#now my brother needs help with resumes and i know nobody else will help him but he needs something soon or it will fuck up his life

[xxlelaxx]

My daughter is in a screaming phase. She just spends the whole day shrieking and screaming and I have had the most terrible headache. The last night's she cried for a Minimum of two hours because of the teeth and today everything was fine. I did everything I could and it was fine. We fell asleep. I wake up 45 minutes later to her screaming again and I just can't take it anymore. I've had too little sleep and I've been around her for the last 3 days... Even when I was interacting with her she was still in the same room screeching. My husband complained after two hours and honestly next time he does I'm gonna tell him to shut up about it. I haven't stopped crying for an hour cause now I can't sleep again cause I'm so agitated. I hate mother hormones. I hate not being allowed to sleep. I hate headaches. I don't want to get up and finish all the chores.

[erin-writes-ghost-fluff]

Cheering up Papa

A/N: Wrote this on my old blog. Thought I’d share it here! Minors/Under the age of 18, do not interact. My fluff is not for you. Note, I wrote this way before RHRN.

Fandom: Ghost

Characters: Cirrus, Copia, Cumulus

Warnings: Tickling. Fluff. Mentions of death at first. A little angsty at the beginning.

~ ~ ~

Cirrus found him first. Nobody could find him to begin with, so of course that worried Sister but it all worked out. He had gone to the garden to water the flowers. Nobody had been caring for them, since Primo’s death and Copia wanted to change that. Next tour, he was putting a sibling of sin in charge of upkeeping the garden. It was one of the few reminders he had left of his brothers.

He sat under the gazebo, on the patio sofa, taking a break. It was a pleasant day, Copia thought. It was warm but not uncomfortably so. There was a gentle breeze occasionally making the leaves on the trees sway. Out here was a comfort. It made him feel close to Primo and made him feel he was doing something right, by trying to take care of those flowers and plants.

“Papa?” A voice was approaching him. Cirrus.

“There you are! Everyone wondered where you got off to!”

Papa. Copia repeated in his mind. He’d never be used to that title. He had been cardinal for so long. He hardly expected to be the next in line for Papa and truth be told, he wasn't sure if he wanted this. Looking back, Nihil’s comment about him not being a part of the bloodline made sense.

Unlike his older brothers, he hadn't been mentored. Primo had taught Secondo, and Secondo taught Terzo. Nobody was here to teach him. And it had left him feeling empty and hollow.

Noticing his silence and the blank look on his face, the ghoulette frowned, coming to sit next to him. Something was troubling him, and she was going to get to the bottom of it.

“Everything ok?” She knew it wasn't but she wanted confirmation.

“Eh… I just have a lot on my mind. I’ll be fine. I am papa now. I do the worrying, not you ghouls and ghoulettes.”

Cirrus wasn't budging. “Copia please. You know how I am with picking up emotions. You aren't ok right now. Talk to me.”

She pulled the former cardinal against her, who heaved a sigh in response. Maybe getting it all out to a sympathetic ear would help. Someone who was grieving with him.

“I…. It just happened so quick, you know? The whole ‘becoming papa’ thing. No warnings, no nothing, one minute I’m performing, the next minute, I’m surrounded and declared papa.”

Cirrus nodded. He was right. There had been no time to process such a big, sudden change. Hell, Copia wasn't even warned. It had taken the ghouls by surprise as well. None of them had expected it.

“What else, papa? There's more. I know.”

Copia pressed his temple against hers, showing his affection and gratitude for her listening.

“I just feel that I am destined to fail. I have no-one to teach me how to be Papa.”

At this moment, Cumulus was walking out to the garden too. Seeing her bandmates- and technically newly appointed leader- she smiled, deciding to see what was going on.

“Hey ‘Lu.” Cirrus greeted, “papa’s having a venting moment.”

Cumulus’ tail and wings sagged. “Oh papa… Do you need space? Or would it be alright if I listened too?”

Copia shrugged. “If you want to stay, I don't have a problem.”

Cumulus took her seat on his opposite side, ready to be of as much comfort as she could.

Copia resumed, running a hand through his hair.

“I just feel alone, ever since my brothers died. I know I have my ghouls and I am not completely alone but…. Losing them was hard. I’ve had no time to mourn. It's just been work since we returned from tour. I know if Primo were here, he’d be teaching me. I have such big shoes to fill, you know? Except for Terzo's, his shoes were small, because his feet were tiny, heheh…”

Cirrus purred, nuzzling her nose against his temple. Cumulus had reached over, massaging his shoulder blades. He felt exceptionally tense.

“I think they’d be proud of you.” Cumulus hummed thoughtfully. “Especially Primo. He always wanted to see his younger brothers succeed.”

Would he? Copia wondered

“Do you really think so? It was hard to tell who or what gained his approval and who just got on his nerves.”

“Yes,” Cirrus agreed, “I think they’d be happy that their fratellino made it. I think Secondo would be teaching you to read the ancient grimoires, Terzo would be teaching you the Hellish or ghoulish tongue, and Primo would be more than happy to show you how to summon ghouls.”

Maybe they were right. But still…

“I just feel unsure now.”

Cirrus was now massaging and gently scratching Copia’s scalp, being mindful of her claws. He shivered before melting against her, some tension draining away.

“I think you're gonna do great. Yeah, you’re gonna be different than Terzo but that's ok. No Papa is alike. You have a lot to learn but we won't be impatient or unkind. We are you ghouls now, Copia. We will support you, when nobody else will.”

A lump formed in his throat, as he urged himself not to cry, his eyes suddenly glossy with unshed tears. His brothers may not be here to support him now or cheer him on- if they would have done such a thing- but hearing that his ghouls would be here to lift him up, made him feel relieved.

“We mourn with you, papa.” Cumulus chimed in again. “Your pain is ours.”

“Uh, i-it's not necessarily that- well, I mean it is, I just, I don't feel as bad now…”

The two ghoulettes sandwiched him in a tight hug, purring softly. Copia gave a shuddering exhale, bowing his head, bittersweet tears streaming down his cheeks.

“We’ve got you, Copia.” Cirrus murmured. “We’re here for you.”

This had been what he had needed for months. Just for someone to say they heard him and they would be there for him. All Sister wanted to do was go on and on, about his triumph as papa. Always saying how he was an improvement over Terzo. He never saw how. Terzo had won a GRAMMY after all, he had thought to himself.

Sister missed the point. And even if she hadn't, she still would be no true source of comfort. Too much false positivity. He needed to be allowed to feel these negative emotions. Not just brush them aside, because Sister said he should be happy.

Being able to vent helped immensely. Already, he felt a weight off of his shoulders and heart. His confidence wasn't there yet but it would be. He allowed himself to cry in silence, both ghoulettes rubbing his back and shoulder. After a minute or two, his tears began to subside.

“How do you feel?” Cumulus asked, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a handkerchief.

She wiped away his remaining tears, Copia allowing her to do so, almost leaning into her touch.

“Is there anything else we can do to help you feel better, papa?” Cirrus tilted her head to the side.

Come to think of it, they already had.

“I feel a little better now, grazie. Just by listening to me and letting me get it out. I appreciate it.”

They hugged him once more, glad to know he was doing a bit better. Still, Cirrus didn't like it when Copia was sad. A thought came to her, suddenly.

“I think I have an idea…”

Copia blinked. “What?”

She and Cumulus exchanged mischievous grins. They used to do this to Terzo but it was a much easier time with him, because of his height.

With no other warning, the ghoulettes began gently squeezing and pinching his sides, eliciting a shocked squeak, followed by some loud giggles.

“H-hey!” Copia cried, unable to stop giggling, “stop it!”

“Sorry, papa.” Cumulus chuckled, “we’re just trying to get you to smile.

“Ihihihi ahaham smiling!” He replied, kicking his legs out.

The ghoulettes had just started and he found it nearly unbearable. Especially when Cirrus snuck her hand up the hem of his shirt to get his belly. Every touch, every playful, gentle wisp of claws only caused him to laugh harder and louder. Rather than try to get away or fight them off, he held his hands over his mouth to muffle his giggles.

Cirrus wasn't having this, however. And she knew just how to bring his arms down.

“Ah-ah!” She playfully scolded, using her tail to get underneath one of Copia's arms.

Cumulus followed suit.

As they wanted, Copia's arms clamped down instinctively, his giggles turning frantic and squeaky, as Cirrus had not ceased torment on his belly.

“Cirrus!!” He squealed, as her other hand gently pried his own away from his mouth.

She laughed in response, “Hmm? What is it Papa?”

He shook his head, further squeaky giggles bubbling out of him, like a spring.

“Come oooon, use your words!” She teased, giving him a fanged smile.

Both sets of claws now gently digging into his ribs with the utmost care. Cumulus was teasing his neck and ears.

His blush darkened as he tried to keep himself still for them. They were only trying to help and lift his spirits again. For that, Copia was grateful. Suppose it wouldn't hurt to allow his ghoulettes to have a little fun. And while he’d never admit it aloud… he was having fun too. It felt nice to laugh like this.

He let out another squeal when Cumulus leaned forward, burying her face into his neck to playfully nibble the ticklish skin. His shoulders shrugged instinctively.

“No! Don't do that!” Copia squeaked, but Cumulus only continued.

“You know…. I don't think you mean that,” Cirrus smirked, lightly scratching underneath his arms, causing him to cackle.

Oh no… How did she know?! Though he wasn't really trying hard to get away….

“Y-you have no proof!” He challenged.

Cumulus snickered, using one claw to trace the shell of his ear, bringing out a high pitched cackle.

“I dunno, giggle rat…You’re barely trying to escape!”

His blush now spread up to his ears. “Don’t call me that!!”

“But it's true!” Cirrus giggled, “you squeak and squeal like a rat when you get tickled, sooooo that makes you a ticklish giggle rat.

Copia shook his head, denying such accusations but couldn't stop laughing to save his life. He let out a shocked shriek, when all twenty fingers skittered against his belly. He jolted as if he’d been shocked by electricity, laughter flowing unrestrained and freely from the Anti-Pope.

“THIS IS MEAN!!” He howled, kicking his legs out like an overgrown child once more.

Both ghoulettes tails wagged and swayed happily, listening to his laughter, pleased with themselves. They found themselves laughing with him as usual. His laughter was just so adorable and contagious, in Cirrus’ correct opinion.

He was beginning to tire, however and they didn't want to push him too far. It would seem a grand finale was in order. And Cirrus knew just how to go about it.

Cumulus seemed to be thinking the same thing, as she raised the hem of Copia's shirt, baring his belly just a little. He knew what was coming and began to go into a giggly, anticipatory panic. He’d been tickled by Cirrus enough times to know…

“Wait! Wait! Per favore! I’m gonna die!”

The other two giggled. Oh yes, he was definitely Terzo's little brother, alright! Copia was just as dramatic as him!

“Oh papa…” Cumulus snickered, shaking her head, “I think you’ll live!”

“No I won’t!”

With no further warning, they leaned down, claiming both sides of his belly, before blowing a loud raspberry before switching to nibbling, all while snarling playfully.

Copia let loose another shriek before howling with unbridled mirth, as they made a ‘feast’ out of him. He sputtered and squeaked, trying to talk but laughter took over within seconds. He slammed his hands on his thighs, unable to even think straight at this point. Despite the hysteria, his laughter was hearty.

Just when he thought he was going to be driven insane, his ghoulettes had a shred of mercy, stopping their playful attack, pulling his shirt back down, smoothing out his hair and clothes.

He heaved a relieved- yet giggly- sigh, going limp and slouching where he sat.

Cirrus purred, pressing her nose against his cheek with a nuzzle. “Awwww. See? Not that bad!”

Copia crossed his arms, giving a joking, angry pout.

“Yes it was!” He grouched playfully, “you two are fucking bullies!”

Cumulus laughed, giving his body a gentle squeeze, while Cirrus rubbed his back to help him calm down.

“Because we love you!”

Ok…. Copia couldn't argue with that logic. He gave them a bashful smile, pressing his temple against Cumulus’, followed by Cirrus.

“I love you too.” He chuckled softly. “....But it still wasn't nice!”

Cirrus ruffled his hair. “It got you to feel better though, I bet.”

Well, she wasn't wrong!

“Not answering that!”

Cumulus snickered. “Hey, wanna come and help me do some baking? I’m in a mood for something sweet. Probably something chocolate!”

Copia's mood lifted further. If there was one thing he loved just as much as rigatoni, it was chocolate!

“Oh yes, I’d love to! Now that you’ve said it, I wouldn't mind having some sweets too!”

The group of three stood up, stretching their limbs before walking back inside The Ministry, heading straight to the kitchen.

Being Papa wouldn't be easy. It would be stressful some days and a pain in the ass. But Copia felt just a little more confident now. His brothers may not be here, but he still had a support system.

Papa. Yes. Suppose he could get used to being called that now.

[literenture]

Sho abducted, preparations for the battle against the Founder.

Sho had been running himself thin trying to assist his guardians after the birth of his sister, but he was happy for the first time in as long as he could remember. It was hard work, but it made him feel useful to be able to do something to help, and he had immediately been enamored with the tiny infant.

Before her birth, Sho’s mind had been wracked by fears of abandonment and that he would be tossed aside, but as soon as he held her in his arms, one of his fingers gripped in her entire hand, he felt such love he could not describe. He had never felt so protective of another, and he wanted to be the best big brother he could to make sure she never had to go through life alone. Sho knew all too well how hard it was when you had nobody else.

The Hearthmother had stopped by to check on Valeria’s progress and see how Etienne was faring. Gheriun was a nervous wreck, always worrying more than necessary about his partner. It made the Painter irritated, and on more than one occasion he’d had to point out that he had only given birth, he wasn’t some delicate flower. And besides, the Mask Seller was the one struggling to adjust to his new life without the benefit of powers. He was a mortal man now, and one who had only recently gone through a major experimental surgery himself. It was as though he were projecting onto the other man.

As she finished up her examination, the midwife nodded at Gheriun. Her short-cropped, dark brown hair lay against her pale cheek as she adjusted the stole around her shoulders. Her red eyes flickered in the light.

“Well, papa’s doing very well,” she said with a smile. “Not getting much sleep though, I gather?”

The Painter laughed.

“No, but I have a lot of help around the house.” He looked toward Sho. “And she’s a surprisingly good baby. I expected much more wailing.”

In response, Valeria hiccuped and giggled as though pleased. It made the Hearthmother grin.

“I’ll say. Don’t go on spoiling her now.”

“Before you go,” the Mask Seller interrupted, “I just, shouldn’t he rest for a while before returning to work?”

It had been the subject of some arguments between the two men. Etienne was determined to resume his workload as he saw fit, but Gheriun worried incessantly.

“Well, I’d say it depends on how Pierrot feels,” the midwife said pointedly. “It’s his body. He should know his limits better than most.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him,” Etienne said in irritation. “I’m not going to overdo it. Valeria’s my first concern. But I can’t just sit around doing nothing, Gher.”

His voice was desperate to get through to the Mask Seller, to reassure and assuage his fears. Gheriun crossed his arms and grumbled a bit, but finally nodded.

“Just…take care of yourself, okay? Don’t go overexerting yourself right out the gate.”

“Trust me.”

Etienne placed one arm on Gheriun’s and looked into his eye. With a frustrated scowl the Mask Seller threw up his hands.

“I do, I do,” he sighed.

Sho whistled, slightly out of tune, as he strolled down the lane home. He was bundled up against the late winter chill, breath frosting in the air. He wore a thick scarf knit for him by the Painter, and swung his light grocery bag to and fro.

Going into town for supplies had become one of his favorite activities despite initially being terrified of all of the strangers. However, they had become fond of the new family, and treated them all warmly.

