#not me almost being late with the last prompt to my own event lol

[sergeantsporks]

Dadrius Week 2023 Day 7: Safe

Darius didn’t stop flying even as the clinic doors approached at frightening speeds, he just sent an abomination ahead to hold the door open so that he could soar right through, finally skidding to a halt at the nurses’ desk.

“Help him,” he ordered.

The nurse jumped up, yelling back for assistance. “Cause of wounds?” he asked briskly, taking Hunter’s pulse.

“What?”

“What hurt him? We need to know in case it was something poisonous—”

“No. An Oracle spirit.”

“Okay. Understood.” The nurse pushed him towards a gurney that two healers had brought from further back in the clinic. “Thank you. We’ll take it from here.”

Darius trailed after the cart, but the nurse held up a hand, blocking him from following them further. “What’s your relation to the patient?”

“He lives with me.”

“I see. And are you his parent, legal guardian, or family member?”

“Not officially, but—”

“Then you cannot go with him past this point. Family only.”

“I—” Darius sputtered, gesturing to the doors. “I’m responsible for him. I brought him in, I take care of him, I—”

“If you’re not his legal guardian, then I cannot let you through,” the nurse said gently, “Please wait out here. If there are no complications, he will be able to come to you shortly.”

“Complications?” Darius echoed, his heart thumping wildly in his chest, “What complications?”

“Hopefully, none.” The nurse put a hand on his shoulder. “Please. Wait out in the lobby, sir.”

Darius paced the small space like a trapped slitherbeast, earning him nervous looks from a Hexside teen with a broken arm and a mother whose child had a potion bottle cork stuck up his nose. Ava hopped along next to him, bobbling her head.

“Complication?” Darius muttered, “What complications could there possibly be? It’s a clawing! He’s probably shrugged off a mauling before!”

Somehow, thinking about Hunter getting mauled in the past did not make him feel better.

 “Sit,” Ava ordered, “Scaring people.”

“That’s probably the blood,” Darius told her. His legs wobbled, and he sat down in a chair with a whump, staring at the bloodstains on his white gloves. “Titan.” He turned Hunter’s belt over and over in his hands. He’d stemmed the bleeding. He’d gotten Hunter to a clinic. He’d done everything he could—it was out of his hands.

Well. Not everything you could, a little voice whispered in the back of his head.

Why didn’t you protect him?

“Why would he do that?” Darius demanded, looking to Ava as if she could answer that, “Idiot! Jumping right in the way like that?! I could have taken it.”

You’re supposed to protect him from injury, remember? He scolded himself, What a fine job you’ve done these past couple of days.

Ava nudged the belt pouch, dislodging a crumpled piece of paper.

“What’s that?”

Darius smoothed out the paper. It might have been scrunched up, but a single, crisp fold along one edge told him it was supposed to be a card.

Happy Father’s Day, Darius.

Horrible, aching grief stabbed at Darius’ stomach, and he clutched the card tightly in his hands. Blood stained the white paper—Hunter’s blood, which, if he’d been paying more attention, wouldn’t be there.

Darius slowly opened the card, almost dreading reading more words. The inside bore even more red, nearly covering up the words.

Thank you for letting me live with you. –Hunter.

Ava nudged him with her head. “Okay?”

“No.” Darius put his head in his hands. Thanks for letting me live with you. It sounded so unemotional, nothing that he’d ever expect to see in a father’s day card, but coming from Hunter, it felt so painfully earnest. He could practically see the kid hunched over the card trying to think of the perfect message and eventually landing on a practical thank you.

A Father’s Day Card. No wonder Hunter had been so anxious about Father’s Day. And he’d… Darius groaned. He’d told Hunter not to worry about it and had lit off to see his own father, dragging Hunter along with him to go see his old family, rather than spending time with his new one. That had to have stung. If Hunter had been ready to take another step towards family, it must have felt like Darius was giving him a full push backwards. Even if it wasn’t what Darius had intended.

“I’m going to make this right,” Darius told Ava, “Once he’s come home, I’ll…”

Do what, exactly?

Did he even know how to start? With Ava, with Hunter—what was he supposed to do to gain their trust again?

A scream echoed from the back of the clinic, and Darius knew, from the way that it seemed to tear at his heart, that it was Hunter. He jumped up, storming towards the doors.

“What are they doing to hi—”

The same nurse from before barred his way. “I can’t let you—”

“Move.”

The nurse, to the credit of either his bravery or his stupidity, did not step aside. “Sir, you can’t.”

Behind him, Darius caught a glimpse of Hunter, sitting straight up on the gurney, his eyes glowing purple. “What is going on?” he growled, seizing the nurse’s collar, “What are you doing to him?!”

“It’s… a complication. We’ll sort it out, please wait outs—”

“I’m done waiting.” Darius pushed the nurse to the side, marching through the door.

Hunter vehemently swatted a healer away as they attempted to take a look at his side—which had been uncovered so that they could work. Blood still dripped from the wounds, but Hunter, completely blank-eyed, didn’t show any signs of slowing down. Another healer approached, this one drawing a golden circle Darius knew to be a sleeping spell, but Hunter uncannily twisted to dodge the spell, leaping off the gurney to tackle the healer with a roar.

That’s not Hunter.

Darius couldn’t say how he knew—the glowing purple eyes would usually be a good indicator, but Darius had given up understanding the extent of what Hunter could do the first time he’d warped into the kitchen for breakfast—but he knew, deep in his gut, that there was something else there instead of Hunter.

The nurse grabbed his arm again. “It is dangerous, and you are not authorized, the only people who should be with him right now are—”

“What’s happening to him?!”

“Happens sometimes with oracle fights,” the nurse said in a small voice, “If the caster isn’t practicing proper restraint, a particularly malicious spirit can sometimes… slip into a wound and take control of the victim.”

Not again.

Not after the Collector, after Belos. This couldn’t happen to Hunter again, it couldn’t have happened when Darius was around—he’d always told himself if he’d just been there those other times… but he had been there this time, and he hadn’t been able to stop Hunter from having all control ripped away from him again.

Well what did you expect?

You never managed it in the coven, either.

“Let me go,” he growled.

“Sir—”

“He will tear your healers apart,” Darius said in a low voice, “This isn’t some silly fight, this is a strong oracle spirit in the body of one of the best warriors on this floating corpse. He will destroy your healers if you do not let me go.”

As if to emphasize Darius’ point, Hunter threw a flawless right hook that sent a healer careening into the wall. The nurse hesitated, looking at Hunter, then back to Darius.

“Please,” Darius begged, “He is going to die.”

The nurse released his arm, and Darius rushed down the hallway. He caught Hunter’s fist as the boy attempted to deliver an uppercut straight to his chin. The oracle spirit hissed at him, snarling and snapping, but Darius just gently turned Hunter around, holding him against his own body and gripping his wrists crossed against his chest so that he couldn’t lash out. Hunter might very well be one of the better fighters on the Isles, but Darius was much bigger and at least matched, if not surpassed, his skill in hand-to-hand combat. Hunter stomped at Darius’ feet, but he couldn’t get the force necessary to do any real damage. At least the spirit didn’t seem capable of using Hunter’s flash-step ability.

“Hunter,” Darius said urgently, “If you can hear me in there, I need you to fight back.” He nodded to the healers, who approached the two of them cautiously. “These healers are going to help you.”

The spirit used Darius’ grip to haul itself up, planting his feet in a healer’s chest and kicking them backwards. All the while snarling at Darius. The other healer eyed Hunter warily, and came at him from the side where he couldn’t kick as easily.

“I know you’re hurting right now, and I’m sure you just want to rest,” Darius continued, “I know—” his voice cracked. “I know you’re probably scared and confused. But I’m right here. I’m right here, and I swear that nothing bad will happen to you.” Nothing else, anyway.

Hunter slowly stopped kicking, his whole body trembling in Darius’ grip. The spirit still growled at him, but it sounded more strained, like it was struggling to keep awake.

“That’s it.” Darius didn’t know if it was really Hunter fighting back, or if the wounds were finally taking a toll on the spirit, but he had to believe Hunter could hear him. “You’re going to be alright, Hunter. You’re safe with me, I promise. I promise.”

The healer held one hand in front of Hunter’s face. Their fist sparked with flame, and smoke drifted out from between their fingers—sleeping nettles, if Darius had to guess. He held his breath, and the spirit slowly, slowly went limp in his arms. Darius gently swept him up in his arms, bringing him back to the gurney. The healers who’d been knocked over slowly got up, resuming their place, one of them holding a pendent much like Odalia’s. They drew a circle that was pinkish purple with another outside circle around it that glowed blue.

Wild witch, Darius noted on instinct, before shaking his head. That wasn’t really relevant anymore. In fact, it was definitely a benefit now.

The stone in the healer’s hand glowed. Hunter coughed, twitching and seizing up. Darius found Hunter’s hand, giving it a tight squeeze.

“You’ll be okay,” he promised, “You’re going to be alright.”

You have to be.

Hunter’s eyes flickered open and shut, alternating glowing and their normal brown. Instead of a angry hiss, a strained whine came from his throat, a whine that cut off in another cough and a whimper.

And his hand squeezed Darius’ back.

The healer with the stone shouted something that Darius didn’t quite catch, and the spirit pulled out of Hunter, lashing out with insubstantial claws to hold onto its control and tugging Hunter towards it. The healer tugged, and it let go, slithering back into the stone with a howl. Hunter thudded back to the gurney’s surface; the other healers immediately started their own work, holding glowing blue circles over Hunter’s side while pushing him to another room. Hunter’s hand slid out of Darius’, and Darius started to walk after them, his legs wobbling underneath him, but a gentle hand touched his arm. The nurse.

“Sir…”

“Please,” Darius whispered, “I almost lost him.”

The nurse gave him a long look, then sighed and let him go, walking back to the clinic lobby. Darius wandered through the hallway in a daze, trailing after Hunter.

If the nurse had been bigger…

If he’d thought to use magic to stop me…

If I’d been a moment later…

If, if, if…

Darius spotted a crow tree, and he picked two of them up, staring at the recipient pad.

Not Eber. He’s out with his ratworms.

Eda and Raine were busy building the new university. Who did that leave?

“Jasmin Deamonne,” he told the phones, throwing one into the air. It flew out of the window, and he waited anxiously, tapping the surface of the phone.

“Yyyyyyyyyyyyello?” Jasmin’s voice finally said.

“Hi. Jasmin. It’s me. Darius.”

She gasped so loudly he almost dropped the phone. “Darius? When did you learn how to use a phone?! Was it recently?”

“Jasmin,” he said quietly. His throat closed up, and he struggled to find words. “It’s Hunter.”

“Oh.” Jasmin’s voice immediately dropped all the teasing pretense. “Is he alright?”

An overwhelming wave of numbness swept over Darius, and he leaned against the wall for support. “No,” he whispered.

“Are you two safe?”

“Yes. We’re at the Bonesborough clinic.”

Jasmin didn’t say anything for a long moment, as if she were waiting for Darius to continue. Finally, she cleared her throat. “Do you… wanna talk about it?”

“What’s going on?” Darius’ father’s voice said in the background, “Did you say it’s Darius?”

“You’re still with Mom and Dad?”

“I forgot my bag last night. I came to pick it up. One second.” Jasmin’s voice came out muffled, like she was holding one hand over the microphone, but it didn’t stop her voice from coming over entirely. “Yeah, it’s Darius. Something’s happened to Hunter—here, you talk to him.”

Scuffling noises, then, “Darius?” his father said gently, “Are you alright?”

“I’m unharmed.” Darius slid down the wall, putting his hand to his head. “Thanks to Hunter.”

“Okay. But are you alright?”

“Hm.” Darius chuckled breathlessly. “I don’t think so. Hunter’s hurt badly. I let him get hurt, I—”

“Darius. You cannot prevent every injury. And you have to accept that sometimes… your kid is going to do something outside of your control.”

“I should have prevented this one,” Darius insisted, “If I’d just been paying attention—he was injured saving my life, Dad, I—” Darius groaned. “I’m supposed to be looking out for him. But the last couple of days, I’ve done nothing but fail him.”

“Do you remember your mentor?”

What kind of question was that? “Of course I remember him.”

Darius’ father sighed. “I didn’t want you to go through with the mentorship, as you know. I thought it would get you hurt, or even killed. But the last golden guard came to our house personally one day. He sat down with me, and he told me that he would be honest. He told me that the career path you were headed towards was dangerous, and you might get hurt.”

“I’m sure you loved that.”

“He also told me he would do his utmost to protect you as long as you were in his care. He promised me that he would guard you as if you were the emperor himself. He said he might not always be able to stop you from getting hurt. He said that sometimes he might fail you. But he promised that despite any failures, he’d never stop trying. He reminded me that you were growing up, and I wouldn’t always be able to be there to protect you. And at some point, I had to let you go and trust that you could take care of yourself, and that there would be others to take care of you.”

“I just got Hunter.”

“And you want to protect him, I understand. From outside danger and from yourself. But you can’t stop every mishap, no matter how careful you are. You have to let go and just… see where the two of you land.”

Darius took a deep breath.

He wanted to keep Hunter safe. But Hunter obviously felt the same way about him, or else he wouldn’t have jumped in the way. Not that that made him feel particularly better, but he knew that if their roles had been reversed and he’d gotten hurt, he wouldn’t want Hunter blaming himself.

It happened, and there’s nothing you can do to change that.

Let go

See where we land.

“Darius?” Jasmin’s voice asked again, “You need me to swing by the hospital so that you can take a second to eat?

“No.” Darius cleared his throat, pushing up to his feet. He wasn’t going to leave Hunter’s side for one more moment until he woke up. He’d promised he’d be right there, and he’d already taken too much time in this hallway. But there was another thing he needed to do at the same time, something that would mean more. “Jasmin, listen. This is very important. There’s something I need you to bring me.”

Xxx

The ceiling was white.

That was wrong. Hunter’s ceiling was currently painted dark blue and dotted with constellations (and the occasional explorer-class starship).

A thousand other details were wrong, too. The familiar weight of surrounding plushies was missing. The air smelled sterile, like cleaning potions. And unless Darius had decided to throw a small party while he was asleep, there were far too many noises outside for this to be his room.

Hunter blinked slowly, but the white ceiling did not disappear.

Something’s wrong.

He wasn’t in the right place.

His body wasn’t responding, and he recognized the sluggish feeling from sleeping nettles.

Odalia

She said she wanted a carver—

I’ve got to get out of here, I’ve got to—

What happened to Darius?! Did she get him, did she get Ava, did…

Hunter managed to turn his head slowly to one side, and almost all of the tension left him in an instant. There was Darius, sitting in a chair, one leg bouncing anxiously. He was staring at his hands, not Hunter, and Hunter watched him for a moment to reassure himself that he was there.

Not Odalia.

He wouldn’t let her take me.

Hunter blinked, trying to remember what had happened. He’d saved Darius. And he’d been hurt—he remembered trying to hold on to consciousness, but thinking, blearily, painfully, but with absolute certainty, that Darius would take care of it, and letting go.

And then…

“Is it gone?” he whispered hoarsely. Surely they wouldn’t let him be so free if not, but then again… maybe that was the reason Darius was here.

Darius jumped, fumbled, reached out, then pulled his hand back. “It’s gone,” he promised, “You’re alright.”

Hunter relaxed back into his pillows with a sigh. “Good.”

Darius hesitated, then pressed forward. “Are you alright? I mean, besides the…” he gestured helplessly at Hunter’s side.

“Um…” Hunter slowly reached up to rub his eyes. “I’m… I don’t know. Did I… hurt anyone?”

“No. Well, you punched a couple of healers, but nothing they can’t handle.”

That was a relief. Hunter nodded. “Good. That’s… that’s good.”

He fidgeted with the covers, twisting the fabric in his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“What? Hunter, what on titan’s red corpse could you possibly have to be sorry for?”

“You asked me to fight back,” Hunter said softly. He kept fiddling with the blankets, as if to prove to himself that he still could control his own limbs. “I’m sorry, Darius, I tried, I really tried, I just couldn’t—I couldn’t—” his hands clenched into fists. “Am I just easy to control?” he whispered, “Is it me? Am I just—just weak? Do I make it easy?”

“No—No.” Darius shook his head, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Hunter. It took control of you because you saved me. If you hadn’t, I would have been the one with the glowing eyes kicking doctors. It’s not because you’re weak, or easy, or whatever else you might think. It’s because you, little prince, will not stop taking care of others, even when it puts your life on the line. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

“Not necessarily?” Hunter squeaked.

“What you did today… you saved my life.”

“Oh—well—you would have been—”

“You saved my life,” Darius insisted, “Don’t downplay it, it was very brave.”

“Oh.” Hunter’s ears burned. “Thank you.”

Darius looked him dead in the eye. “It also frightened the everloving daylights out of me.”

Hunter winced. Fair. “Sorry.”

“They wouldn’t let me in to see you. They almost didn’t let me get to you in time.”

Hunter started twisting the blankets in his hands again. Almost another death by possession. If he had a snail for every time… But this time, things had been different. Even with the spirit controlling him, he’d felt… oddly calm. Or, at least, less desperate than the other times. He’d heard Darius’ voice bursting through, and he’d known, somehow, that he would be alright. That Darius would get him back.

He hadn’t known what a close call it had been, though.

“O-oh.”

“We got lucky,” Darius continued, “We got lucky this time, but in the future, we might not be so fortunate. And I almost—” Darius’ voice broke, and he gulped. “I almost lost you,” he whispered, “And I realized that… I realized just how much I didn’t want that to happen. I didn’t know—I suppose I knew unconsciously, but this—I can’t have what happened today happen again. I can’t be locked out like that again. Even if it’s not serious next time, even if it’s just a scrape, or a broken arm, I want to be there. So.” Darius plopped a stack of papers on the bed. “Here.”

Hunter slowly took the stack of papers. It was the adoption form that had been sitting on the kitchen counter for months—and Darius’ name was filled in on the first page. He started to flip through the pages.

“I signed every box,” Darius told him, “You can check. And—and you don’t have to sign yet if you’re not ready, you don’t ever have to sign, but I know I am ready.”

Hunter kept flipping as Darius spoke. At the very end of the packet lay a crumpled card.

He saw it.

“Whatever the case,” Darius continued, “I—”

“Do you have a pen?”

Darius stopped. “What?”

“Do you have a pen?” Hunter repeated.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood. Are you s—”

Hunter held out his hand. “You nearly watched me die today, Darius. But I almost watched you die as well. And… I got scared, too. I got scared that I’d lose you so soon after really getting to know you. And… I realized that I don’t want to just be your ward. I don’t want to just be some kid who lives in your house. So, yeah. I jumped in the way. I wasn’t trying to get hurt, but I knew it was possible.” Hunter opened and closed his fingers until Darius finally put a pen in his hand. “You don’t get to be the only one having revelations,” he joked. He signed his name at the end of the document.

It’s official.

Well, not technically. The papers had to be filed and finalized, of course, and anything could happen in transit. But it was a big step forward.

And Hunter was finally ready to take it.

“Okay,” Darius said quietly, “Now what?”

“I get released from the hospital?” Hunter suggested, to the snort of a healer who’d just entered the room.

But an hour later, he was leaving, with a list of prescribed potions a mile long, detailed instructions for taking care of his wounds, and an appointment in two days to check up and completely seal the wounds. A nurse watched him all the way out, hovering just inches away. Hunter wobbled on his feet, his limbs weak from blood loss, but stayed upright on his own.

Ava wove around his feet in the lobby, warbling. “Whoa—” Hunter picked the bird up before he could trip over her. “Hey, girl. I’ll get you home—” The nurse cleared his throat. “—in a few days,” Hunter finished lamely. “Oh, Bat Queen must be so worried about you. Would you be okay staying with Darius and I for a few days? I know you and he—”

Ava jumped, fluttering her wings enough to land on Darius’ hands, then swarming up to his shoulder. She preened, cooing smugly.

“She says it’s fine,” Darius assured Hunter. He wrinkled his nose at the bird. “Oh, you’ll tolerate me for Hunter’s sake, will you?”

Ava warbled at him, gently whacking her former witch in the head with one wing.

“Fair enough.” Darius raised one eyebrow at Hunter. “What’s that goofy grin for? You’re not about to pass out from blood loss, are you?”

Hunter hadn’t even realized he was smiling. “Nothing. It’s just nice to see you two getting along.”

Darius smirked. “For your sake only, of course.”

Ava smacked him with her wing again.

Hunter’s knees buckled, and Darius lunged forward to catch his forearms. “Ah. Alright. That’s enough standing around. “I’ve got you.” He waved off the nurse, who hovered even closer now. “Let’s go home.”

Home.

Hunter leaned against him, grateful for his warm stability.

I made the right choice.

Familiar purple washed around them, comforting and calm and cool. The abomination wiped away the sterile, unfamiliar clinic and replaced it with the welcoming sight of Darius’ beautiful front yard and the front of the house Hunter called home.

Which was now decorated with a banner hanging over the porch railing. Bubble letters in every hue of the rainbow read “It’s A Boy!” with nursery images of a toothed hornbill bird carrying a baby in its second beak.

Hunter’s mouth twitched upwards as Darius sputtered. He could guess who’d put it there, but his suspicion was confirmed by Darius’s yell of indignation.

“Jas-MIN!”

[elentiyawhitethorn]

Older but Never Wiser

CW: a bit of language

AN: Happy (almost belated) birthday @leiawritesstories my love!! This took way longer than it should have but depending on your time zone this might not be late yet lol, I’m dusting off the cobwebs to give you a little present :)

Based on this prompt: “you’re at the high school reunion and everyone’s talking about how you and [insert jerk here] were prom queen and king, unaware you dumped them years ago, and you’re moping… until you run into your nemesis from high school and you’re thoroughly distracted” (I can’t remember where this came from, it was just in my prompts folder, maybe I came up with it? Maybe not? Idk)

1458 words

Aelin could feel her shoulders begin to hunch as she drew in on herself. She’d known Chaol would be here, of course, but she hadn’t known the subject of prom queen and king would come up so soon, nor their joint senior superlative of “most likely to get married.”

She also hadn’t known Chaol would show up with a gorgeous woman taller than her, hotter than her, certainly classier than her, and wearing a giant diamond on her finger.

“I really thought you two were going to last,” Essar said, voice dripping with pity and sorrow as if she’d truly been invested in the relationship of two high school classmates she’d hardly ever interacted with ten years ago, let alone following graduation.

Aelin smiled tightly. “Well, it was for the best. I’m much happier now with my new boyfriend.” A lie, and an obvious one at that, if Essar bothered to notice. As it was, she was clearly more interested in the piece of gossip than its verity, even a decade after high school.

Some things really didn’t change.

The subject of Chaol was a bitter one—they had lasted several years following high school, and while Aelin had had plenty of time to move on, and multiple relationships following Chaol, seeing him now brought up old insecurities. Being interrogated about the end of their relationship by some random classmate at a high school reunion wasn’t making matters better.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Aelin cut in, “I should make some more rounds. It was nice to catch up with you.” There wasn’t an ounce of sincerity in Aelin’s tone and she couldn’t quite bring herself to care.

She and Essar exchanged goodbyes and Aelin fled, hurrying over to her friend Elide. Elide had been the class valedictorian and was now head of some tech company in Rifthold.

After catching up with her and a few others, Aelin headed for the refreshment table. She wasn’t one for social events, and after the tedious process of listening to the reunion’s organizers give speeches, followed by a solid half hour of unstructured mingling, Aelin was drained.

She poured herself a cup of punch. Staring into the reddish liquid at a distorted reflection of herself, Aelin sighed.

“I can’t believe Aelin Galathynius, socialite, gossip, prom queen extraordinaire, is moping at the snack table at a social event. Hell really has frozen over.”

Aelin started at the voice, looking up to see a man with stark white hair towering over her. He had certainly changed over the past decade, but the sharp pine green eyes clued her in on his identity instantly.

“Rowan Whitethorn,” Aelin drawled, grinning. “You…” She looked him over, taking in the size of his crossed arms, the deep tan, and the hard features. A tattoo snaked up his neck from somewhere underneath his shirt. Aelin whistled. “Time has served you well.”

Rowan chuckled, the sound all too familiar. “You think so?” He paused, and gave her a once-over of his own. “I could say the same.”

Aelin leaned against the table, smiling. “Do tell me what it is you do for a living. Wait—let me guess. Sly business man. Lawyer? Oh, tax collector!”

Another, louder laugh left Rowan’s lips. “I’m a child psychologist.”

Aelin’s jaw dropped. “Damn, okay.”

He grinned. “You’re what, a fashion designer? A housewife?”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “I work at a pharmacy.”

Rowan shook his head in disbelief, smiling widely. Silence settled over the pair, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable pause—merely a moment to take in each other after so long. Aelin remembered arguing with the boy this man had once been over schoolwork, over sports, over absolutely nothing.

“Gods, tell me you’re not with that asshole anymore,” Rowan said, breaking the quiet.

