment of the wand still resided. Without warning, he clamped his hand shut, crushing the blackened, brittle stone in his palm. It crumbled to dust and he allowed the broken remains to fall to the ground.

“She’s gone,” he said plainly, before he turned and began to walk away.

Everything around Moon in that very moment felt as if it ceased to exist. He had to be lying. There was no possible way that he was telling the truth—she refused to give it the consideration. Admitting that would mean that her daughter was gone, and she wasn’t going to let that be a possibility. No, not at all. She wasn’t in the wand, no, she was somewhere else, safe and happy, somewhere where nothing bad could happen to her.

Her eyes were tearing up...why were they tearing up? Nothing was wrong. No, she hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of her life. Toffee hadn’t won. He hadn’t succeeded in this revenge scheme of his. He hadn’t taken away her baby girl. She was going to prove it. She had to prove that he had failed, and then maybe, just maybe, she could have the last laugh...

Her feet set in motion before her mind could even register it, carrying her towards the septarian. She stepped faster and faster, until she was running, and a emotionally-driven scream tore out of her as she clenched her fists and lunged at him.

Toffee had whirled around to face her the moment she threw her first punch. He pushed her hand away from him before it could collide with his chest. Again and again, she threw her fists at him, and he continued to block her attacks until he caught each of her fists in his own hands. Moon struggled free of his grip and instead pulled Star’s half of the wand off of her belt, placing it directly over the monster’s chest as she repeated the words of the very spell she had used on him in the first place. Despite it being in her own hands, the wand’s shape never changed.

“I call the darkness onto me from deepest depths of earth and sea! From ancient evils unawoken, break the one who can't be broken! From blackest night I pledge my soul, and crush my heart to burning coal! To summon forth the deadly power; to see my hated foe devoured!” Her words were bathed in desperation, but the spell did nothing at all.

Toffee narrowed his eyes at her impatiently. “Are you finished?”

He flinched slightly as a punch was thrown into his back and turned his head to glare at the one who had inflicted it. Marco stood there with his fists held up, clenched knuckles turning white with anger. Tears were pooling in his eyes. Toffee grumbled something under his breath and turned to grab him by the arm, haphazardly throwing him at a nearby pile of rubble. The boy landed in a painful heap, and Yvgeny immediately rushed over to him.

Moon snapped out of her stupor as Toffee took hold of her shoulders, shoving her into the ground. He dusted his hands off on his suit jacket and spared one last unreadable glance at her before walking away. Ludo stopped him before he could leave, but her mind had tuned him out. Her thoughts spiraled downwards as fast as her tears were falling down her face, and she tried desperately to think of something else that could be done.

She scrambled over to the pile of broken pieces scattered across the ground, scooping up a small handful. Yes, that was it! She could put the wand back together again. Then everything would be alright—it had to be alright.

The ground scuffled in front of her, signaling that someone was approaching. But she hardly even heard it.

“Come on, come on. Why won't you fit? Come on.”

A shadow appeared on the ground over her. “Queen?” She looked up and met Marco’s gaze. His sadness was apparent on his face.

“M-Maybe if I-I put the wand back together, it'll… it'll bring her back.” Her voice was trembling as badly as her frail hands were. “But this piece won't fit.”

Marco leaned down on one knee and silently looked over the wand, before picking out a piece and offering it to her. “Here. Try this one.”

“Th-thank you,” she murmured, carefully taking it from him and glancing over it first, and then the pile of shards just in front of her. “There’s just so many pieces, I-I don’t even know where to start…”

She heard light footsteps cautiously draw near, and she knew there was only person around that was small enough to fit that description. Her gaze snapped up to connect with Ludo’s, startling him with how piercing it was.

“I-I’m sorry!” he stammered out immediately, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

She didn’t care how apologetic he sounded. There was no excusing what his actions had ultimately led to, in her eyes. “This is your fault. It’s all because you were stupid enough to fall for his tricks!" He flinched under her accusation, frightened. She recognized the hypocrisy in her own statement—she had just given Toffee the power to escape the wand, hadn’t she?—but the torrent of emotions running through her mind convinced her that she was justified in blaming him. It felt like the only thing she was still able to do.

“I’m so sorry,” Ludo murmured. “I… I don’t know what else to say. I don’t know anything anymore!” He conveyed his frustration and equally afflicted emotions with a wave of his arms. “I never meant for this to happen! I don’t even know what is my fault, a-and what is his…he’s used me, too, I hope you realize…”

“And that’s supposed to give you a pass?” Moon pushed herself off the ground, standing tall over the comparably tiny monster. “Did you really think that no one was going to get hurt? You took over an entire kingdom by brute force and threatened every person standing in your way!”

Ludo made no attempt to deny any of the accusations being thrown at him. He hung his head shamefully and couldn’t bear to maintain eye contact with the queen. “I wanted to be something more, someone who would be revered by the masses for his awe-inspiring greatness. My wand, it spoke to me, yes! It told me that I would be loved as the new King of Mewni. I thought that I could make things better! But the people of Mewni, they despised me… and even worse, it turns out, I haven’t accomplished anything on my own! I thought Toffee was dead, but he was here all along, manipulating me every step of the way!”