While at first he’d needed Gheriun or Etienne with him to brave going into shops, he now did so, maybe not easily, but with enjoyment. Casual conversation was still difficult for him to navigate but Sho was learning to enjoy meeting new people.

Here, nobody knew who or what he had been, nobody expected anything of him. They all treated him as a normal child, and while he was still learning the language, the villagers were enthusiastic about teaching him.

As much as he loved his family, he found moments to himself like this healing. It was a chance to collect his thoughts and ruminate on all that had happened the past few months.

In truth, he still found it difficult adjusting to a life so outside of his experiences, and he struggled with fear and self doubt. He was trying his best, but it was nice to be able to let down his shoulders and not worry about how he came off around his guardians.

It wasn’t that he was displeased and hiding it, rather he simply did not quite know how to act. For so long his entire existence had been a performance for the benefit of his grandfather, and left to his own devices he struggled to know how to express himself honestly.

He was grateful for the patience and understanding of his new family, but there were still times that he’d prefer to be alone with his thoughts.

He had become so wrapped up in his own head that it took him a moment to notice the change in the air.

The world around him went silent. The suddenness of it all made Sho freeze, and he whirled around.

Nothing.

He let out a sigh, assuming it to be some sort of animal, when something slammed into him from behind.

Sho gasped, breath torn from his lungs, and went tumbling forward into the snow. He rolled to a stop, head slamming into the ground, and stared in a daze. Without a chance to even question what was happening, a sharp pain erupted in his side.

He screamed, suddenly all too aware, as the blade of the cursed spear Varuna sliced through his side and pinned him to the ground. Its wielder stood over him, eyes cold.

“Bashr,” Sho gasped out. “Why..?”

“Sorry,” was all the large man said before another figure strode up to join him.

“Hey Prophet,” said the short, wiry Lotus Eater known as Ayumi. “Or, ex-Prophet now.”

Sho was struggling to keep up with everything, trying to summon the last reserves of en at his control.

It was useless; Varuna was still stuck in his side and it ate away at the pitiful remnants of Sho’s powers. Even his gate struggled to pull from them, instead leaking en rapidly. He coughed up a splash of dark red blood onto the snow.

“Oh, sorry about that,” Ayumi said in her sing-song voice. “Can’t take any chances, y’know.”

She placed a hand over the hilt of her blade, Charon. If she drew that it would be no quick and pleasant death.

Sho’s heart clenched in terror; he had trained alongside the Lotus Eaters as one of them and knew all too well the cruelty she was capable of. His shadow sputtered weakly but otherwise did not respond. His fingers were growing cold. A resignation rose in him as he realized there was nothing he could do.

“Just kill me,” Sho hissed.

That seemed to amuse the shorter Lotus Eater and a wicked grin spread across her face.

“We’re not here to kill you,” she chimed. “Your dear grandfather misses you oh so much. It’s about time you came home, isn’t it?”

Sho’s blood froze as she spoke and he cast a glance toward the direction of his home before he could stop himself. Following his gaze, Ayumi’s grin widened.

“Oh, he knows about them all right. Even the child.”

At his expression she burst out laughing, endlessly amused.

“You didn’t really think our Founder would be so blind as to not know? You truly are a fool. But no worries, his kindness is as deep as his knowledge. If you come with us now he’ll spare them all. Isn’t that nice?”

She ran her tongue over her teeth wolfishly as she clasped her hands together in a chipper manner. Her entire personality was a sham of innocence, but she could not hide her cruel nature when after her prey. Sho had never had the opportunity to experience it from the other end, and he quivered in fear. Ayumi just shrugged at him.

“Well, enough chatter. You’re coming home. Now will you come easily, or will we have to chop off a few limbs first?”

Every part of Sho felt numb. There was no disobeying his grandfather. He knew that better than most. Why had he thought he could so easily run away from his destiny?

He had been born for one reason only, and that was to be his grandfather’s loyal tool. He owed it to him after all. Just because he hadn’t been warm to him did not mean the Founder did not love him.

That’s right. That’s what this was.

Sho had just acted out of line, selfishly, and that’s why he had to be disciplined. But his grandfather must surely love him. Why else would he be so magnanimous?

Sho’s mind spiraled, consumed by the flames of a trauma that always flickered just beneath the surface. With one last look towards the family he had briefly known, Sho grit his teeth and clenched his fists in the snow. He coughed again, bringing up more blood. Finally, with resignation in his voice, he spoke.

“Take me to him.”

“I’m disappointed in you, my boy.”

Sho lay strapped to a table, shirt off, as the chief medical officer of the Lotus Eaters, Isidora, bent over him tending to his wound. The boy stared blankly at the ceiling, feeling empty.

They had brought him directly to Power Plant No 1 following his acquiescence. Travel had been fast with Daikokuten’s experimental waystones, and within the hour he was on the examination table deep in the array of buildings that surrounded the base of the skeleton of the heart tree of Mineshi. His grandfather was already there waiting when Sho arrived carried by Bashr due to his blood loss.

The first words out of the man’s—in his aunt’s body—mouth felt like another stab in the gut, and Sho felt himself break out in a cold sweat. He tried to focus on a particularly interesting stain on the metal ceiling amidst the pipes and bars across it. It wasn’t helping much.

“Do you know how worried I was when I was told you had disappeared?” he intoned sorrowfully. “Not a word, nothing, only to learn it was your own father who stole you from us? Who betrayed all that we’ve done for him?”

He sighed and shook his head, the rings adorning his pinned hair shaking and catching glints off the greenish artificial light.

“I don’t know what sort of lies he and that glorified concubine of his filled your head with. You always were so naive. You should know I only ever wanted what was best for you.”

“Father told me the real reason I was born,” Sho said, unable to stop himself even though he knew it was a foolish act of rebellion. “And I found maman’s diary. know that I’m just your body double like auntie.”

Despite all that he had learned, saying it out loud still brought tears to Sho’s eyes. He had wanted for so long to believe that his grandfather was just a stoic person but that he truly did love him. Now he no longer knew, yet he still wanted so desperately for it to be true, for this all to be some great misunderstanding, even as he was stitched up due to the massive injury inflicted at his grandfather’s instruction.

The Founder laced his ringed fingers together thoughtfully.

“And? You believed such a thing? As you can see,” he said, spreading his arms, “I’m quite satisfied with my current form. You know only those who agree to it are chosen for this heavy burden. It is forced upon nobody.”

That made Sho hesitate. It was true, all his life he had known his aunt to be the next in line for the Founder’s blessing, and she herself had been proud of the fact. But why would the Mask Seller and Painter lie? No, even more, his mother had written of her discovery of the information shortly before her death. She would never make up such a fact.

Unless Father lied to her too, whispered a voice in the back of his head. Unless he really did just have her fooled about his true intentions, just as Grandfather had claimed so many times. Was the Mask Seller truly the kind man he had appeared to be these past short months? Or had Sho been fooled in his naïveté?

He shook his head. No. No, he couldn’t let his fear take over now. If he was going to die, it would not be as his grandfather’s eager pawn. But how would he be able to escape? He couldn’t let the Founder take over his body, that much he knew. It would spell doom for his family, and many others besides. His grandfather's plan and the completion of the M Protocol was no peaceful world order, but a hierarchy of power that would see hundreds of thousands or millions dead. It might even have the potential to destroy entire worlds. Even with what little he knew, that much had become obvious in the past year. All that Sho had learned and all that he had secretly known came together in his head, and he clenched his jaw.

He had to find a way to prevent that, no matter what it took.

——

They were sitting in the living room waiting for Sho to return when Valeria started bawling. There was no apparent trigger; one moment she was happily babbling in her crib, the next she was completely inconsolable.

Gheriun lifted her up and rocked her gently, shushing her.

“What happened?” Etienne asked as he walked up to them.

“No idea,” was the Mask Seller’s baffled response. “Could she have hurt herself?”

The Painter’s face was a mask of worry as he realized something while looking over the infant.

“Isn’t it a bit late for Sho to be getting home?”

He was right. The sun had long since set, and dinner was overdue. They had been so content in the quiet of the house that time had completely slipped by. Gheriun’s face darkened.

“I’m going to go see where he’s at. He’s probably just dawdling by the pond,” he said without much conviction.

Something was off. As soon as the Mask Seller was outside he knew it. The snowy landscape was too quiet. He hastened down the lightly dusted path, willing his weakened body to move ever faster.

He came upon a small rise in the path and paused for a moment to catch his breath and survey his surroundings. No use running around like a headless chicken. He leaned against a thin tree and looked around.

At first, he did not see anything, but something out of the corner of his eye nagged at him, and he looked straight down the path.

There was a sickeningly large pool of blood there in the moonlight. His heart sank, and without another thought he bolted toward it.

There were signs of a scuffle, a quick one by the looks of it. The blood had cooled and begun to coagulate there on the snow. His first thought was an animal, but the tracks soon proved otherwise.

No. No no no no no.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe. His hands gripped at his chest as his heart hammered, and he felt faint as he dropped to his knees.

This couldn’t be. It had to be some mistake.

And then he saw the boy’s hat and shopping bag.

Gheriun howled in agony and bent over himself, forehead pressed to the bloodstain. He felt like the world was ending right there.

It had to be him. Somehow, that man had found them, halfway across the world, and just when they had relaxed he had struck. What had he done with Sho? The amount of blood on the ground made Gheriun feel ill. Had he killed him for leaving? Stolen his body away to puppet as a marionette?

The Mask Seller’s fists curled tightly into balls. He ground his teeth, holding back another sky piercing cry.

This was all his fault. He had been so selfishly focused on Etienne and Valeria that he hadn’t adequately protected his son. Gods, if only he had gone with him, or checked sooner. Why hadn’t he felt anything? Shouldn’t a father know if his child has been…

He couldn’t fathom it. Just when they had become a family. Just when they were healing.

As he lie there in the snow, rapid footsteps approached him from behind. He did not look up.

“Gher, what— My god!”

Etienne cursed as he saw the bloodstained snow. Valeria, now sniffling lightly, was strapped to his back. He knelt beside the Mask Seller and placed one hand on his heaving shoulders.

“What happened?”

“That man,” Gheriun managed through his grit teeth. “He’s… he’s killed him.”

The Painter froze, but then he reached down and lifted Gheriun’s face to him.

“Listen to me. Sho’s stronger than you think. They’ll want him alive. It wouldn’t make sense to kill him.”

Still, his voice wavered as he spoke. This was not an inconsiderable amount of blood, and they both knew how weak Sho had been.

The moons hung brightly in the sky, oblivious to all that occurred beneath. The two men sat there until Valeria snapped them back to reality with a cry.

The snow had started up again, flurries rapidly descending around them and melting into the stain on the ground. They stood there, unable to decide what to do next.

“Standing here won’t solve anything,” Etienne said at last. “We need to contact the others.”

He reached a hand down to help the Mask Seller to his feet. Gheriun’s eyes wouldn’t leave the ground where his son had lay, where he may have spent his last moments, completely alone.

Just how scared had he been at that moment? Had he called out for his father? His inadequate father, who had been blithely unaware of what he was going through.

The masksmith felt like he would be torn apart by the raging emotions within him. He staggered until the Painter caught him.

“Stay with me Gher,” he pleaded. “We need to keep our heads clear. We’ll find him.”

“Not if they have him,” despaired the Mask Seller. “We barely got him away the last time. They’ll have brought him to the power plant.”

He was shaking with rage and fear, his heart thudding in his chest. He could not get the image of Sho lying broken and bloody, all alone, in the cold depths of winter, out of his head.

“Rui’s infiltrated once already,” the Painter said patiently. “Surely he’ll know a way…”

But nothing Etienne said could clear the fog of despair that had overcome the Mask Seller. His own heart was heavy with worry, but they had to stay focused or Sho truly would be lost to them.

Arriving home to their empty house only made it set in further just how big their loss was. Gheriun looked ghastly, the strain of the previous months catching up to him and etching itself onto his face. Even as they sat and fed Valeria, the Mask Seller was sunken into himself, distant and unresponsive. The outpouring of grief had given way to a deep resignation. It was as though he had completely given up on any hope of his son’s safe return. Etienne couldn’t have that. He needed him to try.

They had no idea where the Observer was just then, but Etienne placed a letter in the mailbox and hoped it would reach Rui immediately. The Observer had never been very good at keeping up with the interdimensional mail but all the Painter could do right then was pray.

He cursed himself for not listening to Rui’s advice and getting a phone. Sho had the only phone between the three of them, the two older men baffled by the modern technology no matter how patiently Sho guided them through it.

The night passed by in a slow tension that strained them each to their breaking points. While Etienne paced, sometimes cradling Valeria, sometimes wringing his hands, Gheriun was still as a statue. He sat with hands crossed over his knees, staring into the middle distance. He looked like he had aged years in a matter of hours, and his usually strong face dissolved into a patchwork of fault lines and anxiety.

They did not get any sleep that night.

The two of them checked the mailbox with impatience, trudging back and forth through the snow as the steady flurries buried even those frequent tracks. Their nerves were fraught and near to snapping, and so they passed those blurry hours largely in silence.

Before he knew it, Gheriun had fallen asleep in the armchair as he sat and waited for any reply from the Observer.

As the only one of them to have ever breached the walls of the power plant and come back, he was their only hope.

So he and Etienne had spent restless hours waiting for a response.

By midday, the exhaustion and fear must have caught up with the Mask Seller, and he fell into an uneasy sleep.

His dreams were amorphous and vague, but they all featured his son’s death. When he was awoken from his nightmares, he cried out in immediate panic.

“It’s okay Gher, it’s only me. Rui’s heading here.”

Gheriun blinked his eyes rapidly as the Painter’s words set in. In his state it took him some time before the meaning made any sense to him.

“He is..?”

Etienne nodded solemnly.

“He’ll be here within the hour.”

The Observer had not been exaggerating his timeframe. As the snowfall made to turn into a proper blizzard, there was a knock at their door. Both men hurried to answer it, the Painter reaching the doorway first and cracking it open. A cold wind tore through the room and they hurriedly ushered the bundled figure of the Observer into the warm house. He shook the snow off of himself and began taking off the layers he wore there in the stone entranceway. Gheriun bit back annoyance at his consideration; all he cared about right now was getting his son back.

Rui finally stood with cheeks flushed red from the cold, and was led to the sitting room so that they could discuss the matter at hand.

“So tell me, just when did you discover that Sho was missing? What did you find at the scene of his disappearance?”

The Observer didn’t mince words, getting to the point immediately.

“It must have been around, oh, half past six? It had just gotten dark, and we had expected him back by then.”

Etienne didn’t hesitate in his answer, even as Gheriun’s own throat closed up at the thoughts of what they had discovered. He bit back his emotions and clenched his fists until the knuckles turned white. His partner soon placed a steady hand over his own and Gheriun remembered to breathe. It wouldn’t help anyone to break down now. He knew that, but…

“As for what we discovered after that…”

Etienne’s gaze slid over to the Mask Seller.

“There was a pool of blood on the path home,” Gheriun said quietly.

Heedless of his turmoil, Rui continued with his clinical questions.

“When you say a pool, just how much do you mean? Was it fresh? Do you know for certain it was his? Maybe the boy’s just run off somewhere and—“

“Of course I know it was his! You think I’d just…”

Gheriun couldn’t keep from raising his voice, but Etienne squeezed his hand and he inhaled sharply to collect himself before continuing in a steadier tone.

“His hat and the shopping bag were both there. Etienne made the bag himself. And…” Gheriun squeezed his eyes shut. “The blood had already started to cool. It was about so large.”

Gheriun gestured. Rui made no remark or response to his earlier outrage, just nodding at his explanation with an “I see.”