Aelin blinked, then felt her lips unconsciously stretch into a another smile. “No, I’m not.”

Rowan hmmed noncommittalaly. “You two were never a good match.”

He was the first person who hadn’t offered her condolences like it was some kind of recent tragedy, and for that Aelin felt her smile turn soft. “Remind me why we hated each other again?”

A breathy laugh. “I believe that was thanks to the time you scraped up the side of my car trying to park on the very first day of junior year.”

“We were sixteen! No one could drive well at that age.” Aelin was grinning.

Rowan crossed his arms. “Or perhaps the time you literally tased me? With a fucking taser?”

Aelin let out a startled laugh. She’d completely forgotten about that. One of the football boys had hosted a party while his parents were out of town, and his mom was a cop so he brought out her taser for a game of whoever can hold onto this $20 while being tased in the hand gets to keep it. Gods, high school had been quite the experience.

“That was part of the game! You took the risk, and you lost; I can’t be blamed for that. Besides, I happen to remember you making out with my boyfriend on one occasion.”

Rowan groaned in faux embarrassment, a hand running though his short locks. “Lorcan dared us to. Besides, you’d already broken up with Dorian at that point, so it didn’t really count.”

Aelin’s face started to ache as she realized just how widely her smile was stretched. “That definitely still counts, but fine, let me think of some other instance you were an asshole to me. I’m sure there were plenty.”

Rowan shook his head, eyes dancing with mirth, and opened his mouth to make a retort—but someone else beat him to it.

“Aelin! I was so happy to spot you here. How have you been?”

Of course, it was Chaol, leering over at her in a suit far too sophisticated for the occasion.

Aelin felt a wave of calm wash over her as she realized that as much as she didn’t want to have a civil conversation with Chaol, she wanted him to have the upper hand even less.

“Chaol, my gods! I’ve been great; I take it you have been as well judging by the beautiful woman on your arm?”

The woman in question blushed, and Aelin wondered what exactly she knew about her.

Chaol grinned and held up the woman’s hand—and the ring perched on her fourth finger—like some kind of prize. “This is Yrene, my fiancée. Yrene, meet Aelin and… Ronan?”

“Rowan,” Rowan correctly coolly, then glanced at Yrene. “It’s a pleasure.”

Chaol nodded dismissively and turned back to Aelin. “Is that a new haircut?”

It had been a solid six years since she’d dated the man, and at least three since they’d crossed paths. “Yes, it is.”

“And how are you getting on with that Fenrys fellow? Still happy?”

The last time Aelin had seen Chaol had been at the grocery story—fucking small towns—with her boyfriend at the time. He hadn’t lasted more than a month.

“No.”

A flicker of glee crossed Chaol’s features, and Aelin writhed internally.

“Much to my benefit, that is,” Rowan interjected. Aelin had nearly forgotten he was still standing with them. “For now I have her all to myself.”

What?

Chaol blinked, dumbfounded. “You two are together?”

Rowan shrugged. “We reconnected a couple years ago and hit it off—better than we ever had in high school,” he added.

Aelin had just enough self-control to paste a smile on her lips. Now understanding what Rowan was doing for, she took his hand casually.

Rowan’s hand envoloped Aelin’s, and his rough calluses scraped against her palm. It took restraint not to shudder, and Chaol be damned, Aelin was no longer paying attention to the conversation. Her world focused in on the warm hand interlaced with her own.

Less interested, probably now that he’d realized he didn’t have much to hang over her head, Chaol said a farewell and retreated with the fiancée who hadn’t spoken a single word. Aelin watched them leave gratefully.

Rowan slipped his hand out of Aelin’s and she almost objected before realizing herself.

“Thank you, Rowan,” Aelin said softly.

Her gaze drifted over to him and snagged on his piercing green eyes.

Rowan stared back at her for a moment. “No problem.”

Aelin shook her head. “It wasn’t no problem. That was very kind of you.”

Rowan shook his head, but said nothing more about the endeavor. “How long are you in town?”

“A whole week. I wanted to stay with my parents for a bit.”

“And I don’t suppose while you’re here you want to grab coffee together? I still need an example of the atrocities you claim I put you through, after all.”

Aelin’s expression turned fiendish. “Does tomorrow work?”

———

Tag List (this is so outdated so lmk if you want to be removed/added!):

@aelin-bitch-queen

@autumnbabylon

@charlizeed

@evolving-dreamer

@feysand-loml

@flora-shadowshine

@gracie-rosee

@infernoqueen19

@julemmaes

@leiawritesstories

@lemonade-coolattas

@live-the-fangirl-life

@midsizewitch

@morganofthewildfire

@mybloodrunsblue

@nehemikkele

@realbookloverproblems

@rhysandswingspan

@rowaelinismyotp

@rowanaelinn

@sexy-dumpster-fire

@sleeping-and-books

@story-scribbler

@swankii-art-teacher

@thegreyj

@the-lonelybarricade

@thenerdandfandoms

@yesdreamblog

[shadowsong26fic]

In the Rain

Author: shadowsong26

Rating: PG

Fandom: Star Wars

Characters: Anakin, Padme, Obi-Wan

Warnings: Nope.

Summary: On a rare trip together, Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Padme get caught in a sudden storm.

Disclaimer: All characters are the property of their respective creators.

Notes: Written for the Year of the OTP event. June prompt: downpour.

I am catching up on the June prompts I didn't get to last month, and then the July ones will be coming not too long after that. I should be back on track and doing things in the correct month for August, lol.

(I am also doing this for BSG and some of my original ‘verses, if you’re interested in checking those out! One ship per canon. The fanfic ones will be posted to AO3 probably a day or two after they’re on tumblr. This fic is also available on AO3 here. Master list of all fills can be found here.)

It had been that rarest of things--an opportunity for the three of them to spend time together, alone, legitimately.

Padme had been specifically requested for a delicate series of negotiations on a neutral planet with a cache of valuable natural resources; that delicacy meant she hadn’t been able to bring security from Naboo, as that might indicate, symbolically, that she was representing her own people rather than the Republic as a whole.

But she was allowed a pair of neutral escorts for the three-day trip across the planetary divide (which had its own attendant rules and traditions); and as Anakin and Obi-Wan happened to be between assignments, it had all fallen into place so neatly.

An entire three days, with Anakin and Padme and no eyes on them.

Obi-Wan hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted something like that until the opportunity had arisen.

Especially since the terrain they were crossing was astoundingly beautiful; almost as beautiful as the two beings at his side. Mountains rising to staggering heights on either side of the narrow valley, capped by sharp white peaks; lush indigo grassland grazed by wild local fauna in varying shades of grey and brown.

Even when, late in the second day, those peaks grew shadowed with approaching stormclouds, it hadn’t dimmed the beauty, or the simple joy of the experience.

They had planned for that, of course; the local authorities had advised them how high into the hills they would need to camp to avoid getting caught in a flash flood if it rained, and, even though it would make them late for their rendezvous on the other side, they broke off early and hiked upward into a darkening sky.

And a good thing, too--the tent was barely up when the clouds opened on them.

Padme yelped and dove inside, Obi-Wan half a step behind her, but Anakin--

He had stopped, laughing, arms wide, head tilted up towards the sky.

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan called. “Come inside!”

“In a minute,” he called back, turning in a slow circle under the rain to face them, grinning. “I just want to feel this first.”

Ah, yes. Some things never really change.

It was…nice, to see him smile like that. To fall back into the simple joys of his youth; the wide-eyed delight of a desert child in the rain.

Padme’s soft sigh beside him indicated that her thoughts were probably along the same lines.

“You could join me, you know,” Anakin called.

“Or you could come in before you freeze,” Padme called back, but she was smiling.

“All right, all right,” he said, and squelched over to the two of them.

Obi-Wan caught a fleeting hint of mischief from him, too fast to realize before Anakin swept the two of them up in a close, tight, and very wet hug.

“Love you,” Anakin murmured, kissing first Obi-Wan’s cheek, then Padme’s.

“Love you, too,” Padme said, before extracting herself. “Now get in the damn tent so we can all dry off. I’ll make hot chocolate.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” he said, laughing. “I’m coming.”

Obi-Wan leaned his head against Anakin’s for just a moment before pulling away too. “The rain will still be beautiful from inside,” he said, softly. “And a good deal more comfortable.”

Anakin flashed a smile, soft and sweet, and followed them into the tent to wait out the storm.

[calaofnoldor]

What’s Mine

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 7,595

Summary: The secret you and Sam are hiding from Dean is threatened by your inability to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings: 18+ no actual smut but plenty of implied smut, pre-smut, and smut adjacency lol, secret dating, enemies to lovers, jealousy and possessiveness (exhibited by both sam and reader), slight obsession with sam’s big ass hands (i blame this largely on @walkerboy290​‘s glorious hand porn gif sets), and language

A/N: inspired by and written for @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ bc she’s been bugging me to write smut and using her birthday as a bargaining chip, so i hope you’re happy sai. happy (belated) birthday babe! i suppose in my subconscious need to truly honor you, this became the longest one shot i’ve ever written... that and this is now also a little birthday gesture for the brilliant and beautiful @sams-sass​​ (damn your close birthdays!) even though she never asked for smut (if you hate it, i’ll write you something else!) happy birthday to you too, darling!

also written for @superbadassnatural​‘s 333 badass followers celebration with the prompt “___ and I are together.” “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa.” and @writethelifeyouwant​‘s 300 follower fic challenge with the prompt “All the pretty girls like Samuel” (both prompts are bolded in the fic) i’m sorry i’m so late! congratulations to both of you and thanks for letting me enter your challenges!

[basically i have a lot of people to blame for this disaster 😂]

Square Filled: Secret Dating for @spnfluffbingo​ and Enemies to Lovers for @girl-next-door-writes​ Make Me Feel Bingo

MASTERLIST

The waffles on your plate are surprisingly good for a sketchy, 50’s-themed diner, but unfortunately your attention is elsewhere. In fact, the two distinctly masculine voices behind you have been obnoxiously impairing your ability to savor the buttery, syrup-doused carbs since their owners sat down in the adjoining booth. It’s the topic of their discussion that disturbs you, and nips at your conscience until you realize you can no longer take off without imparting a few words to your oblivious colleagues.

Turning your head subtly to the side, you try to catch a glimpse of the men you’re about to confront in your peripheral vision. From what you can see, they’re both rather burly, a little rough around the edges, and from what you’ve heard, recklessly cocksure. You know the type all too well. Being a lone hunter of the fairer sex for most of your life means you’ve long since learned that the best way to combat their kind is with a steadfast façade of thick skin and unwavering confidence.

So you sigh and put on your best smile before turning around, crossing your forearms along the top of the booth seat, “Listen fellas, I hate to interrupt, but I really wouldn’t bother with the bamboo dagger and Shinto priest if I were you.”

“And who the hell are you?” the one with shorter hair demands. He’s a bit stockier than his companion and has a face that looks like it was designed by Abercrombie and Fitch - well that explains the arrogance.

“I’m the person who’s about to save your asses evidently,” you respond with a smug grin, trying not to let their absurdly good looks deter your act.

Abercrombie’s partner, the Fabio wannabe, releases a quiet scoff, “And how are you gonna do that?” he questions dubiously.

“By letting you in on a little secret…” Throwing him a tight smile, you lean forward and lower your voice, “That ōkami you’re after? It’s not an ōkami, it’s a ghoul.” Sitting back, you await the outrage.

“What?! But that’s not possible, I checked the lore. And it’s obviously got a type.” Fabio’s glossy chestnut locks fall across his delicate features as he shakes his head in disbelief, and you almost snort out loud. How did this amateur expect to hunt with hair like that?

You look him over, taking in the broad shoulders and muscled arms, as well as the obvious height advantage he’s got over Abercrombie even whilst they’re both seated. To be honest, you’re surprised he’s referencing lore at all. Guys his size always assume they can either outman or outgun whatever obstacles cross their path, and they almost never take women like you seriously, despite your ample years of acquired knowledge and invaluable experience. It’s this experience that surmises a bit of antagonism here is inevitable, so you might as well get a head start.

“Yeah well maybe you should check again, big guy,” you glance down at his hands, your first mistake as their sheer size render you speechless and subsequently agitated at yourself for the momentary lapse of visceral lust, but the show must go on, “Make sure those giant, lumbering hands of yours don’t fumble over anything important or you might miss the connection to Isabelle Harding. You see it’s not ‘a type’; it’s revenge.”

“Wh- Bu- I looked through the files. I wouldn’t have missed that,” Fabio insists.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you type ‘Isabelle Harding’ and ‘1987 school bombing’ into your search bar and see what comes up?” you gesture towards the laptop on their table with a raised brow. Minutes later, both men are dumbfounded by the revelation on the screen, staring between it and you with their mouths agape.  

You chuckle silently at their faces, “Don’t worry, there’s no need to thank me. Although you rookies might wanna go home and let the more experienced hunter finish up here.” As you’re about to bid them farewell, you dip back in to add, “Oh and a word of free advice, maybe don’t discuss supernatural monsters quite so loudly in public spaces next time. It might invite unwanted attention.”

With that, you turn around and slap some cash down next to your unfinished waffles, before grabbing your jacket and strutting out the door.

Sam is left in utter confusion. The sudden animosity you had spouted his way seems completely baseless and unwarranted. Had he somehow offended you? Sam generally considers himself a highly respectful and fairly easy-going guy, not quite as hot-blooded as his brother, and thus not as likely to provoke such antipathy from a complete stranger. To make matters worse, he certainly can’t deny that something about you had registered within his subconscious as inexplicably attractive, despite the way you’d embarrassed him. In his flustered and slightly aroused state, it had been all he could do to remain awestruck in his seat and stare blatantly at your ass as you walked away.

The next time Sam sees you is only twelve hours later and no less humiliating. You’re mid-swing in the killing blow against what you had accurately predicted to be a ghoul as he and Dean tumble in. Despite the low lighting, Sam is once again stupefied by your raging beauty, augmented by the incredible skill you’re displaying in a much more physical sense this time around. Before he can drag his eyes away, there’s a collective shout of “watch out!” and suddenly you’re right in front of him. In a blur of events, you somehow manage to push Sam out of the way and successfully decapitate the unexpected second ghoul that had been sneaking up behind him, with only a slice across the arm to show for it.

“Didn’t I tell you two to go home?” You’re panting from the exertion and Sam’s gaze lands on the neckline of your shirt, skewed from the fight and revealing a good amount of cleavage. He quickly averts his eyes. What is happening? Sam can’t remember the last time anyone had evoked such a staggering reaction from him. He feels as if he’s a mere spectator in his own body.

Across from him, you press your hand against the wound and curse when it comes back covered in blood. At your groan of pain, Sam finally finds his voice again, “Shit. I’m so sorry! I don’t know how I missed that other one. I- that normally doesn’t happen.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s what you say to all the girls, huh?” you reply offhand, still a bit out of breath.

It’s easy for Sam to dismiss your mocking given that he feels terribly guilty for being the cause of your injury. From where he’s standing, the cut looks deep. “Here, at least let me stitch it up for you. It’s too awkward a position for you to do it yourself,” he offers, holding out his ginormous hands to you like he’s waving a white flag.

“I think you’ve done enough damage for one day, haven’t you, big guy? At this point, I’d rather Abercrombie over there be the one behind the needle.”

“Who- what?” are the first words Dean speaks since the action has died down.

You turn to face the shorter guy, “Oh don’t look so surprised. You might as well be the model for a slightly older Ken doll. Are you up for it or not?”

Dean’s mouth hangs open as he tries to determine whether he should feel flattered or insulted.

“Uh- actually, I’m better at stitches than my brother,” Sam butts in.

“With those jumbo, fumbling hands? Yeah, sure you are, big guy,” you decline skeptically.

“It’s Sam,” he states through a clenched jaw.

“OK, Sam. Since I just saved your life, you mind making yourself useful and burning those bodies while your bro puts my arm back together? You know, as a ‘thank you’ perhaps?”

Sam is stunned for the third time that day. No one has ever belittled him (whilst gratuitously attacking his size) insofar without any apparent reason. It seems as though his very existence upsets you and the arbitrariness of your contempt has caused an anger to stir beneath him, but beyond that lies bewilderment and irritation. How had he managed to accomplish two such massive mistakes in front of you in the span of so short a time? Perturbed and bitter, Sam silently sets to work on the bodies.

Meanwhile, you’ve come to a surprising realization as Dean begins to cut the fabric of your flannel away from your damaged arm, the name ‘Sam’ and the words ‘my brother’ resounding in your head, “Wait a second- there’s no way… you’re not… the Winchesters, are you? Sam and… Dean?”

“The one and only, sweetheart.” He sends you a dazzling smile that is as perfect as you’d expect, but within his eyes is an underlying poignancy that you recognize as clear as day: an indication of a traumatic past and a lifetime spent plastering on tough veneers. You notice as well how gentle his touch is and how his stitches are practiced and prudent. Perhaps you had judged him too hastily.

Through an incredulous chuckle, you retort, “Well I can’t say I didn’t expect more from you, but at least this’ll get me a free round of drinks at the hunters’ pub tonight.”

Dean laughs with you before sobering at the thought of how his baby brother must be feeling, “Hey listen, take it easy on Sammy, alright? I don’t know what’s gotten into him today but he’s not usually like this. He’s actually the smart one, believe it or not.”

Scoffing, you can’t help but smile back at Dean and soon find an easy rhythm with the older Winchester, despite your awkward introduction.

From several yards away, however, Sam looks wistfully back to see you smiling lightheartedly at something Dean’s said, the two of you huddled in close proximity as his brother’s hands drift across your bare skin. Something akin to envy bubbles within his chest although he’s aware it makes no sense, so with a frown, Sam does his best to shake it off and get back to work.

But it’s not easy to forget you. And just as Sam is beginning to think he’s rid that awful day from his memory, you pop back into his life three months down the line.

“Well, if it isn’t the overgrown hunter extraordinaire Sammy Winchester.” The sarcasm that oozes from your otherwise beguiling voice has him gritting his teeth in no time.

“It’s Sam.”

“So you here to mess up my hunt again, Sam?”

Although he wishes he could have been the bigger man instead of surrendering to the resentment you roused within him, after a couple repeated hatchet burying attempts fall through, Sam just can’t resist the little game you’ve started.

Over the next few months, you and Dean form a fortuitously close bond and the older Winchester develops a habit of calling you up when faced with a troublesome hunt, and vice versa. Despite Sam’s fabricated displeasure, a show he puts on mostly for Dean (since any other emotion would seem illogical given the way you treat him), Sam is peculiarly and begrudgingly excited to see you every time. But the match never ends. In fact, Sam lets it intensify each time you work together, always astounded by how you manage to get him so worked up.

“I’m telling you, it’s a rugaru!”

“Right, because the last time we listened to you, things worked out so well,” you remark sardonically.

“The lore says-“

“Ooh, quoting the lore again now are we, Mr. Know It All?”

At this point, Sam is about as huffy and puffy as the big bad wolf and if he were a cartoon character, there’d surely be steam erupting from his ears. “Look, Y/N, this isn’t about who knows more or who’s right; this is about saving those people’s lives!”

“You think I don’t know that? Was I not the one who saved your life the first time we met?”

“OK, alright, just shut up you two!” Dean finally shouts above you, “Would it kill you to just get along for two seconds?”

“No,” Sam admits.

“Probably,” you say at the same time, causing Sam to shoot you his overly perfected bitch face.

SIX MONTHS LATER

“What the fuck?!” Dean’s booming voice echoes throughout the bunker and moments later you and Sam come flying into the kitchen to answer his call, guns at the ready.

“What? What is it?” you ask while Sam scans the room.

A whimper is the only the way to describe the sound of Dean’s reply, as he points toward an unseen object on the floor. Edging toward him, you lower your gun in the direction of his finger until you discover the source of Dean’s distress.

With a sigh, you look toward Sam who is also exhaling in relief at the sight of the entity in question. The two of you share a moment of wordless conversation before simultaneously dropping your guns with a conclusive nod.

“Why does this feel like déjà vu?” Dean’s tone is still timid and appalled, and you nearly laugh at the idea of a grown-ass man looking so aghast because of a used condom.

“Because it kinda is…” you supply unhelpfully, earning yourself a small glare from the man beside you.

“Dean,” Sam begins with a deep breath, “There’s something we have to tell you… Y/N and I are together.”

The snort that escapes Dean is full-bodied and borderline psychotic, “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa!”

You wait till his snickering subsides, “No, it- it’s true.” Your voice is hesitant yet hopeful, “We’re not joking. We’ve kinda become… a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, well you know, I don’t wanna have to put a label on it or-“

“Y/N’s my girlfriend,” Sam declares with conviction as he reaches out to curl his long fingers around your waist and lasso you towards him.

“-Buuuut, that is the one I’d use if anyone asks,” you quickly affirm with a stiff pat to your boyfriend’s abdomen, wincing at the unversed attempt of PDA and missing the dimpled grin that crosses Sam’s amused features.

“Well, I don’t buy it. I don’t believe either of you.” Dean’s sturgeon face comes on strong as he shakes his head and points a challenging finger at you, “Kiss him, right now,” he dares with perked brows.

The eye roll you respond with is so dramatic your entire head moves with it. But then, without a moment of pause, you turn your body into Sam’s, reach up to grab the back of his neck and pull him down for a searing kiss. Now this is something you’re well-versed in. The reunion of your lips starts off relatively slow, but it doesn’t take long to escalate into something more fiery that involves tongue, the eager push and pull movements of your bodies, and Sam’s enormous hands cradling your head.

After a moment of shock, Dean objects, “Alright, alright, I get it! That’s enough of that!”

Unwilling to recede just yet, you linger in the kiss for a little longer, delaying your separation by nibbling down on Sam’s lower lip and tugging gently, only releasing it as you pull away torturously slow. When the two of you finally open your languid eyes, it’s to stare into each other’s dilated pupils and ponder the moment for an indiscernible minute.

“What th- I said, I get it! Now could please stop ogling each other before my lunch comes back out the wrong way?!”

But the way Sam’s smiling at you is addictive and you can’t bring yourself to look away until he forces a break by leaning in to plant a tender kiss upon your forehead before tucking you into his side as he faces his brother again.

Dean’s face is covered by his hand, “I’m gonna need a minute. I just-“ His features leap through a range of expressions as he tries to find the right words, “When the hell did this start anyway? I thought you two couldn’t stand each other?”

“Yeahhh, that was mostly an act. Although we bought it at first too,” you explain with a shrug.

“We weren’t pretending the whole time. It just kind of happened and we didn’t really know how else to act around each other by then,” Sam adds.

“Right, basically it turns out there’s a fine line between love and hate... and that line is hardcore yearning.” Your words bring a chuckle to Sam’s lips but his brother still looks out of sorts.

Shaking his head with closed eyes, Dean sighs, “Alright, can someone just explain to me exactly how this happened, because I’m still not computing here. But spare me the details and try to keep it PG-13,” he emphasizes with adamant hand gestures.

“How do you know it’s not PG-13?” you inquire with a held-back laugh.

“Ha. With the way you two were playing tonsil hockey just now, I can tell you’ve been around the bend way more than I wanna know. My little brother doesn’t kiss like that on the first date.”

It’s impossible to hold back a giggle at the memory of your ‘first date’ and the way Sam had kissed you, “OK well, that would be hard, considering the story involves a lot of sex... You wanna give it a go, big guy?” you pass the ball over to Sam with a quirked brow and lowered voice, to which he responds with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, a little warning glance that you’re well aware means ‘save it for the bedroom’ but you simply smirk up at him.  

‘Big guy’ used to be a term you called Sam in contempt, but when the feelings between you evolved and a sexual relationship developed, it became an innuendo, such that calling him ‘big guy’ in front of Dean or in public almost always results in glorious sex. In fact, sometimes you believe the nickname has held a slightly obscene connotation for you since the beginning.

Afterall, your carnal longing for him has been present from day one, although at the time you had believed it to be purely physical. Sure, you had dreams about having him in various positions in your bed, but you figured those were merely betrayals of your subconscious mind. That was until one day, a heated argument in a rare moment alone had ended up in a violent make out session, after which the two of you had just barely gotten the last of your clothes back on before Dean walked in. One look at your worked up and frenetic states alongside the disordered condition of your surroundings, and he immediately assumed you’d been fighting again (which wasn’t terribly far from the truth), chortling as he asked if you would have killed each other had he returned a bit later.

With a clearing of his throat, Sam begins to recount the tale, “Uh, well it started in that motel in South Carolina, while you were out getting food…”

“Look, all I’m saying is there is no way he’s using the hospital as a dump site! It’s just not feasible!”

With complete disregard for the peace and quiet of the other residents within this thin-walled motel, you and Sam once again find yourselves in a shouting match.

“Oh right, I forgot! You’re Sam Winchester! How could you POSSIBLY be wrong?! Mister ‘look at me, my IQ and LSAT score match my fucking height! Oh and I also happen to have the physique of an Adonis without even owning a gym membership!’” you roar bitterly, gesticulating with your hands to help better communicate your pent-up indignation.