“What’s done is done, Ludo. You cannot deny responsibility for your crimes!”

“I’m not trying to!” He retorted, his temper growing equally short. “I’m trying to apologize!”

Moon, not able to stand looking at him any longer, turned herself away from him. “Just get out! Go away!”

“I know that we fought all the time, but I truly never wanted Star to get hurt! Not like this! I just wanted—“

“Get out of my sight!” She screamed, clutching her hands over her head. “L-let me concentrate, please...”

Ignoring him, she studied the wand pieces through her teary eyes, trying to think of what other options she had. She couldn’t think clearly with that insurgent monster pestering her, but even once he gave up and backed away, there was still no way she was going to be able to put all of the pieces back together. Her mind knew this, but her heartache refused to let up. She fell to her knees in front of the broken relic in an admission of desperation.

“I, I need to start over.” She dumped the fragmented half of the wand back into a pile and flattened out the crumbling pieces so she could more easily see them individually. “I have to...”

“Queen Moon.” Yvgeny’s voice was firm, but cautious. “I do not think that is going to work.”

“It’s going to work,” she insisted. “It will work, you’ll see. I’ll prove you all wrong.”

“She might be right,” Marco offered, only to immediately be shut down by Yvgeny.

“No! Do not encourage her.”

“It’s going to work!” _I’ll show you all, _she told herself. I’ll prove it. For Star’s sake.

“Please, you are only hurting yourself by doing this.” Yvgeny kneeled down and managed to pry the wand out of her hands—granted, her grip on it had been shaky.

“What are you—no! Give it back!” She was on her feet in an instant, repeatedly trying to steal it back. He held it well above her head, just out of her reach.

“Queen—“

“Give it back! Give it back, now!” She started beating her fists against his arm weakly, desperately. When the wand still had not returned to her hands, she collapsed into heavy, miserable sobs. Yvgeny frowned sorrowfully at the poor queen, holding onto her shoulder to prevent her from toppling over where she stood.

When the tears had finally run its course, her shoulders dropped in resignation. Her pleading, watery gaze connected with the frog monster. “What am I supposed to do?”

“You should take rest, come back with clear head. Then maybe you will find answer.”

She sniffled and nodded slowly.

“If there is one thing I know about Toffee, is that he is liar. He get inside your mind, make you think all the wrong things.” He turned and looked in the direction that Toffee had left, glaring with contempt. “What he know about magic, anyway?”

Moon’s eyes followed. The septarian had since disappeared, leaving no trace or hint of where he might have gone.

A commotion of royal guards and a few curious passerby had begun to gather around the edge of the crater. Upon seeing the state of the queen, the guards jumped down so that they could escort all of them up to safety.

“Your majesty! Are you alright?” the guard captain asked, skidding to a halt in front of her. “That was quite the explosion…”

Moon hurriedly scooped the wand fragments up from off of the ground, depositing them in the same jar that had previously held Toffee’s finger. Only after she was sure she had all of the pieces did she respond to the guard. “Y-yes, I’m fine, I wasn’t hurt…”

The guard noticed that she had been crying almost immediately. Her reddened and puffy eyes were a dead giveaway, and she likely was showing her grief very clearly. The captain was about to start speaking again, but Moon caught something in the corner of her vision that was more of a pressing matter. A few of the other guards that had jumped down into the crater were now attempting to handcuff both Ludo and Yvgeny—it seemed like they were having difficulty finding handcuffs of the right sizes for either of them, however.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Moon demanded, projecting her voice as clearly as she could manage through her emotional turmoil.

The guards shared glances with each other. It took a couple of moments before one of them dared to speak. “Um… arresting these monsters, your majesty?”

“He helped me,” she said, pointing at Yvgeny. “Where exactly do you think you are taking him?”

“Well, we were going to imprison both of them until further notice, just to be safe.”

“No, you will not. Not him. Buff Frog has not done anything wrong.”

“But, your majesty, he’s a—“

“No. That is an order.”

“If you insist, your majesty.” The closest guard removed the cuffs he had been attempting to lock on his wrists, sparing a judgmental glance at him. Yvgeny took the high road and ignored him entirely. As the guards turned their attention back to Ludo, he crossed the clearing to stand in front of Moon.

“T-thank you, Queen.” The monster quickly bowed his head in gratitude. “I am terribly sorry about Star… if there is anything I can do to help, please let me know.”

“You have your own family to take care of,” Moon responded curtly, her tone coming off as cold. She realized this and tried to backpedal. “…so you don’t need to worry about me and my problems. I’ll be okay.”

He seemed to understand what she meant. He nodded his goodbye and, with one last “thank you” and a solemn look at all of the saddened faces around him, he left the scene and returned to the forest.

“What about him, your majesty?” the guard captain asked, motioning to Ludo. The kappa had already been handcuffed and the guards were waiting for further direction from the queen.

Moon addressed him directly, which seemed to startle him again. “Ludo, you have committed many crimes against my kingdom. I can’t simply forgive that.”

Guiltily, he dipped his head. “I understand.”