“Then, it’s most likely he’s still alive as Etienne suspected.”

Despite themselves, both men couldn’t help but let out their breath in unison as the Observer made his deduction. However, he quickly raised a finger to quell their relief.

“Unfortunately, without Sowaca, I won’t be able to repeat the same trick I used last time to get inside the Power Plant.”

Just like that, their faint glimmer of hope was snuffed out. Gheriun felt himself grow cold. He had been right after all, there was nothing to be done, he had failed his son so completely and now—

“That doesn’t mean I don’t have some ideas of alternative measures, though. It’ll just require a bit more manpower.”

“Why couldn’t you have led with that to begin with?”

Etienne’s voice snapped as he questioned his friend, who only held his hands up placatingly and attempted an apology.

“Sorry, my bad, I just didn’t want to give the wrong idea,” Rui said quickly. “I’ll be frank, I’ve no idea if any of my plans have even the most remote chance of success. I’d be lying if I said otherwise.”

“It doesn’t matter to me if it’s only a naught percent chance,” Gheriun said. “Even if I have to give my own life in exchange, I will get Sho back.”

“Gher…”

But the Mask Seller was adamant. He stared directly into the Observer’s uncovered eye, jaw set. Seeing his determination, Rui lowered his hands and nodded curtly.

“Well, with the warning out of the way, as far as I see it, there are three options with the best chance. The explanations are a bit tedious, but, well, let’s see…”

[morifinwes]

wangxian fic rec list!

aka in which i read fics, write some recs down for aamna and share them!! they're all wangxian fics and uhh @yibobibo i hope you'll like them!!

modern

wolf devours playboy bunny by @greenteafiend (5K, werewolf!lwj, getting together, idk if anyone needs to know that but there's nudity just not uhh explicit)

Lan Zhan has wanted Wei Ying as long as he has known him, and the worst part is that he thinks Wei Ying could want him back.

Too bad he could never in good conscience let himself go there—Wei Ying has a debilitating fear of all things canine, and once a month, Lan Zhan is the exact, precise thing that Wei Ying’s nightmares are made of.

Aka, Lan Zhan is a werewolf.

between the lines by @jywait (19K gaming au!!!, i'm always down for a good gaming au, lwj is the best aksks he's such a good boy)

☆yilingpatriarch☆: pls...give me some face, help me fight these monsters...I'm gonna die

Bluetooth: no.

"You have died." The screen said, and Wei Wuxian threw his hands up in frustration.

resonant frequencies by chinxe (15K, college au, fake dating au, tw mention of cheating but it's brief and no one was cheated on i promise)

In which Wei Wuxian decides that the best way to deal with being in love with Lan Wangji is to pretend to date him for three weeks.

It goes about as well as can be expected.

drift compatible by windoworwhatever (5K, poetry, fluff, drunkji, getting together, college au)

"It was just a fact of life. The sky was blue, university stipends for graduate students working in TA positions barely covered rent, bisexuals cuffed their jeans, Lan Wangji had a massive crush on Wei Wuxian, and spent his time pining and writing research papers about gay subtexts in ancient poetry."

OR

Lan Wangji is in love with Wei Wuxian, and everybody knows, except Wei Wuxian.

the bunny next door by detailsinthefabric (43K, this is mostly fluff and very light angst, and they were neighbors!!!, rabbits!!, aka wangxian's bunny children, this is... so cute i just have to rec it)

Lan Wangji did not know what he was doing. He did not know what he was going to say. He was frozen in place, puzzling over the situation. Maybe he had made the man uncomfortable, which is why he wanted to leave? But his tone had still been so friendly—maybe…

“Would…” he paused, swallowed, forced the last words to come out of his suddenly parched mouth, “would you let me pet him?”

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

Lan Wangji, who doesn't know how to socialize and whose icy demeanor scares everyone away, lets down all his defenses when he meets the bunny next door...oh, and also its owner, Wei Wuxian.

leading tone by silencemostofall (32K, everyone is a music student? or something like that akskk, curse fic, tw panic attacks, tw child abuse, small scene of drunkji, wwx has low self esteem, bro this was so painful to read)

The first time you touch someone you're fated to love, you leave a mark on their skin. If they will love you in return, they'll mark you where you touched them. The deeper the color, the deeper the connection.

Wei Ying has no marks at all.

public places, private thoughts by leahelisabeth (for the love of camelot) ( 8K, cherry magic au, getting together with like... immediate upgrade to fiance status, the author is wrong i crave good wangxian cherry magic aus even tho i haven't even watched cherry magic)

Wei Wuxian had heard the story of course. It had made its rounds through his high school and followed him into his college days. He didn’t think there was any possibility it was true. Virginity was a social construct, invented by creepy old men to exercise dominance over women. The idea that a simple lack of sexual activity before the age of thirty could give one magical powers was absolutely ludicrous.

Wei Wuxian believed this until the morning of his thirtieth birthday.

AKA the Wangxian Cherry Magic AU that absolutely nobody asked for.

i'd be all right (if i could see you) by @thirtysixsavefiles (16K, this was nice, i read this at 6am but it was cute, (while writing this post i must admit i don't remember anything but 6am-me said it's good))

The younger Lan brother is something of an enigma on campus; while Lan Xichen can sometimes be seen in the company of other graduate students or conducting a seminar, Lan Wangji appears to spend all his time in class or in the library. He doesn’t drink. He doesn’t smoke. He doesn’t attend social events. He doesn’t do anything for fun, as far as Wei Wuxian can tell, and it’s driving Wei Wuxian just a little bit up the wall.

Or, Wei Wuxian convinces Lan Wangji to come to a house party, and then they're assigned to the same group project. Wei Wuxian tries his best, but he is not in possession of all the facts.

axe on leg by itszero (4K, i still don't get why wwx did that but it was nice seeing him jealous for once, jealous!wwx, lwj i love you....)

Wei Wuxian pressed his face into his pillow and screamed. He paused to take a few deep breaths, partially hindered by the pillow, and listened to the sounds of Nie Huaisang slurping his iced coffee, from his seat on Wei Wuxian's desk chair.

Having caught his breath, he resumed his screaming and did not stop at the sound of his dorm room door opening.

"What's wrong with him?" He heard his brother, Jiang Cheng, ask.

The slurping stopped. "He's an idiot."

"He's always been an idiot. Why is he bothered about it now?"

"He forced Lan Wangji to go on a date," Nie Huaisang replied, shaking the ice cubes in his drink.

"Okay and…?"

"With someone else." The slurping resumed.

Wei Wuxian, in all his glorious dumbassery, convinces his boyfriend to go on a date with someone else.

these two most powerful by @stiltonbasket (4K, amnesia, wangxian with children!!!, aksksk this was adorable, dadji!!)

When Lan Wangji went to bed last night, he was alone in a tiny guest room with nothing but the howling of the wind in the mountains and his own lonely thoughts for company.

 

But when he opened his eyes in the morning, Wei Ying was asleep beside him.

 

(In which Lan Wangji loses twenty years' worth of memories after a night-hunt gone wrong, and his life as a doting father and husband continues without a hitch somehow.)

good things come to those who wait [but i ain't in a patient phase] by @cerlunas (4K, getting together, pining lwj)

Lan Wangji can't take it anymore.

 

“I love you”, he says, and god, it feels terrifying. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”

“Lan Zhan…” Wei Wuxian starts, but Lan Wangji doesn’t want to hear it.

He grabs his cup and drinks everything. He doesn’t know what face Wei Wuxian is making at him right now, and it’s okay. 

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian repeats louder, but it’s too late. He is already falling asleep.

Or, even after 13 years, Lan Wangji is still in love with his best friend. Maybe it's time to open up.

wei ying, will you marry m- oh my god he swallowed the ring! by selene210 (2K, marriage proposals, crack, marriage proposals but.. they go wrong)

“A ring?”

And indeed it was. The ring Lan Wangji was going to propose to Wei Ying with. That the man had now choked on.

“You swallowed it.”

“It was in my soufflé! Why did you put a ring in my soufflé Lan Zhan- oh. oh”

of glittery valentine's cards by @soft-fics (3K, valentine's day, this was adorable aksk, a-yuan best boy!!)

Lan Zhan didn't want to know what his best friend had planned for Valentine's Day; his heart would simply not be able to handle it. When his son tells him that he made Wei Ying a Valentine's Day card, though, Lan Zhan decided to bring it over anyway.

of coffee and white tea by @soft-fics (9K, fluff, lwj doesn't like coffee, wwx buys him coffee, then they switch drinks, again and again and again, the staff ships it lmao, tbh jc shouldn't have done that like wtf)

For the fourth time this week a stranger orders him a cup of coffee. Lan Wangji wonders how exactly to tell this man to stop ordering him coffee he doesn't even like. Turns out, buying the other white tea and switching drinks is not the best way to go about it

canon setting

on the importance of restraint (or lack thereof) by nixthothou (4K, in which sizhui snaps, i love that boy, no like seriously he's the best boy)

Lan Sizhui does not usually find himself in the company of Sect Leader Jiang.

Suffice to say, Lan Sizhui's feelings toward him are conflicted.

lan wangji is wei wuxian's baby by lilycs (3K, i was craving fluff while reading this, lwj my beloved, drunk!lwj)

Lan Wangji gets drunk from barely a cup of alcohol, becoming a whiny baby and asking his husband for cuddles.

one of our own by glitteringmoonlight (8K, wei wuxian & lan sect, 5+1 things, in which they learn to love him, they're all part of the wwx protection squad lead by lwj, wangxian isn't the focus but !!! THIS)

Times change, but some people remain the same.

The Lans are nothing, if not aware of this.

For one of their own, they will stand against the world.

Or, 5 times the Lans defended Wei Wuxian, and the 1 time he was there to see it happen.

so why not crack your skull when the mind swells by @greenteafiend (13K, love curse, post cql canon, curses, getting together, fluff, so much fluff, lwj tries to talk about his emotions!, lwj pov)

Lan Wangji detects the curse trying to curl through his heart meridians like smoke. A love curse, then. It must have been cast remotely somehow to have found him in his bed in Cloud Recesses. No matter. Lan Wangji crushes it easily, enveloping it in his spiritual energy, and then squeezing. Curse averted, Lan Wangji closes his eyes and goes back to sleep. He thinks no more of it.

Two days later, Wei Wuxian arrives in Cloud Recesses.

Or, Wei Wuxian is cursed to feel terrible pain when he and Lan Wangji aren’t touching.

i started from the bottom / now i'm rich by x_los (57K, time travel, fix it, jealous lwj, crack treated serious, god this is so good tho, wwx/wrh & wwx/jgs but like as a joke and it doesn't really happen, but it has its purpose!!)

“First, you get the money. Then you get the power, respect - hos come last.”

 

Wen Qing traps Wei Wuxian in the Demon Slaughtering Cave, but Wei Wuxian isn’t interested in being the beneficiary of the Wen Remnants’ noble sacrifice. His efforts to free himself accidentally send him back to the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign. Coreless but armed with demonic cultivation, knowledge of the future and his wits, Wei Wuxian takes advantage of this opportunity to come out on top of both the war and its aftermath—before either has a chance to happen—by marrying and swiftly burying the cultivation world’s worst men.

Lan Wangji is confused, hurt, and uncomfortably aroused by Wei Wuxian’s improbably elaborate series of Sect-themed bridal negligees.

lead me on through by mrsronweasley (55K, they're in love your honor, arranged marriage but they don't know to whom, basically wwx & lwj want to practice kissing which then goes beyond kissing but not the whole way y'know, lxc the best wingman tho)

"Who do you think your betrothed is?" Wei Wuxian asks, sprawling out in front of Lan Zhan and enjoying the prim thinning of his lips at the question. He shouldn't be sprawling—they're in the library, for one, and Lan Zhan is studying, for another—but he can't help himself. Wei Wuxian is a sprawler.

"I do not believe this to be of importance," Lan Zhan responds, without turning his gaze away from his book.

"What!" Wei Wuxian sits up. "How can you say that? Of course it's important! This is the person you'll be with for the rest of your life, Lan Zhan."

[icefire149]

Fluff prompts. 51 + destiel :)

Heyyyy there <3 I'm so sorry how long this took to write. Between my own life throwing hurdles, THIS FIC.....this fic just kept throwing me in the trunk and taking control of the car. I'm so sorry it sprung a million miles away from fluff immediately. I don't know why when I mediated on the prompt my mind went this way and didn't stop. I hope you still enjoy what ended up happening anyways <333

#51 “I will love you forever and when ‘forever’ ends, I’ll love you some more.”

Dean’s heart stopped the moment they fell through the portal rift. His body hit the bunker floor with a loud thump, but so did Castiel’s. It wasn’t until a moment later when Cas wiggled to sit up, slamming the palm of his hand onto the floor as he gasped for air, that Sam felt his stomach drop.

“Dean?” Sam shouted, dropping to his knees at his brother’s side. He shook Dean’s shoulder with increasing roughness.

With wide eyes, Cas pushed forward searching Dean’s face for any sign of life. “He was…..Sam, he was just-”

“He’s not breathing.” Sam muttered in shock before surging forward to start pressing on his brother’s chest. “What did he do, Cas! A deal?”

“No!” His whole body started trembling. What he wanted was to lay his hands on Dean’s head and wake him up, but there was nothing he could do now. His fingers lightly grazed across the bandage Dean quickly taped on his neck. There wasn’t an ounce of grace left.

Squeezing his hands into fists, Cas glanced around the room. Besides the three of them and the bowl the brothers must have used for the spell, the room was bare. “Where’s Jack?”

Sam kept his eyes glued to his brother’s face. His jaw tightened. “A lot’s happened since you died. Jack’s God now so he left.”

“He’s what?” Furious, Cas pushed Sam’s hands aside and took over compressions. He slammed a single fist into Dean’s chest, rocking the man’s whole body from the impact. Still, Dean didn’t wake.

Cas leaned close, listening and feeling for breath against his skin. His mouth quivered as he sat up feeling for a pulse. “No,” his voice commanded.

He started compressions, pressing harder than Sam dared. Dean’s limbs convulsed. “You failed, to mention, that you let, our son, become God,” he growled in between beats, letting his eyes trail up to Dean’s face. “You promised, me, forever! You promised. You promised.”

“You’re….breaking his rib cage,” Sam’s voice broke. His eyes were wide with horror as he watched his brother’s chest concave more than he thought possible. “Cas?” Sam’s voice shook. He rested a shaky hand on the angel’s shoulder.

“You don’t, get to die,” Cas mumbled, ignoring Sam’s presence. His hands paused for a moment as he took a deep breath. The sound of his own heart racing was like a loud boom, pounding on his eardrums. “Jack Kline, you will come home right now.”

Cas resumed compressions. Again, and again. He blinked the beading tears away, but they quickly filled his eyes. His hands, the bunker, Dean….they all blurred away as he kept beating to the rhythm of his nightmare.

The tears ran hot down his cheeks while he blinked. He needed to keep Dean in his sight. Dean was his beacon home. Sniffling, Cas couldn’t stop.

Sam withdrew his hand. “Cas?” his voice was so small and afraid like several decades were suddenly torn away.

Then as Cas pressed, he finally turned to glance at Sam. His voice cracked, "We're gonna need an ambulance."

At that, Sam flew to his feet, feeling for his phone before spotting it on the nearby table. He was unlocking it when a blinding light filled the room.

"Castiel?"

“Fix him.” Cas didn’t look up. He kept pounding on Dean’s chest. His compressions had only lessened a fraction in strength.