“Right and you’re Y/N Y/L/N, so how could YOU possibly be wrong? Miss ‘look at me, I never went to college but I’m a genius AND I can kick ass! Oh and I also happen to look effortlessly stunning through it all!’” Sam suddenly seems bigger than ever as he towers over you, that panty-soaking deep voice emanating from his diaphragm and infusing itself throughout the entire room until all you can see, hear, and breathe is Sam.

The fury takes over and you don’t notice your feet taking you closer to him, “Oh yeah because you don’t make EVERYTHING you do look so unnecessarily hot and make me wanna rip your clothes off all the damn time!”

“Fuck! And you don’t always drive me crazy when we have these stupid arguments and your chest starts heaving and you look so insanely delectable I just wanna pick you up and fuck you against the closest surface!” By now, the distance between you is essentially nonexistent and your brain is no longer run by reason.

“So why don’t you then?” are your famous last words, prompting Sam to grab you wildly by the back of a thigh, lifting slightly and driving you to climb up him like a spider monkey fleeing from a grounded predator, while his other hand pushes your hair aside to gain better access to your face. Your mouths clash in a fierce battle and before you know it, Sam’s huge hands are cupping your ass as your legs wrap around his waist and you rut into him, hands flying from his shoulders to his hair. Those divine chestnut locks that you’ve always dreamed of running your fingers through. They’re somehow even softer than you imagined and the revelation, in conjunction with the way Sam’s tongue is becoming increasingly aggressive causes a fresh surge of libidinous energy to rocket through you. As a result, you give his silky strands an irresistible tug and drink in the moan he makes, the sinful sound reverberating straight down to your core as you clench around nothing.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam groans as he grudgingly forces himself to pull back as much as he can, “Are you sure? Is this what you want? Cause I can’t- Y/N I won’t be able to stop myself if we keep going.” His eyes squeeze shut as if the notion of stopping or the act of keeping his lips away from yours is causing him genuine pain, and the entire gesture moves you.

“Fuck, you really are the opposite of everything I thought you would be,” you make a quick mental note to apologize later for your initially presumptuous behavior although you can’t find it within yourself to feel any remorse right now, “Yes, please Sam, fuck me. I want you so bad… I think I have since we met and I saw those gorgeous hands of yours,” you confess, biting your lip lightly.

Sam breathes out a low incredulous laugh, “What, these?” he asks, removing one of the aforementioned hands away from your butt to bring it into your line of vision.

“Yes, fuck they’re so big and beautiful and strong and-“

“Alright, I don’t need to know about your weird hand fetish!” Dean hollers abruptly, rubbing his fingers across his eyes as if he could somehow erase the image of you and his brother together out of his retinas. “OK, but that was like… four months ago. You mean you’ve been sneaking around behind my back this whole time?”

“Well at first we didn’t want to tell you because we weren’t even sure what it was ourselves,” you divulge.

“Yeah, we didn’t want to try to explain something that we didn’t understand yet,” Sam supplements, hoping his brother will understand the motive behind your secrecy.

You nod along, “But then… it got a little harder to hide.”

The apprehension behind Dean’s emerald eyes is unmistakable as he reluctantly inquires, “That’s why this felt like déjà vu?”

It’s with a grimace that you reply, hesitantly, “Remember the time you found those panties in the backseat of the Impala?”

Dean’s eyes grow comically wide and Sam ducks his head in preparation of what’s to come.

“Yeah, there’s a story behind that…”

The click of her heels against the porcelain-tiled foyer irritates you as the three of you stride through her front door. You’re posing as detectives sent to question this overdressed young woman about her late husband, but the moment she lays her eyes on Sam, you reckon she’s forgotten her beloved’s damn name.

“Oh my… lord and savior. Well aren’t you a tall drink of water?” she beholds breathlessly with a seductive bite of her painted ruby lips.

You cough loudly and Dean sniggers, thinking you’re annoyed about Sam getting such commendation and attention during a serious case.

“I know this might be the grief talking, but I would climb you like a tree,” she purrs, sauntering up to Sam with an exaggerated sway of her hips. With her half-lidded doe eyes adorned with dark, fluttery lashes and low, sultry voice, you have to admit she’s quite attractive.

Grinding your teeth as your nails dig into your palms, you glower at the woman unreservedly. She, however, takes no notice, running her hands along Sam’s forearms before gripping at his bicep to lead him toward her living room. “Please, come have a seat, detective. You can ask me whatever you want.” The wink she appends is somehow the final nail in the coffin.

It’s with zero hesitation that you feign the reception of a notification on your phone before declaring, “Oh would you look at that, the uh… Sheriff needs us back at the station, Sam. He says it’s urgent.” You try to keep your tone even, thankful that you all maintained your real first names for these aliases, “Dean, you’re good to conduct this interview on your own, right?” Without waiting for an answer, you trample over to snatch Sam’s other arm and ignoring the horny widow’s gaping mouth, proceed to haul him away.

Dean sends you a strange look but relents, “Uh, yeah I guess, OK.”

As soon as the door closes behind you, your hand shifts down to lace your fingers with Sam’s, marching him towards the Impala with a staunch and mighty purpose. Even Sam’s elongated legs stumble to keep up.

“So uh… when did you give the Sheriff your number?” There’s an edge in his voice that normally disappears when it’s just the two of you.

“Wha- I didn’t. Sam, I just made all that up,” you tell him as you reach the car and open its back door. Pushing Sam inside, you climb in swiftly after him, wasting no time as you straddle his thighs and begin to undress him, only pausing when he looks up at you in adorable, puppy-like confusion.

“Wait, what? Then what are we doing?”

That’s when it finally dawns on you, “Hold on a sec, were you… jealous?” You can’t help but smile, finding it amusing that he’s stewing in his own envy after what you just witnessed.

“No, I just- He was kinda all over you this morning.”

“You mean like the way Mrs. My-Husband-Just-Died-But-I-Wanna-Climb-You-Like-a-Tree was in there?”

“Oh, that’s what this is about?” Sam perks up, the hint of a smug grin ghosting across his lips.

“She was practically holding your hand!”

“That’s what bothered you the most?” He dips his head to catch your eyes and those variegated irises burn into you with an intense, questioning gaze, alight with mischievous curiosity.

“They’re my hands to hold,” you contend with a pout, subconsciously clenching your thighs around his as you seize one of his large hands with two of your much smaller ones, “Just like you’re my tree to climb.”

Sam’s head falls back in bright laughter, “I thought you said they were ‘oversized’ and ‘ungainly’?” he teases, quoting your previous slights.

“You know I only said that cause Dean was there.”

“I’m pretty sure you called them ‘fumbly’ and ‘lumbering’ the first time we met.”

Staring at his fingers as you play with them, you shiver at the memory of how they feel all over you. “That was cause I used to think all hunters with a Y chromosome were cocky, misogynistic assholes who needed to be knocked down a peg or two.”

“But I proved you wrong, right?”

“Fuck yes you did. So, so wrong. And now you’re mine, and I don’t like seeing other people touch what’s mine,” you growl before returning to your earlier task of removing his clothes, pouncing on him when your fingers finally land on bare skin. You kiss him fiercely, swallowing his surprised grunts with glee, and as his hands start travelling from your hips up to your back, holding you tight against him, your lips move down to his pulse point, sucking, licking, and nibbling, “Mine.”

“Fucking Jesus Christ on a cracker! You goddamn rabbits!” Dean squawks in protest as he begins to pace the floor, “Have you no decency?! And in my poor Baby! While I was busy doing all the work, saving lives!”

You roll your eyes at his melodramatics and can feel the tension in Sam’s abdominal muscles as he attempts to restrain his laughter. As if Dean had never taken a break during a case for a stress-relieving quickie before, or hadn’t been at least somewhat grateful to be left alone with a beautiful woman.

His next comment confirms your point, “Although, if I remember correctly that lady was a fox.” After a brief pondering pause and an introspectively appreciative smirk, Dean’s whining resumes, “But seriously! I can’t believe you two! Here I was feeling bad for forcing you to work and live together, hoping you’d eventually learn to get along when this whole time you were shacking up like animals and casually defiling my Baby just because what? Some girl touched Sam’s hand?!”

Feeling emboldened by the catharsis of this long-overdue airing of your dirty laundry, you decide to add to Dean’s exasperation, “Yeah and in the spirit of honesty, that might’ve happened more than once.” Sam tries to hold back his snort as he gives your hip a playful cautionary squeeze while Dean’s feet come to a full stop as he turns to give you a death glare. “Hey, it’s not my fault all the pretty girls like Samuel! And I’m pretty sure we wiped her down after.”

“I don’t even-“ Dean purses his lips and quirks his head with a dynamic expression of unbearable vexation, “You better be getting me pie every day of the week for what you did.“ He takes a deep breath before circling back, “Wait, OK so you’re telling me that a used condom ended up in our kitchen because- what? You two couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to find a bed? You know what, forget I asked. I don’t wanna know. Did you at least sanitize the place after?? No, of course you didn’t, you left a fucking condom on the floor… I think I’m gonna throw up.”

But you hardly hear Dean’s rambling because you and Sam are far too wrapped up in each other, smiling as you recall the events of that morning.

Your eyes slowly drift open to find the most exalting sight in all the world: Sam Winchester’s sleeping face, blissful and serene. Lifting a hand to gingerly cup his cheek, the corners of your mouth curl up when he leans into your touch. It’s moments like this that make you wish you could wake up next to him every morning.

Only after you’ve traced his every feature and planted a soft kiss where his dimple would be if he were awake and smiling, do you carefully peel yourself from his side, slipping out of his hold as you quietly climb out of bed. Sam rolls over a bit and you freeze with bated breath, watching as his big arm extends out in your direction as if trying to reach for you in his sleep, before stilling again.

Mornings like this are rare and you want him to soak up all the restful sleep he can. Once you’re sure you haven’t woken him, you scan the room for something to cover your naked figure, until your eyes land on the flannel he’d worn the night before. Picking it up, you bring it to your nose and inhale deeply to revel in the residual scent of Sam. Another glimpse at his peaceful, sleeping form has you smiling fondly. God, you are such a goner for that man. It’s becoming hard to reserve your soft looks toward him for private moments alone.

You can barely remember how it happened, but over time, you’d come to learn that Sam is nothing like you originally imagined him to be. He’s kind-hearted and open-minded, the type of soul that can find hope and beauty in even the darkest of places, a far cry from the shallow macho man silhouette you’d expected him to fill. In fact, Sam routinely defies the expectations others have enforced upon him, proving his worth time and time again as he’s persisted through some of what must be the toughest challenges to ever face a single human. Yet through it all, his spirit remains intact, never once yielding to cynicism or resentment or apathy or even the building of walls as you and Dean have resorted to. He is truly the bravest man you know and infinitely more competent than your first fluke of a hunt with him had mistakenly suggested, both in the field and in bed.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you wrap yourself in plaid and head out the door. Dean never questions your use of Sam’s shirts because ever since Sam firmly insisted on giving you his flannel after your second encounter with them resulted in Dean cutting your own top apart, you’ve grown into a habit of borrowing Sam’s clothes. You always claim they’re more comfortable than your own and Sam’s feigned annoyance over you ‘stealing’ his belongings tides Dean right over.

Half an hour passes before Sam approaches the bunker kitchen to find you with your back towards the entrance, busy prepping breakfast in nothing but his plaid. He pauses in the doorway to stare at you for a minute, licking his lips with an irrepressible smile. For some, this may seem like a stereotypical morning after, but for a couple of hunters, it feels like a dream come true.

After finally returning to the bunker last night following the completion of a series of successful hunts, you’ve got no solid obligations and very little on your to-do lists today, although Sam’s got more than a few ideas about how to pass the time, and a couple more come to mind when you stretch up on your toes to reach for something, causing the hem of his shirt to glide up until its corner reveals just slightest hint of your incredible ass. Sam can’t suppress his little grunt of approval, which catches your attention and makes you turn your head, peering back at him over your shoulder.

You smirk at the blessed view of him standing there in nothing but the pair of thin grey sweatpants you’d bought him a month ago when you discovered the viral online phenomenon, “Hey, big guy. You just gonna stand there and gawk or do you wanna make yourself useful and grab another plate from the top shelf?”

Chuckling at your false animosity, Sam stalks toward you, “Good morning to you too.” One of his vast hands falls upon your hip as he presses the maximum possible length of his body into your back side, while his other hand reaches up over your head to snatch the plate you’d asked for.

“Good morning indeed,” you concur with a silent gasp when you feel the generous bulge in his pants.

“Oh that’s not morning, baby girl,” Sam husks into your ear, “That’s all you.” His powerful arms slink around you and his lips find their way down the side of your neck, lingering in that tender spot just behind your ear whilst you tilt your head and close your eyes, contentedly surrendering yourself to the moment. “I ever tell you how good you look in my shirts?”

Wiggling your butt back to tease him a bit, you’re pleased with the hiss it elicits. “No, but you made it very clear how bad I look in Dean’s,” you counter playfully.

The man behind you scoffs, “I didn’t say you looked bad; you could never look bad. I just… don’t like seeing you wear his clothes.”

“Oh, I know,” you turn around in his arms, “I just don’t understand how Dean doesn’t know yet. I mean, I think you’ve been very obvious.”

“And you haven’t?”

“I’m not the one who leaves hickeys in very visible places all over your body!”

Sam’s eyes glaze over in lust, an idea clearly forming in his head as he glances down at you. “Dean’s a hot-blooded guy; he needs to know you’re off-limits,” he alleges before attacking your throat with his mouth.

“So why don’t we just tell him?”

Without pausing his efforts, Sam reminds you, “Because you said you thought it was kinda hot, all the sneaking around. Mmpf, and because you said you wanted to see how long it would take him to figure it out.”

You nod while running your fingers through his silken strands and leaning back to give him more purchase, “That’s true. But in my defence, we always have this conversation when we’re doing stuff like this and I can’t think straight when your hands and mouth are on me.”

“Kinda like how I can’t think straight when you’re wearing nothing but my shirt?” His kisses travel down from your neck to your collarbone and shoulder as he slides his loosely buttoned flannel off to one side, “Fuck, you’ve got me so hard.”

Without warning, Sam seizes your waist and hoists you into the air as if gravity were an absolute joke, before plopping you down on the edge of the steel counter, his thumbs digging lightly into your ribcage.

“Sam! This is where we eat!” you protest with a laugh.

“Exactly. Which is why I’m gonna devour you here.” He dives back into your neck, continuing his work on a little pink mark that’s already beginning to form.

“Oh fuck… Wait, what if Dean walks in?” It’s through a great struggle that you manage to push him back an inch.

“He’s got a date with the Impala. He’ll be in the garage all day, trust me.” Sam’s gaze sweeps over your body suggestively, “Now are you gonna let me taste what’s mine?”

With an equally lewd survey of his extensive frame, you reply, “As long as you let me impale myself on what’s mine later.”

His eyes darken and the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only person he’s ever wanted ignites a confidence within you, so in a rather swift motion, you grasp him by the shaft through his sweatpants – the delicious groan he emits at your touch is enough to turn your pussy into a slip and slide – and pull him back towards you until the clothed length of him is resting against your folds and your noses brush, while his hands settle naturally on your thighs.

Shivering, your breath stutters and for an instant you can do nothing but bask in the closeness of him. Sam seems to enjoy it too because he closes his eyes as he rests his forehead against yours with an elated sigh. For the second time today, you marvel at his beauty, whispering a string of gasping kisses along his lower eye socket and exquisite cheekbone, simply dying to breathe him in. All of him is so immaculate and sublime. Each time the two of you reconvene, you want to savor every fucking inch of him, but there are a lot of inches, so the task often overwhelms you. Still, you must try. Locking your ankles behind him, you use your legs to pull him even further into you and the friction makes you lose your mind.

“Fuck, baby girl, you keep that up I’ll be making a mess in my pants,” Sam grunts with his lips upon your cheek.

Your breathless laughter fills the air, thinking of the stain you've undoubtedly already left on his charming grey sweatpants. Nimble as he is, Sam takes advantage of your open mouth and plunges his tongue inside. After so much preamble, the kiss is heavy and full of need. When the pressure of his lips pushes your head back, your hands fly to his wrists for the sake of your balance.

From there, they journey upward across his vascular forearms to his bulging triceps, fondling his massive shoulders before sliding along his traps and up the gorgeous length of his perfect neck, until you finally reach the treasure trove of his impeccable locks. You tangle your fingers into the lush mane and yank, gently but zealously, making Sam growl into your mouth. His voice is the hottest thing you’ve ever heard and the sounds he makes always drive you insane.

Never breaking the kiss, Sam’s colossal moose paws roam up to your back as he slowly lays you down on the counter, his member somehow still notched at your entrance and the new angle rousing a quiet moan from you. When he ultimately pulls away, you pitch forward to chase after his lips, but Sam only grants you a devilish grin and a quick peck to the corner of your mouth before moving down to your jaw and neck. While one palm kneads at your breast through his shirt, the other begins pushing and pulling at fabric to uncover more of your skin for his wandering lips.

“Sam! Augh!” you cry out as your head falls back.

“I got you, baby. I’m all yours. Gonna make you feel so good.” As if to attest his words, he rolls his hips into yours and a needy whimper escapes you. With your fingers still twisted in his hair, Sam leaves no part of you untouched as his mouth travels down your body. But upon reaching your navel, he pauses, those vivid, color-changing eyes peeping up at you to check for any signs of discomfort or objection. Finding none, his thick tongue pokes out to lick a deliriously winding path from your belly button to your exposed clit. Then, pushing down tenderly on the insides of your knees to open you up to him, Sam directs you one last look that is both hungry and reverent, “I still can’t believe this is mine.”

Dean had stopped you halfway through your recollection, but it appears that was still too much for him, “What did I do to deserve this?! I feel like I need to go bathe in holy water for a week.”

You and Sam both open your mouths to respond but Dean cuts you off vehemently, “Ba-da-da-da!” His vocalized outcry is complete with animated gestures featuring an accusing index finger. “OK, before you two tell me another traumatizing story, that’s enough of the who, what, when, where, and how… I just need to know why. I mean, is this- are you- …?”

Sensing the protective wheels turning in his head, you decide to put Dean out his misery, “I’m not just with Sam because he’s an incredible lay if that’s what you’re wondering. We can skip the fatherly ‘what are your intentions’ talk. Yes, Dean, I am in love with your little brother… although ‘little’ is not exactly the word I’d use to describe him.”

“Sammy, could you please control your woman?”

“My woman?” Sam sounds mostly amused but you’re almost certain you can hear a hint of pride in his voice.

“Yeah, I admit I’m surprised I didn’t see it until now. You two are kinda oddly perfect for each other, you know, in a weird, kinky way.”

“To be honest, we’re pretty surprised too. I mean, he doesn’t look it but this guy is kind of territorial,” you quip whilst cocking a thumb in Sam’s direction.

“I don’t need to- Wait a minute, so all those bruises you told me were from hunts?” Dean’s eyebrows soar towards his hairline.

Chewing on your lip, you confirm his hypothesis with a miniscule nod.

“Yeah well that time you saw my back,” Sam chimes in vengefully, casting you a handsome grin full of mischief as he reveals, “that wasn’t a werewolf, that was Y/N.”

With eyes as round as dinner plates, Dean frantically shuts you both down, “OK, that’s it. Torture Dean time is over. I don’t wanna hear any more about your depraved sex lives! Look, I guess I’m happy for you guys, although mostly cause I don’t have to play referee anymore, but I’m gonna need you to follow some ground rules around here. Like rule number one! No sex in public places!” he starts counting with his fingers, “Always put a sock on it when you’re busy! And most importantly, no sex in Baby!”

Your laughter follows Dean as he wearily saunters out of the kitchen, an exhausted expression on his face. Turning to your newly outed boyfriend, you petition excitedly, “Does this mean we can have shower sex now?”

“Not while I’m around!” comes Dean’s snappy answer.

In contrast, Sam gives you the same look he did on that dreamy morning, “Oh trust me baby girl, I’m gonna get you wet somehow.”

“Still within hearing distance! I think I liked it better when you guys were at each other’s throats.”

As you’re giggling, Sam leans down to whisper in your ear, “For the record, I’m in love with you too.” And just like that, you’re tempted to re-enact your previous kitchen escapades.

TEAM IDJITS: @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @carryonmywaywardbucky​ @swiftlymoniquesblog​ @moosewinchester​ @sams-sass​ @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ @jotink78​ @winifrede​ @writingforthelonelysoul​ @turtletaylor98​ @lyarr24​ @deanwanddamons​ @peridottea91​ @tvdspngirl314​

TEAM MOOSE: @paulaern​

if you’d like to be added (or removed) please let me know!

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Thunderstorms prompt for summer stories!! Any characters you like!

My dearest Razzy, of course...

So...this is another prequel for my main event story for THAUC...@dimdiamond if you want to maybe read this lol

Special thanks to @aeonianarchives for the encouragement and the pairing brainstorming ❤️

Words: 1,5k

Warnings: Storm, slight angst...

Characters: Thorin & Dís (implied past Thorin x Thranduil), Thranduil x Bard

Thorin rubbed a cold hand absent-mindedly over his stiff lips as the angry howling of the wind outside his window rose in a deafening crescendo.

The consistent summer rains – a regular occurrence out here – having overshadowed the last days had escalated into a full-blown thunderstorm, battering against the sturdy glass panes with a thousand furious hands that exploded upon impact with the unyielding shield.

Cheery laughter and desperate exhortations to save the game in progress drifted down the stairs and into his study like ghosts; he welcomed the distraction and smiled to himself.

The boys were evidently having fun, despite dreading that the power might be cut off and that their precious progress in whatever nonsensical game they were engrossed in these days might be lost, and it lightened his morose mood a tad.

It had been a night much like this one, he remembered, when he had stood facing a man he had never expected to lose.

“You have to make up your mind! Right in this moment, Thorin, or I’m going to walk!”

Even now, Thorin could remember the strangled quality of that melodic voice and the reflection of a flash of lightning illuminating those eerily pale eyes, awash with either tears or rain with perfect clarity; oh, how he had loved that creature, even in that very moment, his almost colourless hair plastered against the shapely skull like a helmet of finest silver and white gold, and yet, he had merely shrugged.

“I cannot wait for you anymore. I’m worth more than casual meetings in the rain.”

As he closed his eyes and let the roaring of the wind, ruthlessly whipping sheets of water into a frantic dance, take him back in time, Thorin could envision him standing there again – Thranduil the flawless – soaked to the bone and snarling with barely contained frustration.

He had been right. Thorin knew that and being keenly aware of how shamefully he had deserted the one he had sworn to cherish prevented this wound from ever really scabbing over. 

“I should get home,” he had said tonelessly, feeling his words being torn from his very lips and carried away by the icy fingers of the storm, “the children will be nervous in this weather. Dís needs me.”

“So be it then,” Thranduil had replied, every promise of violence and spark of tenderness drowned in the relentless downpour, “you have chosen.”

Thorin had never really felt as if he had been given much choice – neither at that moment when his furtive lover turned his back on him for good nor now – when it came to how he lived his life.

Duty and honour had ever taken precedence over selfish needs and desultory desires; nothing had changed since that night, and it probably never would.

“They are going to drive me insane,” Dís groaned as she entered his study, two tumblers of whiskey and a plate of cold meats and cheese in her hands, “they’ve eaten four pizzas already and another three are in the oven.”

Thorin’s head snapped up as he emerged fitfully from the whirl of memories the falling rain had submerged him in until he could barely breathe.

His sister, of course, remembered that night as well and she saw the echoes of an old hurt flicker in Thorin’s eyes as the sky was cleft by a flash of lightning.

“You could still reach out,” she said softly, setting down one of the glasses beside his right hand and stroking his hair tenderly.

“It’s too late for that,” Thorin smiled wistfully as he looked up at those features that were so similar to his own, “this love was dead before the pavement was dry. The deluge came and washed it all away.”

He took a tentative sip.

“I don’t hurt about it often,” he then mused in a hollow voice, “he’s moved on after I’ve chosen you and the boys, and I truly hope he’s happy. As I said, I don’t think about it…except when it’s raining hard.”

Dís nodded – they all had their heartaches and silent regrets bound to heavy clouds and sunny days – and took a swig of her own drink; she sometimes wished that her brother had prioritised his own happiness, but she was also not naïve enough to ignore the fact that she and her sons would never have made it to the point they were at nowadays without Thorin’s indefatigable support and love.

“Why don’t you go up and watch them play a little?” Dís asked carefully, “They’d be glad to see your face – despite what they say, they still get skittish when the storm is at its worst – and there shall soon be pizza.”

“Which pizza?” Thorin seemed to perk up as he considered sitting in the boys’ room – a sanctuary he had built with his own two hands and in which he was still always a welcome even if rare visitor – and listening to them bully poor Ori into committing a fatal mistake in the game. 