That was good enough for the guards, who were quick to escort him away as a prisoner. As they began to climb out of the crater, the captain noticed that Moon hadn’t moved from where she stood. She was staring at the ground silently.

“My Queen? Are you sure that you are alright?”

Quickly, Moon assessed her priorities. “Issue a dimension-wide arrest warrant for Toffee of Septarsis immediately. Make it of the highest importance, have him brought back alive.”

“B-but your majesty, is that not to be the decision of the entire Magical High Commission? Do you have the authority to make such a—“

“I am the only one left.” Her voice dropped to a low, serious tone. “I am making this decision on their behalf.”

“Wh— do you mean to tell me that the High Commission is dead?!”

“No, they’re not dead! No one has died!” Part of her knew her denial was more personally motivated than she’d like to admit. Exhaling loudly, she attempted to calm herself. “Just… please, please… do as I ask.”

The captain, despite her frown, raised her hand to her head in a salute. “O-of course. Right away, your majesty. My apologizes.”

“Find him,” Moon ordered, clenching her fists. “We have to find him.”

[thewalkingfanfictions]

Teddy Bears and Memories -- Sam Winchester x Male!Reader

Teddy Bears and Memories — Sam Winchester x Male!reader

Description: (name) and his little sister are partnering with the Winchester brothers on a case. Everything's fine and dandy, they've already killed the creature and are hanging out at the motel for the night, when Maddie ((names) sister) decides to pull a prank on her brother, resulting in aggressive flashbacks, intense PTSD and a moose ready to comfort a crying friend.

⚠Warning⚠: IF YOU GET TRIGGERED EASILY, DO NOT READ THIS. This deals with descriptions of rape, (though I tried to keep it vague) PTSD, flashbacks, and a kinda sorta mental breakdown. Cursing, grammar errors, and also quite a lot of negative and toxic thoughts.

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Pairing: Sam Winchester x sexually abused!male!reader

A/N: this is... kinda awful. Like, it made me cold reading this. Seriously don't read it if you get triggered easily. Also, the first, like, quarter, I wrote in a huge hurry, so ignore how trash it is. And its kinda writen shitily, but whatever.

Words without A/N: 4382

Masterlist

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"You gotta watch this," it was my sister. I would recognize her voice anywhere, even though she was whispering and clearly trying to keep me from hearing her. "He's terrified of them, its hilarious."

I wonder who she's dragging with her this time.

Deciding to let her continue to think she was sneaking up on me, I kept quiet and never moved my eyes from the lore book that I'd been studying for the past half hour. Though the case was over now, I still figured it would be a good idea to learn as much as I could about the Leeds' Devil, that way I'd know how to deal with it if we ever ran into another.

I could hear her creeping up on me, thinking I still didn't know she was there. There was another pair of footsteps with her. One of the brothers, no doubt.

It was quiet for just half a second, and I figured she'd be popping up in just a moment to try and jump scare me or something. You know, typical younger sibling style.

"He's terrified of them, its hilarious."

Wait.

Wait.

There was a quiet, girlish giggle, and I'm sure my eyes grew double their size as I figured out exactly what she was doing.

I flung my head to the side to see if she was going to do the thing I thought she was going to do (and desperately hoped she wasn't going to do), and immediately choked on air.

Tiny, beady eyes set high on soft brown fur. Little, round ears on top of a fluffy head.

No.

Rancid, green breath, so-brown-they're-almost-black eyes, sticky fingers touching places they should never be allowed to touch. Bookshelves full of teddy bears looking down on me with empty eyes and sown-on smiles.

I felt my entire body seize up, and before I could make myself come back down to earth, I was hurling the book in my hands at the furry little demon-bear in my little sisters hands and rolling off of the bed and to the floor. Flight-or-fight reflexes kicking in, I shoved myself back to my feet and fled towards the doorway. Away from the sound of heavy breathing and old-people BO that suddenly overwhelmed me.

And then it was in front of me, too.

Maddie, with that little ball of fluff and nightmare fuel in her hands, had darted ahead of me, between me and the only exit from the hotel room.

No.

Callased, rough hands, man-handeling me and shoving me onto my knees. Cold cuffs digging into my small wrists. Boiling breath ghosting over my too-cold skin. Hundreds of eyes staring at me from the shelves around us, none willing to help.

Fucking no.

Fighting past the urge to break into tears, I swatted the thing away from me, and (maybe a little too harshly) shoved my sister out of the way of the door.

"(Name)?" She called, like she didn't know what she was doing to me.

I locked eyes with someone for half a second, Sam, I think before I was out the door and down the sidewalk, towards my (favorite color) Chevrolet.

I heard Maddie call out for me one more time before the car door slammed closed, and I was taking off parallel to the sunset.

Before I even left the parking lot, I clicked on the radio and turned it up to its max volume. If I couldn't hear myself think, then I couldn't see the little black, beetly-like eyes boring into me as my youth died.

I don't exactly know how long I was driving, but somehow I found myself parked at a view point above the town, and the sky was now completely black, not even a hint of the sunset that had shined what felt like just a moment ago.