But Jack didn’t move from where he stood on the other side of Dean. His gaze moved over to Sam, and the fear circling there twisted the hunter’s gut into knots. “But I…..” Slowly, he dropped down to a knee, and then the other. “Cas,” his voice cracked. “There’s a bigger picture that I’m apart of now. I promised to protect it. I promised not to interfere.”

“And I, promised, to protect you,” Cas answered, halting compressions. He remained hunched over Dean with his hands still pressed over his heart. The angel’s eyes squished shut as quiet sob tore through him.

New tears slid down his already soaked face, hugging his jaw. “I can’t do that without saving him one more time. He promised me forever.” His gaze slid up to meet his son’s with fiery determination. “Jack, it’s too soon to be his time.”

“Okay.” Jack laid his hands next to his father’s. He closed his eyes, and breathed.

Dean gasped awake with three sets of eyes staring at him from above. The angels withdrew their hands.

Sam fell back into the chair at his side. His whole body sagged with exhaustion. “Thank you.”

“What happened?” Dean’s stare bounced back and forth between everyone. He slowly sat up, and Jack collided into him first.

Pressing his chin into Dean’s shoulder, Jack collapsed into him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

A few coughs tore through Dean’s body, but he kept a hand on the center of Jack’s back the whole time. When his breathing settled, Dean hugged him back. Also with his free hand, he laid a hand on Cas’ knee.

“I felt it….when I healed you. Everything,” Jack confessed quietly. “Your heart gave out.”

Dean snorted at that. “That’s not much of a surprise, kid.” His eyes met his brother’s. “Sammy’s been telling me for years the bacon was gonna get me.”

“No.” Jack hung on tighter. “It was grief. The loss of Cas…….me. It weakened your heart, but I knitted it all back together again.”

“Oh.” Dean’s grip on Cas’ leg tightened.

“I didn’t know you would miss me.” The words came out quiet enough that Dean wasn’t sure if Jack meant to speak them out loud. And then Jack started to let go, but Dean held on tighter.

“I’m an expert at messing up….heh, well, everything in my life, but yeah, of course Jack. Of course, I missed you.”

-

The rest of the day felt almost too good to be true. They all climbed into the impala -Dean drove much to Sam’s dismay- and they went out to their favorite diner closest to the bunker.

Over their favorite meals, Jack began going over his progress and plans for all of creation. There were several parts where his excitement was palpable, but he clearly was trying to be mature about the situation under Cas’ scrutinizing eye. Sam followed after, explaining in detail the spell work him and Rowena poured over crafting the past several months. Intermittently, Dean cut in to proudly point out where his research came in handy and how him and Eileen went about gathering the ingredients.

Afterwards, Jack looked up from his dessert with chocolate syrup smeared at the corner of his mouth. His eyes narrowed as he studied Dean closely. “Now that Castiel is free, what are you planning on doing now?”

Surprised, Dean leaned back in the booth. “That’s not my call.” He wrapped an arm around Cas’ shoulders. “Any ideas?”

“No more dying,” Cas answered firm, taking a long drink from his beer. His steely gaze slowly moved to each person at the table. “That goes for all of you.”

“And you too,” Jack pressed.

“Of course.” Cas shivered involuntarily. “I’m not planning on returning to the Empty any time soon.”

“You shouldn’t, ever,” Sam answered. “That was the push behind removing your grace. Without it the Empty shouldn’t have any claim over you.”

“Thank you,” Cas answered, picking at the label on his beer bottle.

“You’ll never go back.” The tone in Jack’s voice lifted Cas’ gaze to his. “When the time comes, you’ll have a place at my side. Forever.”

Smiling softly, the tension drained away from Cas’ body. “Thank you, Jack. That’s an honor.”

“You’ll all have an important place,” Jack continued happily. “Mary too. And my mother.”

-

That night had a difficult start. Jack reluctantly left for Heaven. He promised to return for the following weekend to discuss his duties further with Cas. And Cas, he held onto his son for so long that Jack in between his laughter had to appeal to Sam and Dean for help getting free.

It wasn’t long later that Sam got up from the library chairs they were all located at and rested a hand on Cas’ shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re back. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight Sam,” Cas answered. He watched Sam cross over to Dean and punch his shoulder teasingly.

Once Sam was out of sight, Dean’s gaze landed on Cas. Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Today, uh, didn’t exactly go as planned, but….I’m glad it happened.”

Cas’ stare hardened. “Dean, you died.”

“And I got better.”

Sighing, Cas’ gaze fell to his lap. He chewed at the inside of his cheek. “I can’t do that again.”

“Well, I can’t watch you die for….what? The fourth? The fifth time?”

Wincing, Cas nodded. “You asked me earlier….or rather, Jack asked you, what we’re planning on doing next and-” He sat up straighter in his chair and held Dean’s stare. “I want us to retire from hunting.”

Gobsmacked, Dean blinked. “Retire?”

“Doing research. Providing assistance on the phones….that’s all still acceptable and I’m willing to compromise on that.”

Dean chuckled, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Cas repeated, not quite believing what he was hearing.

“Yeah.” Dean nodded with a grin. “I’ve been bugging Sam for a couple years now about retiring��..especially if Jack could make things better...like the future that you saw.”

“Oh.” Cas tilted his head a bit. “I didn’t realize that you took that to heart.”

“I didn’t at first,” he admitted. “You died, and I figured that it was all one huge manipulation. Gabriel’s illusions. Lucifer’s lies.” Cas nodded, and Dean continued. “But then, you came home and….it became hard not to see so much of...you in him.”

“He’s a good boy, but I’m afraid that you’re placing too much….credit? On my shoulders.”

Dean’s grin widened. “Jack’s good, because he has the best father to emulate. There’s nobody else that fights….and sacrifices...to do the right thing like you.”

The corner of Cas’ mouth curved. “And they’re probably better off for it….”

“Cas, come on.” Dean sighed. “Okay, you did your big speech about how you see me….well suck it up, because you need to learn to see yourself the way everyone else sees you.”

Cas rolled his eyes.

“I’m serious,” Dean pressed. “Like yeah, things don’t always go as we planned. I sure as hell know Chuck didn’t plan on being fired and left in the dirt, but….the point is that, you’re probably the best guy in existence.”

That knocked the air out of Cas’ lungs and slapped a goofy smile on his face. “You’re biased.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m wrong, and I’m not.”

Cas shook his head, but that smile was still firmly there. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Come on,” Dean said standing up. He reached a hand out towards the angel. “It’s time for bed.”

Without hesitation, Cas took his hand but he didn’t rise from his chair. He stared at the marvel that was Dean’s skin pressed against his. It was callused in a few places, but still softer than Castiel imagined.

His gaze lifted up to meet Dean’s and a pang of anxiety wrapped around his chest. The joy slipped from his face.

“What’s wrong?” Dean’s grip tightened.

“What if I don’t wake up? Statistically, there’s a chance I’m still asleep in the Empty.”

Dean tugged Cas’ arm, and the angel let himself be pulled forward and engulfed in Dean’s arms. They clung onto each other tightly.

“You’re here,” Dean pressed. “This is real. I’ll remind you every day if I have to. I meant what I said when you woke up.”

“And then you almost didn’t get to fulfill that promise.”

“I would’ve,” Dean said, in a matter of fact. Pulling back, his eyes trailed over every inch of Cas’ face. He brought a hand up to cup the angel’s cheek, and then Dean leaned forward to press a kiss to Cas’ forehead. “Where ever my soul would've ended up, nothing was gonna change. I’d still love you.”

Cas raised an eyebrow. “So you’re promising, forever-forever?”

Chuckling, Dean dropped his head so his forehead was on Cas’ shoulder. “Yeah,” he breathed, laughing still. “When forever ends, I’ll just love you some more.”

Other fics from this round of prompts

Previous round of prompts

[witch-and-a-half]

settling a bet

im choosing not to think too much about if this story idea is weird or not. im just going to throw it out there and see what happens. also i think it is a little possible that f+g would get into an argument like this and make their bestie settle it.

notes: george x reader, a little fred x reader technically, kissing, fluff, besties w the twins

words: 1.5k

- - -

“Ah! [y/n]! She can help us,” Fred exclaimed when he spotted their friend on the couch in the Common Room. Her head spun to see Fred and George striding toward her from the portrait hole.

Closing her book, [y/n] raised her eyebrows, not even trying to guess what shenanigan the twins were going to rope her into this time. Fred sat on her left, George on her right, and Harry and Ron came over from across the room, eager to abandon their studies for a moment or two.

“We’ve made a bet…” Fred began, tilting his head playfully at the girl beside him.

Her head snapped the other way as George spoke, “... and we need someone to settle it.”

“And it has to be me because...?” She trailed off and her eyes narrowed, looking between the twins before giving Harry and Ron a confused look.

Fred clapped a hand on [y/n]’s shoulder, “Georgie here reckons he’s a better kisser than me. We made a bet and now someone has to settle it.”

“Oh?” [y/n] raised her brow at Fred, then turned to George, who was giving her a knowing look.

Harry piped up from the diagonal couch, his voice incredulous, “You’re gonna make [y/n] snog you?”

George wore an exaggerated grin, “Not a full snog… just a light one.”

“For science!” Fred held up a finger to emphasize his point.

[y/n] rolled her eyes. She knew the twins would bicker and pester her about this all weekend if she didn’t give in, and, from the looks on their faces, it looked like all the boys around her knew it too. It was just a quick kiss anyways, no big deal.

The twins both looked a bit surprised when [y/n] gave in so easily. “Okay fine.” She threw her hands up in defeat and turned her head to give both Fred and George an exasperated look, “Who’s first?”

Ron looked disgusted as Fred waggled his eyebrows in George’s direction.

George was shaking his head but smiling, “Freddie can go first? Save the best for last.”

[y/n] turned to Fred, who was wearing a smirk. Before he could move towards [y/n], Ron cut in, “Are we meant to watch or just pretend this isn’t happening?” His face was scrunched up as if he’d just sniffed a clove of garlic.

“You two watch as back-up judges,” George suggested, then his hand flew to cover his eyes, “I don’t think I’ll watch… seems fairer that way.”

Harry groaned and Ron’s face seemed frozen with disgust, but they were a bit too invested in the bet now to leave. And they didn’t exactly want to go back to their revisions.

With that, Fred lightly cupped [y/n]’s chin and brought his lips to hers. It was a hungry, heated kiss—it was evident Fred had something to prove—and not earth-shattering, but not altogether unpleasant. It might’ve been a bit better too if Ron and Harry weren’t watching the interaction in the same way one might watch a car crash. [y/n] pulled away when George spoke from behind his hands.

“Is it over yet? Can I look?”

Fred raised both eyebrows as [y/n] studied his face for a moment. Fred broke the tension by extending his hand and smiling coyly, “Thank you for your cooperation.” [y/n] took his hand and shook it firmly, giggling with relief as she joked back, “Pleasure doing business with you, Weasley.”

Then, she shifted to face George, who looked less sure than his brother had. His eyebrows dipped ever so slightly, silently saying “Are you sure this is okay?” [y/n] just smiled reassuringly and kissed him. George’s lips were softer, warmer than Fred’s. The kiss was altogether gentler, less concerned with the audience, and more focused on just the two of them. Caught up in the moment, George teased his tongue quickly along [y/n]’s lips. She bit back a moan and instead pulled away hastily.

George gave her a sympathetic look as they parted.

“Oh, she’s more flustered after that one,” Harry commented playfully. [y/n] shot the younger boy a death glare, which stopped Ron from sharing his observations.

Fred nudged [y/n], who’d shifted back to her original position between the twins, “Alright, love. Who’s it gonna be? Who’s the better snog?”

She hesitated, considering the effects of either choice.

“Go with your gut,” George urged, “We won’t be offended.”

[y/n] spoke slowly, “Hm… Okay… I’m going to go with…” She took a moment to enjoy having all four boys silently focused on her. It was so rare that she had the floor entirely to herself. “I’d say Fred.”

Fred’s arms shot straight up as he whooped victoriously. George put his hand on his chest as though he’d been seriously hurt by the loss. [y/n] rolled her eyes again and picked up the book she’d been reading, resuming as though the whole ordeal had never happened.

“Huh…” Ron said thoughtfully, “That’s not who I would’ve put my money on.” But his eyes widened as everyone stopped to look at him, and he realized what it sounded like. Everyone’s eyes were bright with amusement as Ron tried to explain that he hadn’t meant to imply that he’d considered which of his brothers was a better kisser.

Ron and Harry stood to return to their table across the room, and Fred stood as well. “C’mere then Ronniekins,” Fred spoke through pouted lips, “You can decide for yourself who’s a better kisser.”

Harry gathered his books as Ron hurried up the stairs before Fred—who was making kissy sounds now—could say anything else. “Well, this has been a strange evening,” Harry said, following Ron to their dormitory. Fred and George headed to their room too, but not before Fred blew [y/n] a kiss from the bottom of the stairs.

~ ~ ~

[y/n] was still reading on the couch an hour later when she heard footsteps coming from the boy’s dormitory stairs. George was wearing striped pajamas with mismatched socks as he padded back into the Common Room. He sank into the couch beside [y/n], wrapping an arm around her and pulling her practically onto his lap.

“Did you have to pick Fred? I’ll never hear the end of it.” George pressed a kiss to [y/n]’s temple and she set the book down on her lap. She shimmied so she was fully on George’s lap before responding, “Felt suspicious to pick you… and biased.”

George chuckled into her hair, catching whiffs of her shampoo as her head rested on his chest. “Be honest. I was the better kisser right?”

“Mmm… yeah, but, again, I’m biased.”

George’s hand found her chin and tilted her head up towards him. His lips latched onto hers for the second time that evening, but this time [y/n] let George’s tongue swipe across her lips. And George relished the sweet sound she made when he gripped her hips with his strong hands. [y/n] rested her hand on his bicep as she slowly pulled away from the kiss.

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to just have told Fred we’ve been seeing each other?” [y/n] whispered. She was enjoying keeping their relationship a secret, but it seemed like George could have avoided making her kiss his twin.

Sheepishly, George responded, “Yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t know Fred was going to ask you to actually do it. And I didn’t know you were going to agree.”

Now [y/n] felt a bit guilty. It seemed like George was okay with it at the time, but maybe they both could have avoided the whole awkward situation. Seeing her concern, George broke out into a reassuring smile, “It’s alright. All that matters is that I know—in my heart—that I am the better snog.”

[y/n] smiled up at her boyfriend as he continued, “And, honestly, I’m glad you went along with it because I’m really enjoying things the way they are. We can tell everyone eventually, but, for now, I like that it’s just me and you.”

His words made [y/n]’s heart swell and she nuzzled her face into his chest to hide her uncontrollable grin. George continued leaving small kisses on the top of his girlfriend’s head as she let his comforting presence fill her senses.

“I like that it’s just us too.” [y/n] murmured sleepily, “It’s like I get to love two Georges: my friend most of the time and my boyfriend when nobody else is around.”

George, who’s eyelids were growing heavy, felt his heartbeat quicken at [y/n]’s words, “You love me?”

Her face was still out of George’s view, but she scrunched her eyes shut for a second as she realized what she’d said. It wasn’t that she didn’t love him—she absolutely adored George in every sense of the word—but perhaps it was too soon to say it out loud. The whole reason they were keeping their relationship from their friends was so they could be sure not to ruin their friendship, but she worried that saying those words too soon was exactly the type of thing that could wreck everything.

[y/n]’s racing thoughts were interrupted by George’s hand traveling up from her hips. The hand glided slowly up her side before cupping the nape of her neck and scratching gently in her scalp. At the sensation, her head lifted from his chest and bent up towards his gaze. George leaned down slightly so he could look her in the eyes when he spoke, “I love you too.”