“Go up and bide your time, Thorin,” Dís chided with the severe and slightly impatient tone only mothers ever perfected, “and tell them to bring their laundry down.”

As Thorin stomped up the narrow stairs – already hearing the three youngsters screech and hoot – a smile crept onto his face; yes, he hoped that Thranduil was happy now because – for Thorin – there had never been an alternative to this: his sister, his nephews, and their friends.

It had been worth it, he told himself stubbornly, and it still was.

The beaming smiles that faltered as soon as the boys realised that he was not indeed Dís holding pizza made him chuckle out loud; this was where he belonged and that would have to suffice, even on rainy nights when his soul was aching for another kind of love that he, theoretically, had given up on a long time ago.

Thranduil was not happy.

His hands were white-knuckled and cold – gripping the iron railing of the small balcony overlooking the mooring area mercilessly – and his hair was whipped across his face by the shrieking winds. 

He barely heeded the rain falling like ephemeral needles onto his bare arms as he screwed his eyes almost shut in hopes to make out that single boat finally coming home on the horizon; the weather had turned so quickly and Bard had been caught in the storm unexpectedly. 

Thranduil was worried beyond what was reasonable; Bard was an accomplished professional and – no doubt – had seen worse storms than this before.

Of course, there was no way of getting through to him on the phone and so – like millions of wives of fishers and sailors since the beginning of time – Thranduil stood there like a statue and waited patiently while looking out fixedly on the wind-tossed waters.

He, as well, remembered that long ago night of tempest when his heart had been torn apart by Thorin’s refusal to take a risk like the night sky was cut by the white-hot blade of lightning; ever since that incident, thunderstorms held a bitter-sweet taste of loss for him.

Fear was creeping up his spine like ice-cold vines and he shook his head impatiently to dispel the urge to curl up on the slippery ceramic tiles and crumble under the weight of painful memories and unsurmountable dread.

It was a ridiculous notion, and he would have laughed at it being worded thus, but Thranduil was afraid of violent tempests; oh, it was not the darkness, the surprising flashes of blinding light, or even the eery voices roaring their displeasure in ever thunderclap, no, it was the ghosts that crept in through the pervasive shadow.

Memories – sweet and bitter alike – were dissolved in the looming clouds overhead and poured down his neck and into his heart like fragrant acid until his skin was crawling with that dull ache of reminiscence.

Bard would come back, he reminded himself, unlike Thorin, this sweet, reliable, tender sea captain would return to him – unharmed and smiling – at the end of the day. 

And yet…

The ambient chaos seemed to whisper of abandonment and loneliness and the rain streaming down his stubborn, stony expression tasted of salt and regret. 

Thranduil shivered, finally letting go of the railing to hug himself, veiled in the relentless cascade of water and shrouded in darkness streaked with pure light. 

At long last – after what felt like endless hours – a small vessel pushed through the black-on-grey background and, not bothering to put on a coat or shoes, Thranduil hurried out and onto the mooring deck, slithering and slipping as his bare feet slapped against the slick wood.

“My sweetling,” Bard exclaimed, pulling off his sealskin coat and wrapping it around Thranduil’s trembling form, “what are you doing out here?”

“I…” The other’s teeth clacked so violently with shudders running through him like pulses of pure electricity that he could barely speak, “I was worried about you.”

“It’s less bad out there,” Bard immediately assuaged the wild, feral fear in those beautiful, pale eyes he so loved, “let’s get you inside! I’ll make you a hot chocolate and we can talk about it. I’m here, we’re both fine, let’s go!”

As he was led back into the house, Thranduil smiled weakly; sometimes, he thought dazedly, the storm gave back what it had taken against all odds and despite his bleak despair.

So, that was another small sneak peek on the upcoming event story :D

As promised, some Barduil as well...

I hope you liked this <3

Lots of love

[realcube]

secretly dating the haikyuu!! boys 🤫

summary: you’ve been dating your partner in secret up until now, when their team finds out 

characters: hinata, oikawa & bokuto 

thanks to anon for the request 💗

tw// fem! reader, sexual references, swearing

Shōyō Hinata 

he kept the relationship a secret bc of noya IEFBEVAGLEB

ok ok lemme explain

you said jokingly once that you were into shorter guys in response to hinata asking something lovey-dovey along the lines of ‘what did i do to deserve you? 😍’

and hinata has been on edge ever since pfft

i mean, he just thins noya is such a cool guy and an awesome upperclassmen- why wouldn’t you want him?

but he couldn’t afford losing you to this teammate so he did everything in his power to make sure that you never crossed paths with nishinoya- which included not telling his team about you 

it was so hard for him as well bc he wanted to show you off to his teammates so bad especially stinkyshima 🥺

but he couldn’t :((

you never really inquired about it though, even when he’d get all weird when you’d come pick him up from practise

then the faithful day arrived, when kageyama watched you stroll into the class, hand hinata something, place a kind kiss on his cheek before taking your leave

he didn’t question it though- he couldn’t be bothered lol

the only time he ever brought it up was 2 weeks later in the changing room when tsukishima was making fun of him for being unable to ask out a girl for an upcoming dance

so kageyama retorted with ‘it’s not like you get any girls either, shittyshima! even hinata gets more action than you!’

hinata’s blood ran cold and he froze

tsukishima hummed in response, prodding kageyama to elaborate, ‘i saw him kissing a girl in class the other day-- have you ever kissed someone before?’

although that last part was meant to be a dig, it sounded more like a genuine question

yamaguchi peered over his shoulder to join the conversation, ‘is that true, hinata?’

hinata stood frozen for a little while longer before releasing a heavy sigh, ‘yes. but please don’t tell anyone else.’

‘why not?’ tsukishima pried.

‘none of your business, stinkyshima!’

that nickname was what prompted tsukishima to stroll out of the changing the room and disguise ‘hinata has a girlfriend’ behind a cough in front of the whole team

‘you said you weren’t going to tell anyone!’ hinata yelled, slightly red from the fact everyone was now staring at him - including coach ukai, takeda, kiyoko & yachi

‘what? it was just a cough.’ tsukishima snickered but promptly received an elbow to the stomach from yamaguchi

daichi rubbed hinata’s back while reassuring him that he didn’t have to tell them anything he didn’t want to but meanwhile, hinata’s eyes were fixated on nishinoya 

‘i- i do have a girlfriend.’ he stuttered, figuring that he wasn’t going to be able to hide it forever  — plus, he felt foolish for not trusting you to begin with. ‘her name is (l/n).’

yachi choked on her water, ‘she sits next to me in class!’

ngl yachi probably had a lil’ crush on you at some point but these are just headcanons, not a full blown fic so i cba to write a love triangle

‘cool’ hinata murmured in response before continuing, ‘she said that she will come see me after practise today so i guess you’ll see her then.’

by now, most people were shooting hinata comforting smiles and muttering their congratulations but those were all drowned out by nishinoya and tanaka’s loud offers

‘wow, hinata. you really got a chick before your senpais. i’m not sure whether to be proud or jealous!’ tanaka said, wiping an invisible tear from his eye

‘proud, ryū! we clearly did a good job in teaching him how to make advances on the ladies.’ nishinoya cheered before turning to grab hinata’s shoulders and pull him close, ‘now, hinata, if you ever need advice remember that you can come to us! we’re kinda professionals when it comes to relationships and stuff!’

hinata nodded rapidly, his lips slowly curling into a smile as he wondered; what was i so worried about? of course (y/n) would never cheat on me and noya would never make moves on my girlfriend

when you arrived, you were rather confused when hinata greeted you with his usual vigour rather than his hasty, rushed greetings for when you met him after practise

also, you were perplexed as to why many peeping eyes were staring at the pair of you from the gym door as he peppered your face with kisses - and why was one of them Yachi?

‘uuh, shō, are those your teammates?’ you inquired, gesturing to the peepers behind y’all

hinata peered over his shoulder and chuckled at how ‘discreet’ they were being,’uh- yeah.’

suddenly, yachi and sugawara popped out from behind the walls, ‘hello, (l/n)!’ they both yelled in unison

you smiled, looking at them and realising this was probably the first time you’ve ever been acknowledged by his teammates

‘hi, yachi and--’

hinata hastily whispered in your ear, ‘sugawara.’

‘sugawara!’

hinata finally got to introduce you to all his teammates and he was so hyped 

he had a foolishly wide grin on his face the whole time 

he’s just so happy that the person he loves can finally meet the people who help him do what he loves 

Tōru Oikawa

y’all kept the relationship secret bc you didn’t want to get nasty glares from oikawa’s fangirls and he didn’t want to get teased by iwa so it was a win/win

although you had to be cautious when showing PDA, it didn’t mean y’all didn’t do it at all

there was just something about knowing that what you were doing was risky, which made you want to do it even more

so sometimes y’all would do that thing where you arrange certain times to ask for the bathroom during class so you could see each other in the corridor

and since it was during class, there was virtually nobody else in the hallway 

so y’all would literally just go for it

kissing as if you had never experienced human affection before

but since you both were so into it, you’d never notice kyōtani walk by, on his way back from the principal’s office

he’d even let out a low scoff every time

but you were both just so in the moment that you’d never even notice 

word spreads fast in the seijoh boys’ volleyball club, though

but slightly slower when it starts with kyōtani

like what reason does he have to tell anybody about what he saw? he doesn’t want to relive those events

but during a bitching session with yahaba, he spilled about oikawa and you since the captain had been working them extra hard lately, as if he was the coach tsk

so ofc the gossip spread across multiple bitching session from yahaba, to kunimi, to kindaichi, to watari, to hanamaki then finally to matsukawa

(iwaizumi didn’t get to know bc firstly he didn’t join in with bitching sessions and secondly, everyone knew that iwa would just immediately tell oikawa and that would ruin all the fun)

it got to the point where almost everyone on the team knew about you and oikawa so whenever he would walk into practise, a chorus of low giggles and whispers would spread across the gym

this had been going on for about a month now and at first, oikawa was too self-indulged to notice

but after a bit longer, he kinda noticed and brought it up to iwaizumi

‘hey, why does everyone start acting weird whenever i walk into the room?’

iwaizumi rolled his eyes, shoving a ball against oikawa’s chest, ‘what? no, they don’t; stop being so paranoid. now, throw me some sets.’

that was enough reassurance for oikawa to ignore it for a while but then hanamaki accidentally made one of the jokes a bit too loud

oikawa fell face first into the gym floor after tripping over his lace and the whole gym seemed to erupt into laughter

‘hah!’ matsukawa wheezed, ‘stop kissin’ the ground, tōru!’ 

‘mwah, mwah!’ yahaba teased

hanamaki suddenly chimed in, ‘yeah, save that shit for (y/n)!--’

silence spread like a plague across the whole gym room

it was only broken when iwaizumi let out a clueless, ‘huh?’

oikawa quickly scurried onto his feet, ‘how do you know about (y/n)?’

hanamaki chuckled awkwardly as he looked left to right for help but was just met by blank stares, ‘uh- she’s- erm, in my homeroom class.’

obviously, oikawa didn’t buy it

‘who told you about me and (y/n)?’ he inquired in a sinister tone of voice, his glare seeming anything but kind 

‘watari!’ he yelled accusingly, pointing his index finger at the poor libero 

after all eyes shifted onto him, watari wasted no time in redirecting everyone’s attention onto kindaichi, ‘it was turnip-head who told me!’

‘well, it was kunimi that told me!’ kindaichi shouted with no hesitation

kumini crossed his arms over his chest, ‘yahaba told me.’

yahaba’s eyes widened at the sudden accusation before turning to oikawa and defending himself, ‘mad dog was the one that saw you and (y/n) kissing in the hallway!’

mad dog glared at the pinch server, then turned to oikawa and shrugged 

oikawa was livid DIUVBEVILS

‘YOU ALL KNEW ABOUT ME AND (Y/N) BUT DIDN’T TELL ME?! HOW LONG HAVE YOU GUYS BEEN GOSSIPING ABOUT US FOR?!’

yahaba took it upon himself to reply, ‘mad dog only told me about a month ago-’

‘THIS HAS BEEN GOING ON FOR A WHOLE MONTH?!’

faint hums of ‘yeah’ and ‘uhuh’ were heard across the gym hall

‘wait-’ iwaizumi cocked his head to the side, ‘are you dating (y/n)?’

this inquiry was only met by blank stares as oikawa pinched his temple, wondering what he should do now

‘why did you try to hide your relationship for so long?’ kindaichi asked before kunimi added, ‘yeah, can we finally meet her?’ 

matsukawa rolled his eyes, ‘she literally goes to our school; meet her in the hallway or something.’

oikawa shook his head, quickly shutting down matsukawa’s idea, ‘i’ll ask her to come over after practise today but be on your best behaviour.’ he sung, quickly grabbing a ball and going back to practising receives

everyone was rather shocked at how fast the captains’ demeanour changed

while you were at your own club, you got a message from oikawa asking if you wanted to meet his team

you had already met most of them outside of volleyball but you figured now was perhaps a good time to introduce yourself as oikawa’s gf to rub it in /j

before you arrived, oikawa made it explicitly clear that they weren’t to tell anybody about the relationship or else oikawa’s fangirls would come for you

they all agreed and patiently waited for you to arrive

honestly, iwaizumi was probably the only one with pure intentions when it came to finally meeting you — as he simply wanted to see the girl who has oikawa’s heart

the rest of them of the other hand 🙄

matsukawa and hanamaki planned to have a competition to see who could seduce you first 

watari, kindaichi and kunimi wanted to just tease oikawa in front you 

and yahaba was going to try get you to tell him all the gossip about oikawa 😈

(kyōtani left early)

so needless to say you were hardly charmed when you formally met the bunch of boys oikawa spends his time with 

‘so are you free tonight orrr?’ hanamaki questioned, promptly getting a slap to the back of the head from both oikawa and matsukawa

‘makki, a lady like her shouldn’t be spoken to like that,’  matsukawa pushed his friend aside, ‘watch this: hey, sweetie. what is a gal--’

matsukawa got the same treatment as makki except this time it was kindaichi pushing him away, ‘so how much is oikawa paying you to play his girlfriend?’

you couldn’t help but giggle, especially as you could see oikawa from over his shoulder, shooting him the deadliest glare

kunimi poked his head around kindaichi arm to look at you, ‘i’m guessing ¥3000 an hour.’

‘(y/n) is worth way more than ¥3000 an hour!’ oikawa yelled from behind the crowd of boys surrounding you 

yahaba hurried forward, slipped his arm around your waist and escorting you a few paces away from the others to whisper in your ear, ‘does oikawa have any embarrassing childhood pictures?’

you snickered, leaning in and whispering back, ‘yeah, i’ll send them to you on instagram.’

ok. although they weren’t the most charming- they were definitely a fun bunch lol

Kōtarō Bokuto

a secret relationship w/ bokuto has hardly a secret lol

plus, the ‘secret’ part is only gonna last MAX a month ✋

he tries to ‘act natural’ around his teammates but it’s a bit- too natural 

he’ll come back from a make-out session with you, lipstick smeared across his face and just be like ‘hey y’all! ✌ good vibes today’

or when he’d take off his shirt to reveal the scratch marks on his back, that he wasn’t even aware of 

or the hickeys that he wouldn’t even bother try to hide 

so the whole team were aware that bokuto had a partner- they just weren’t sure who it was

but they didn’t really mention anything to bokuto bc they srsly didn’t care which left bokuto under the impression that he was sneaky as hell

akaashi was kinda upset that bokuto didn’t tell him about you tho but he kept that to himself

everyone was silently curious as to who bokuto was dating but none of them actually spoke up about it

until one day, konoha was chatting to komi, thinking they weren’t being listened to since bokuto seemed preoccupied with practising spikes, ‘psst, komi. i saw bokuto walk home with (y/n) the other day, i think she might be the one he’s da--’

but bokuto develops super-hearing when you’re involved

he was now looming over komi and konoha in what felt like a blink of an eye, ‘what did you say about (y/n)?’ he asked in a rather gruff voice

both boys were taken back by their captain’s sudden change in mood but komi managaed to stutter out, ‘oh- konoha just saw you walking home with her the other day; you both make a very cute couple.’

all sense of menace or threat was washed out of bokuto’s tone as his lips formed a bright smile, ‘awww, thanks! we do-- wait!’ 

bokuto cut himself off and the boys started snickering, ‘so it’s (y/n) that you’re dating.’ komi stated the obvious, this time loud enough for the whole gym to hear.

bokuto couldn’t help but face-palm, his sweaty hands making a loud, wet slapping noise against his skin. ‘ugh! i wasn’t supposed to tell you that.’ he grumbled, eyeing everyone in the gym that was sending him astonished looks

after a while of sulking in his emo-mode..with help from akaashi, bokuto finally tried to see the positives in the situation

‘well, maybe today she can finally meet you all.’ bokuto murmured, eyes full of hope which could hardly be seen passed the strands of his deflated hair that hung in front of his face

‘sure.’ akaashi shrugged, seeing nothing wrong with this idea 

there was a lot of things wrong, though

firstly, you were at your own club which finished ten minutes after practise ended, which means bokuto had to use his puppy-eyes on everyone on the team to convince them into staying for ten minutes extra

secondly, bokuto was so hyped that you were finally meeting his teammates, an introduction for each person took like 5 minutes 

bokuto inhaled sharply to catch his breath from the last introduction he just did, ‘ok next, this is washio, he’s one of our middle blockers bc he is so damn tall - say hi, washio. his eyebrows might make you think that he is a meanie or something  — that’s what i thought at first — but he’s really not. he offered me some of his lunch after i forgot to bring money that day so he’s definitely a good egg. he’s also a really good blocker and he has similar hair to me so i think that’s why he’s so good. also, he’s really good at making tea.’

ok now imagine that but for every. single. member.

he also gives you an extra ass intro too lol

‘(y/n), this is onaga. onaga this is my beautiful, stunning, flawless girlfriend (y/n)  — she’s the sweetest person ever and she give the sweetest kisses on the face of this earth.’

please don’t be embarrassed he just loves you so much 

[thedevillionaire]

Where The Heart Is

So first there was this lovely scenario by @stealthy-sneezing and then I received this insanely flattering prompt from @you-dont-look-so-good and only, uh...three weeks later (LOL, speedy turnaround is an unreliable thing in these parts, I'm afraid) here's my attempt at a little fic based around it. --- Kia doesn’t greet him with her usual kiss good morning as she joins him in the kitchen; she does not, in fact, acknowledge him at all as she passes by. What sleep she’d managed to get had been restless and broken, for a start, and she’s still more than a little out of sorts over last night’s…

Fight?

She’s reluctant to use the term, even to herself. But there had nevertheless been some tensely exchanged differences of opinion, whatever term she gives it. They hardly ever argue and it weighs on her heavily, disproportionately.

She busies herself with breakfast-preparing activities, pointedly avoiding the dining bench where her bonded sits wrapped in a plush burgundy dressing robe and an almost tangible aura of bleariness which suggests that he didn’t sleep particularly well, either.

And there’s no question that he’s…not sounding his best.

Cerberus takes a sip of his steaming coffee, sniffles sharply and rubs his nose with firm frustration against the itch that’s been bothering him since waking, flicking his gaze momentarily across to Kia in a cursory attempt to ascertain her mood.

She very deliberately looks away.

Maybe, she thinks with more than a touch of snippiness as he sniffles again,you should have come home when you said you would. It’s totally possible to delegate sometimes, you know. Like, just once, even, maybe? And while she doesn’t Mindsend him her thoughts, she certainly wills them into the aether. Just a touch.

It’s not even about being late, though, she continues internally, making her point to herself with conviction as she peers into a second cupboard for the blackberry spread she can’t seem to find, I don’t care if you’re late, really, it’s about promising me for the third time this week that you wouldn…

The hitch in his breath severs her sentence momentarily but she doesn’t intend to…

“Huh-TSCHH-uu!”

Kia’s own breath catches a little, too, although she keeps her focus resolutely fixed on the cupboard’s interior; she does not want to engage right now and she’s not going to…

“Hh-TSCHH-uu! Ah-TSSCHHhuu! hh-hhH… Hh-AAHTSCH-uu!” Rapid and forceful, urgent, an increasing desperation evident, and she chances a peripheral glance at Cerberus, her ability to concentrate on anything else hijacked into a weighted anticipation almost as singular as his, despite her not wanting to…

A deep inhalation scissored and insistent, a frozen expectant moment and he gives in again to the maddening itch twice over. “Hhh… hh-TSSCHH-uu! Ah-hh-TSSCHH-uu!” Several sharp sniffles follow; he excuses himself reflexively, habitually, another sniffle following in short order, accompanied by a faintly exasperated sigh and snarlwhispered fuck’s sake.

“Bless you,” Kia says quietly, downplaying her usual heartwarm tone a touch but she doesn’t have it within herself to not acknowledge him. And she can’t help the twinge of concern she feels – or indeed any…other sort of interest – but she doesn’t want her resolve to weaken any further. Not yet, at least.

I’m still mad at you. Stop it.

He nods a perfunctory thankyou for the blessing; she hasn’t turned around so doesn’t notice.

The blackberry spread seems determined to remain unfound and she decides that muscat will do, or whatever’s in this jar, she thinks it’s muscat, it’s not important, really, whatever, does she even want toast, she just needs to…

The sound of a hurriedly claimed fresh succession of tissues being pulled from the box, and her focus dissolves anew.

“Hh-TSCHH-uu!”

And she can sense the expectation of recurrence in his shaky not-quite recovery, his breath unsettled, irregular, and god getting breakfast should really not take this much effort, maybe she’ll just have a cup of tea, this is ridiculous, and from the urgency of gasped inhalation she knows doubtless that he’s going to…

“Huh-AHSSCHuu! Ah-TSSCH-uu! Goddamn it, what the hell is…” Another series of sniffles follows and Cerberus blows his nose, wetly and ineffectively, and with no pause save for a suddensharp gasp, stifles a further sneeze immediately thereafter. “HXTchu! Ugh…” He groans and coughs convulsively from the effort, pushes disarrayed midnight from watering eyes, and growls an undertone of vexation. As if this morning wasn’t uncomfortable enough already.

He coughs again and clears his throat. “Excuse me,” he murmurs, wipes his nose several times, and sniffles again.

“Bless you,” Kia says again, only this time the words come true, sincere, empathic. There’s a resignation in her bonded’s voice that she’s unable to ignore, and her brow creases – something is clearly wrong, and her residual anger over yesterday’s events begins to fall aside in the face of genuine concern, and now she turns to face him.

He sighs heavily as his eyes meet hers. “I, um… *snf!* I don’t mean to disturb you.”

“You’re not disturbing me.” Well, you are, but… She closes the cupboard door, leans back against it, any remaining thoughts of breakfast forgotten. “What’s going on?”

“I have n…” His breath catches, but with controlled if shaky exhalation he manages to fight off the urge and stay on course. “I have no idea. Just can’t seem to… *snf!* Can’t seem to stop.” He looks at her with an expression somewhere between irritated chagrin and cautious detachment. “It’s alright. You don’t need t…to… hpt-XCH!” A quiet groan as Kia blesses him again and gently tells him not to stifle; he nods in agreement with her point as he returns to his own. “You don’t need to worry,” he finishes tiredly, taking another handful of tissues and blowing his nose again.

“Huh. You know,” Kia says, “I was actually trying not to, but… I don’t know, you’re not exactly making it easy or something.” She sighs quietly, not unkindly, and crosses the distance between them. “Okay, though, for real. What’s going on?”

:Karmic debt, perhaps?: Cerberus Mindsends, and offers her a darkly rueful smile as he vaporises the latest clutch of used tissues. “You didn’t secretly burn birchbark in here as revenge for last night, did you?” The sniffle following is intentionally pathetic; he runs an index finger along the underside of his nose and glances at his bonded with eyebrow arched in enquiry.

“Oooh.” Kia shakes her head, narrows her eyes at him as if in consideration, and smiles wryly. “You sure you want to give me ideas like that today?”

Cerberus manages a brief chuckle before his focus dissolves unstoppably stolen, relentless urgency returning and he capitulates to cresting need posthaste and absolute – powerful, emphatic, desperate. “Huh-hhAHTSSCHhuu! Ah-TSSCHH-uu! Gods! *snff!*” With a deep sigh, he pushes ebony heaviness from his eyes again, looks up to meet his bonded’s gaze in dishevelled and somewhat hazy self-deprecation. “And thus my brilliant plan to be as unobtrusive as possible this morning continues its wild run of success,” he remarks dryly, claiming a new couple of tissues with purposeful emphatic flourish and another sniffle.

And the last of Kia’s resistance falls away, her heart melting, any remnant vestiges of irritation and indignance cracking, fading, and none of it is important anymore. “It’s okay,” she murmurs, gentle, kind. “You know, I do still love you even when you’re totally wrong about stuff and it’s all your fault,” she adds playfully, then rolls her eyes with a light scoff and affected exasperation. “Wow, I really did mean to be mad at you for a bit longer than this, though.”