There were no lights to pollute the darkness of the sky, and the stars shown more brightly than I'd seen in a very long time. Shutting off the Chevrolet's engine, I pulled myself out of the door, and drug my body atop it's hood to look up at the sky. It's amazing how little I'd payed attention to how gorgeous the stars could be before now.

I settled back into the windshield and exhaled, forcing myself not to think for once. It only felt like moments, but it had to have been at least an hour I had sat there, and my arms were beginning to grow goosebumps from the cold. Wrapping them around me, I continued to study the sky; I didn't want to have to go back to the real world just yet.

Emotions were hard. They're difficult to understand, and even more difficult to explain. But something I had realized, I'm not entirely sure when, was that you can suffer from more than one emotion at a time, and that made life so, so much worse. Because, right now, I felt incredibly heavy. I was mourning the death of an innocence I never had the chance to get to know, and I felt completely devastated. Wrecked to my very core. But, underneath all of that, some stupid, small bubble of something resembling happiness, a feeling that had absolutely no right to be present now, grew just under my ribcage, and weaseled its way passed the smog of memories as the gravel behind me shifted with the wheels of a car, and the purring of the Impala's engine broke the relative quiet of the night.

I doubted it was Dean, he's never been very good at emotions, and it was definitely not my sibling, she knew to leave me alone when I needed quiet. That left Sam, and the thought of seeing the ridiculously tall man made my insides flutter cliché-ly.

I closed my eyes and followed the sound of the drivers side door opening, his feet planting on the pine needle-layden gravel. The soft close of the door, his steps growing, ever, nearer. Soon enough he was right by the drivers side of my car, and I could feel his eyes boring into the side of my face. I knew he had questions, but I just wasn't ready to tell.

"(Name)?" His voice was quiet, gentle. Barely a whisper. Like if he spoke to loudly he might shatter me like glass.

"Hey, you okay?" His steps were now right beside me, I could almost feel the warmth fluttering off of him.

'Not even a little.'

I nodded in response, not really trusting my voice to work without breaking. Finally opening my eyes, I refused to look over at him, instead opting to stare up at Ursa and her cub.

"Your sister," he started. Here we go. "She's worried about you. When you didn't pick up your cell, she was afraid something'd happened to you."

"Something did," I wanted to say. I wanted to scream, rant, and sob. But, of course, "I'm fine" was what passed my lips instead. The words sounded fake, even to my own ears.

I heard him sigh as he leaned closer, settling his hip against the hood of the car and staring down at me. I clenched my eyes closed; this is usually right around the time that someone would start asking questions with answers I didn't want to think about, or comment something snide about my stupid, irrational fear.

That bubble of happiness at his being there shrank.

"What do you want?" I asked, barely loud enough to be heard. I didn't care if I sounded rude.

It was silent for a second, like he was debating his answer, or just didn't have one.

"I," he paused, "I guess I just want to help you," his tone matched mine. "I saw the look in your eyes, (name), I know whatever it is, it's more than just a fear. I want to help you."

I was actually, truly speechless for once. He sounded so sincere, it was more than even my sister had expressed. Not that she'd ever actually shown any concern, she just thought it was funny that her big bro was terrified of teddy bears.

I couldn't tell him, of course, he'd just think me even weaker than he probably already assumed after seeing me have a meltdown over a fucking stuffed carnival toy. I shook my head.

"I'm fine."

"(Name)," he trailed off, his voice somehow even softer than it was before.

I wanted to tell him. I wanted to scream it at the top of my lungs just to get it off of my chest. It's a secret I've held since I was barely fourteen. Nobody knew, and I needed it to stay that way, but desperately wanted the pressure to come off of my chest. I don't know how much longer I can keep my silence.

I trusted him, that was never a problem. I trusted him with my life, and I knew he'd never hurt me with the knowledge, but it was still a huge risk. What if Maddie ever found out? I'd be devastated. She didn't need to know how pathetic her big brother was.

I felt words bubble up in my throat without my consent, spilling from my lips like molten rock.

"If," I started, clearing my throat to hide the break in my voice, "if I, uh, if I were to tell you somethin', would you promise me that you'll never tell another soul?" I sounded nothing like myself, even to me. "You can't...my sister can't ever know. She's-she's-she... she wouldn't understand." My voice was barely above a whisper, and cracked on every other note.

"Of-of course!" Sam said earnestly, moving to sit atop the hood beside me. I could see his hand move to grasp my shoulder, but pulled back at the last minute, afraid to touch me lest I break. I didn't blame him.

"Promise?"

I turned my head to look at him and wrapped my arms tighter around my body; whether it was to ward off the cold, or the oncoming pain, I didn't even know.

"Of course, (name), I wouldn't tell anybody, I promise."

Only after searching his eyes for his honesty did I let myself relax some. I trusted that he'd keep his word.

He looked slightly uncomfortable with the way his lanky frame was leant over the edge of the cars hood, like he was stuck on the fence between moving to comfort me and giving me my space. I sarcastically rolled my eyes, scooting over enough for him to climb on more comfortably. He warily pushed himself further up, then lay on his back to look up at the stars like I was. I finally turned my gaze away from him and focused back on the night sky.

They really were pretty out here.