[samstree]

The One with the Coastal Customs

Geraskier, 1.8k, Fluff, Crack, Secret Relationship, Kaer Morons at their best, humor, Jaskier takes one for the team

Inspired by Friends. Read on AO3

Breakfast at Kaer Morhen is full of chatter as always. With Ciri and Yennefer joining them a few days ago, loud arguing and laughter always fill those once empty halls.

Jaskier picks at the rye bread on his plate, not paying attention to Lambert’s clearly exaggerated monster story, though Ciri seems completely entranced, prompting him to go on with anticipation.

His mind is still full of last night’s visage of Geralt pressing him against the wooden door and kissing him senseless. The witcher had to come to his bedroom after everyone else turned in so no one noticed. After the whole mountain incident last year and Geralt’s following apology, they thought it wise to keep their blooming relationship in secret for a while.

Let’s not tell everyone in a rush. Geralt was the one who proposed the secrecy. Whatever we have here is ours, Jask. I don’t want them to interfere or mess it up. You are too important to me, He said. Besides, what could go wrong?

Jaskier, at the time, agreed to it whole-heartedly. The witcher was so sincere that day, his golden eyes flowing with adoration and vulnerability that Jaskier could not deny him anything.

Despite some inconveniences, Jaskier has to admit it does make things excitingly hot. He almost feels like a naughty student sneaking out of class to make out with a lover again.

Jaskier’s hand comes up to touch the skin on his neck, the same spot where Geralt nibbed and sucked gently last night and left him a sobbing mess. Next to him, Geralt catches his motion with a look before a faint smile quirks up the corner of his mouth.

“Grape juice?” the witcher passes him the pitcher with the most unaffected tone in the world but his other hand travels up Jaskier’s thigh teasingly.

He has to choke in a gasp.

“…and bam! The third wyvern drops dead.” Lambert ends the story proudly, “And that’s why I’m the best witcher at this table. You have a lot to learn from me, princess.”

Ciri giggles as Geralt and Eskel chime in to call out all the lies in that tale. The room erupts in jabs and loud arguments.

Yennefer is the only one who remains silent throughout the whole meal. Her violet gaze only falls on Jaskier once, piercing with intent, before looking away like nothing happened. Even though their exchanges are a lot more amicable these days, the sorceress tends not to acknowledge Jaskier’s existence very often.

From the corner of his eyes, Jaskier sees Vesemir leave for the library. The older witcher still has work for him to finish today.

“Right, duty calls.” With a screech of chair, Jaskier stands so he can leave too. “I’ll see you later.”

He rests his hand on Geralt’s shoulder and leans in for a kiss. Geralt’s lips taste like the sweetness of grape juice and Jaskier revels in it for a moment before pulling away.

Everyone at the table is staring at him.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Jaskier freezes on the spot, a million thoughts going through his mind. Is it time to announce it to the world? They are ready for everyone to know and get involved, aren’t they?

But with one look at Geralt, he abandons the thought. The witcher has gone pale, and stiff as a statue. Panic starts to creep into those beautiful honey eyes, so subtly anyone else would have missed it.

Geralt is not ready.

Jaskier swallows. Well, there’s nothing to it.

He turns to Eskel, who’s holding a spoon mid-air and studying him with confused surprise.

“Eskel. See you later too.” He cups the older witcher’s jaw and presses their lips together. Eskel, the sweet man, even holds on to his wrist by reflex. He ends it with a pop before going around the table, careful not to trip over a chair.

Lambert can only be described as dumbfounded when Jaskier leans in, and incredulous afterwards.

“Have a nice day, Lamb.”

Yennefer looks at him with the same scrutiny. Wait, why is she looking smug? Fuck, the mage is looking scarier than the day they met. This one he might regret the most later.

“My favorite witch. It’s so good to have you here.” Jaskier opens his arms dramatically before going in, the familiar lilac and gooseberries filling his senses. Oh, her lips are so much softer.

When he stands to straighten his doublet, the whole table is still looking at him in silence. Geralt is tense as a statue while Lambert’s mouth hangs slightly open.

“Right.” He pats Ciri on the back and runs away from the scene, keeping his footsteps as steady as possible.

 *

Ciri is the first one to break the silence.

“What the hell just happened?”

“Language.” Yennefer berates her, seemingly unfazed.

Geralt swallows a lump. If Jaskier is willing to go such length to keep the promise, he can try to look inconspicuous for a moment.

A blush is creeping up on Lambert’s face, but he tries to hide it with biting words. “Geralt, what the fuck is wrong with you bard?”

“Watch your language too.” Eskel’s voice is steady with amusement. “Why do you mind it so much anyway? He’s being friendly. It was nice.”

If Eskel wipes his lips casually with a pleased look, nobody mentions it.

“In what world is that friendly?” Lambert scowls.

“It’s –” Geralt clears his throat, “He went to the coast last year. In the south. Must have picked up some local customs. That’s…um…how they greet each other. In the south.”

Lambert stares at him. “Doesn’t feel southern to me.”

Geralt gulps down all the juice in his cup. When he puts it down, Yennefer is studying him like a predator might a prey.

“Interesting custom.” Her violet eyes sparkle with curiosity.

Geralt has never been more grateful for his witcher trials for allowing him to remain calm under extreme pressure. His heart still beats slowly without revealing anything.

They are fine as long as it doesn’t happen again.

 *

It happens again.

Jaskier sucks at Geralt’s lips with heated passion, drawing a soft moan out of the witcher. Neither of them pays any attention to the flurries of snow falling into the empty courtyard around them.

“I’ve missed you today.” He moves down to Geralt’s jawline, and then his neck. “Where’d you go?”

“Had to repair the wall at the back, or the whole keep crumbles.”

“Hmm. Should have let it.”

Jaskier captures those lips again just when he hears people entering the courtyard, and pushes Geralt away with force.

It’s too late.

Eskel and Lambert stare quizzically at Jaskier, their training swords in hand. Behind him, Ciri is also in full gears, ready for lessons. The way she tilts her head in bewilderment is such a spitting image of her dad.

“Well.” Jaskier pats Geralt on the bicep. “Thanks for helping me clean the stable. That’s…nice of you.”

Roach snorts in the stable behind them.

He walks towards Eskel and kisses him again, and then Lambert. Boy he’s just noticing how tall the younger witcher is. Jaskier has to tiptoe a little bit. “I’ll be off then.”

When he passes Ciri, the girl just moves out of the way like he’s the plague. “See you, uncle Jask!”

Jaskier nods at her, carrying himself as naturally as possible, and enters the building.

 *

The gwent is going great. It seems that Geralt is going to win again.

Jaskier yawns. He’ll never see the appeal of the game, so he just reaches over Lambert to grab the lute. Maybe a little practice will be good–

“Okay, bard. You need to cut it off.” Lambert stops Jaskier’s motion with a hand on his chest.

Jaskier blinks.

“I don’t care whatever–” Lambert gestures around Jaskier’s whole being. “– coastal customs you picked up from the south. It’s not…how we do things around here. We are not in the south and it’s fucking weird. So quit it.”

“Okay?” He blinks again.

“I know you like witchers more than the average man out there,” Eskel adds, “and you want to show us. I appreciate it, Jaskier, but it might not make us the most comfortable.”

“What now?” Jaskier looks around the room. Yennefer and Ciri are sitting by the fire with some magic book spread out between their knees, watching the situation unfold.

“Quit the kissing, bard.” Lambert scowls.

Eskel smiles politely. “Yeah, it’s best if you did.”

Oh.

Jaskier can see the two witchers are clearly not at ease. Lambert’s face is a ripe tomato and Eskel is acting way too formal with all the niceties.

“Okay. Of course.” Jaskier raises his hands in defeat. “I will stop assaulting you with the overly familiar foreign customs. Message received.”

“Thank the gods. It was disgusting.” Geralt deadpans.

Jaskier looks into those golden eyes he loves so much and wonders if he can express ‘I’m gonna put a pillow over your face tonight’ with a neural glare. The bastard only raises an eyebrow in challenge.

“If you do need to let it out somehow, Jaskier, maybe your friends at that fancy academy of yours are open to it.” Yennefer says, chill as the winter sky, “Or some of your lovers.”

Maybe Jaskier’s eyes are deceiving him, but he swears the sorceress glanced in Geralt’s direction when she said ‘lovers’.

The ladies resume their discussion about spells and magic, and the gwent game continues. Geralt does end up winning.

Jaskier plucks his lute, imagining a million ways for his witcher to make it up to him later.

Oh the sacrifices he has to make for this ridiculous man.

 *

“The sacrifices I have to make for you, my dear.” Jaskier rests his head on Geralt’s shoulder, cuddling up to his witcher’s warm body.

“What sacrifice? I thought you were enjoying it.”

“They are quite good kissers though, especially–” He cuts himself off. It’s best not to discuss your lover’s brothers that way, or ex-lover, for that matter.

“Then what are you moaning about?”

“But my reputation!” Jaskier protests, “My name will be tarnished forever. Jaskier – barker and molester of witchers. None of you will ever let me sing your heroism anymore.”

“Hmm. Don’t you forget about Yen.” Geralt’s voice rumbles deep in his chest.

“Oh yeah. I’m surprised she didn’t turn me into a toad on the spot.” He plays with Geralt’s long hair. “By the way – I just have this inking – do you think, perhaps, Yennefer might know? About us?”

“Oh she knows.”

Jaskier bolts upright, looking at Geralt incredulously.

“Since when?”

“The day she arrived?” Geralt guesses, “I’m sure she took one look at us and figured it out. It’s not my fault she’s so smart–”

Jaskier picks up a pillow and throws it at Geralt’s smug face.

“And you didn’t tell me?”

Geralt finally breaks out laughing. He catches the bard’s feral attack and pins him into the mattress. Jaskier’s angry little pout is too adorable Geralt has to kiss it away. Uninterrupted this time.

“Is it worth it though? All the sacrifices?” Geralt's breath ghosts over the skin at Jaskier's throat.

The bard only glares at him for a moment, before letting out a sigh long-sufferingly.

“For you, my dear. Always.” He pecks Geralt’s soft lips one more time. “As long as no one turns me into a toad.”

[chilly-me-softly]

Are u going to do a part 3 to the chilly fic its so good <3

Part 1 - Part 2

"I did something stupid" you announce as soon as Mason opens the door to his house, walking in and heading for the living room as if you were at your house.

"You? When have you ever done that in your life" the boy rolls his eyes sarcastically as you glare at him. "This is no time for jokes Mason"

"Okay come here" he claps a hand on the couch after sitting down, inviting you to sit next to him so you don't go back and forth, "What happened"

"Do you promise not to judge?"

"Hmm no but I'm listening" he retorts immediately and a groan escapes your lips as you lower your head and start to doubt at that very moment that that is the right thing to do. But if you don't tell someone, if you don't open up to him, you're gonna go crazy. So you take a deep breath and do your best not to look at him.

"Do you remember how Ben helped me that day? Well I wanted to thank him so I brought him a cake"

"Okay" Mason states looking suddenly curious as to where this is going.

"I just- I used a big plate hoping he might bring it back. But he didn't! Ugh why am I so stupid" it takes him a few seconds to realize the meaning of your words, his body straightening up at the revelation while yours almost wants to get swallowed up by the couch in embarrassment.

"You like Ben? Since when?" but still, his tone isn't judgmental, if anything curious and shocked.

"Mase"

"What? You guys are always fighti- oh"

"What oh" you look at your friend lost as he seems to be lost somewhere in his memory before returning to look at you turning slightly towards you.

"Of course! How the fuck did I miss that" he murmurs, "you acted the same way with Tim Reese when we were sixteen"

"Okay first how do you still remember Tim and second what are you talking about?!" you ask somewhat shocked as he smiles mischievously ready to strike. Oh you knew it wasn't a good idea.

"You were always nervous when it came to him and then when he got close to you you became this impassable fortress of coldness and sarcasm. The poor guy had to sweat to even get a kiss"

"That's not true" you try to defend yourself in vain.

"I might be a little offended you know, you didn't even have a little crush on me"

"Please, you're like my brother ew" you wince as he laughs shaking his head.

"So that's how it is today, it all ends over a plate?"

"It was an excuse Mase" you roll your eyes, "if he wanted to see me again he'd know how to hook me up" in short you had even sent each other a few messages, just to test the waters not knowing how far you could go at the time. But your relationship had never been just about the two of you and there was always that fear of ruining that little step forward lurking.

"Maybe who knows, he needs some kind of push too. Ben isn't the cocky guy he wants to appear after all"

"You know something I don't Mase" you look at him inspectively, him raising an eyebrow. "I won't say anything about him if I can't do otherwise"

"No mh-mh forget it" you shake your head firmly, Mason could talk to you about Ben all he wanted no one would know and you still knew how to handle a rejection by acting like nothing happened. But Ben knowing about your feelings and not returning them... no thanks, you didn't need any more embarrassment in your life to deal with.

"Well then you'll never know what he thinks of you"

"What's he even supposed to think, that I'm a crazy person who always has a say in everything and out of pity helped when I was sick" you shrug as he smiles knowingly, he's never going to tell you how worried his friend seemed in the days following your illness or how he was trying to find out something under the radar. Not if he can't tell him that he might find the door open if he wants to join your world. But as sure as hell he would have done something.

-

You correct yourself. That's the moment you know it wasn't a good idea to tell Mase.

He had asked you a couple of times if you were going to watch the game that saturday, he always did that when there were tough games because he said you were his good luck charm even though it wasn't true and most of the time they won or lost regardless of your presence. However, you had already cleared your whole schedule for that day and so he had extended the invitation to a drink after the game.

Nobody had lost, nobody had won. There was regret for a few wasted chances, but nothing that couldn't spur them on to do better the next game. You'd driven to the stadium in your car, not wanting to wait for Mason after the last time he'd made you wait over an hour outside, having him tell you where he wanted to go after the game and waiting for him there.

The place isn't that crowded and you can occupy a table further away, ordering something while you wait and taking the book out of your bag while resuming your reading.

"Hi" a voice makes you shift your gaze from those pages and you're bewildered to see Ben take a seat in front of you.

"Hi Ben"

"Mase said he'd meet us in a bit, he had something to do" the boy shrugs, "but I'm certainly not going to wait for him to order"

"Go ahead, I've already helped myself" you place the bookmark on the page you are on then put it in your bag and before you can let your eyes rest on Ben again, your phone alerts you to the arrival of a new message.

As soon as you see that it's Mason you get a bad feeling, and as soon as you open your conversation you see that he has sent you a picture of a diner where he is with some of the other guys. And it's definitely not the one you and his teammate are in.

"Son of a bitch"

"What?" Ben's voice makes you raise your head in alarm, suddenly you feel nervous and you want to strangle your friend and you want to bury yourself because what are you gonna do now. All while he looks at you expectantly.

"Um eh I- that wasn't meant for you" you murmur pathetically sighing and handing him your phone, "Mason's not coming"

"I don't understand" Ben looks at that picture with furrowed brows, but you can't read his expression.

"Look I'm sorry he set you up for this really. Um we can go and pretend like nothing happened" you stammer trying to pick up your bag and jacket deliberately trying not to look him in the eye and you try to get up but he stops you.

"Woah hey wait, wait. I'm not letting you go anywhere so upset" he is quick to grab the chair and move closer to you, if he wanted to calm you down he certainly isn't succeeding like this.

"Easy now, just try to explain what's going on please"

"Ben really it's not- it's just Mason okay? I just need to beat him up and then I'll be better" a soft laugh escapes his lips and you find yourself huffing but giggling at the same time.

"Nothing wrong with that. Just answer one of my questions first?" you nod losing focus for a moment as one of his thumbs starts stroking the back of your hand.