She smiles at her bonded, open and affectionate, and Mindsends him a tenderwarm :Bastard.:

Cerberus laughs quietly, sardonically, and wipes his nose. “Well, I’m certain I’ll not be coming home late tonight, in any case.”

Moving to stand behind him, Kia strokes a gentle hand through his hair, touches a kiss to the top of his head as he leans back into her embrace with an enervated soft hum of pleasure.

“Maybe just…maybe just stay home today, sweetheart.”

---

[willwriteforhugs]

it’s not okay- hwang hyunjin

boyfriend! hyunjin x reader- one shot !

word count: 1.8k

genre: angst, a little fluffy, full of hyunjin-is-overprotective-syndrome

synopsis: when a stranger on the street makes you uncomfortable with his romantic advances, it takes everything hyunjin has not to kill him right then and there.

warnings: instance of harassment, a *brief* physical altercation, arguing, some cursing

a/n: this fic was requested by a lovely anon! sorry about the wait- i hope you and everyone else enjoy this one. i definitely got carried away with this, but hopefully it’s still what was requested lol. also, if you all have any other requests, feel free to send them in. i like to know i’m writing what you all want to see.

one last thing: a quick disclaimer- all of the events in this story are fictional, and should be taken with a grain of salt. everything that happens here is just my own interpretation of the situation i was presented with. anyways, thank you sm for reading! 

- - - 

the streets around you bustle with noise. mothers calling for their wandering children, street vendors shouting out prices... the sheer volume of it almost overwhelms you. at your side, your right hand tightens around your boyfriend’s. the last thing you want is to lose him in the crowd... he gives you a gentle squeeze back. words weren’t exchanged, but you understand what he meant: it’s okay, i’m right here.

you really are not a fan of crowds- you never have been, but hyunnie loves the market- and you do too, when it isn’t this packed. but he’s been so busy lately,  and the two of you hardly get to go on dates anymore... so when he’d proposed this as how he wanted to spend the afternoon, you couldn’t help but agree to it.

you glance up at him, thankful for the opportunity of distraction. you and hyunjin have been together for more than six months now- and god, you have never been more in love. you’d been in love before- or at least, you think you had. but being with hyunjin... it’s just not the same. the feelings you have for him are ten times the feelings you’d had for anyone back in high school. of course, maybe it’s just because he’s so damn beautiful...

today, for a simple market day, your counterpart is dressed casually. he’s in a plain hoodie and jeans, with his shoulder length hair tucked into a beanie. his face is bare, and you can’t help but smile just by looking at him. 

your boyfriend smiles back, looking slightly baffled. “is there something on my face?”

you snort and shake your head. “i can’t just look at you?”

he narrows his eyes playfully. “absolutely not. it makes me suspicious.”

you roll your eyes. “you spend too much time with the boys. i’m not gonna flick you, you know.” you pause. “or shove tissues in your mouth.”

at this, hyunjin huffs a laugh. “alright, that one’s true.”

hyunjin then leads you into a left turn, heading towards a vendor selling fresh hotteok. you follow willingly, realizing that you are indeed a bit hungry. as always, he knew exactly what you needed before even you did.

as your boyfriend places an order, you wander a few feet, wanting to glance into the stall next to you. in order to do so, you have to slip behind the first stall, into a small alleyway that borders the back part of the vendor lines. you peer over into the stall you were looking for. they’re selling handmade dishes- and from what you can see as you strain you neck over the stall, they’re absolutely gorgeous. dainty tea sets made of impossibly thin porcelain line the tables. the intricate floral designs catch your eye, and you know hyunjin would love to look at them. you turn quickly, mouth already forming his name.

“hyunjin-ah, i- oh!” you interrupt yourself with your surprise. in your rush, you’d turned around and run right into another person. your face floods with heat, and if you could, you would have shriveled up and died right there.

“i’m so sorry,” you mumble, bowing frantically. you eyes burn holes into the ground. “i wasn’t paying attention.”

“it’s fine, really.” a masculine voice replies. 

you look up, shocked to see that the person you’d run into is a man, and he looks to be around your age. “oh. okay.”

the man is tall- taller than hyunjin, even. he’s got an angry look to him, and you take a step back. but he just smirks. “i didn’t mean to scare you.”

he leans against the wall, crossing his arms together. you watch as his eyes rake over you and your body, and you shrink away.

you press your lips together, and the anxiety from before begins to claw it’s way back into your mind. “it’s fine, seriously.” your breathing is uneven, and you desperately want to get back to hyunjin. “but i kinda have to go...”

the man, who is blocking your way, doesn’t budge. “so soon? why don’t you stay and talk with me? you’re so cute, i just gotta get your number, babe.”

your body jerks in reaction to the pet name. who the hell is he calling baby?

you inhale sharply. “please- can i just get by? i’m really alright.”

the stranger takes a step towards you. “come on, why are you so shy? it’s harmless flirting, love...” he reaches out and takes a hold of your wrist. your facade crumbles, and your vision begins to close. you become hyper-aware of how alone you are back in this alleyway. you quickly jerk your hand back, and he relents, freeing your hand. “so jumpy! why? how about we go get a coffee? i know a place, it’s just ten booths-”

“who the hell are you?”

the voice is sharp and temperamental, and beautifully familiar. you hear yourself breathe a sigh of relief. hyunjin's here. thank god.

your boyfriend is now standing a few feet away, sporting an expression of anger and wariness. his eyes flit to the man, then to you. though he doesn’t say it, you can practically hear his voice, asking if you’re okay.

the strange man- who is still standing far too close- speaks up, voice brimming with cockiness. “why do you care?”

you physically cringe at those words. good luck with that one, dude. you just threw gasoline on an open flame.

“get the fuck away from my girlfriend.” hyunjn’s voice is low, but the impact of the words is louder than bombs. his face has gone from wary to furious. “don’t make me say it again.”

the creep takes a step away from you, moving towards hyunjin. “why are you so pissy, pretty boy? got that much to lose?”

you can see the clockwork in your boyfriend’s mind turning. calculating the outcomes. 

before anyone can move to stop you, you dart across the apparent no-man’s-land, coming to a stop at hyunjin’s left shoulder. you reach out and rest a hand on it, hoping the action conveys your feelings. when he doesn’t respond, you lean forward and hurriedly whisper in his ear; “please, hyunjin-ah. i’m alright. let’s just go.”

the boy brushes your hand away, and maintains his silence.

“hyunjin.” you say, louder this time. “it’s okay.”

this time, his narrowed eyes flash. “what-no! it’s not okay!” he swivels to face you. “what about that was okay?!”

your chest clenches, and your hand slips forward to clutch at his shirt. your voice comes out cracked. “please, let’s just go.”

the stranger watches the whole interaction with an amused smile on his lips, and the looks sends chills up your spine.

after a moment, hyunjin takes a deep breath and raises his chin. “you’re right, y/n-ah, i’m sorry. let’s just go, my love.”

as the two of you turn to go, the stranger shouts at hyunjin’s retreating back. “where are you going? i didn’t even get your bitch’s number!”

your skin goes cold, and you can feel your boyfriend turn to stone next to you. you inhale, reaching out to stop what you know is inevitable. 

hyunjin makes a slow turn on his heel. his gaze is icy, and his tone is even colder. “what the hell did you just say?”

the other man scoffs, and it randomly occurs to you that he might be drunk. or, you think; maybe he’s just a pervert, y/n. 

“i said, i didn’t get your bitch’s phone number.”

hyunjin is silent and frozen for a moment. then, with no preamble, he lunges forward. 

“hyunjin!” you yelp. but you know- you know there’s no stopping what’s next.

his punch hits the man square in the jaw, and his opponent goes stumbling. you lurch forward, terrified of this escalating. 

without looking, hyunjin catches you with his arm and gently shoves you back. 

he refocuses on the man on the ground, who is struggling to get up. when he gets close, hyunjin pushes him back down. you watch as he comes to a crouch in front of the fallen man. he hisses his words through his teeth: “don’t you ever say that shit. calling my girlfriend a bitch... unless you want to get your poor fucking ass handed to you, you never say shit like that again.”

your mouth hangs open in shock, and you stumble forward again, pulling your boyfriend away before he does something he regrets. you drag him back through the booths, and you emerge back at the front of the hotteok stand.

as soon as the connection breaks, hyunjin’s anger disappears, and he looks almost surprised. he reaches over and grasps your hand. “y/n- are you alright?”

you sigh, and even as your eyes sting slightly, you nod your head. the creepy man hadn’t followed the two of you, but you still feel the need to run. you release a shaky breath. 

hyunjin leans down and plants a light but lingering kiss of your forehead. when he pulls away, he sighs against your hair. “i’m sorry,” he whispers.

“for what?” you prompt, whispering back.

“for getting carried away. i...i didn’t mean to.”

“it’s okay. i know.” you lean away to meet his eyes. “besides, he was scaring me. so... thank you.”

he offers a bittersweet smile. “okay, baby...” he pauses for a second. “let’s go home?”

you allow a real smile and nod. “yeah. i’d like that.” you pause, deciding to tease him a little. “will you promise to stay and cuddle?”

at this, your lover’s moment of melancholy breaks too. “yes..” he fakes a groan. “if i have to...”

you reach down to hold his hand as the two of you begin walking, initial plans long forgotten. you begin to bicker back. “oh, please. you really act like you don’t enjoy skinship with me.”

he pauses. “how do you know it’s not just to get in your pants?”

you gasp and smack his arm. “don’t say that! i’ll never sleep with you again if you say shit like that!” 

hyunjin laughs, and his real, genuine smile warms your heart. “well then i guess i’ll stop. but only because of that threat.”

“oh, really?” you raise your eyebrows.

he gives up immediately, his forehead crinkling slightly. “no. i love you, y/n. i really do. and i promise i will give you all the snuggles when we get back.”

you nod, then lean your head on his arm, inhaling his scent. you’ve never been more grateful for him. 

the two of you continue walking, hand in hand. it isn’t for another few minutes that he finally breaks the silence. “so- what do you want for dinner?”

the two of you burst into laughter when you realize you’d never even gotten your hotteok.

[prncesselene]

i love your kathony fics 🥺. are prompts still open? if they are then anything around that moment that is mentioned by edwina in the books - when kate says people will move on from her and anthony's *love match* gossip soon enough and edwina's like not as long as anthony looks at you the way he did at that ball, smouldering, pushing people away to get to kate. i love that because anthony is still in his denial phase but his actions are SO clearly the opposite xD

i am indeed still taking prompts! i’m working through them all ridiculously slowly, as my inactivity might indicate (lol), but i will be getting through everything that’s being sent my way, promise! :)

ao3

“There you are!”

Kate turned at the sound of her husband’s voice, her eyes widening. She hadn’t expected him to notice she’d even left the ballroom, much less follow her out. Her slowly relaxing heart took flight once more, a mixture of shame and embarrassment pooling in her chest.

They’d arrived back in London only a few nights ago, fresh off of their time in the country after the wedding. And though the time spent alone had been rejuvenating and enlightening all at once — Anthony was, in almost every way, a very attentive husband — returning to London as a bride had been a difficult adjustment. The height of the season was still upon them, and with it a number of events and social responsibilities that now asked much more of Kate than they had before.

And she wasn’t quite sure she was up to snuff, if she were being honest with herself.

Anthony crossed the hallway in three long strides and reached her side. “I turn around for just a moment and suddenly you’re gone. Practically knocked down half of the ton trying to find you.”

Kate’s chest warmed. The ballroom had been so full he would have had to have been keeping quite the close eye on her to notice something like that.

She shook her head immediately, dashing those childish, romantic notions away. He’d been very clear on where their marriage stood, and trying to paint his intentions as anything other than a gentlemanly interest in her well-being would only lead to heartbreak. She was already lucky enough, with the deal she’d been cut; asking for anything more than what Anthony could give her seemed selfish.

Once he was at her side, he tugged her elbow, gently bringing her in front of him. “Did something happen? Why did you leave the ballroom so suddenly?”

Kate began to fiddle with the buttons on his waistcoat, her eyes fixated on a string of fabric that had begun to pull from within one of them. “My, it's warm in here, isn't it? You need to take this to get fixed. I can arrange for your tailor to pass by tomorrow afternoon, if you can manage to clear your schedule. I know y–”

“Kate,” he warned, cutting off her nervous rambling, his voice more insistent. To their left, couples and families donning their finest gowns and suits entered and exited the ballroom, chatting amongst each other easily. “What’s wrong?”

She kept fiddling with the string of fabric, chewing on her lips until she was sure they would end up bleeding. Anthony’s hands came to rest atop hers, limiting her movement. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Kate sighed, gathering the strength needed for her admission. “Anthony, I don’t think I’m quite cut out for this.”

“Cut out for what?”

“Oh, you know, all of... this,” she emphasized, attempting to tug her hands away, but his grip only tightened.

“Marriage? It’s a little late for doubts like those,” he murmured.

“What?” Kate met his eyes then, surprised to find they were much more contemplative than she expected. “No, no. It’s not that. It’s just… well, I don’t really fit in, do I? I’ve never been good at the things that ladies are expected to be good at, have never managed to sit still or act demurely or... or anything like that, really and... well, now that is precisely what is expected of me.”

She paused, chewing her lip, taking her eyes off of Anthony’s to stare at the floor. “I know I’m not the kind of wife you expected. The sort that could smile prettily and charm everyone around her and be a proper viscountess.”

Anthony’s eyes narrowed with concern, his stance tightening. He took her hands firmly in his and held onto them, running a thumb over her gloved knuckles. “Kate, where is this coming from? Did something happen?”

Kate swallowed, her heart beating traitorously. It seemed no matter how hard she tried to convince herself of Anthony’s objectivity within their marriage, her body refused to cooperate. The simple gesture of him listening to her so intently, with such gentleness and care, made her knees weak.

“No one is saying anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she sighed, noticing the way he relaxed once more. Her face reddened remembering Lady Whistledown’s most recent column. “In fact… well, it’s obviously a bit ridiculous, but the consensus among the gossips of society is that ours was a love match.”

“Ridiculous,” he repeated softly. Not quite a question, but not quite a statement of fact, either.

“Yes. Ridiculous,” she said, her belly swooping pitifully. “Anyways, clearly, it is not. You need not remind me of that fact. That— it’s fine. But even if they think ours looks like a love match, they must think it’s an ill fitting one. I mean, I'm hardly a catch. I talk too loud, express my opinion too plainly. I keep meeting duchesses and countesses and realizing I... I'm nothing like that, Anthony. And I worry I never will be." 

For a moment, Anthony didn’t reply, and Kate feared he agreed with her. That he, too, saw their marriage as the farce that it was. That the one with doubts was him.

But all he did he was bring her hands up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“Never speak that way of yourself again, Kate,” he said, his voice serious. “For my sake if not yours. In fact, as your husband, I demand it.”

Kate’s fingers were warm underneath the gloves where he kissed her, her eyes wide.

“I can only speak for myself, but there is absolutely nothing about you that I would wish to change. You are headstrong, passionate, and absolutely everything a proper viscountess should be, all of those other supposed virtues be damned. If someone — anyone — cannot see that, then that is their loss and theirs only." 

He tightened his grip on her hands and made sure she was looking directly at him before continuing. "When you enter rooms you command the respect of others not because you are my wife, or a Bridgerton, but because you're you. And you are more than enough.”

Kate was at a loss for words. She knew that love would never be a part of their relationship. That even if her body felt most alive when it was next to his, even if she laughed and talked with him like she had with no one else before, even if she knew she was already halfway in love with him herself — that those feelings would have to be kept under lock and key.

But then, when he said those things…. When he looked at her like that…

It was, admittedly, a little difficult not to want to wrap her arms around him and show him exactly how she felt.

Kate released her inhibitions and embraced him tightly anyways, if only so that he wouldn’t see the errant tears that threatened to slip out of her eyes.

“Thank you,” she murmured into the velvet of his coat, indulging in the comforting smell of leather and tobacco and Anthony that she’d grown to associate with warmth and belonging. That she’d grown to love, little by little. "You needn't lie to me to make me feel better, but I appreciate it all the same."

“There is nothing I’ve said that I wouldn’t happily repeat in front of all of London,” he said, the smile in his voice evident. One of his hands wrapped around her waist while the other tipped her chin towards his. “Will you obey your husband and never disparage yourself like this again? Can I trust you to do that?”

Kate’s eyes narrowed as she bit down on her own smile. She was like a slice of jelly when it came to him, pliant and willing to do whatever he said. It helped, of course, that all he was asking of her was to be kinder to herself. That he seemed to really, truly believe the words he'd said. That he saw her that way. 

“I suppose.”

He smiled and leaned down to slant his lips against hers, taking advantage of the brief lull in hallway activity. The arm around her waist tightened and brought her closer to him as his lips explored hers tenderly.

“Anthony!” she scolded, giggling against his mouth. “This is most improper. What if someone sees us?”

Leaning his forehead against hers, Anthony smiled. “The gossip about us is already scandalous. Why not add to it?”

Kate laughed but pulled away, shaking her head. As much as she loved kissing Anthony, she'd had enough scandal to last a lifetime. “I don’t think there’s any need for that.”

Straightening her ballgown and tightening her gloves once more, Kate took a deep breath. It was time to go back to the ballroom, where she would once again have to resume the act of viscountess; to pretend that she knew what she was doing, that she belonged there. With Anthony by her side, at least, it almost felt manageable.

Anthony’s smile was warm when he extended his arm out to hers. “Ready to return to the fun, Mrs. Bridgerton?”

Dash it. With him by her side it was certainly manageable. She had a growing suspicion that with him, anything was. Love matches or no. 

She slipped her arm into his, remembering his words. His faith in her.

“Ready.”

[nightowlfandom]

Yandere! Jeon Jungkook- You’re My Prey

Why Hello there! ANON ASKS

Greetings! I hope all is well with you! Could I please request a smutty angsty predator Jungkook x Prey Reader with sprinkle fluff at the end? like jk is the readers bully and realizes that he likes her but she avoids him like covid lmao. so he protects her from someone or something and she starts to trust him? oml that sounds like a lot🤣🤣 U are an amazing writer!!

BRUH YOU HAD ME AT ‘AVOIDS HIM LIKE COVID LOL’ 

Sooooo I didn’t touch on the smut part, and I’m very sorry! Tbh I was a bit overwhelmed writing this one and I kept getting stressed because I hated every draft I made before the final draft.

So this contains a bit of sensitive material, proceed with caution

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Leggo!

...

You sat in front of the vanity as your mom styled your hair. She hummed as he took your strands in her hands.

“I saw this style in an issue of Vogue...I know you’ll love it.” she commented.

Tonight was perhaps the biggest event of your mom’s career. She has been a avid participant in the entertainment industry for years and she was invited to some crazy event with her celebrity friends and wanted you to come as her plus one. People knew she had a daughter, but they had never really seen you before. You stayed out of the spotlight when you could.

Except for tonight. Your mom had stared as the lead in a huge show, and a party was being thrown to celebrate it’s popularity and final episode. You were honored but nervous.

“Look at you!” she winked at you in the mirror. “Come on, we’re running fashionably early.” she ushered you out the chair.

...

Ugh, how much longer was this gonna last. Your feet were killing you! Your mom seemed to be having the time of her life though. She was drinking and dancing and carrying on as if she was a young college student.

“She seems to be having fun.” a voice said from behind you. 

“Don’t get any ideas. That’s my mother.” you seethed. You were protective of your mom, going as far as to curse out anyone who set their sights on her whether it was positive or negative. While people didn’t know you as a celebrity, they knew you as the one who knocked the living daylights out of an ex idol who tried to touch your mother’s ass on a variety show backstage.

“Don’t worry, pet. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Once you recognized the voice, you froze. Of course he would be here! You slowly turned around, seeing Jungkook standing there with a sick smile on his face. “Missed me?”

“No!” you said a little to swiftly. You should have asked if anyone you knew was gonna be there. You felt like an idiot. Jungkook literally sang half the soundtrack for her show, of course he’d be here!

“Oh how rude.” he cooed. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.” he shrugged. 

“You though wrong.” you looked him up and down. “I swear it’s like you’re following me sometimes.”

“You could say that...but just know I’ll always be there for you...watching.”

 “J-just stay away from me!”

To say he had some sort of infatuation with you as an understatement. Everywhere you went, he somehow turned up. It was like he could smell you from miles away. 

“Dear Y/N, don’t make a scene.” he stepped forward just so he could whisper in your ear. “Wouldn’t want to cause a disturbance.” you could feel the smirk on his face and all you wanted to do was slap it right off.

“Stay back.” you stepped away. “Leave me alone.” you pointed warningly. You attempted to walk away, only to feel him grab your hand. 

Tingles shot up your spine as you touched. You shuddered, his skin was hot. You took one look at Jungkook. He seemed to be in a trance, he was staring at your hand, following it up your arm, passing over you shoulder and up your neck to stare at your face. 

When you finally came to your senses, you yanked your arm back. “Don’t touch me.”

“Okay alright.” he rolled his eyes, seemingly going back to normal as well. “Just don’t get into any trouble, pet.” he scoffed. “By the way, you look good in that dress.” he drank you in. You felt exposed, very exposed. You could almost feel a draft. You glared at his back as he stalked off. That’s how it was, Jungkook was nothing more than an arrogant tease that made you wanna strangle somebody. 

“Alright, I’m done.” you groaned, holding your head. You looked for your mom in the crowd. She was busy laughing with a whole bunch of her friends. You didn’t wanna leave without telling her. You’d just leave her a message.

From across the room, Jungkook watched you leave. He hated to see you leave, but watching you walk away was so gratifying. He knew you didn’t really hate it. In fact, it was amusing to watch you lie to yourself. You were lying about not wanting him, about hating him.

He knew you were lying because he would feel if you hated him. Just like he could feel the want dripping off your body. You were simply lying to yourself.

... (A few days later)

Your mom had left for another show, which left you home alone for a while. She would be filming in Japan, which meant you would have the house all to yourself. That meant you were left to your own devices when it came to fending for yourself. You hated calling your mothers assistant, he had his own family and your mom to worry about. You could handle going to the convenience store by yourself.

“Thank you for shopping with us!” the cashier waved you off as you left the store. You threw your trash in the nearby bin and began walking back. It was cold out, which prompted you to hug yourself.

What you didn’t know, is that you were being followed.

You were walking on the empty street. It was late and all the major shops had closed for the night. Your only source of light were the dimly lit tiny restaurants that were still open, and street lights that flickered as you passed. 

You kept walking, ignoring that feeling in your stomach that told you you were in trouble. You just had to speed up, it was like something in you was screaming at you. A few seconds passed and you couldn’t help but turn around.

A man was standing a few feet behind you. It was way too dark to see.

“Wha-...” you began walking away, praying it was just a coincidence. You turned a corner, he followed. You turned another corner, he followed.

You were now certain he was following. You couldn’t help cut cut through the street to get to the other side, but he followed then and there. You couldn’t help but begin to run, now scared out of your mind.

You turned behind you one more time to see him speed-walking. In your haste you didn’t see Jungkook walking out of an alleyways. You rammed into him, only to scream bloody murder.

“Y/N?” Jungkook grabbed your shoulders. You were practically crying. This was the first time you were actually happy to see Jungkook of all people. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

“Someone’s following me!” you pointed down the street. Jungkook took one look in the direction where you were pointing.

You were way too scared to see his gaze harden into a glare. His blood practically boiled. 

“Stay here.” he grunted, storming in the direction towards the man. “Hey buddy!” he barked, strutting over. 

Jungkook glared in the direction of the sorry idiot who dared try and apprehend his catch. 

...

Jungkook took you back to his place, your home would be empty for the night and you didn’t wanna be alone in that moment. You sat on the sofa, hugging yourself. 

If he hadn’t been there, something bad would have happened, you knew that much. It was the first time you were grateful. 

Jungkook had to gather himself. Rage shot through his body in his attempt to protect you. His senses were still in overdrive and he was sure he looked crazy. He watched you as you got comfortable, still hugging yourself.

“T-thank you.” you said for maybe the third time that night. 

“Y/N. You really don’t have to thank me.” he laughed. “I told you I’d be there for you every minute, or every day.”  He walked over and sat down next to you.

You finally studied his face. His smile that never reached his eyes looked very different now than it ever did. His eyes were dark with something you couldn’t really read. 

“Even after I’ve been so horrible to you?”

“You may think of it that way, but I don’t.” 

“How do you think of it?” you tilted your head to the side. You were genuinely interested in how Jungkook perceived your declaration of hatred towards him.

“You shouldn’t make that face.” he giggled, glossing over the subject. “I might have to ruin your innocence.” 

“Ruin my-” you trailed off. It was only then you realized how close he was. Jungkook towered over you, so it was easy for his body to cast a shadow over yours. “You’re really close.” you mumbled.

“Hm, isn’t that the point?” he winked. “Your skin is so soft.”

To Jungkook’s delight, you didn’t pull away when his lips ghosted over yours. You shuddered at the mere tickle of his touch. It was like a batch of pheromones had gone out into the air because all you wanted in that moment was him. In some way or another. However it surprised him when you were the one to go for it, pressing your lips gently against his. 