"When I was," I gulped and paused. Not even the person I trusted the most in this world knew; I still can't grasp why I'm about to do what I'm about to do. Maybe it was the bubbling in my gut that told me that he'd understand, maybe I was just weak, maybe I just didn't want to be the only one with this secret anymore.

I made myself start again.

"When I was about fourteen, I was on a hunt with my father. There had been multiple disappearances of children around this one little area in Minnesota, and we had gone to check it out. It was terrible. The youngest kid was nine, and the oldest was fifteen and they'd all disappeared without a trace. No signs of struggle, no witnesses, nothing. Just, poof," I moved my hands to mimic an explosion, for some reason, "and they were gone.

"The local authorities believed it was a person kidnapping them, dad thought it was something else, understandably. Most of the evidence pointed towards something less-than normal. For once, the popo's were right." I laughed ruefully at myself, biting my tongue to keep the whimper that threatened to fight its way up my throat from escaping.

"I don't know how it happened," I cleared my throat and continued. "I don't remember getting split up from dad, I don't remember hi-him grabbing me, I don't even remember the drive there, but when I woke up, I," I choked, pulling my arms closer around me and trying in vain to hold back the burning in my eyes.

"I, uhm, I was," I tried again, with no more luck than before. Strong arms hesitantly wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me into a warm side and gently petting my hair. I cleared my throat again.

"I was completely naked, tie-tied to a bench in a room with shelves from floor to ceiling completely," I choked on my words again, turning to bury myself into Sam's chest. I could still see the room if I closed my eyes. "entirely covered in, in, in, those things. Teddy bears. Their beady little black eyes looking down at me as I struggled against the ropes. I was so-so helpless, I couldn't move, or scream, or-or-or–" he pulled me tighter into him, his hand playing in the strands of my hair. I sucked in a deep breath and held it for a second before letting it out, trying to calm myself.

Why couldn't I just stop talking? He didn't want to hear any of this. I'm just annoying him, he'd rather be back at the warm motel with a book and slightly more mentally stable people. And yet I keep going.

"He... he raped me, Sammy, he fucking raped me and all of those teddy bears sat there with their beady little black eyes staring at me." I felt him tense against me, somehow pulling me even closer still. A small, ragged gasp came from the man. "Nobody found me for three days. He had raped and beaten and-and-and hurt me for three fucking days before he tried to take me out to kill me and dump my body, and dad found us. Three fu-fucking days," I was all but sobbing at this point, clinging on to him as I saw the walls covered in children's toys closing in on me. If I let my mind wander, I could still feel his hands groping me. I felt so small.

"(Name)," Sam shuddered against me, gently petting my shoulder as he held my quaking body. "(Name), I had no idea, I'm so–"

"Don't say you're sorry. Please don't say you're sorry. It's not like its somehow your fault. It sounds like pity, and I don't want your pity," I ground out into his warm chest, not letting go of him.

I didn't need anyone's pity, and I sure as hell didn't want anyone's pity. I felt him nod his head above me, before his long body turned on the hood of the car, and he pulled me tightly into his chest as the rest of him curled around my shaking frame.

I couldn't quite tell if the pressure in my chest was good or not.

I'm not sure how long we sat like that, cuddled on the hood of my car, but eventually, once my sobs subsided and I was brought back into the real world for a minute, I came to realize quite how cold it had gotten. It was still only March, and the nights were still cold, and the goosebumps told me I needed to get inside and get warm, but my mind wanted to stay there for just a bit longer. I didn't want to have to let go of the warmth and comfort that billowed off of Sam like hot air, and I don't think I could have forced myself to let go even if I wanted to. So, in all reality, it shouldn't have come as so much of a surprise when I felt my sleep-heavy body being picked up off of the cold metal of my Chevy.

"Sam?" My voice was low and hoarse from spending so long choked full of emotion, and I felt a little jolt of embarrassment run over my body.

Looking up, I could see it was him, but he didn't say a word, simply shooting a soft smile at me before looking back up to watch where he was walking. Not having the energy to try and determine what was going on, I buried my face in his chest and let my body relax farther in his grip. It was only when I felt him open a door that I looked up. Gently setting me in the passenger seat of his brothers Impala, he threw his coat over me before smiling again. Reaching out hesitantly, he ran the tips of his fingers over the side of my face, an action which I immediately found myself leaning into. His brows squinted tightly like he was thinking hard about something. Without even thinking about it, I reached out and smoothed the wrinkles between his brows with the pad of my thumb.

Locking eyes, I finally took notice to just how gorgeous his iris' were. Green and brown and hazel and gold swirling together like liquid fire. Said eyes darted away suddenly, and I somehow knew he was looking at my lips. Mine darted down to his for a moment as well.

I wanted that. Gol, I wanted that.

He leaned forward slightly, and I actually thought he would go for it. He drug his bottom lip between his teeth in debate before moving his eyes to focus somewhere behind my head and stood back up.

Fucking really?

Smiling down at me again, this time making it look almost sad, he tucked the jacket he had previously thrown over my body around me tighter. As he stood and moved himself around to the other side of the car to get in, my gaze tracked him all the way.