"He tried to set us up"

"Is that a question?" you ask struggling to swallow, your voice coming out weak and shaky. What's going on?

He shakes his head slightly, "Do you like me? That's my question" and if before it was difficult to find air now it seems like everything has closed for good. There you go, is that how you're going to die? In front of Ben of all people, and still before you can get revenge on Mason for that low blow?

"Cause Mason probably knows I fancy you-"

"You what?" you croak.

"-but he wouldn't have done that if he didn't know something else" his cheeks are slightly red, so he's feeling all that sudden heat too then!

"Ben I..."

"It's okay, it's okay. Look we're in the same boat here, if anything I'm a lot more exposed than you are at the moment because I've revealed to you how I feel and you haven't really let me know that I haven't really fucked up"

"No!" instinctively you lean forward and you don't know why you actually did it, but the sound of your foreheads colliding together resonates loudly. "Ouch I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Oh my god are you okay?" geez you feel so stupid, embarrassed like a teenager struggling with her first crush and as clumsy as you've ever been... or don't like to remember.

"I've taken worse balls" he tries to lighten the situation but your now worried look doesn't seem to want to give way to anything else as you gently test his forehead.

"What do you say we get out of here? Maybe somewhere less crowded?"

"Yes please" you find yourself nodding and after paying quickly exit the building, Ben firmly takes your hand guiding you to the opposite side of your cars.

Neither of you speak on the way, you're lost in your head trying to calm yourself down to get your thoughts in order and not embarrass yourself further. He glances at you from time to time, what he is thinking you cannot know.

You arrive at the park and after a few more minutes of walking you sit down in a fairly secluded area except for a few people walking quietly on the stone path not far from you.

"You were pretty worked up in there" Ben breaks the silence.

"Being taken by surprise throws me off. Probably if I had known you were coming I would have been prepared, and imagined all the possible situations I might find myself in"

"Do you do this often? I mean do you never live in the moment?"

"Obviously I can't predict everything that's going to happen to me in a day, but the important things I like to know in advance so I can leave the anxiety at home and not risk headbutting people" a laugh breaks free in the air and when you look at him you feel lighter, nothing like the you of moments before.

"And to answer your question, yes I like you Ben. That day you helped me I think it helped me realise that"

"Funny, I realized it that day too"

"Sorry I must have looked like a weirdo" the awkwardness comes back overpowering again as he shakes his head moving closer to you some more.

"You were cute. Different from how you show yourself to others" you smile slightly dipping your teeth in your lower lip. "Now, do you still want to beat up Mase?"

"You betcha" you reply promptly causing him to laugh, "but not right now"

[tenthgrove]

yess thank you for letting me ask you about the lore >:3c so I have to get my absolute favorites outta the way first— what kinda lore and thoughts do you have for sorbet or gelato ( <- before they get together and the earlier years of them getting together if you need a specific period ) I have to also ask are you ok if I go down the “line” and get your thoughts in other asks about the rest of the la squadra babes? Thank you sm 💖💖 I hope you’re having a wonderf day/evening

Ah! Now this is one of my absolute favourites! Apologies to anyone who has already heard me ramble about my Sorbet and Gelato backstory ad nauseam on multiple occasions, but this is really an area where I can't help myself. Besides, this is my opportunity to go more in depth where I haven't before:

(Note after writing this: It's stupidly long. I'm sorry I just can't help myself with these backstories. I couldn't decide what to leave out so I decided nothing.)

(Also please feel free to ask me more lore questions because I love doing this)

We'll begin with Sorbet, born in Naples in February 1967 if you follow the canon timeline (although by default I write in modern AU so move the dates 20 years later). His situation at birth was absolutely dire, the eldest child of an incredibly vulnerable woman and one of her clients as a sex worker. Sorbet's mother was by all means a decent woman but her severe mental illness and drug addiction made it impossible for her to be a good mother, which of course had a bad effect on Sorbet growing up. After Sorbet, she had 5 more children, all through clients, and Sorbet was saddled with much of their care.

Though he loved his siblings, Sorbet was pretty much done with this life by age 12 and was easily swept up by older boys from the local street gang, who paid him well to peddle drugs when he should have been in school. This was a very underfunded neighbourhood so nobody questioned his truancy, and within the next couple of years he had stopped going to school entirely. Shortly after this, having acquired sufficient money through his crime involvement, Sorbet left his family to stay with his new friends, moving between them on a regular basis. He also discovered his sexuality around this time and dated a few male friends, though none of these relationships got very far.

By age 16, Sorbet had earned a reputation in the street gang for skilled and passionate violence, and was selected by the ringleader to commit the group's first planned murder, in exchange of course for a lucrative reward. Sorbet accepted, succeeded, and became the group's de-facto assassin whenever needed. He continued to hoard considerable money for the remainder of his adolescence, though continued to be functionally homeless since he didn't see it necessary when sofa-surfing was suiting him fine.

Before resuming with Sorbet, let's explain the life that Gelato came from. Gelato was born in October 1967 in St. Petersburg, Russia, (Note- I previously used the city of Minsk, unaware that this is in fact, in Belarus) to an upper-middle class businessman and his Italian wife, a distant relative of French Monarchy. Gelato's relationship with his parents was rocky from the start due to the fact they would have preferred a girl after three successive sons, but any parental love they had for their youngest child broke down entirely after he was diagnosed with both Autism and ADHD at age 5, in an evaluation intending to find the cause of some behavioural issues that were really, just a response to emotional neglect.

When Gelato was 13 he, his parents, and two of his three brothers (the eldest was already an adult by this time and elected to stay behind) moved to Italy to escape some allegations of corruption in the father's business. They moved to a rural village in North-West Italy where the community was very middle-class and quite stifling for Gelato, who had enough social rules to remember in the familiar, economically-diverse city he grew up in. His behavioural issues got worse and began to include things he would later regret, such as attacking and stealing from younger children, and things he would absolutely not, like attacking and stealing from teachers. By this point the family had largely written him off as a failure, revering instead their academically successful, well-behaved older children, which absolutely contributed to the spiralling cycle of behaviour issues Gelato faced.

Then, at age 17, Gelato failed a crucial exam and was expelled from high-school. His parents kicked him out on the spot, and with no other family in Italy Gelato had very few options on what to do next. He recalled, however, one older friend having links to a street gang in Naples, and decided to see if this boy might have a route out of destitution for him. Indeed, the friend did know of a man in Naples needing assistance within the gang, but could offer no help in getting Gelato there. Seeing no other way, Gelato walked the whole journey.

Arriving in Naples, the friend's associate announced that the position Gelato was after had been taken, but taking pity on his distress, informed him of another friend who needed someone to look after an unlicensed bar that served as one of the group's main meeting points. He agreed to arrange for the small apartment above the bar to be given as payment.

Gelato accepted, but although he had now solved the problem of homelessness his life was still incredibly miserable. For one, with his pay being the apartment he had to rely on measly tips to get by, which rarely left him with enough to eat let alone anything else. Additionally, as an outsider with little understanding of the way gangs work Gelato was an easy target for abuse, and was treated like absolute shit by the bar's patrons.

By this point in time, Sorbet had just turned 18. He was, incidentally, in the same gang Gelato had joined, and a regular at the bar he worked in. For a good couple of months they took no notice of each other, until Sorbet came to be in a coincidental feud with one of the men who was violent to Gelato at the bar. When Gelato witnessed the two of them in a fight, he made the spur-of-the-moment decision to join in on Sorbet's side, knocking the patron unconscious and leaving him too afraid to visit again. For his trouble, Sorbet gave Gelato a portion of the money he looted from the fight's loser, and flirted with him lightly before going about with his evening. Unknown to Sorbet, he had just sent Gelato falling head over hills in love.

Gelato found out about Sorbet's sexuality from other patrons and, delighted, attempted to flirt with him the next time they saw each other, but his attempts came off very poorly and Sorbet actually thought he was being insulted. Angered, he dragged Gelato into the cellar to demand what was going on. Gelato, terrified, admitted having a crush, which Sorbet found to be the sweetest and most genuine thing he'd ever heard. While he couldn't promise a relationship, he did agree to show Gelato more attention in the future. But, it was only a matter of days until Sorbet found himself loving Gelato back.

This whirlwind relationship continued happily for three weeks, Sorbet greatly improving Gelato's situation through his saved money and helping him fend off the abusive patrons. Gelato, in turn, offered Sorbet a permanent place to stay in the apartment, which he accepted. Sorbet was in the process of moving his things, and they had plans to refurbish the place to make it actually habitable.

But then, everything came crashing down. One night the bar was subject to a surprise raid by the police, operating by the false assumption it was empty. Sorbet and Gelato attempted to flee but were caught, and in a panic, Gelato shot a policeman dead. Rushing to his defence Sorbet killed two more, but a fourth escaped to tell the tale. The couple knew they were screwed. Running to the headquarters of their gang they begged for protection but were informed the small group simply could not save them from a charge this serious, and gave them only a single night of shelter to plan their next move. Gelato, who remember had never committed anything more serious than minor ABH before, had an absolute breakdown over this predicament that night, and whilst comforting him, Sorbet devised a blood pact with him to stick together no matter what came.

Over the next few days, Sorbet and Gelato fled north, avoiding the police through Sorbet's skills as a criminal and Gelato's very convincing Russian tourist impression. They were almost at the French border when Sorbet awoke one night to find Gelato missing behind him. He chased his tracks to the driveway of a rural house, a tearful Gelato clutching a knife at the shut door and trembling. He informed Sorbet that he had intentionally led him to the village where his family lived, with the intention to break in and kill them as revenge for the years of abuse. Sorbet warned Gelato that this would not be good for their attempts to flee, but said he understood fully and would help him if this is truly what he wanted. Gelato agreed, and together they broke into the house and slaughtered Gelato's mother and father, additionally killing one of his brothers after he woke from the noise. The other brother, the youngest other than Gelato, was spared, as Gelato felt his role in the abuse had been comparatively more minor and he did not deserve to die. This of course, left another witness.

The massacre in the village was quickly linked to the one at the bar and Gelato was promptly identified from a comparison of DNA found at the scene to his surviving brother's. Sorbet, a known criminal, was identified soon after. Not only were the pair now known but the police figured out what their plan was and informed the French police as well, making things exponentially harder for the couple.

They made do for a while by hanging low and keeping on the move, living off money stolen from the parents' house. Eventually however, they needed more, and began making deals with local crime organisations to carry out assassinations in exchange for money or temporary shelter. While Sorbet was already a pro at this, Gelato found himself a fast learner, and soon realised he shared Sorbet's adoration for the act of killing. He felt as though he was finally coming to meet his true self.

Though the assassination deals were lucrative, they did not help the couple keep a low profile and the attacks from police were relentless. Several times, they barely escaped capture. All this was not good on their mental states, and after two years, Sorbet knew it needed to end. He and Gelato returned to Naples in the hope their old gang might reconsider protecting them, but they were met with a surprise as their old gang had been completely overtaken by Passione. Even still, the new mobsters had heard a lot about Sorbet and Gelato's exploits and agreed to get them an audience with a local Capo, Pericolo, who was impressed by the men's skills and moved by the sense of honour suggested by their love for each other. He agreed to initiate them into the gang.

Soon after this, Sorbet and Gelato recieved stands which, although not very powerful, assisted them greatly in the art of assassination. Soon, they were natural choices for Passione whenever a hit needed carrying out in the Naples area. At some point a few years in, they befriended a man named Prosciutto who had been recently forced into Passione due to his heritage. Prosciutto was also funnelled into assassination jobs and, with less of a reputation for impulsivity than Sorbet and Gelato, was the one given the order to form a new assassination squad when the need arose, around 1993 if we're following canon.

(Note, I hc La Squadra was created by Passione in response to a real life government crackdown on the Italian mafia around 1992-93, in response to an incredibly scandalous series of assassinations. In such a climate, it would make sense for Passione to want to consolidate an elite squad of its best hitmen, do avoid future problems.)

Due to personal commitments Prosciutto did not want to be the captain, so attempted to give this responsibility to Sorbet, a request the boss promptly denied. Prosciutto was, however, allowed to add Sorbet and Gelato to the team's ranks, cementing the three of them as the first members of the team.

Prosciutto would, soon enough, find another person to give the title of captain to, but that's a story for another time.

[ibijau]

Forbidden love pt5 / on AO3

Lan Xichen's first idea, upon learning that Wei Wuxian had returned to the world of the living, was that he must have done so through cruel and evil means. That possibility was considered, and quickly dismissed. Lan Qiren knew who his guest was, and he would never have tolerated the presence of a dark spirit inside the Cloud Recesses, least of all that particular one. 

Guessing the reason for his silence, Wei Wuxian grinned awkwardly. 

"Yes, you might wonder about this," he said gesturing at himself but careful not to wake the child sleeping on his lap. "I didn't steal this body, it was gifted to me. Against my will, might I add. That Mo Xuanyu kid was pushed into giving up his life, so I could be brought back and help some other kid named Xue Yang make sense of my own damn research." 

That Xue Yang would be involved in whatever was happening surprised Lan Xichen very little. That boy and the work he'd done to decipher Wei Wuxian's notes were what had started this entire mess.

“Much as your inventions have increased their fortune,” Lan Xichen said, “I find it hard to believe the Jins would want you back.”

His eyes fell on Jin Ling as he said so, and to his credit, Wei Wuxian’s expression turned sombre at the reminder of what his actions had cost Lanling Jin.

“The Jins don’t know that I’m alive. Poor Mo Xuanyu didn’t have friends it seems, so nobody realised the change. And Xue Yang didn’t tell anyone. Even if Mo Xuanyu wasn’t very popular, I think Jin Guangshan might have taken offence if he’d realised that one of his bastards died to revive the man who killed his heir. It was our little secret, Xue Yang and I.”

“How long ago were you brought back?”

Wei Wuxian paused for a moment as he tried to remember.

“About a month, I’d say. We spent most of that stuck in a secret room where Xue Yang worked, so it was hard to tell how much time passed, at least until they sent us away a week ago.”

Saying this, Wei Wuxian glanced again at Jin ling, this time with an air of concern.

“I wasn’t given details at first,” he explained. “Just that Xue Yang, me, and some Jin disciples were to take Jin Ling to a secret location and keep him safe. I hadn’t really heard about their trouble with the Nie at that point, because Xue Yang didn't care about that. But the Jin disciples were a chatty bunch and I was able to get some news through them… and to guess the parts they weren't talking about.”

“Jin Ling really wasn’t kidnapped then,” Lan Xichen realised. “I knew da-ge would never have done that. Even at his worst, he would not harm a child.”

“But others might,” Wei Wuxian retorted, glancing at Lan Qiren, who appeared to have heard that whole story before. “See, our official instructions to keep Jin Ling hidden. But then, both those Jin disciples and Xue Yang were each given another set of secret instructions. I heard about Xue Yang’s first, but I think you’ll prefer to hear the other ones before. The Jin disciples were told that if other sects realised Jin Ling hadn’t been taken away by the Nie, Xue Yang was to be killed and blamed for the incident while I, or rather Xuanyu, would pretend to have been taken by force as well, and act as a witness.”

That was a cunning plan, and Lan Xichen wondered if it didn’t bear the mark of Jin Guangyao’s cleverness. After all, if Xue Yang died, there was much that might be blamed on him. The Jins might even try to make peace offerings to Qinghe Nie by showing they had finally done what Nie Mingjue had asked them to do for months now. Nie Mingjue would refuse. He would have refused if he had been in a healthy state of mind, too smart not to see this for a ruse, and he would refuse in his current state, too unwell to hear about peace. That might rally more sects to Lanlin Jin’s side, if Jin Guangshan and his son navigated the situation well and told everyone that Nie Mingjue was once more unreasonable.