A low growl ripped through his throat as he rested his hand on the side of your neck. He returned you affections just as quickly as you gave it. 

You tasted better than he thought. Your innocence was like a drug. It was heavy. He hummed with delight as you reached your hands up to run through his hair. He was happy, you didn’t know it in that moment, but you were accepting it. Your fate as his. After tonight it would be set in stone. 

As you pulled away from Jungkook, you inhaled sharply. “W-woah.”

“Surprised, babe?” he began crawling over you, sending you back against the plush surface. “I knew you’d fall for me sooner or later.” 

You were too consumed by the sight of him above you. The lights casted a halo over him. He almost looked like an angel. “I could eat you up right now Y/N.” he whispered. “Your soul is exposed to me right now.”

He drew his tongue down your neck. Leaving opened mouth kisses along your skin. You were warmed up in an instant despite being cold moments earlier. You practically squeezed your legs together in an effort to ease what you were feeling, but Jungkook was no fool.

Finally he’d get what he’d been yearning for. After so long.

...

It was the dead of night when you woke up. Your naked body was flush against Jungkook’ in what you assumed was his bed. Jungkook was practically atop you, laying his head on your chest. You tried to shimmy out of his grip and when you successfully did, you sat up.

Aches and pains shot through your body as flashbacks of moments before flooded your body.  You could hear his shallow breaths in your ear telling you how much he adored you. Every bite and scratch he had left burned, but in a good way. 

Words couldn’t describe how it felt enough. 

“You weren’t thinking of leaving me, were you?” You looked down at Jungkook who tiredly wiped his eyes. “Fuck.” He glossed over your naked body. You were practically marked from head to toe.

“No.” you replied. “My arm was falling asleep because you were laying on me.” you replied, laughing dryly. He sat up himself, only to trail his fingertips up your arm. He shifted behind you and began placing kisses along your shoulder. He wrapped his arms around you and practically pulled you back down onto the bed with him. 

...

[fanficflaneuse]

All Of You

Index 

A/N: After a couple of odd weeks, I’m back and I’m really happy to be posting again. Dear freaking god. I’m excited for you to read my first Theo fic ever. I’m really happy for it. 

Also, I saw a mutual celebrating their 100 followers and I realized I never did anything to celebrate my followers. I never expected my blog to have followers lol but now I have 196 and I want to dedicate this fic I love to all of you. Thank you all for bearing with me <3 

Without further ado, let’s do this! 

Theo Nott x reader 

Words: 2679 

Summary: Friends with benefits gone wrong. 

Warnings: mentions of sex (not smut, but still). 

The room exuded fire whiskey and regret as (Y/N) picked her clothes from the floor. The light that filtered through the closed curtains hinted a very sunny day, perfect for the throbbing headache coming her way. Her head pounded with flashbacks from the night before and every time she remembered another detail of the colossal mistake she had committed, she cursed herself.

She slumped on an elegant armchair and considered her options. She could leave unceremoniously and forget all about their encounter, pretend it was a drunken mistake. For a moment, she wished they would’ve had enough alcohol the night before to call this a “drunken mistake”. But they were both more sober than expected as they reached his room, lips connected and hands eager to explore each other.

(Y/N) cursed at herself once again as her gaze found the man on the bed. Theodore Nott looked peaceful as he slept, no trace of sadness clouding his angelic features. His chest raised and fell softly, an arm thrown over his forehead and the other one reaching out to the empty space in bed where she had woken up. Only Merlin knows how long she had fantasized about him, how many times she had wished to kiss his lips and feel him close. She could’ve been happy with everything that had happened the night before, if only that one memory didn’t keep replaying in her head:

Theo was sitting on the edge of his bed, she was on his lap. His lips made their way from her left shoulder to her ear.

“(Y/N),” he had whispered.

“Hmm?”

He cleared his throat. “Whatever is about to happen right now��I-I really can’t do feelings.”

(Y/N) remembered asking herself what could she possibly do with that information. He was the guy she had been ogling at practically since day one at Hogwarts. Not even of four years of not seeing each other had killed whatever they had going on between them. But before she could even think, she sealed the deal.

“No feelings.”

The words slipped from her mouth like a hot knife through butter. If only they were half as easy to digest. She sighed and stood up, determined to leave before Theo woke up.

“Where are you going?” His voice was groggy and almost childlike. It melted (Y/N)’s heart and she turned around in shame.  

Theo and (Y/N) found each other at a bar the night before. It was the first time they met since Sixth year, when they were potions partners and tried desperately to brush each other’s hand as many times as possible. (Y/N) remembered how he’d blush every time they touched, how that blush gave her butterflies as she thought of him as delightfully awkward.

Then the war bulldozed into their lives. Theo dropped out of Hogwarts and stayed in his mansion, not wanting to partake in any of it. His father was a death eater, everyone knew that. And even if he didn’t fight the good fight, (Y/N) was relieved not to see him cross to the dark side like Draco did. She, on the other hand, stayed in the school and opposed Voldemort. They never saw each other again.

Three years later, (Y/N)’s need to escape a terribly dull blind date and Theo’s desire to drown his loneliness with music and fire whiskey had them sitting side by side again. (Y/N) and Theo could probably count the amount of times they had spoken to each other with one hand. And yet, she remembered him as her first Hogwarts friend and he thought of her as a very close one. There was always this energy surrounding them. It made (Y/N)’s head spin and Theo’s convoluted mind turn to putty.  

The kisses in the back of the bar didn’t come as a surprise to either of them. Neither did the question that lead them to his house. And the heavy petting, the intense make out, the fire whiskey consumed after the promise, the lips and hands lingering and traveling…they were all the natural course of something with no name or description that had started the first time they set foot on the Hogwarts express.

...

First years buzzed through the train in excitement. They talked over each other, got high on candy and agitation and walked from one compartment to the next in search of new people to befriend. The general enthusiasm of the first train ride infected even the most knowledgeable purebloods. All but one of them. A lonely first year by the name of Theodore Nott, too shy and self-conscious to engage with the other children, kept to himself in a carriage. He stared out the window, trying to mute the muffled laughter by taking in the scenery.

“Can I seat here? Every other compartment is full.”

Theo’s head snapped as he heard those words. They stared at each other for a minute. The newcomer, a girl who just a few minutes ago had echoed other kids’ laughter, found Theo striking. She liked the single brown curl falling on his forehead and his greenish-blue eyes that seemed to enclose too much sadness for eleven years of age. He looked like a melancholic cherub.

Too curious for her own good, (Y/N) wanted to know absolutely everything about this enigmatic boy that didn’t seem unfazed by the perspective of travelling to a magical school.

He nodded eagerly, prompting more curls to cover his face. She giggled softly as she made her way to the seat in front of him. Theo found her very pretty. He was suddenly very aware of how lame he must’ve seemed. Theo gulped, racking his brain for something to say and finding absolutely nothing. He hadn’t interacted with many kids his age and, to his absolute mortification, it showed.

“I am (Y/N). What is your name?” she asked sweetly.

“Theo,” he muttered so softly she couldn’t quite catch it.

They spent the rest of the train ride in silence. (Y/N) was a bit appalled. She thought about leaving in search of some more boisterous company to share her thrill with. She couldn’t, though. The stillness that engulfed them was enticing. It was certainly awkward, but also comfortable and even safe. It was as though they had built a sense of complicity in a matter of minutes. They sneaked glances at each other until the Hogwarts express reached its destination.

Only during the sorting did (Y/N) recognize her companion as Theodore Nott, a Slytherin and her first Hogwarts friend.

If someone had ever told her that years later she’d be wearing his button-down and nothing else as they giggled on his bed, she probably wouldn’t have understood what they meant. But here she was. A few months into their affair they had fallen into an easy routine. There were no rules and no particular agreements, but they both knew what they were and how people labelled what they had.

Friends with benefits weren’t meant to cuddle with each other after sex. They weren’t meant to be so tender and spend hours talking nonsense and caressing each other. They weren’t meant to have each other for dinner at least once a week or be seen together. And, more importantly, they weren’t meant to fall for each other.

(Y/N) wondered how long this would last as they laid on their sides, staring at each other. Not a sound came from their lips. He was giving her a sweet lopsided grin. The stillness that engulfed them was, once again, enticing. It was not awkward, but still felt comfortable and safe. They are accomplices now. 

...

The Yule Ball was the most awaited event of fourth year. It was the night everyone would talk about for ages. (Y/N) arrived late and left early, as one does. She didn’t particularly enjoy the petty drama her friends were involved in, so she decided to leave the Great Hall in favour of some fresh air.

As she stepped on the courtyard, she expected anything but finding Theo Nott sitting on a bench. She approached without giving it much thought.

“Mind if I sit with you? Every other place is already taken,” she said humorously.

Theo smiled and made space for her. They sat in silence for a while, the complicity from the train somehow still intact. After a while of silence, he gathered all his courage and stood up. (Y/N) had a view of his very expensive looking suit, his hair with its usual curl covering his forehead, his eyes shining dangerously with something else than the usual melancholy.

“Would you dance with me, (Y/N)?” he asked, his voice showing a confidence he didn’t know he had.

(Y/N) was surprised he even knew her name. She stood up as well, flattered and also a bit embarrassed. “Shall we go back inside?”

He shook his head, the impish grin matching that glint in his eyes. “I never said anything about going back inside.”

(Y/N)’s knees buckled as he pulled her to his chest. They danced in the courtyard to the muffled sounds that came from the Great Hall. (Y/N) prided herself in being a decent dancer, but Theo was something else. He twirled her, guided her and taught her with great care. Mesmerized, she held onto him until there was no more music left and he insisted on walking her to her common room.

They walked side by side, his fingers barely touching the small of her back. They were, once again, enveloped in peaceful quietness, only interrupted by the clacking of her heels.

“Where did you learn to dance the mazurka?” she wondered aloud.

(Y/N) noticed how he puffed his chest. She could hear the smile in his voice when he said that his mum had taught him.

“She must be quite the dancer,” (Y/N) complemented, only to see the smile fading immediately.

“She was,” he whispered very softly, eyes fixed in some distant point in the horizon.

(Y/N) wanted to say something else, but nothing seemed appropriate. As they reached the common room, kissed the back of her hand before leaving to his dorm.

“What are you thinking about?” Theo murmured in her ear. She was sitting between his legs, her white sheets pooling around them. Before she could answer, he gently brushed her hair off her shoulder and placed kisses on the sensitive spot behind her ear.

She bit her lip to restrain a moan. This man had learned how to get a reaction from her. He now knew how to get her all worked up in a matter of seconds. She was not complaining one bit.

“I’m just remembering the Yule Ball,” she offered offhandedly.

He hummed pleasantly in response. “You know? Everyone made a fuss about how Hermione Granger looked like a princess that night. But you, darling, you looked like a queen.”

His voice sent shivers down her spine. She cursed every deity in the book because damn, Theodore Nott could be suave if he wanted to. (Y/N) smiled contently as he pulled her back to bed.

...

“So, Theodore,” said Pansy with mocking seriousness. He knew what was coming and was prepared to shrug it off. “When will you introduce us to your girlfriend?”

Blaise chuckled and Draco raised his eyebrows playfully. Theo wanted to roll his eyes playfully, but knew he would never pull it off, especially not after the last few months with (Y/N). He nervously scratched the back of his neck.

“She…she’s not my girlfriend,” he stammered.

“Oh! But there’s a she,” Blaise pointed out.

Theo looked away, wanting to facepalm himself hard. He hadn’t realized they were that obvious. But they were. And for some reason he didn’t care one bit. He just didn’t know how to be a boyfriend and didn’t want to hurt her (or himself…even further).

“What is it then? Are you just shagging?” Daphne said the word as though it burned her mouth.

“You know Daph, friends with benefits. All the advantages and none of the drama,” said Pansy as she put an arm around the blonde, “we should’ve tried that instead.”

Daphne rolled her eyes. “As if you didn’t love to be my girlfriend, Pansy Marguerite Parkinson.”

Pansy smiled widely and kissed her girlfriend. Draco pretended to gag.

“Keep pretending that you’re not the biggest sap on the planet, Draco Lucius Malfoy,” teased Blaise.

Theo would’ve laughed at his friends’ antics, if only (Y/N) hadn’t come in to the bar. She was wearing that green dress she knew he adored. Her hair was up and she was wearing more make up than usual. She looked absolutely stunning.

As she took a seat at a nearby table, Theo remembered all those times he sneaked glances at her during their days at Hogwarts. She’d seat across the room, surrounded by people and laughing. And he’d admire her from afar, never daring to talk to her and only dedicating her soft smiles whenever they met in the hallways.

His friends seemed to realize the reason for his abstraction and they all eyed her curiously. (Y/N) suddenly stood up to greet somebody. Theo was taken aback when she hugged one of the Weasley twins, who took her in way too eagerly for his liking and kissed her cheek way too close to her lips. Theo had never considered himself a jealous person. Hell, he seldom showed emotions. But this he absolutely hated and didn’t bother do hide it.

The group of former Slytherins stared in awe as their friend slammed his fist on the table. He muttered a quick “sorry” and left the bar without saying goodbye.

...

“What do you mean you can’t do this anymore?” he asked, not even bothering to hide the surprise and hurt from his voice or demeanour. Theo noticed how she had kept a safe distance between them, preferring to seat on an armchair rather than the by his side on the couch.

“Theo…” she tried to reason.

(Y/N) broke the most basic rule of a situation like theirs. She had completely fallen for him. She knew she was into him since the very first time she had woken up in his bed, but for a while she at least pretended she could enjoy it without getting hurt. Then, the casual hook ups turned into cuddle sessions and those turned into dates. Still, her stubbornness made her continue with the affair. She convinced herself she could live with it.

That was until Theo opened his heart to her. He realized he had found someone he could truly be vulnerable with and he let her into his heart. He told her about his childhood, about how he had seen his father assassinate his mother and the sadness that had never abandoned him afterwards. He told her he was never afraid of dementors because he felt he was always walking with one over his shoulder. They had cried together that night and she decided her heart couldn’t take it anymore.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked in defeat. He mentally kicked himself for being too much and not enough.

“Of course not. It’s not that Theo,” she mended quickly.

“Then what?”

(Y/N)  took a deep breath. “I miss you when I wake up alone. I love cuddling and coddling you. I want you. All of you, Theo. I don’t just want to be your occasional hook up. I can’t do that anymore.”

She wrapped her arms around herself. Theo studied her for a minute, his intense gaze making her self-conscious.

“Don’t you realize I gravitate towards your company like you’re the only other person in the planet, (Y/N)?” he asked, suddenly feeling very dramatic.  

She was frozen in her place. His face softened completely and lunged forward, kneeling in front of her and taking her face in his hands.

“Love,” he whispered, “this stopped being an occasional hook up a long time ago.”

She smiled at him sweetly. “Really?”

He nodded, his messy curls falling to his forehead just like he knew she liked it. “And…and I also want you. All of you,” he said triumphantly.

tags: @honeymarvel @rvnsclws @naomi02hook @the-hufflefluffwriter

[gebtoons]

my contribution to the bapo timeline discourse bc i’m just gonna propose a timeline and will not be taking criticism <3 (under the cut bc this is gonna be a long post probably) 

ok disclaimer I am quite stupid, however I’m gonna use my knowledge from my own 12 years in american public high school and what little info I have about american boarding schools/catholic schools that I have from my friends lol. so. idk. 

i’m also gonna date songs/major events and i’m gonna be taking some “just trust me bro” liberties bc y’all are right it does NOT make that much sense. 

January 6: Epiphany; this is like an actual holiday lol. like its always on the sixth. idk its good that this is the starting point bc its an actual date yknow? For the purposes of this timeline were going with that its early in the week, so lets go with Monday idk

January 6-13: You and I, Role of a Lifetime; so we’re all kinda in agreement that this timeline (at least the beginning) only really makes sense if you and i/role of a lifetime aren’t like. a singular moment and are instead multiple days. so yeah, of this first week, this is like. monday-next sunday ish yknow. 

January 14: Auditions, Plain Jane Fatass; ok so having auditions for a spring musical right after kids get back from break actually makes perfect sense to me, like i can see it being like “ok take break to prepare so as soon as you come back we can have auditions so we can jump right into rehersals” yknow? and since the rave is clearly on a friday (”we’ll meet in tanya’s room on friday night”) so i’m going with the monday before.  

as for pjf, i know it doesn’t make a ton of sense for them to get a two week late birthday package their first few weeks back from school, but hear me out it makes sense. the implication throughout this entire show is that the twins have decently shitty parents. from bits of dialogue (in this song in particular lol) i’m kinda inferring their the “only concerned with how their kids make them look to others” kind of neglectful. so I don’t think it’s too outside the realm of possibility that they went away for the holidays, didn’t bring the twins, and instead mailed them a birthday package and having it show up two weeks late. realistically the timing of this isnt that important and the explicit “two week” time frame could’ve been an exaggeration on nadia’s part to mock her shit parents (idk its in her character) basically ppl are a little two fixated on this imo but anyway. moving on. 

January 18: Wonderland, A Quiet Night At Home, Rolling, Best Kept Secret; a very agreed upon point in the timeline. its the friday following the auditions. moving on. 

January 21: Confession; also very agreed upon. the monday following the rave. moving on again 

January 23: Portrait of a Girl; the date here is kinda arbitrary, but bc sister chantelle says “ok lets try to put yesterday’s rehearsal behind us” and i for the life of me cannot think of a scene she could be referring to (there’s none in the script either) that implies it wasn’t the same monday as confession (bc even in a boarding school i think holding extracurriculars that aren’t sports over the weekend (especially when they are no where near crunch time lol) is weird and not common) so i just picked a random day during the week

January 25: Birthday Bitch!, One Kiss, Are You There?; from matt’s line in wonderland, ivy’s birthday is a week after the rave. in my timeline that’s january 25th (an aquarius queen). 

btw given all grown up’s “17, how will i manage?” ivy is 16 during 17 at her party, which is strange given shes a high school senior and seniors are typically 17 during 18. so either a) she skipped a grade, not an unheard of thing. or b) shes not a senior, shes just a junior who hangs out with a bunch of seniors, which is also pretty common. and looking through the script i can’t find any mention that she is also a senior, other than yknow she graduates with them, but she isn’t mentioned during the class ranking scene? so idk not that it really matters just a fun detail 

February 3 (at night): 911 Emergency!; ok controversial. i know i like the joke about how its funny that peter having a weird dream when he was high prompted him to want to come out and really ruined his relationship with jason. BUT. i think the dream (despite it’s weirdness) would have a lot more meaning if it wasn’t the result of being really high, but if it was a dream he had like a week later as a result of a building sense of guilt/anxiety bc he told matt. also it fits better given later timeline things. (this timeline literally only exists if there are weird jumps in time that don’t make a ton of sense) (EDIT: I forgot one line about Jason crashing at ivys but fuck it forget that bitchass line this makes for more drama its staying this way)

February 4: Reputation Stain’d, Ever After; the next day following peter’s dream, idk what else to say, moving on. 

February 25-28: Spring; another jump! i’m sorry but the only way for this to make sense logistically is for there to be quite a few time jumps! however, i also think this one works bc i think it gives time for everything from around ivy’s party and peter and jason’s break up to stew emotionally. like obviously a musical only has so much time to tell a story so the audience cannot see every realistic beat, but honestly i think it makes the whole thing a little more dramatic™ if there’s space for everything to settle, and for ivy to come and apologize and such. also, the reason it’s multiple days is bc in the script, ivy is trying to study (presumably for some sort of midterm) while nadia is playing, so that probably takes place a few days before they move out, so before finals. but in the script, jason and peter are packing and peter is leaving, so that part of the song/staging takes place on the 28th. yes, that’s weird, but we are clearly thinking more about the logistics of this school than the writers were so. 

March 1: One; assuming st. cecilia’s works kinda like boarding schools here, they probably do staggered move out/move in, just bc that would be a lot to have people coming and going at once so it makes sense that peter left the day before, while jason and ivy are leaving the next day. also, given that peter is trying to call jason while he and ivy are banging, it’s probably been a hot minute since the actual break up, since peter was clearly very hurt by the whole thing, it would make sense (at least to me) that peter would reach out a month ish later, rather than like a few days later (you have to make so many assumptions to make this timeline work granted they aren’t super out there assumptions but still this is annoying) 

March 1-25: Spring Break. the coworkers I have who are in boarding school work over their school breaks, which are longer than the public school breaks (which are only a week) so i put their spring break at 3 weeks. it makes sense, and it makes the later part of the timeline make sense. 

I know i’m already halfway through this, but to me it makes sense for their to be quite a few time jumps in the story bc its a musical. they cannot show every day. there are a lot of other shows (particularly shows set in high schools) that are set over a whole school year, but if you just look at the events of the story that doesn’t make sense, so you have to imply that obviously they are not showing every little detail. moving on. 

March 25: Wedding Bells, In The Hallway, Touch My Soul; peter wakes up from his nightmare in the church, so im assuming he fell asleep in church (like he almost did during epiphany). also it makes sense that class ranks are announced in late march-early april, I know my school announced ours in like, the first week or so of april? so yeah. moving on.

(from this point on i was giving myself a headache trying to make it make sense so its all weird from here!!)

April 4: See Me, Warning; the date doesn’t really matter here, I picked a random day in early april. the script said peter is calling from him and jason’s old dorm room, as he was picking up the last of his things, so he clearly made the roommate switch after school started (makes sense to me). 

April 15-20 (approximately): Ivy finds out she’s pregnant. look google tells me on average people find out they are pregnant around 5-7 weeks after conception. i went with around 7 just so this timeline makes a tiny bit more sense given the later stuff, so yeah here we go. 

May 4: Pilgrim’s Hands, God Don’t Make No Trash, All Grown Up, Promise, Once Upon A Time, Cross; a rough night for our heroes. so given sister chantelle saying “again? wonderful.” and nadia saying “i can’t believe you missed rehearsal again”, clearly ivy has been missing quite a few rehearsals, so for dramas sake maybe from when she found out she was pregnant? also i know i’ve been saying they wouldn’t have rehearsals on weekends, and given my weird timeline this would be a saturday, but its tech week so i’ll allow it. 

May 5: Two Households, Bare, Queen Mab, A Glooming Peace; pretty self explanatory, and it makes sense to have the spring play in early may. rip jason. 

May 11: Absolution; the day before graduation peter goes to confront the priest. gives him a small amount of time to start processing, and it makes sense it would be the night before, at least to me. 

May 12: No Voice; i fucking hate this. “peter, we graduate next sunday” i hate that stupid fucking line. do you know that this timeline literally would be fine if it weren’t for that stupid fucking line? bc then, the school play would be in early may and graduation could be in late may-early june (when most high schools hold graduation) but no. keeping with continuity, they have to graduate the sunday following the school play. “peter we graduate in a month, are you really never gonna talk to me again?” would have been fine. but no, now we have beef. literally everything else about the end of this timeline being kinda weird would work itself out, except for the fucking graduation. god damn. anyway, may 12th, the graduate on may 12th which is really fucking weird bc of that one fucking line. whatever. i didn’t write the damn thing bc if i did i wouldn’t have written that fucking line. (i’ve been at this for over an hour and a half, so i’m a tad annoyed, can you tell?) 

anyway, that’s it. that’s my long as hell proposed bare timeline. if there’s anything glaringly wrong with it i don’t care bc this timeline literally cannot make sense. but honestly, now that i think about the Popular Tween High Schooler Musicals (heathers, bmc, deh) the timelines of those (especially heathers and bmc) don’t make tons of sense either. that’s just the way it is, that’s the way its gonna be. and we have to live with it. 

this post is so long it is actually slowing down my laptop as i type it

[obligatorynasty]

ObligatoryNasty’s Starker Prompt Graveyard (pt. 1) ✨~I’m cleaning house ~✨

So I basically fell off the face of the internet for like a year and left a bunch of unfinished prompts in my wake. (I know, I kinda suck for that) But it’s been so long that a lot of them no longer spark joy and I’m so sorry!! 😔😔😔

I decided to just post some of what I had written from before and give some meta of what I would’ve done with each prompt. Apologies for any typos! ❤️

-

The Vibration Situation (Peter x Tony)

Peter’s heart thrummed in his chest as he dashed through the crosswalk. He was running late today; partially due to the delayed bus but mostly due to the instructions Tony unexpectedly texted him this morning. Not that he was complaining but getting a thing like that to fit comfortably takes a little bit of time. Even with his efforts in the shower, it still felt tight, especially as he hurried down the New York sidewalk.

As he finally made it down the two blocks, he approached his destination: Stark Tower. “Hi Tones!” He called out with a wave as he jogged up the steps, catching his breath with a smile as he stopped in front of Tony. “Sorry, we’re you waiting long?”

“Not at all,” Tony smiled, pulling Peter into a hug and locking his fingers at the small of Peter’s back as they talked. “Signed a few autographs, took some pictures with the adoring fans, the usual.”