He didn't look at me as he started the car and shifted into gear, and the profile of his face held worry. Had I done something wrong somehow? He probably thinks you're weak for what you told him.

As he pulled away from the view point, I watched the back end of my car get farther and farther away.

"My car..." I whispered pitifully, I didn't want to leave it. I didn't actually think Sam had heard me, but evidently, he did.

"I'll pick it up tomorrow. It'll be safe 'till then."

And then he went quiet again. How did I manage to fuck this up, too?

Biting my lip, I curled in on myself, cuddled Sam's jacket to my chest, and let the purr of the engine lul me to sleep.

This time when I woke up in his arms, I made a point of keeping my eyes closed and my breathing steady. We were through the doors before I realized where we were.

The hotel smelled just the same as it had before. Beer nuts, sex, and mothballs. It certainly didn't help the painful rolling in my stomach.

I'd managed to ruin this relationship, too. How was I so good at that? I shouldn't have told him, he didn't need to hear, didn't want to hear. Now he thinks I'm some pathetic little wimp who couldn't so much as protect himself from a human. You fuck everything up, (name).

Somewhere in the back of my self-piteous mind, I was vaguely aware of someone speaking.

The more I tuned in, the more I wished I hadn't.

"—uck happened!? Is he okay?! What'd you do!" Came the accusational voice of my little sister.

Of course she'd have to see you like this. Pathetic. Now she'll surely think as badly of you as Sam does. What the fuck is wrong with you? Can you at least try not to break something for more than ten seconds?

"He's fine," rumbled Sam's voice from beneath my ear, "just tired. He fell asleep on the way here. Just– just leave him to himself for a bit, okay? He's had a rough night."

His tone was somber. His tone conveyed sadness and sadness meant pity and pity meant uncomfortable glances and tense silence and hesitant avoidance of touching. Of course you had to fuck up one of the only good things going for you. Good fucking job. Pathetic.

He was moving again (or maybe he'd never stopped in the first place) and I immediately felt the drop in temperature as he walked with me through the joint door to him and his brothers room. Dean must have been out somewhere, as I didn't hear his voice or feel his stare.

There was a bit more shuffling as he carried me to the bed, and I just don't understand how his arms aren't tired out yet. Soon, he's gently setting me down on the bed, and I'm so grateful that I'd managed to keep myself passing as asleep, because I don't know if I could handle the awkward not-conversation that was sure to follow.

I follow the sound of his feet leaving the room, and wait for the soft closing of the door before I let myself fall apart again. I put a hand over my mouth to muffle the sobs and curl into myself, wrapping one arm around my chest to try and hold off the pressure that's filling my ribcage.

Pathetic.

Weak.

Are you really crying right now?

You're such a pussy.

Why did you have to tell him that shit? 

Now he thinks you're even more of a quivering quim than he thought before.

You can't go a day without destroying at least one relationship, can you?

How sad.

I don't really know how long I sat there and cried pathetically into my fist, but at some point my sobs turned to cries, which morphed into sniffles, and eventually evened into silent, hot, tears.

I was almost fading off again when I heard the door open again.

The hunter side of me wanted to immediately reach for a gun, but the realistic side of me told me that it was just one of the Winchester's coming to grab something from the room, or maybe Sam coming to check on me. Hah. Funny. However, when I felt the bed dip beside me, I couldn't help but tense up and open my eyes.

They were on the other side of my body, my back was to them. I was just on the verge of flipping around and sucker punching whoever it was, when a sudden, soft heat draped over me. A blanket.

Somehow, I knew it was Sammy.

For few quiet moments, we sat in companionable silence. I could feel his eyes on me the entire time, though I couldn't quite tell if it was the judging glare that I expected or not. After a good couple of minutes, I felt the bed shift again as he stood up, and I thought I heard him mumble something under his breath as he did, but I couldn't quite make out his words.

I immediately missed his presence as he moved back towards the door.

Why had I said anything in the first place? He didn't care, he didn't need to care. He probably feels so uncomfortable now. I probably made him so uncomfortable hugging him like I did, crying into his shirt. He probably hates me.

As the door cracked open, I found myself sitting up suddenly, "I'm sorry," I blurted.

He paused in the doorway, and turned to look back at me. I immediately averted my gaze, instead choosing to stare at his boots as I wiped my face of any remaining tears.

"I'm sorry," this time it was softer, a bit more broken.

The door clicked closed, and he was walking back towards me. Seating himself at the edge of the mattress, close enough that I knew he was there, but far enough away that he wasn't making me uncomfortable, he reached out and gently held one of my hands in both of his large ones. I guess he probably expected me to look up at him at that point, but I couldn't make myself look him in the eye, knowing that I'd only see that godawful pity, or worse, he'd see the tears that still threatened my eyes.

It wasn't until his hands left mine, and traveled up to my face that I looked at him, and was met with an expression I definitely wasn't expecting. His eyes were so, so soft. His face not full of pity, as I'd expected, but instead, some gentle version of understanding. A caring, almost loving look came to him as he wiped away the tear that managed to escape, soothing the red tenderness that came from the last however-long of crying.