It would even work on the Lan elders, too eager for peace to look at its cost.

“Now that’s bad enough,” Wei Wuxian agreed. “But Xue Yang had his own orders., in case the situation between Lanling and Qinghe got to a stalemate. He was told he’d need to kill all our guards, then kill Jin Ling and display his body in as awful a manner as possible, and in a way that would give the impression Qinghe Nie was responsible for it. He found it so funny he thought he’d share that plan with me, since he expected I’d have little love for my nephew.”

Feeling faint, Lan Xichen stumbled a few feet and had to lean against the nearest wall for fear he would collapse.

“Who gave that order?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“The one man who’d have everything to gain from being rid of Jin Guangshan’s heir,” Wei Wuxian answered. “And who most desperately needs for Qinghe Nie to be seen as evil, so people forget that he caused this war that’s waiting to happen.”

Even though this did but confirm his doubts, Lan Xichen was so shocked that all his strength left him and he nearly fell to his knees. Whatever else he had become, Jin Guangyao had once been his saviour during the war, then his friend, and eventually his sworn brother. He had kept the hope that things might be resolved in a peaceful manner, long after everything showed it to be impossible. And even if that friendship had shattered beyond what could be repaired, Lan Xichen had comforted himself with the thought that Jin Guangyao had only behaved in such a terrible manner because his father had forced him to choose filial loyalty over other duties.

It was a comfort Lan Xichen was now robbed of. Even if Jin Guangshan was sure to still carry his share of blame, it could not be denied anymore that Jin Guangyao was perfectly capable of evil on his own.

“When Xue Yang explained this, I decided I couldn’t stay out of it,” Wei Wuxian resumed. “I killed him without too much trouble, but it attracted the attention of those Jin disciples. I ended up forced to kill them too, but not until one of them explained what their instructions had been. That’s when I figured I had to get Jin Ling somewhere safe,” he added, looking mournful. “The best option would have been Yunmeng, but Jiang Cheng would skin me alive on sight."

Lan Xichen, still leaning with his shoulder against the wall, let out a joyless laugh.

"Most likely." 

"So I decided I'd try to see if Lan Zhan might help. Even if we've not always seen eye to eye, he is the most honourable person I know, and I was sure he'd help with Jin Ling even if it was me asking." 

Whatever strength had returned to Lan Xichen’s body nearly deserted him again at the thought of what his brother might do, when he would know Wei Wuxian to be alive again. 

"I'm sure he would," he muttered.

"But when I arrived here, they told me Lan Zhan wasn't available,” Wei Wuxian continued as if he hadn’t heard. “I was lucky though, and someone recognised Mo Xuanyu’s face, but not Jin Ling's because I'd wrapped him in a shawl. They figured I couldn't be ignored, so they took me and little Jin Ling to see Lan-xiangsheng, who hid us here while he figured out what to do.”

“I won’t be able to hide you much longer,” Lan Qiren replied. “It will become noticed that I have been eating more than usual. It is only a shame I had not realised Xichen was helping his brother escape. The Jingshi would have made a great hiding place for you and that child until we decided how to handle that.”

“I did not want you to be blamed if Wangji’s escape was discovered,” Lan Xichen said.

"I’ve raised both of you,” Lan Qiren retorted, “And done a poor job of it if some elders are to be trusted. I’d have been blamed even if I protested my ignorance. Where is he?" 

"Safe," Lan Xichen only said.

"Can we send those two to him?"

It was a good option to consider, but Lan Xichen still shook his head. Since the Jins had claimed Jin Ling was in the hands of the Nie, if he were discovered in a house that belonged to Nie Huaisang they could use it as proof that they’d said the truth. Likewise, if Nie Mingjue came to hear about it, he might take it as evidence that his brother was conspiring against him, and Lan Xichen could not do anything that might further endanger his dear friend.

Wei Wuxian agreed when Lan Xichen explained his reluctance.

“The best place for Jin Ling to be right now is Lotus Piers,” he claimed. “I can’t take him there, but as far as I know Jiang Cheng admires and respects both of you. If you bring him his nephew and explain what happened, he’ll listen.”

“He would at the very least declare himself neutral if his nephew were returned to him,” Lan Qiren agreed. “Or he might even join Nie Mingjue to demand Jin Guangyao be brought to justice. That would only leave the problem of what to do with you.”

“I’d quite like to stay out of this mess if I could,” Wei Wuxian retorted with a smirk. “But I can't do that until another matter is settled. I too must see Jin Guangyao punished for his crimes, even if they weren’t against me.”

As he said that, he lifted his left arm which had been wrapped around little Jin Ling, and cautiously lowered his sleeve to reveal a deep red cut which looked as if it were on the verge of an infection.

“I had two when I awoke in this body. The ritual mo Xuanyu uses demands that I accomplish his last requests, and those marks are a proof of that. The other went away when I killed Xue Yang, and since I’ve read Mo Xuanyu’s diaries, I have good reason to think this second one demands the death of Jin Guangyao. Poor kid had to blame someone for how miserable he was, and it’s his half-brother who assigned him to help Xue Yang.”

“And is there a time limit for Xuanyu’s revenge to be accomplished?”

“Probably, but I don’t know it. The wound has been getting a little painful lately, so I guess I should hurry.”

Presented with a problem to solve, Lan Xichen’s energy returned and he was finally able to stand straight again as he applied himself to finding a solution. The other two did the same, and silence fell onto the house.

“I have a suggestion,” Lan Xichen said after a moment. “Uncle, I think you should be the one to bring Jin Ling to Yunmeng. You are Jiang Cheng’s senior and his former teacher, so the respect he owes you will make it easier for him to accept what happened. For my part, I will take Wei Wuxian to the place where Lan Wangji is hidden. Wangji will be sure to keep an eye on him and on his health until other problems have been dealt with.”

Hearing this, Lan Qiren frowned. His nephew was hardly any happier at the idea of allowing a reunion between Lan Wangji and the man who had ruined his life, but leaving Wei Wuxian in the Cloud Recesses wasn’t an option, and neither was just releasing him without knowing what he might do while his life depended on Jin Guangyao’s death. But if Lan Wangji were told about the situation, he would do everything in his power to keep Wei Wuxian safe and out of trouble.

“When Wei Wuxian is safe,” Lan Xichen continued, “I will go to Qinghe and free Nie Huaisang.”

“That seems unwise,” Lan Qiren protested. “I like the boy well enough, but this is too dangerous. How would you even get inside the Unclean Realm?”

“It is not as impenetrable as it is reputed, and Nie Mingjue used to trust me enough to share some of its secrets with me when we were young.”

It was odd to think of that faraway youth, when they’d only been insouciant children. At the time, Nie Mingjue’s father had still been alive, and his eldest son hadn’t been forced yet to turn so serious. One afternoon, when Lan Xichen was visiting with his uncle, Nie Mingjue had shown him a secret passage so they could go play without anyone bothering them. It had been many years, but Lan Xichen was sure he would find that passage’s exit again. Then it would only be a matter of finding where Nie Huaisang had been imprisoned and releasing them.

“That’s still a great risk to take,” Lan Qiren insisted.

“It is,” Lan Xichen conceded. “And yet it must be attempted. Aside from Nie Huaisang, who has ever been known to convince Nie Mingjue to change his mind?”

Lan Qiren protested against that plan, as did Wei Wuxian, not that his opinion could have mattered to Lan Xichen. And yet, since neither could suggest anything better, that was the plan they adopted.

[apolloloki97]

“Stuck With Me” Mickey Milkovich x Ian Gallagher

GIF CREDIT: Showtime/TVGuide

Summary: A conversation after Ian and Mickey are reunited in prison in season 9.

Word Count: 1456

Warning: Swearing

Song I Wrote To: “Video Games” by The Young Professionals

Note: I want their relationship so much except maybe without the broken bones.... SPOILERS FOR SEASON 9 OF COURSE. 

---------

It was starting to get to Ian.

“Stop staring,” he said, looking over at his cellmate. Mickey had been looking at Ian for the past hour, trying hard not to be completely disgusted.

“I can’t,” Mickey said. “It’s fucking insulting.” Mickey made another face of distaste before shoving further away from Ian, tucking himself into the corner of the bottom bunk where the two men recently celebrated their reunion. Ian was still trying to comprehend how Mickey had even orchestrated becoming his cellmate and he didn’t have the energy to deal with any of this right now.

“I was going to run, Mick,” Ian said with an exasperated sigh. He then turned to Mickey, trying to get closer to him, but Mickey wasn’t having it.

“Yeah, well maybe you should’ve just kept goin’ if you were gonna show up like that,'' Mickey said with a scoff. Ian sighed again, trying to stop himself from throttling the man he loved.

“It’s just hair, Mick,” Ian tried again.

“No, it’s just wrong,” Mickey said as he glared at the dark curls that were on top of his boyfriend’s head rather than the bright orange locks he had fallen in love with. “It’s a heinous crime. You should get another couple of years added to your fucking sentence for this atrocity."

“Mick…” Ian said again, trying to get his boyfriend to see reason.

“Nope, not liking it. It won’t stop fucking staring at me,” Mickey said. “I miss my carrot top and you killed him.”

“You are so fucking dramatic,” Ian said, leaning back against the stone wall and tucking his leg underneath him. Mickey scoffed again.

“Says ‘Gay Jesus’,” Mickey said with a knowing look.

“Shut up,” Ian said, smacking him with a pillow. “I didn’t pick the damn name.”

“You didn’t correct them either, did you?” Mickey said with his brows raised. “Fuck, Ian, there are better ways to run away from the cops.”

“What? Like going to Mexico?”

“Worked for me,” Mickey said, splaying his hands. “All I am saying is that when people run from the law, dying their hair is the number one thing pigs expect. I thought you were smarter than this, man.”

“Are you more pissed that I was going to run or that I dyed my hair?” Ian asked.

“Take a fucking guess, fire-crotch,” Mickey said as he sulked. Ian laughed and then moved into his space. Mickey glared at him but remained where he was. He still had the image of Ian’s face burned in his mind when the younger man had turned around and saw Mickey enter the cell with a smug look on his face. They had had a lot of reunions over the years, but this one took the damn cake. Mickey had never been happier to be in prison than right now.

“I’m sorry I dyed it,” Ian said, giving Mickey an innocent look that held so much love. Mickey, unable to resist him, gave in and reached his hand up to pull his tattooed fingers through Ian’s hair.

“I guess I’ve done worse shit to avoid the cops,” Mickey rationalized.

“You literally put on a dress, heels, and a wig,” Ian reminded him and Mickey shrugged, remembering that look well.

“You were the one who said I have great legs,” Mickey said, reminding Ian of the conversation they had after Mickey had come out. After Terry had beat the shit out of both of them.

“Oh my god,” Ian growled, “shut up.” Ian grabbed Mickey by the back of the neck and pulled him in for a kiss, savoring the way their lips always fit perfectly together.

Ian remembered the first time Mickey had kissed him in the van in Ned’s driveway. He had nearly danced with joy as Mickey pressed his lips to his before following his brothers into the house. Of course, the celebration was short-lived as Mickey was then shot by JimmySteve’s mother with a shotgun. Still, it was one of Ian’s favourite memories. “I missed you so much,” Ian said as he pulled back, letting his forehead lean against Mickey’s.

“I missed you, too,” Mickey said, pressing a kiss to Ian’s nose which made the latter grin. “And I’ve missed being able to do this,” he whispered.

“What?” Ian asked, needing Mickey to keep talking.

“Just being able to touch you, kiss you, feel you near me,” Mickey whispered as he ran his hand over the side of Ian’s neck, feeling his pulse beneath his fingers. “You’re still under my skin, Gallagher.”

“Good,” Ian said as he kissed him again, letting his tongue linger longer, basking in the taste of Mickey Milkovich. Mickey was the one to pull back this time, settling next to Ian and picking up his hand. Lacing their fingers together, Mickey played with Ian’s hand.

“Was it all because you were off your meds?” Mickey asked. “The whole van burning thing, or was it something else?” Mickey had been curious since he caught wind of Ian’s Gay Jesus crusade. He recognized the signs of Ian being in a manic episode from the few news clips he managed to see in Mexico. All he wanted to do was call Fiona or Lip and tell them to get Ian some help, but he knew he couldn’t. Still, it had torn him apart to see the love of his life going off the rails.

Ian leaned into him, watching Mickey’s movements. “Partly,” Ian confessed. “I think I was just lost, you know? Wanted to feel important again.”

“I get that,” Mickey said. “I was like that for a while down South, never really knowing what I was doing or where I was going.”

“Yet you came back,” Ian said, sighing deeply.

“I always do,” Mickey said, looking over at Ian who’s eyes were already trained on the raven-haired man.

“I’m glad you did,” Ian said. “I don’t feel grounded when you’re not here. I feel like I’m gonna disappear and nobody is gonna notice.”

“It’s impossible to forget you,” Mickey said. “Every day I thought about you from the moment I crossed the border.” Ian frowned then and Mickey could feel the guilt pouring off of him. “Don’t,” Mickey warned, but Ian had to say it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t go with you,” Ian said. “I should have gotten in that fucking car.”

“Don’t apologize,” Mickey said. “I get it. You had your shit together and I was only going to ruin you.” Ian was reminded then about something Fiona had told him after they had found out Mickey had escaped, that Mickey would set a match to his life. What Fiona didn’t know was that Ian was more than willing to get burned.

“You could never ruin me,” Ian said, grabbing Mickey’s face and forcing him to look him in the eyes.

“I’m sure your sister would disagree,” Mickey said, knowing well that Fiona had had a change of heart about him after the whole Sammi debacle.

“Fuck Fiona,” Ian whispered. “She’s not even here anymore and my family loves you.”

“Really?” Mickey asked with a raised brow. “Even Lip?” Ian grimaced.

“Okay maybe not everyone, but Lip will come around.”

“Right,” Mickey scoffed. Suddenly, there was a loud crash and the sound of fighting as an inmate got into with a guard. Ian tightened his hold on Mickey as a habit. Mickey then remembered that even after living in the chaos that was the Southside, Ian never liked loud noises. “You'll get used to it,” he said, rubbing his thumb along the back of Ian’s hand. “And I’ll protect you,” he said with a wink, causing Ian to laugh.

“Is that so?” Ian challenged.

“Hell yeah, I always gotta look out for my carrot top.” Mickey then frowned, “Well, you know, when he's actually here,” he said once again glaring at the dark hair on Ian’s head.

“God, fine,” Ian said. “I'll shave it. Would that make you happy?” Mickey grinned, tugging Ian back into him.

“Ecstatic,” Mickey said, dragging his hand along Ian’s chest and down his stomach. Ian captured his lips, nearly pulling the older man on top of him. Mickey tangled their legs together as they resumed an earlier position. Bracing himself on either side of Ian, Mickey looked down at him with love in every inch of his body. “Don’t leave me again,” Mickey said, nearly desperate.

“Never,” Ian said, reaching up to run his thumb over Mickey’s soft lips. “You’re stuck with me.” Mickey grinned as he lay back down on his man. Ian then rolled them over so he was back on top and there was no argument from Mickey as Ian once again showed him just how much he missed him.

[erzaguin]

Huntmira Week 2021 Day 4: Human AU

“Hey you’re the new transfer student right? My name is Amity and as your class rep I’ll be giving you a tour of the school. Follow me and don’t fall behind. We have a schedule to keep and we are already running late.” said the cotton candy haired girl as she started walking briskly away. “Come on I wasn’t kidding I will leave you behind if you don’t hurry.” 