Peter hummed, shifting his weight to his toes to press to quick kiss against Tony’s cheek. “Everyone’s favorite hero,” He whispered into another kiss.

Tony grinned, “Pretty sure Capsicle has me beat on that front.”

“Well, you’re my favorite hero.” Peter pointedly said, smiling sweetly.

“And you, mine,” Tony reciprocated, returning the smile in earnest before suddenly being interrupted by a paparazzi.

“Mr. Stark, Peter, over here! For the Bugle!” The man with the camera called out, interested in snapping a shot of the media’s favorite new couple. Their names had been in the news for weeks now after that first lucky paparazzi photo of them kissing in their suits. How the paparazzi managed to get that rooftop top photo, they would never know.

Tony smiled, shifting his stance to pose for pictures, arm around Peter’s waist. And as the camera flashed, he leaned over, whispering with a smile, “Did you bring it, sweetheart?”

“Yes, sir,” Peter whispered back, waving with one hand and slipping a small remote into Tony’s jacket pocket with the other.

“Good,” Tony nodded, gripping tighter at Peter’s waist. “Just keep smiling, Pete.” He said as he switched on the remote, a playful test to see just how obedient Peter was.

Peter flinched, catching a breath in his throat, fighting the urge to moan as the vibrations pulsed within him and massaged his prostate. In any other situation, he would have screamed. But not in front of the paparazzi. No, in front of them, he remained poised, gripping at the back of Tony’s jacket like a lifeline and whining low through his teeth. He was grateful that he decided to wear a longer coat today, or else the headlines would have been riddled with pictures of his ever-growing bulge.

“Alright everyone, Mr. Parker and I have reservations. No more pictures please,” Tony waved the paparazzi away, clasping his hand in Peter’s and leading him the car.

As Tony ushered him into the car, Peter focused on walking and how much he didn’t want to anymore. Each step made the toy press harder into his sweet spot, firing pleasure up his spine that made his eyes sting with tears as he choked back moans. Once they were finally in the car, Tony let up, switching off the toy with a grin as he pulled the car away from the curb. “You did well, Peter.”

“That was a lot, Tones,” Peter spoke between exhales as he tried catching his breath that he didn’t realize he was holding.

“When we get to the restaurant, can I take it out?” Peter asked, genuinely convinced they were done.

But Tony just laughed, it was almost sympathetic. Almost. “You won’t be taking that out until the end of the day, my love.”

A/N: That was all I had for this one. But, in a perfect world, I would’ve had them go to a fancy restaurant. And of course, Tony being Tony, he turns the vibrator on again as Peter is ordering. Peter is a stuttering and blushing mess, maybe the waiter starts to catch on, but Tony plays it off and orders for them both. Toss in some “Good boy, Peter”s and some “Thank you, sir”s. 

Then they would’ve gone to a movie premiere. Maybe walked a red carpet. Tony would keep putting his hand in his pocket like he’ll turn it on but he doesn’t. (He’s just playing mind games lol.) Instead, he turns it on once they’ve been seated. The theater is small so they’re relatively far from others. This time, he doesn’t stop it. Just keeps it on low until the louder parts of the movie. The ups and downs start getting to Peter, and when they head to the after party, he really starts to beg to cum whenever they get a second alone. And as they mingle with the others, Tony practically tortures Peter through that as well. Then Peter starts to fall into subspace, which is Tony’s cue to finally leave the party and head back to the Tower. Promising that, “We’re still not done, sweetheart.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Unexpected but Inevitable. (Penny X Tony) TW: character death

“Penny Parker, is it?” Tony hums, claiming the adjacent bar stool as his own, wordlessly gesturing to the bartender for a drink. It is only after glancing up and down the span of her body did he stare into Penny’s dark eyes, relaxing his tie with a short tug and taking the whiskey neat without brandishing thanks. His frame is powerful and expecting; the bustle of the elite after-event unable to cloud the glint of arrogance hiding beyond his playful eyes.

Despite his efforts, Penny doesn’t take the bait. Instead, she smooths her hand against the black satin of her dress, flattening the ripples across her thighs. As she moves, so does the light refracting off the studded clutch hanging from a chain on her shoulder. She sits silently, swirling the last sip of her metropolitan before finishing it and placing the lipstick stained glass against a napkin. As the bartender takes the glass, she smiles and speaks a clear, “Thank you.” The bartender nods and moves to serve other patrons.

The interaction has Tony’s ego bleeding outward. “Ignoring the man that invited your company is in poor taste, Ms. Parker.”

“Don’t speak to me about poor taste with the likes of Hammer on the invite list.” Penny quips, rotating her bar stool and throwing one leg over the other, letting the slit of her dress cascade open at the knee. “It seems to me that you’ve taken a clear stance on the value of my company.”

Tony laughs. It’s earnest and only quelled by the burn of whiskey against his tongue. “A preconceived stance, yes,” He admits, grinning as his gaze strays in favor of Penny’s show of skin. “Your presentation at the conference was actually impressive but don’t let that go to your head. People tend to do that when I say the ‘I’ word.”

This time, Penny just barely leans in, gives a soft smile and slight tilt of her head. She lets her bobbed curls bounce against the corner of her mouth before tucking them behind her ear. Each movement is careful, reciprocal and seductive. “And what exactly did you find so impressive, Mr. Stark?”

Tony moves closer, forearm against the bar, hand cradling his drink. “The strength of the synthesize material, its elasticity, its practical and combative use cases.” His voice dipped, somewhere sultry, “And Ms. Parker, watching you deliver the presentation was – well, I’ll definitely be inviting your company to more suitable events from now on.”

Penny averts her gaze, giving the bustling room a once over as she fights against a grin tugging on the corners of her mouth. “I’m sure my employees will be thrilled.”

“And you?” Tony reaches forward, placing a careful hand atop Penny’s.

Her eyes flicker down at the touch then flash upward to meet Tony’s. “I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Stark.” She whispers as she stands, heels colliding with tile as she pulls a hundred dollar bill from her clutch. “But don’t let that go to your head.” She adds with a smile, placing the money against the bar. “For mine and his,” She calls to the bartender, who nods with a kind smirk.

Tony scoffs, abandoning his drink as he stood. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“We all do things that we don’t have to do,” Penny insists as she starts towards the crowd. “Kind or otherwise.”

“So you’re the selfless type,” Tony remarks as he quickens his pace to keep up with her strides. “Or is it all for your company? Just how many generous donations has Parker Industries made to rain forests, world hunger, and whales?”

Penny shakes her head as they exit the hotel’s ballroom. “You’re quite the cynic, Mr. Stark.”

“I’m quite the believer in a good PR team,” Tony retorts as they make their way down the hall, through the reception lobby, and stop in front of the elevators.

Penny reaches forward, pressing the up arrow before shifting her weight to one side and standing with her arms crossed. “Your PR team—“ She breaks the silence as the elevator opens and they step inside. “—Have they solved your issues across the pond?”

Tony smirks, tapping his room key against the scanner before pressing the penthouse button. “As far as I, and anyone else, is concerned, those issues are for the greater good.”

“And the bodies?”

“What bodies?”

Penny shakes her head at the casual denial she but manages a smile with her eyes, “Fair enough.”

“Which floor, Ms. Parker?” Tony asks as the doors close and the elevator starts ascending.

“Fifteen.”

Tony presses the button and moves to stand at her side, “I was sure this went without saying but—“

Penny breathes a low laugh, “It went without saying?”

“—You’re invited to continue our chat upstairs.” Tony’s grin is as mischievous as it is suggestive. “I promise it will be very in depth and... pleasurable.”

Penny tucks a curl behind her ear, glancing at Tony before focusing her gaze on the elevator’s doors. She stays quiet, keeping a soft smile as the numbers above the doors increment: twelve… thirteen... fourteen... and finally, fifteen. The elevator slows to a stop and the doors slide open with an audible ding!

But Penny doesn’t move. Instead, she watches as the doors shut and listens as Tony releases a pleased huff of air like his hypothesis had been proven. So arrogant, Penny thinks.

When the doors open again, it’s to a mostly glass penthouse suite, complete with a grand piano, high ceilings, and a balcony pool. The bar’s selves are stocked and the coffee table is covered with an assortment of treats courtesy of the hotel’s staff, who are no doubt thrilled to have the room be booked. As Penny steps inside, she makes a point to move through the space unimpressed. She removes her heels in the entrance way and places her clutch atop the bar.

“What do you think?” Tony asks as he pulls his tie away and tosses it onto the couch. “Too much?”

“To clean, perhaps,” Penny jokes and Tony laughs.

“You’re an interesting one, Penny.”

“One,” Penny repeats as she unclasps her necklace and removes her earrings, placing them inside her clutch and pulling out a small metal bracelet, which she slips on when Tony isn’t looking. “Implying many.”

“I’ve had experiences,” Tony notes as they move into the bedroom.

“All good, I hope.”

“There’s always someone better,” He asserts, his voice just as sultry as before.

Penny almost rolls her eyes – actually, she is so certain she will that she turns around to hide it and plays it off by sweeping her curls to one side, revealing her dress’s zipper. “Would you?” She asks but Tony is already there; one hand smoothing across the curve of her hip, the other pulling the zipper down her spine.

As the dress falls away, all that’s left is simple black lace set and the metal bracelet adorning her supple honey cream skin, speckled lightly with freckles and soft to the touch. Penny spins on her heel, her hands tracing up Tony’s chest and smoothing downward, undoing buttons on her way.

A/N: I literally had a break here that said: “Write sex scene. Tony’s great at sex. Penny is better.” I’m so so sorry 😅😅😅 But just imagine Penny riding the hell out of Tony and then getting close orgasming and then:

And as that stream rushes through that final barrier, Penny’s muscles tense and her voice is caught in her throat and suddenly, she is shaking and the biggest burst of pleasure is quickly followed by waves that have her moaning so loud it echoes in the vast room. She still rocks her hips with the sparks of euphoria, chasing the waning feeling, her hands still braced against Tony’s chest as he grunts and a liquid heat explodes inside her warmth. She smiles, gliding her fingertips across his nipples, along his neck and face, and through his short locks.

“There’s always someone better,” Tony breathes out with a satisfied smile.

Penny’s expression flattens then and, with her hand still threaded in Tony’s hair, she lifts herself up and moves to straddle his chest. He’s still smiling, so lost in his pleasure that the way she shoves his head back and grips at his throat is nothing.

“Feisty,” Tony mutters through a strained breath.

Penny shakes her head, “You’re deplorable.”

“And you’re divine.”

Fitting lasts words, Penny thinks as she sprays webbing across his nose and mouth. She watches as the playfulness drains from his eyes; watches the concern, worry, and fear sink in. He starts struggling for a moment but then stops – smart enough to conserve his breath.

Penny leans down, petting a soothing hand through his hair and whispering sweetly, “I’ve been hired to kill you, Tony.” She presses a kiss against his forehead. “Those issues across the pond – all of the bodies you’ve ignored – they have ghosts and they are angry.”

And Tony lays there – struggling for air and overcome with regret – staring up at a goddess of death as his vision blurs and he is forced into meeting an unexpected yet inevitable demise.

-

I’ll be posting more tomorrow in graveyard pt. 2!

[senacal]

Hey! Would u wanna write one where right after cuba in the hospital charles asks her to sing to him, and all she can remember is an old song from sweden (slightly personalized in that, i hope you dont mind!!) called Flyktsoda by ebba grön, she sings in swedish and he translates lyrics by telepathy. she ends up kinda confessing with the line "dont be scared of me, i am so scared of you" bcz shes a bit scary and mad all the time but shes super weak for charles. then u can decide how it ends 🥺🥺

Request: Requested by Anon

Pairing: Charles Xavier x Fem! Reader

Prompt: Hey! Would u wanna write one where right after Cuba in the hospital Charles asks her to sing to him, and all she can remember is an old song from Sweden (slightly personalized in that, I hope you don’t mind!!) called Flyktsoda by Ebba grön, she sings in Swedish and he translates lyrics by telepathy. she ends up kinda confessing with the line "don’t be scared of me, I am so scared of you" bcz she’s a bit scary and mad all the time but shes super weak for Charles. then u can decide how it ends 🥺🥺

Warnings: self deprecation? Charles isn’t okay and neither is the reader 

Author’s Note: I don’t mind at all ^.^ I listened to the song and it was super catchy, even better when I found out what the lyrics translated to (I speak no ounce of Swedish lol 😅) Sorry it took so long btw, I fell into a funk but here I am, forcing myself out 😬

Requests Are Open!

After the events of Cuba, Charles hadn’t been the same. He wasn’t to blame, of course, his whole world had changed with a single bullet. It was heartbreaking to witness the once cheerful man turn into this broken person. He plastered on a smile when he needed to and he pretended to be the same cheeky man, but (Y/N) knew it was an act. Not only had he lost his legs, but he also lost Raven and his best friend Erik that day. Despite Erik being capable of making his own choices, Charles blamed himself for what happened. He blamed himself relentlessly and it annoyed (Y/N) because she knew the turmoil it was giving the man. She hated seeing Charles putting himself through that self-inflicting guilt. 

No matter how many times (Y/N) or Hank tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault, Charles still continued to place the blame on himself. Charles did stop communicating that guilt out loud around them when they visited him in the hospital, but (Y/N) was willing to bet that it still resided in the back of his mind. She didn’t have to be a telepath to know that because she could easily see it in his eyes. She liked to think that she knew him well enough through everything they’ve gone through together. 

Before Cuba, Charles and Erik had found her working a tireless job to keep herself off of the streets. She was barely scraping by and she lived in a crappy one-bedroom apartment. It was located in the bad part of town and the crime rates were skyrocketing, but the mayor didn’t care to fix that. So she suppressed her powers and forced herself to fight for what little she had. She couldn’t afford for her landlord to figure out that she was a mutant and kick her out. Thankfully her mutation was easy to hide, as long as her emotions were kept intact. The only hint at her mutant powers was the growing life around her wherever she went, meaning, she could manipulate plant life either with a thought or a simple touch. It aggravated her to see people treat the plants in her neighborhood soo poorly. 

When Erik and Charles first went to collect her, she couldn't understand what they would want with a girl like her. She was on the verge of homelessness, worked a dead-end job, and had a criminal record. The charges against her weren’t too serious, a couple of shoplifting charges and she might have beat a guy up here and there who tried to attack her. But regardless, she knew she wouldn’t fit in with the others Charles and Erik had recruited. So when she met them, she glared her way through each conversation and ignored the CIA’s requests. But for some reason, Charles managed to worm his way into her heart. Maybe it was his charming smile that should have annoyed her or his eyes that were shockingly blue. Or maybe it was the fact that he understood her even though he was the complete opposite of her. Whatever it was, Charles was the only one who had seen her softer side. 

It was almost funny seeing Hank’s shocked face when he witnessed her caring side for the first time. They had both decided to visit Charles in the hospital when Charles had asked for a small favor, some comfortable clothes, and (Y/N) had readily offered to get them. Hank was possibly more surprised than was necessary. (Y/N) did nice things! The other day she helped Erik with his powers, granted that was before he betrayed them and Hank wasn’t there to witness it. Now though, (Y/N) reserved her soft spot for Charles. Hank seemed to understand, he didn’t make any comments about it; but that was probably because when Alex did, (Y/N) manipulated the roots of a tree to keep him stuck for a whole night until Charles turned a disapproving eye on her. He learned his lesson after that though.

But that was all before Cuba. Now it was just (Y/N), Hank, Alex, Banshee, and Charles. But even Banshee and Alex went their own way. (Y/N) couldn’t say where they went, she wasn’t sure. But she did know that their departure had added to Charles’ grief and guilt. She made it her duty to stay by his side while he was in the hospital, a reassurance that she wouldn’t leave him. Charles had turned her into this soft mushy person and it scared her shitless. She couldn’t remember the last time she had loved someone. But the thought of him leaving or being taken away terrified her. Charles terrified her. But she pulled herself together so he wouldn’t realize anything was wrong, he didn’t need any extra guilt.

(Y/N) sat next to Charles's bedside, a book in her hands to keep her busy while Charles slept. She arrived early that day because of the construction happening on the street where the hospital was located and she didn’t want to be late. She wasn’t expecting Charles to be awake which was why she brought the book. She was immersed in the story when Charles woke up, which is why he surprised her. 

“You’re here early,” He spoke groggily.

The flowers’ leaves on the other side of Charles’s bedside shot out of their vase and wrapped around Charles’s wrist, forcing it flush against the bed. (Y/N) might have gotten startled since she was distracted. She looked up with a guilty smile and released his wrist when he gave her an unamused look. “Sorry, you scared me,” She grumbled.

“It’s alright, love,” Charles rubbed his wrist. He hadn’t expected the grip to hurt since they were tulip leaves.

“How’d you sleep?” (Y/N) set the book in her hands aside and shifted so she could face Charles. 

“Okay, I guess. I’m ready to get out of here,” He shrugged. He adjusted the bed so he could sit up.

“I can ask the doctor when you can be released if  you’d like?” (Y/N) offered. 

‘No, it’s okay,” Charles waved her off, “I’d much rather keep your company a little longer,” He smiled. 

(Y/N) nodded, a faint smile on her lips. “Of course,” She drummed her fingers on her lap. “Did you need anything? The nurse? More medicine? Food?” 

“I’m alright for now, thanks though… Can I ask you a question?” Charles hesitated.

“Yeah, anything.”

“Do you mind if, you can say no, but do you mind if I ask you to sing me a song? I’ve been quite bored here and the radio stations are rather crappy and there’s never anything good on the telly,” He rambled.

“Oh, uh,” (Y/N) furrowed her brows, what song would she sing?

“Never mind, it was weird of me to ask, you don’t-”

“No, I’ll sing for you uh, Is it okay if it’s in Sweden? I can’t really remember any songs right now,” (Y/N)’s cheeks flushed and her fingers began to fidget in her lap.

“I don’t mind,” He smiled kindly.

(Y/N) nodded and cleared her throat, here went nothing, “Lyckan kommer, lyckan går. Dom säger tiden läker sår. Jag släcker lampor. Jag öppnar fönster. Letar efter mönster. Jag kommer aldrig. Jag kommer aldrig, kommer. Kommer aldrig komma hem.”

‘Happiness comes, happiness goes. They say that time heals wounds. I turn off lamps, I open windows. Searching after patterns, I will never, I will never, will never come home,’ Charles lay back in his bed, his eyes closing as his mind translated the lyrics for him, one of the better aspects of his telepathy, the ability to understand any language.

“Flyktsoda, ta mig i hand. Sätt mig i brand, ibland ibland ibland. Flyktsoda ta mig i land. Sätt mig i brand, ibland ibland ibland,” (Y/N) could feel her stomach flipping, her chest filling with anxiety. She hadn’t realized how much this song actually meant until now. She hadn’t been happy before Charles came into her life. She was merely going through the motions, living because it was expected of her, but with Charles, hell even Hank, they gave her a reason to keep going. Only Charles was her reason for staying.

‘Escapesoda take my hand. Set me on fire, sometimes sometimes sometimes. Escapesoda bring me to shore. Set me on fire, sometimes sometimes sometimes,’ Charles inhaled deeply, (Y/N)’s voice soothing the ache in his chest. He appreciated everything she has done for him while he was hospitalized. If it weren’t for her, he was sure he wouldn’t have made it out in one piece. He barely made it with her there, but her persistent presence kept him grounded and kept him from falling into despair. 

“Var inte rädd för mig. Jag är så rädd för dig,” (Y/N)’s voice stuttered over the words. They pierced her heart when she sang them. They rang true and she was afraid it revealed just how much Charles affected her.

“Don't be afraid of me. I'm so afraid of you,” Charles's eyes opened when he heard the vulnerability in her voice. He looked at her with questioning eyes, he almost felt bad when he read what she was thinking. 

“Do you really think that I am afraid of you?” He asked softly.

“I, well, everyone else was, why not you too? I hurt you just a little while ago,” She pointed to his wrist.

Charles's wrist was rubbed raw from the leaf, but it wasn’t too bad, plus he had startled her, “I startled you, it wasn’t your fault.”

“That’s not the point Charles, I’ve done some bad things so why wouldn’t you fear me?”

“You fought to protect yourself. You are so much more than your powers, (Y/N). You’re magnificent, you’re amazing.” Charles wished he could reassure her and comfort her more, but his fucking legs couldn’t move. He shifted as best as he could, “Now why do you fear me?” He wondered.

(Y/N)’s heart was racing, she swore her heartbeat was louder than the heart monitor attached to Charles. “I- you don’t- why-” She ran her hand through her hair. “If I tell you, promise me this won’t change anything between us, okay? You’re all I have and I can’t lose you as a friend.” She spoke softly.

Charles nodded, “You could never lose me.”

(Y/N) bit her lip, wondering how to start. How does one even tell the person they love they fear them because of the hold they have on their heart? Charles managed to shove his way into her life and now she couldn’t picture her life without him in it. “I fear you because how easily you fit into my life,” She looked up at him, tears in her eyes, though she didn’t know why she was crying, shame maybe? “For a long time now it’s been just me, I had nobody, my parents didn’t want me, my landlord was looking for any reason to evict me, my co-workers were all selfish assholes, and I’ve been attacked countless times by men in the streets. I made sure no one could misuse my trust and I made sure no one could hurt me, but here you are,” She wiped a stray tear that ran down her cheek, “You pushed through the walls I’ve built and now I’m afraid to lose you.”

(Y/N) ran her hand through her hair again, she probably looked so pathetic to Charles.

“You could never look pathetic,” Charles reached his hand out to her which (Y/N) hesitantly took, “I know I said this wouldn’t change anything, but perhaps it can change just a little?” 

(Y/N)’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Perhaps once I get out of here we can go on a date?” Charles asked nervously, “You don’t have to agree, and we can continue like normal, but now that I know for sure that you harbor feelings towards me maybe we can-” 

(Y/N) stood from her seat to press her lips to Charles’s cutting off his ramblings. She pulled away from the kiss and smiled, “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

Charles grinned, almost looking like his old cheeky self. He might have lost some things in Cuba, but he gained something too. He’d be damned if he let (Y/N) be taken away from him too. “I hope you know you’re stuck with me now.”

“I guess I can live with that,” (Y/N) laughed, “But promise me one thing okay?” At Charles nodded, (Y/N) continued, “Never tell anyone that I sang to you.”

Charles laughed despite her serious look, “I promise not to tell anyone.”

[delta-roseblr]

Lol, all the new info about the solangelo and delix kids made me want to have a fic just about them. So I was wondering if that would be possible? xD

Hello, Anon!

I know it has been forever since you sent this prompt, but it wasn't forgotten!

I hope this is worth the wait

_____________________________________________________

The Kids

· Because Solangelo and Delix both set down in California, Solangelo in New Rome and Delix stays in Northern California; they see each other a lot, as do their kids.

· The fact that Michael and Lee (Nico and Will's twins) and Mason (Felix and Dean's son) are a little more than a year apart just added to their drive to get together as a family. The kids could entertain each other, and they always got along well. The twins were challenging to entertain when they were little, so this is a big deal.

· Will and Dean always figured the three of them would always get along because, well, that was how they were, but Nico and Felix had their doubts. They figured that as the three got older and if (when) the twins started showing their demigod powers that they would drift.

· Nico and Felix turned out to be completely wrong, and the three just got closer as they got older.

· You would think, since Mason is the oldest of the three, he would take on the leadership role in the group, but that isn't how it works out. Mason is a pretty even-keeled kid. He definitely got Dean's tendency to want to put his head down and do his work. He can and does take the leadership role during team things like sports but not when the twins are involved.

· The twins are a damn handful from the moment they are born, and they never really change. Both of them are outgoing in their own ways. Lee is more competitive and will jump at the opportunity to take on a challenge, while Michael is more social- he can (and will) start a conversation with pretty much anyone he meets. The two are also a perfect storm of trouble because Michael will come up with an idea like they should buy fake ids and sneak into a club, and Lee will view it as a challenge, so he wants to do it, and they will absolutely find a way to talk Mason into joining them. Mason definitely tries his hardest to keep them out of trouble and manages to be at least somewhat successful sixty-five percent of the time.

· The twins love showing up at Mason's mortal school events, so even though they do not go there, most of Mason's classmates recognize them. They are also pretty much honorary members of Mason's lacrosse team. While Mason gives them shit for being menaces, he really likes when they show up, it definitely stops things from getting boring.

· Mason visits New Roman as well, even though not as much because going to New Roman can be a process as a mortal going to New Roman. Still, he has teamed up with the twins and a few of the other children of the seven around their age to case a little harmless trouble on the weekend.

· Btw, Dean has had several conversations with a teenage Mason about precisely what to do if he finds himself being hit on by a horny god (with very specific things to say to Apollo or Dionysus). Mason considers these the most embarrassing conversations he has ever had with his days. It's bad enough that his middle-aged dads still act like teenagers half the time and CAN'T keep their hands off each other. He doesn't want to hear about how Greek gods had tried to bone them back in the day. Grandpa Solace jumping in with "Just remember, Apollo isn't nearly as good in bed as he claims, and you can take my word for it" doesn't help with the awkwardness. He would rather have to go through the birds and bees talk a million times over.