As if he knew what I had been thinking a few moments before, his face again morphed expressions. A small, sad smile pulled at his lips, and he shook his head softly, "you aren't that at all," I could almost hear him say, though his lips never parted for the words.

His eyes once again glanced down, and, once again, I imediately knew he was looking at my lips. He leaned forward slightly, as he had in the Impala, but this time, instead of pulling away, he chose to look further into my eyes, like he was seeking permission.

A small nod, a painfully slow movement, soft, warm lips pressed gently against mine.

I sighed contentedly and leaned farther into him. The kiss was but a close-lipped peck, really, but somehow it spoke more than I'm sure a full kiss would have.

After a moment, he pulled away, thumbs grazing slightly at my cheekbones, and I found that I couldn't bring myself to open my eyes once again, but this time, for an entirely different reason.

~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later, Dean Winchester walked into his and his brothers shared room, only to find said brother's long body curled up tightly beside (name)'s.

A quiet "finally" echoed through the air as the eldest brother turned back and left the room, deciding he could handle sleeping on the couch in the other room if it meant his brother could have at least one good night of rest.

                                                   *fin*

[amarits]

Jason tried to settle in the uncomfortable metal chair. Whoever had designed it had put what looked like cushions on the seat and backrest as if to give it the appearance of comfort, but the cushions didn’t seem to have any actual padding. They were just pockets of air that weren’t thick enough to protect from the hard aluminum underneath. He was never going to complain about taking the jet again. Sleeping in alleys was more comfortable than this.

He scowled down at the bookbag he’d hastily packed that morning. If he’d taken the jet, he wouldn’t be sitting around at all. Layovers weren’t necessary when you made the flight plans. If he’d taken the jet, Bruce or Alfred or even Dick would be with him instead of him being stuck replaying arguments in his head. But if he’d been in the position to take the jet, he wouldn’t be doing this in the first place. Probably wouldn’t be doing this.

Christ, he didn’t even know anymore. He buried his face in his arms, his knees pressed to his chest. It had been such a bad month. No, two months. It had been over two months since he’d told Bruce about Chirp and everything had gone to hell.

It wasn’t even fighting; it was this constant tension, a heaviness of guilt and blame and doubt that was making it hard to breathe. He’d gone back to Crime Alley to escape it for an hour, to try to remember who he was and how much he’d survived. To remind himself that he’d survive this too.

And then he’d run into a neighbor who’d saved a box of old stuff from their apartment. Some pictures, a few report cards, and a smudged birth certificate with the wrong name. He thought about the S at the beginning of his mom’s name, the only visible letter. Of the women in his father’s address book. Three potential mothers halfway across the world.

What was he doing? This was so stupid. None of his other parents had been that great. What made him think the one who’d never even bothered to be in his life in the first place would be any better?

He wondered if Bruce had noticed he was missing yet.

He looked out the wall of windows at a plane driving across the tarmac. From here, he couldn’t even tell he’d left the country. It looked like every tarmac at every airport across the world. He could still turn around and go home.

But this wasn’t Gotham; it was Zurich. By the time he could get home, everyone would know he’d been gone. There would be arguments, accusations, even more being grounded. If he was going to have to deal with all that anyway, he might as well let this play out first and see where it led.

His phone rang. Here we go, he thought. Time for the yelling.

It took him a few seconds to fish the phone out of his pocket, around his keys, the small address book he was keeping close, and the snacks he’d grabbed for the trip. He was so deep in debating whether or not he was going to answer Bruce and how he was going to answer if he did, that he almost accepted the call before he realized the Caller ID was blank. Not even a phone number. Fucking spammers.

He took a breath to slow his heart rate, and stared out at the plane pulling into their gate. He’d be on it soon, on his way to Israel. This was better. He shouldn’t answer when Bruce called anyway. After all, Bruce had the jet. He’d be able to intercept Jason and take him home before he even managed to reach his first potential mom.

The phone rang again. He glanced down at it, expecting it to be the same spammer. This time, the Caller ID said, “CHIRP” in all capital letters. Just that. Chirp.

He stared at it, not immediately understanding. Why would Chirp be calling him? Why would Chirp be calling Jason him? He wasn’t Robin right now. How did Chirp even have his number?

Of course Chirp had his number. Chirp could access anything digital. He was tracking them, watching them through the cameras. He…

...knew who they were.

It was obvious the moment he thought it. How could Chirp not know who they were? How could they hide their identities from someone who could see everything?

He hunched down in his chair, jacket collar rising around his ears, and answered with a deep, “Hello?”

“What are you doing?” the familiar, too young voice asked.

“Why is it any of your business?” he shot back.

The line went completely silent. He’d never really noticed on the comms how Chirp’s audio didn’t have any background noise, but the lack of ambient sounds was obvious on a phone. It sounded unnatural.

“I just wanted to make sure everything was okay,” Chirp said, tiptoeing through the words one hesitant syllable at a time. Jason used to think Chirp was practically an all-knowing entity, on par with Batman, but now he sounded so uncertain.