· All three of these boys are NOT STRAIGHT. Michael is gay, while both Lee and Mason are bisexual. It's hard to say that Michael or Lee "came out" because it happened so organically. There was no sit everyone down and tell them moment. Instead, it was just "I LIKE like that boy" or "that boy is really cute" when they were like twelve. Mason takes FOREVER to admit this to himself and even longer to admit it to anyone else. Michael and Lee KNOW way before Mason admits to anything, and neither of them lets him hid from it. Lee tries the comforting approach hoping Mason will admit it while Michael goes more the exposure therapy route- he'll point out cute guys and ask what Mason thinks. He tricked Mason into going to a few gay events without Mason knowing until it was too late to back out.

· FYI, Mason comes out to Lee first, but only because they get into a fight because Lee is flirting with a boy; Mason secretly has a massive crush on (or at least he thinks it's a secret, but everyone can tell). Michael is solidly pissed about this for months, but that doesn't stop him from trying to play matchmaker.

Dribble:

The rain had stopped, and Mason supposed he should have been happy about that, but the lingering sense of tension and danger made it hard to appreciate. He, Michael, and Lee had already walked one block north of Gypsy Bar, and Mason was hoping as they put even more distance between themselves and the bar that sense of unease would dissipate at least a little.

They had been walking in silence for several minutes. That was a rare thing, and Mason hoped it meant that it was one of those rare occasions that his cousins were thinking about how horrible their idea had been, but Lee killed that hope the moment he opened his mouth.

"Well, we had to try," Lee declared.

Mason looked over and up because, of course, Lee was at least three inches taller than him. That would have been more annoying if Mason was at all insecure about his height, but at six foot he was comfortable. Also, he had a couple of inches on Michael, which helped.

Lee's hair looked practically white instead of its usual light blonde under the street lights' harsh glare, and his complexion seemed extra fair. Even his freckles were lost in the artificial light. Not surprisingly, there wasn't a single sign of worry on his face.

Maybe if Mason had Greek god powers, he would have been relaxed too, but he didn't. That call for adventure that Lee and Michael had just seemed like asking for trouble to Mason, the mere mortal. "Not with the worse fake IDs in history," Mason pointed out yet again.

"They were not that bad!" Michael was quick to defend.

This was not the first time Mason had heard that, and it didn't make it any less ridiculous. One of Michael and Lee's dads was literally a doctor that could heal people by touching them. There was no fucking excuse for their inability to see what was right in front of them. Why Michael had even bought the IDs, having seen them, Mason would never understand.

"They looked like they were hand-drawn by a preschool," Mason pointed out, "And the names were ridiculous."

"Pictures didn't look much like us," Lee agreed.

Michael let out a long, loud sigh, pushed a dark strand of hair that had fallen out of his ponytail and into his eye line, and tucked it behind his ear. While Lee looked like the stereotypical California surfer dude, Michael almost looked Mediterranean. He had light brown hair that he had grown out over the last year and now almost exclusively wore tied up, and he naturally had a more tan, almost olive complexion. Even with the differences, it was impossible not to recognize the two as twins immediately. They both had the same sharp facial features, lean and athletic builds, and light blue eyes.

Mason was the obvious odd man out in the group. His hair was somewhere between a light brown and a dark blonde, and his eyes were hazel rather than blue. His build was boxier, and he was definitely wider in the shoulders than his cousins, but that might have been because he had been playing lacrosse since he was eight. His facial features were also a little more square and angular. It might not have been a stretch to believe the three of them were related, but no one was going to mistake them for triplets.

"Okay, that is enough with the pouting," Michael declared with just a little bit of annoyance in his voice. Mason was a little surprised it had taken that long because usually, the more outrageous and destined to fail one of Michael's plans were, the more annoyed he got when it did, in fact, fail. "At least we got a fun story out of it," he stated.

Knowing Michael, he really did see that as a win which was crazy. Mason fucking loved his cousins. They were literally his best friends and really always had been, but sometimes they were crazy to be around. Mason put that on all the demigod stuff. After all, if you have literally trained to fight monsters since you were a little kid getting fake IDs and trying to sneak into a twenty-one and over club probably didn't sound all that crazy.

Mason wasn't exactly a fucking nun. Sneaking into a bar didn't sound completely crazy but trying to get into a bar known for checking IDs with comically bad fake IDs did.

"We are lucky they didn't call the police," Mason pointed out flatly. The bouncer had decided to take pity on them for some reason after giving them one hell of a fucking lecture, and Mason would forever be grateful. "Or worse, our parents," he added with a shutter.

"What are you worried about?" Lee asked with a laugh, "Uncle Dean and Uncle Felix would have been totally cool."

Mason gave Lee a serious look. "Nothing about my parents is cool," he stated firmly, "No matter how many people say otherwise."

"You really are a master of denial," Lee commented teasingly before patting his shoulder and adding, "It's kind of impressive."

The fact was Mason was well aware that his dads were pretty cool. If they had been called and told Mason had been caught with a fake ID trying to sneak into a bar, they probably wouldn't have even yelled at him. Neither of them were big yellers. Mason would have gotten one hell of a disapproving lecture which Mason was convinced was worse than yelling ever could be. He definitely would have lost a whole bunch of privileges for the foreseeable future.

Unfortunately, Mason had been hearing about how cool his dads were since he could remember. The fact that Felix getting early releases of video games all the time helped. Dean always bringing Mason and his friends for ice cream after practice when he was younger didn't hurt. As he got older, he just became the one with the cool parents in all his friend groups. It got old after a while, and that was before the term DILF started getting thrown around.

He would have been more annoyed if it was anyone besides Lee and Michael. They had it just as bad as he did, even if it was slightly different. Uncle Nico was practically a legion among Demigods for all the questing he did as a teenager, and even if he had just sat on his ass, he was still the son of Hades, which was a big thing. Uncle Will didn't have the history with all the questing, but he played an important role in some battle, which was enough to give him some fame. The twins had to deal with their fair share of people going full-on hero-worship over their dads, and then there was the fact that Uncle Nico had worked as a model for like five years.

Mason might not have been truly pissed off, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to flip Lee off for that comment. He did grin as he did it, at least so it was clear that it was all good.

They had walked about half a block as they had talked, and they made it about a block more in silence before Michael huffed. "So what are we going to do now?" he asked. Mason went to answer but barely got an opportunity to take a breath before Michael held up a finger to cut him off. "And the answer of going home is not allowed, so just don't even say it," he stated firmly.

Mason didn't get why going home, playing video games, ordering a pizza, and hanging out was such a bad idea. His dads were out on a date night, so they probably would have had the house to themselves, not that that mattered. According to Michael, that was just not an acceptable way for them to spend their evening, and in fairness, he had made that clear before then. That didn't mean that wasn't exactly what Mason had been prepared to suggest, but he wasn't really surprised that Michael warned him not to before he got a chance.

Mason stopped and looked around to get a feel for where they were. Since they were in West Berkeley, it was more his stomping ground rather than the twins. If it were New Rome, the twins would have a list of places they could go and things they could do, so he guessed it was on him to at least come up with one suggestion.

If he was honest, he only had a vague idea of where they were, and it wasn't a part of the city he visited often, so he didn't have the best idea of what was around. Ultimately, he went with the first thing that came to mind. "There is a really cool vintage bookstore like two blocks from here," he stated, pointing in the direction he thought it was.

It might have been the first thing he had thought of, but Mason didn't think it was a half-bad idea. He had been to the place a few times with Dean because Dean had a radar for little bookstores, and it didn't matter what they were doing or where they were supposed to be; he had to go in. It was such a well-known fact that Felix always looked up where bookstores were when they went on vacation so they could plan when they went. The little bookstore that Mason couldn't remember the name of had actually been pretty cool.

"You found an answer worse than go home," Michael commented flatly, "Why do you hurt me like this?"

Mason rolled his eyes because now Michael was just overdramatic. "They serve coffee and stuff," he informed.

"Coffee actually sounds pretty fucking good," Lee admitted, which was a good sign. Of the two, Michael always wanted to do something big and over-the-top. Lee could be like that sometimes, but he was more likely to see reason when Michael was just suggesting something crazy. Usually, if Mason could get Lee on his side, he had a chance. If Lee backed Michael's idea, then it was only a matter of time before Mason agreed to whatever insanity had been planned.

Michael stared between Mason and Lee with clear disapproval. "We can not go from trying to sneak into a 21 and over club to drinking coffee in a used bookstore," he stated with disgust before just shaking his head with disappointment, "Honestly, what is wrong with you two?"

"Okay," Lee declared, managing to sound just as unamused by Michael as Michael was with them. Lee was infinitely better at dealing with his brother when he was being dramatic than Mason was. "How about we go into that pizza place-" he pointed past Mason toward a small pizza place just across the street from where they were standing, "-and talk to the cute girls that are walking in."

"Well, that doesn't sound like fun for me!" Michael grumbled as he turned and assessed the option for a split second. "Oh, there is a couple of boys that could be cute! I don't hate that idea."

Mason gave in and turned to see what they were talking about and immediately wanted to crawl into a hole and die. "Oh my god, could you too stop staring," he hissed as he turned his back on the scene and hoped no one saw him.

They should have gone to New Rome.

Of course, both Michael and Lee were staring at him, and he knew they were going to ask. Neither of them was precisely known for letting things go either.

"What?" Mason shrugged, sounding more defensive than he meant to, "They are people from my school."

Michael and Lee exchanged a look that was never a good thing. It was one of those weird twin silent communication things they would do, and it usually meant they were about to tag team, Mason. It never worked out well.

"You know them?" Michael asked, although he managed to give the question far more weight than such a simple question should have had.

Lee was even less subtle as he stared at Mason with obvious suspicion, "How come we don't know them?"

Obviously, Michael and Lee didn't go to Mason's high school because they were in New Rome, but they hung around with Mason enough that they knew all of Mason's school friends and a fair number of his classmates. It wasn't necessarily weird that they didn't know someone that Mason knew from school, but it was a more rare occurrence. On this specific occasion, it actually made a lot of sense because they were people Mason only recently started getting to know.

"It looked like Theo and a few of the other kids from the theater club," Mason explained. Mason was not a theater kid. Even if he had wanted to be, he never would have had time with lacrosse and soccer. Since he was a junior and apparently would benefit from diversifying his afterschool activities (so saith his guidance counselor), he joined the AV club and somehow ended up helping with the school play, so he got to know some of the theater kids over the last few months. Not a big deal in the slightest. "And for the record, you two aren't entitled to know all my school friends," he pointed out just to prove a point.

Michael and Lee exchanged another look.

"Theo?" Lee questioned.

"Interesting," Michael commented.

Mason's heart jumped into his throat. Had he said that name? He hadn't meant to, but it must have just slipped out. He was absolutely fucked because the twins weren't going to let that go, and that was the last thing Mason needed. Theo was just a dude with great hair that made Mason feel weird sometimes, and he didn't want to talk about that.

Play it cool, Mason told himself through his internal panic. He shrugged, which felt like the most unnatural gesture ever. "He hangs out with a lot of the AV kids helping with the play," he explained. More accurately, he hung around many band kids helping with the play, and Mason had to adjust the audio equipment a fair amount. After talking a few times, Mason may have invited him to hang out with the AV kids, and the guy took him up on that. There was no fucking way he was telling Lee and Michael that story. "I've learned his name. It isn't a big deal," he stated. That at least was true, and no one would convince Mason otherwise.

Michael and Lee were silent for a long moment, just staring at him before Michael broke the silence. "You know what? Pizza sounds fantastic," He declared before turning on his heels and starting across the street. He was halfway across before he called over his shoulder, "And I love a good theater club. Always fun gays."

Lee patted Mason on the shoulder, which turned into him practically pushing Mason forward toward the pizza shop. "So, which one is Theo exactly," Lee asked in a mischievous tone.

Now Mason wished their wrong fake IDs had worked.

[kuriboo]

taking root in the soil

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Gen Fandom: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games) Relationships: Lauriam & Marluxia (Kingdom Hearts),Marluxia & Terra (Kingdom Hearts), Lauriam & Terra (Kingdom Hearts) Characters: Lauriam (Kingdom Hearts), Terra (Kingdom Hearts), Ventus (Kingdom Hearts), Aqua (Kingdom Hearts), Marluxia (Kingdom Hearts) Additional Tags: Post-Kingdom Hearts III, Terrariam Week 2021, Hurt/Comfort, Marluxia Is Lauriam (Kingdom Hearts), spoilers for both kh3 and khux Word Count: 2,436

On twitter there was an event for Terrariam Week, focusing on the relationship between Terra & Lauriam/Marluxia. I wrote for a few prompts, I had to cut it off at 3 but it was a lot of fun to write! Khux really made me care a lot about Lauriam so this really gave me an excuse to write him lol but anyway, I’ll post all the days’ entries here with the prompts that go with them.This is also posted on ao3; the link to ao3 will be in the notes of this post! I’ll also post the link to the terrariam week account in the notes.

You can also keep reading below.

⁂

Day 1: Meet-Cute

Lauriam stared down at his black cloak. He was sick of this thing.

The cloak was supposed to protect his heart from darkness. It was also a symbol of his status as a former member of Organization 13. It was a symbol of the person he became without his memories, turning against everything he was supposed to be. Guardian of Light turned Seeker of Darkness. Keyblade wielder turned assassin.

He felt like a traitor. He didn’t just turn against the original Organization, he turned against everything he used to stand for. He forgot about his sister, his friends, everything, and he was only now just starting to remember.

Well, he started to remember as Sora defeated him. His memories were still coming back. He remembered being a Dandelion, he remembered being a Union leader, he remembered Strelitzia…

Strelitzia…

He forgot about his own sister.

Lauriam laughed, a single tear falling down his face. It landed with a small splash on a flower below him, the flower just one of many surrounding him in this field. It was so similar to the one where he appeared after leaving Daybreak Town, where he started his search for Strelitzia.

He’d have to look for Elrena. Had she begun to remember? If not, he would have to try to help her. He owed that to her, for standing beside him for so long, even after they lost their memories.

A step crunching the flowers behind him broke Lauriam’s thoughts. He whirled around to see who it was.

Oh, Lauriam recognized that face. His hair was a different color, brown instead of white, but Lauriam was no fool. This was one of Xehanort’s many forms back again. Lauriam summoned his Keyblade in his hands. Would he never be able to escape him?

Xehanort stopped. He appeared confused. “You’re… Marluxia, right?

“It’s Lauriam now,” Lauriam corrected. “And I’ll thank you to remember that. You won’t get me to join your schemes anymore, Xehanort.”

“Xehanort?” He blinked, still confused. “No, no, Xehanort doesn’t have control over me anymore. I’m free now. My name is Terra.”

“Terra.” Lauriam kept his stance. Xehanort wasn’t above playing tricks. “And why should I trust you, ‘Terra’?”

“You don’t have to.” Terra held his hands up in front of him, palms out. “We’re not here to look for you. This is an accident.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” Lauriam’s grip on his Keyblade tightened. The Organization? “And what are you looking for, then?”

“Two of my friends are here with me.” Terra hesitated. “We’ve been searching different worlds for… Sora.”

Sora? There was a name Lauriam felt like he could trust now. Lauriam could still remember trying to turn the boy into a puppet. How ironic.

“Terra!”

Lauriam turned as he heard another voice call out to Terra. The person it belonged to…

Memories came flooding back. The blonde hair, the clothes he was wearing. Lauriam knew this person. Not from the Organization, but before.

“I asked the dwarves about him,” he told Terra without preamble. “They said no one’s seen him or heard anything about him. I guess Sora isn’t—“ He broke off, staring at Lauriam. “…Who are you?”

Lauriam knew him. Ventus, another former Union leader. Well, Ven wasn’t originally chosen for the role, but Lauriam wasn’t angry at him about it anymore. It wasn’t Ven’s fault he was used by Darkness.

“Hey, are you crying?” Ven asked.

Lauriam reached up to touch his cheek. It was wet. He was crying again. His heart must be overwhelmed, feeling so many emotions already when he wasn’t used to it anymore. “You’re the first… Nevermind. We’ve met before, but you must not remember me.” The Divine Rose disappeared from Lauriam’s hand. “My name is Lauriam. It’s good to see you again, Ven.”

“…Oh. I’m sorry.” Ven looked down at the ground. “You’re not the first friend I’ve met who I’ve forgotten. I can’t remember anything before I met Terra and Aqua…”

Terra put his hand on Ven’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s not your fault.”

“He’s right.” Lauriam smiled, though it hurt. Why did hearts make things so difficult? “I only just remembered myself. I’m hardly in a position to judge.”

He wasn't upset. Lauriam was just… disappointed. Not with Ven himself. But just as he started to remember again, he finally found another Union leader, only for said Union leader to have also forgotten. Fate could be cruel.

“I never imagined the world you came from to be like this. It’s strange to see you again here, of all places,” Terra admitted.

“I’m not from this world. The world I’m from…” Lauriam sighed. “It was destroyed a long time ago. This is where I found myself after I left.”

“Then can you come with us? To our world?” Ven blurted out. “I mean, you don’t have to, but… It would be nice to get to know you again! And maybe you can help me remember again!”

“You want me to…come with you?” Lauriam asked.

“We’ve been looking for Sora, but we’ve had to take breaks back home. I think Aqua will agree it’s about time for another one,” Terra said. “It would be nice to get to know you better…outside of everything before.”

“I don’t think I’d mind that, if you all will have me,” Lauriam answered. “And if I could help you find Sora again as well, it’d be the least I could do to make amends with him.”

And maybe find Elrena as well, and even Strelitzia, if they were searching many different worlds. Besides, where else could he go?

⁂

Day 2: New Beginnings

“Welcome to the Land of Departure.”

Lauriam looked around as Terra, Aqua, and Ventus led him through this new world. (New to him, at least.) Most of what he could see was the large building in front of them. It almost felt familiar; it must be the size, since the Castle That Never Was and Castle Oblivion seemed about as big as this place was. There was some greenery around, but not many flowers or anything like that.

Lauriam was okay with that. He was sure he’d still see the last place he saw his sister in his dreams.

“Come on!” Aqua led the group inside.

He was soon brought into a huge room. There were a couple of chairs, and it was nicely decorated, but there was a lot of empty space. Was this room used for training, or something else?

“Well, it’s not much, but it’s home,” Terra joked.

It was amazing how big this place seemed to be compared to what Lauriam was used to. “So this is the kind of place Keyblade wielders train these days?”

“I’m sure it’s not much compared to what you used to have,” Aqua said.

Lauriam chuckled. “When I was training, we were sent to different worlds all the time doing different missions. So, the places we got to stay in were rather small, but we were rarely there when we weren’t sleeping. I got to stay in the tower as a Union leader, though, which was much bigger. Too big, actually, it was easy to get lost in.”

As for after that… “As part of the…Organization, it wasn’t much different from when I was training. We had small rooms, but were constantly in other worlds for different missions. So, for the most part, this is actually bigger than I’m used to.”

“So a lot has changed…” Ven had a contemplative look on his face. “Can you tell us more? About what it was like back then? I wish I could remember…”

“Of course I can,” Lauriam said. He could tell more about the good times, anyway. He’d rather not get into the bad times, especially those relating to Darkness and his sister. But there were plenty of good times to reflect back on. “But we should probably find somewhere to sit, first. This could get long.”

⁂

“I’m assuming you want to get out of that coat.”

It had gotten late. Ven had gone to bed not long ago, and Aqua had just done the same. Ventus had listened eagerly to Lauriam’s recollections happily, and threw in his questions constantly. Now it was just Terra and Lauriam left.

Lauriam knew what Terra was getting at. He was sick of this black coat. It was supposed to protect his heart from darkness, but had come to symbolize something much worse. A period of his life that was now past.

“If you have anything else I could try, I would appreciate it,” Lauriam responded. “I would rather avoid wearing this thing unless I absolutely need to.”

“We’ve got spare clothes around. Stuff that doesn’t fit anyone. I’ll try to find whatever I can for you to try on.”

Lauriam thanked Terra as Terra walked off, going off to find the clothes in question. Now Lauriam was left alone with his thoughts, but all he could think about was what he was missing now that his memory had returned. He was missing Strelitzia, of course he was missing her. He was also missing Brain, Skuld, and Ephemer. He missed the Ventus that remembered who he was. The only thing that he had left from those times was his Keyblade, back to him now that he’d regained his heart.

Ironic, considering how before he’d regained his memories, he’d yearned for a Keyblade of his own.

Soon, Terra was back with a pile of clothes in his arm, more than Lauriam had been expecting.

“I can take you to a room to try them on,” Terra told him. “Hopefully something in here will fit you.”

Once Lauriam was there and alone, he started going through the pile. Most of it didn’t fit him, which he expected. It wasn’t like all the clothes were magically going to fit him. But he was able to find enough for a new outfit. A black button-up shirt and beige pants. He could keep his Organization boots on for now, so he wasn’t pressed for new shoes. Once the outfit was on, Lauriam walked back to where Terra was waiting, carrying his Organization coat over his shoulder.

“Well, what do you think?” Lauriam asked. “It’s certainly not my outfit from the old days, but I think it’ll do.”

“It looks great,” Terra said, a smile forming on his face. “It’s a fresh start. A new beginning for you.”

A new beginning… Lauriam liked that.

⁂

Day 5: Big Brothers Dynamic (or Day 3: Hurt/Comfort)

“He really looks up to you.”

Terra paused in his training. He looked over and noticed Lauriam watching him. Truthfully, Lauriam had been watching for a while, but Terra seemed so into his training that he hadn’t noticed.

“Who?” Terra asked.

“Ven,” Lauriam clarified. “He admires you, both you and Aqua.” He chuckled. “Ironic, considering he’s been a wielder much longer than you two.”

Terra shook his head. “Aqua deserves all the admiration, not me. I admire her, too. But after all I did to push him away, I’m lucky he looks up to me at all.”

“You can’t blame yourself for the way Xehanort manipulated you.” Lauriam frowned. “You’re far from his only victim. He has a knack for pulling in people who are lost, or missing something. It’s not luck or a mistake that Ven admires you; you came out of it all and took back everything that was yours.”

“I can’t agree with you, but I appreciate it.” Terra’s keyblade disappeared. “You know, you’re one of the first people that knew Ven before he lost his memory. After Chirithy, I mean.”

“Am I?” Lauriam blinked. “I’m…surprised, though really I shouldn’t be. Only the Union leaders and Elrena made it out of our world, and I haven’t found any of the other leaders since. Only Elrena, and now Ven, but Ven and Elrena hardly knew each other.”

“What was he like? Before he lost his memory?”

“Not so different, as far as I can tell. He was equal to the rest of us but still felt inferior, and felt he had to prove himself. He was a good friend, almost like a younger brother to the rest of us. He…”

Marluxia’s expression darkened. “He has more in common with you than either of you know.”

“…What do you mean?”

“He deserves better than to remember. If the full story comes out, he should be the first to know. But… Ven is part of the reason my sister disappeared.”

“Your…sister? What happened?”

Lauriam held up a hand. “Ven is not the one at fault. I forgave him a long time ago. Still, one of the reasons I left our world was to look for her. She has to be out there somewhere, and I won’t give up looking until I find her.”

Terra remembered what it felt like, when he returned home to find Master Eraqus attacking Ven. At that moment, it didn’t matter why their master was attacking him. Nothing could have stopped Terra from protecting Ven. He felt horrified that anyone would attack Ven, but the idea that their master felt he had to made Terra feel sick.”

He tried to picture it. Coming back to the Land of Departure to learn that Ven was completely gone. It was the closest he could think of based on what little Lauriam had described. “I don’t know what I’d do if I found out Ven was gone.”

“I think I nearly lost myself to the darkness when I learned what happened,” Lauriam said. He looked away. “I’m not proud of that moment, but I’m glad my friends were able to keep me from…” He sighed. “Well, that wasn’t long before I lost my memory and let myself become a vessel of darkness anyway, so I’m behind on my search.”

“Better late than never, though, right?” Terra smiled. “We’ll help you find your sister. I know I’d never stop looking if it were Ven, and we’re still looking for Sora anyway. Besides, we owe it to you as one of Ven’s friends.”

“You owe me nothing,” Lauriam protested. “I’ve done nothing to deserve that.”

“Then think of it this way: we’ll be helping each other. We won’t take no for an answer. But first…” Terra summoned his Keyblade. “Get your Keyblade. You’re joining in on training.”

“I’m more than a bit rusty,” Lauriam admitted, though he summoned his own Keyblade anyway. “I suppose it’s more reason for me to train.”

“I want to see how you fight. How strong you are. I’m curious about how much has changed since you and Ven’s time,” Terra said. “You better be ready.”

“I’ll admit, I’m curious as well.” Lauriam smirked. “I’ve been ready for ages.”