He scrubbed a hand down his face, opening his mouth to apologize. He shouldn’t take his anger out on Chirp. He was just…

His mouth snapped shut. No, you know what? He had the right to be mad. None of this would have happened if it weren’t for Chirp. Bruce would still trust him. The manor, which had started to feel like home, wouldn’t have become suffocating. He would still have his life. Maybe Chirp wasn’t the Copycat, but that didn’t make him Jason’s friend.

He almost hung up right then and there, but Chirp spoke, his voice slow and quiet, like he was trying to calm a snarling stray. It only made him angrier. He wasn’t an animal with irrational feelings that needed to be soothed.

“Is something wrong?” Chirp asked.

“Everything’s fine,” he spat. “Why? You gonna tell Batman on me? He doesn’t even like you.” The words tumbled out before he knew what he was saying.

He could hear the answering silence like a gasp. He shouldn’t have said that; he’d only done it to be mean. But it was true. Bruce had always been against Chirp.

“I’m not going to tell on you,” Chirp said, stumbling over the words. His voice reminded Jason of the scared kids he’d known on the streets, the ones he’d wanted to protect.

Manipulative, he thought. That’s why he sounds like a child.

Or he was a child. Jason didn’t know anymore. He trusted Chirp, but he didn’t trust Chirp, and it was all jumbled in his brain. He didn’t want to be taken advantage of. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. He just wanted Chirp to go away.

“Just, be careful, okay?” Chirp said, starting to ramble in the face of Jason’s silence. “Call me if you need back up.”

With what phone number? Jason thought. Chirp hadn’t even been reliably on the comms lately, and they were going to be half a day apart.

“Actually,” Chirp said, seeming to realize the same thing and laughing nervously to himself. “I’ll program something. Just, uh, say my name. I’ll set up an alert. If you say my name, I’ll know.”

Jesus. Like everything Chirp did, it was one minor chord away from being full-on horror movie, but he was pretty sure Chirp was just trying to help. Probably.

“Fine,” he said. “I’m going to go back to being by myself and not monitored, okay?”

Chirp was quiet long enough to make it clear that request was gonna be ignored, but he finally said, “Okay.”

Jason hung up instead of pushing it. He held the phone in his lap, knuckles white around the dark red case. A few feet away, the flight attendant started calling for passengers in five languages. It didn’t look like Bruce was going to call before his next flight. He should probably be relieved, but it just left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Chirp noticed he was gone before his… before the person who was supposed to be his dad did. Figured.

He turned the phone off as his group was called. In four hours, he’d be in Israel. Bruce would have another chance to yell at him then. If he cared enough to try.

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[dragonandtiger]

Dreaming To Reality: Oneiromancy Chapter Nineteen - 02

Daisuke sighed with relief at the sight of Ken being safe beside him before his heart went out to the other boy. No doubt the racket would be murder on a hangover. He just hoped Jin was right and Ken would burn through it soon with his ‘Chosen power’.

Ken rolled on to his back as he reached up to cover his face with both hands. “Debating... if the pain from ripping my ears off would be preferable to that sound piercing my brain…”

Such a ghastly image had Daisuke reaching to take Ken’s hands in his before he realized what he was doing. Red faced, he tried to play off his irrational moment of panic by pretending he didn’t just try to stop Ken from committing hyperbolic self-harm. “Hey,” he whispered as softly as he could. “Take it easy.”

Thankfully, Ken couldn’t see Daisuke’s reaction through his hands, saving the boy the embarrassment. He was initially startled to hear the goggle boy’s voice, but the aching in his head made it rather difficult for him to care at the moment - not to mention some guilty little part of him found Daisuke’s presence reassuring. “Yeah. Probably wouldn’t help, in hindsight.”

Daisuke forced out a small chuckle before he reluctantly drew his hands away from Ken’s. “I’m gonna turn on the light, okay? There’s some medicine here for you somewhere and it’s kinda hard finding them in the dark.”

“Medicine would be great,” Ken muttered. “Bright eye-burning light is a small price to pay for medicine.”

“Okay,” Daisuke whispered. “Just hang on and keep your eyes covered.” He waited for Ken’s quiet grunt of affirmation before he leaned over the nightstand and flicked on the light. He winced at the sudden brightness assaulting him and cringed in sympathy from the low groan Ken made, a sound that was echoed by Chibimon as the dragon Digimon began to rouse from his pillow nest. He hurriedly rubbed his eyes to correct his vision before getting out of bed to search for the supplies Jin bought for him the night before.

Ken let out a heavy sigh through his teeth. “I suppose this is punishment… for an exceptionally stupid moment.” He couldn’t even remember the last time he had gotten such a huge hangover, or if he had ever had a hangover before. But if they were anything like this, the boy genius would certainly have remembered them. He would certainly remember them now.

He doubted he would ever be able to even look at alcohol again, certainly not in the same way he had up until then.

Daisuke took the time to measure out the medicine according to the piece of paper with instructions Jin left for him before pulling out a sports drink from the mini fridge and placing everything on a serving tray. He nearly took the tray before thinking better of it, taking a moment more to wrench the bottle open and break the seal first. He made sure to stand between Ken and the lamp, blocking some of the harsh light from hitting the hungover boy directly as he held the tray out in front of him. “Okay, I got everything. Can you sit up?”