“Alright so you already know where the office is. If you get in any trouble this is where they’ll bring you. Down that hallway over there is the school library which you have access to at any time during school hours. Come on, we're already running behind schedule so we don’t have time to see it.” she stated as she continued walking forward at a fast pace.

“Now the school is essentially divided into four parts each of which is assigned to a different grade level. Essentially it is meant to give students more time in between classes so they can get whatever materials they need from their lockers. Speaking of which, this one is yours.” she noted as she came to a sudden stop. “The number and the combination are on the welcome packet you received at the front desk. As you may have assumed already this is the freshman hallway apart from electives all of your other classes will  be here. Any questions? No? Good. Let’s keep moving.” without so much as a pause she turned on her heels and started moving at the same brisk pace.

“The hallway to your left leads to the juniors hall and the sophomore hall was the first hallway to your left when you entered the school. As for the senior hall that would be the separate building at the back of the school. The cafeteria is right at the center of the school and it also doubles as a social area. And this is the gym.” she stated as they reached a large oval shaped building separated from the rest of the school. “Hopefully nobody notices we are late” grumbled Amity under her breath as she opened the door. 

As soon as the door opened a roar of cheers washed over the pair as they entered the building. The gymnasium was filled with the entirety of the student body who appeared to be completely enthralled by whatever the captain of the girl’s basketball team was saying. She along with the rest of the basketball team were standing at the center of the gym with the school principal standing a few feet to the side beaming with pride. 

Amity ignored them completely as she tried to make out where her friends were in the stands. Without saying a word she tugged on the transfer student’s sleeve to get them to follow her. 

“Hey Amity, you made it. Oh is this the new transfer student” whispered Willow as Amity took the empty seat behind her. “Yeah sorry we’re late I had to give them a quick tour before coming here.” grumbled Amity as she thought about how late they were. 

“Oh don’t mind Amity she can be a bit grumpy in the mornings . . . and afternoons. I’m Willow by the way” she said in a cheery voice. “I’m Gus! Your family just moved to Gravesfield right? said the young man sitting next to Willow. “You’re going to need someone to give you a run down of what you need to know abouts Gravesfield. But never fear Gus is here.” Boasted the youth before proceeding to give the transfer student a rundown. 

“The first thing to know is that Gravesfield athletes are mini celebrities in town. If there is one thing Gravesfield High is known for it would be our sports teams. And because there is only one high school everyone in town gets pretty into it.” explained Gus with excitement but before he could continue the school principal called for everyone's attention the gymnasium became quiet.

“Now that we have heard from our athletes who will be representing our school out in the field it is time to hear from our student council.”exclaimed principal Bump as a small group of students made their way to the center of the gymnasium. 

Rather than applauding the student body stayed quiet as the youths continued to make their way to the center. There were only three of them but their presence  alone commanded the attention of every individual in the gymnasium. 

“Oh boy” mumbled Amity too herself as she saw her two siblings take center stage along with their best friend hunter. 

The three stood in a line facing the other students with Hunter in the middle with Edrick to his left and Emira to his right. The tension in the gymnasium had started to increase when without raising his voice Edric said “Hey” giving the students a sly smile. Without any warning the entire gym burst into a cacophony of cheers. Which only intensified when Emira gave them a wink.

“They really are popular aren’t days,” noted Willow as she looked at Amity who was trying to shrink into herself from embarrassment. 

“This must be really weird for you to see huh?” shouted Gus  over the crowd to the transfer student. “ Yeah, if the athletes are celebrities then the members of the student council are royalty.” said Gus before pausing for dramatic effect.

“The twins are Edric and Emira Blight. Edric is the treasurer and Emira is the vice president. They are on the top of their class, always the leads in any school play, and probably the most charismatic people you’ll ever meet. Also if that name sounds familiar it’s because more than likely your parents bought your new home from their mom Odalia Blight. She is the most well known real estate agent in the area. Not only that but their family also owns a security company.You might have seen some homes with a sign that says “protected by Blight security." 

"Some? Don't you mean all? Every building in Gravesfield uses Blight security. And aren't you forgetting one very important Blight?" Added Willow as she nudged her head towards Amity.

"Oh right Amity is also a Blight and she has the top spot in the freshman class she's als…"  

"That's ok no need for my resume " Interrupted Amity with a face that shows equal amounts of annoyance and embarrassment. 

"Suit yourself " shrugged Gus. "Anyway the blond guy between the twins is the school president Hunter Wittebane. If he looks familiar it's because he's on all the promotional posters with his uncle Mayor Belos. He is the most influential man in Gravesfield and Hunter will definitely follow in his uncle's footsteps. He is the captain of all the boys sports teams as well as the debate club, book club, and history club. Honestly he’s a very intimidating guy if you think about it.” mused Gus. 

“You know there’s a lot of rumors of how he became school president during his freshman year. They don’t normally allow freshmen to run.” puzzled Willow not asking anyone in particular but was loud enough for other students to hear and joined in the conversation. 

“I heard his uncle threaten the school” said a girl sitting in the row under theirs. 

“I heard the twins charmed the school principal to let him run,” said the girl next to her. 

“I heard a rumor that people added his name to the ballot when they heard he was dating one of the twins.” said a boy from somewhere above them. 

“I heard he was dating both” shouted someone else from a distance. 

“Silence,” a commanding voice rang through the gymnasium as all the students fell quiet. Hunter had stepped up to the mic and was now scowling the students in front of him. 

“Thank you,” he said in an almost gloating tone with a smug smile on his face. 

“It's good to see that everyone is so excited about school.” whispered Emira giving Hunter a sly smile causing him to roll his eyes. 

“As you all know we are the current members of the student council. We are here to let you know elections will be coming up soon and we encourage anyone interested to go run for a position in the student council. Just know that we will also be running to keep our positions. Now if you excuse us we have work to do.” boasted Hunter before turning on his heels and making his way out of the gym.

The twins waved goodbye to the crowd causing the gymnasium to erupt into a fit of cheers which could be heard even after they had left the gymnasium. 

"Do you two always have to be so extra?" Mumbled Hunter as he walked down the hallway. 

"Oh don’t be like that Hunny" said Edric as he put an arm around Hunter and gave him a flirtatious smile.

"Yeah it's not our fault that the crowd loves us." chimed in Emira as she clinged to Hunter’s arm.

“Yeah right and don’t call me Hunny” scoffed Hunter who by now should be used to the twins' shenanigans but they always found new ways to annoy him. 

Both twins let go of Hunter at the same time and let out a gasp as they feigned being shocked. “But you used to love us calling you Hunny” Groaned Edric while pretending to cover some tears. 

“Our little Hunny is growing up. He's embarrassed of us now.” said Emira as she mimiqued her brother’s reaction.  

Hunter let out a long sigh as he looked at his best friends pretending to cry. Even knowing there were no tears there he just could not bear the thought of upsetting them. These two had been his best friends, his only real friends since pre school. Because his uncle was such a powerful and influential man many people tried approaching Hunter as a means of getting close to his uncle. He understood that the twins felt the same because of how often people approached them for their families business connections and wealth. Then there were those who were too scared to approach any of them because they found them intimidating or just out of reach. 

They had never cared about who his uncle was just as he did not care about their families business.  He just couldn’t imagine what his life would be like if they hadn't approached him on their first day of pre-school.

The twins had stopped pretending to cry once they saw the expression on Hunter’s face. “Hey you ok?” asked Emira, genuinely concerned as she approached Hunter.

“If it bothers you that much we’ll stop” sniffled Edric as real tears were threatening to break through. 

Hunter looked at the pair and could not help himself from smiling appone seeing their grief stricken faces. These were his favorite people in the world just as they were the most annoying.

 “I hate you guys.” said Hunter with a smirk. 

To this both twins lit up and latched on to either one of his arms as they continued walking down the hallway before saying in  unison “Aww we love you too Hunny.”  

“Stop calling me that” demanded Hunter as he let himself be pulled away by the two.

[fivescoffeemug]

milk coffee. (Five Hargreeves x Reader) (part 2)

Summary : you got too broke to pay for rent so you crash at Five’s.

Warnings : none

Words : 2,137

A/N : please please tell me (thru dm or ask box) if you want to be in this taglist, because I’m making more parts and this is seriously flopping :(

(Just to be clear, the story takes place on 2nd April 2019 assuming they got back to the umbrella academy and not the sparrow academy because fuck the cliffhanger)

taglist : @eyelash-curler

part 1 | part 2

“Have you got the money?”

“Sorry?”

“The rent.”

“I—I ... I don’t—I don’t have it yet.”

“Sorry but you’ve been here for three free weeks.”

“Miss, please, please just give me another week I swear my book’s just—”

“Get out.”

“Miss just—”

“I’m going broke too and I need the money! But since you’re broke too one of us has to have money right? Now go back up and pack your shit.”

“I’ll be homeless.”

“I’m giving you till five.”

Five. It hit you like a swing of a sledgehammer to the back of your head.

No, you thought. That would be so pathetic.

But what other choice did you have?

You rushed up the stairs, grabbing your phone and finding the word ‘Five’ in your contacts. You pressed on it, calling it immediately.

At the fifth ring, he finally picked up.

“What?” He hissed.

“Wow, you sound overjoyed to hear from me,” You rolled your eyes, soon realizing now was not the time for the petty insults.

“Mhmm,” He hummed, seeming busy with something else. “What do you want?”

This wasn’t the first time you called Five since you met him, probably about the third, the other two times were just because you were bored.

It had just come to you that he always seems so uninterested in your company whenever you began conversations, but he would come around soon enough. You both wouldn’t stop at the scornful insults though.

“Can I ... crash at your place?” You struggled to say, biting your lip and closing your eyes right after.

“You were already crazy enough to even want to keep in touch but this just breaks the mental asylum records by a landslide,” Five comments. “What next, you’re gonna come up and tell me you have powers or something?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his remarks. You always told yourself, ‘damn I hate it when he does that,’ but you always knew that was a lie.

“Well? This is a joke to just keep me listening, right?” Five asked. “What do you really want, Y/N?”

“Sorry to disappoint you today mister masochist, but it turns out that I do infact need a place to crash,” You repeated, hoping you wouldn’t have to explain.

But of course, that’s if you lived in world where everyone was a naive nobody.

“What’s wrong with your place?”

“I’m fucking broke, alright?” You blurted in frustration. “I’m not from here. I’ve got no one else. I had to pay the landlady from the money I could scrape out of my pants pockets and I thought my book would sell by now, but I guess I was getting ahead of myself.”

You could feel Five huffing in a slight chuckle.

“Not from here, so no family or friends to turn to for shelter ... oh helpless, helpless Y/N ... ” He narrated, clearly amused at your desperate situation.

“Well?”

“It would really be amusing to see you on the streets, wouldn’t it?”

“For you, definitely.”

There was silence for a while.

“You know what, fine. I’m not as cruel as you think I am.”

“The fact that you had to point that out means you probably are,” At this point, talking to Five always just triggered the instinct of throwing any insult you could at him.

“You wanna sleep on the streets?”

“No.”

“Then shut up and start packing.”

“Not even your address?”

“I’ll text you.”

“Okay, bye.”

And with that, he hung up, and you threw your phone on the bed and began packing.

...

When you turned up at the place, you thought you read the address wrong, you read it over at least seven times now. You looked up at the tall building. It was a mansion.

It made you wonder if Five really was just some regularly school boy.

You got to the front door, knocking at the wood. You found yourself admiring the patterns on it for a short while before the door finally opened.

“Can I help you?” A taller black woman with frizzy hair asked as you found youself puzzled.

“I—well, I’m ... ” You couldn’t find the words to say. You couldn’t say you were here to see Five because if anything you just needed a place to stay. “I just ... I wanted to see Five.”

“Five!” The woman calls. “Some girl is here for you!”

You heard the faint sound of some footsteps walking rather hastily down the stairs, finally seeing Five in the distance coming closer now.

“I was expecting someone, come in,” he said monotonously, barely making any eye contact with you.

You tugged your small luggage inside the building after you and got a good look at the foyer. There was a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling and the entire place just seemed so grand, giving off the 1990’s vibe but if they were dirty rich.

“F-Five how old are you?”

“Well ... ” his head slowly leaned to the side as he squinted in thought. “It’s complicated.”

“How is that complicated?”

“Okay if I said I was like twenty two would that satisfy you?”

“Well if that’s a lie then obviously not,” You follow him as he began walking up the stairs, dragging along your burden of a luggage.

“Then I guess you’ll just have to be unsatisfied for a while,” He turns to a corridor and you finally meet his plain room.

The walls reminded you of his eyes, the ones you fell for the time you met him. You had to admit, those were a true beauty.

Too bad its owner’s a real pain in the ass, you thought, smirking to yourself.

“What are you waiting for?”

“Do you guys just not have a spare room in this big-ass mansion?”

Five’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at the ground. “Well, not one I’d want you to use.”

“Why not?”

“My dad’s. He’s dead.”

“Oh ... I—”

“Nope, don’t apologize,” Five shook his head. “Just put down your stuff. Crashing here is the best option you’ve got anyway, I’ll get an air mattress.”

You watch as Five exits the room, another stranger standing by the door, looking surprised and confused at the same time.

“Why?”

“Nothing I just ... I’ve never seen him so ... kind,” he finishes, soon entering the room. “Sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met. Klaus.”

“Y/N,” You shake the hand he held up, soon letting go as Five reappears again, seemingly glaring at Klaus before he left.

“Who are the other people in your house?” You ask before Five could start inflating the mattress.

“Does it matter?” He asks back, seeming to have no intention of letting you know about what was going on.

“Well, you’ll have to make some sense out of this,” You huffed, still slightly confused as to how peculiar Five has been. “If you’re not going to tell me then at least give me your age.”

Five grabs an air-pump and starts inflating the mattress, clearly ignoring your plea. You offer your help, and he let you but after discovering how incredibly slow you were going, he took back the pump and resumed doing it himself.

“Do you like reading books? I wrote one.”

“I really wished I had said ‘I don’t remember asking’, but unfortunately for me, I wanna know how the hell you ended up alone penniless where you don’t belong,” Five finished pumping air into the mattress, which you immediately say on after he left to put the pump back.

“Well?” His eyebrow raised, then returned.

“I was an orphan my whole life, it was abusive and I’ve had enough,” You huffed, frowning up at him. “That’s all I feel like saying.”

“An orphan ... when’s your birthday?”

“Tell me your age and I’ll tell you my birthday.”

Five looked to the side, biting his lip. He nodded, looking at the ground.

“How old do I look to you?” He cocked his head up as your eyes met yet again.

“Like ... eighteen?”

“There you have it.”

“I got it right?”

“Yes now it’s getting late and we’re going out to get dinner soon. You coming?”

“I don’t have any money left.”

“Five, let’s go,” A man appears at Five’s door, soon noticing your presence. “Who’s the girl?”

“Homeless person I decided to help,” Five replied coldly. “Poor Y/N doesn’t have the money for dinner too.”

“I’m not—”

“Y/N?” One of his eyebrows were raised, now facing you. “Don’t take the bitch too seriously he’s always like this.”

“I suggest you do the same for him, sadly Diego doesn’t have any spare braincells left, he shares one with our gorilla brother,” Five reviled, Diego turning back to glare at Five.

“I think I’ll skip dinner; I don’t want to bother the four of you about it.”

“The fou—Five! Does she not know about ...?”

“Do you really think I’d willingly embarrass myself by introducing the rest of our braindead siblings to her?” Five rolled his eyes.

“Up your ass, Five,” Diego digressed, soon smiling at you as he turned to face you again. “There’s actually seven—no six of us here. One of us died.”

“Your dad, right?”

“I—well n-no, he’s not really part of the picture ... ”

“My dad had seven of us. One of us died. That’s the end of it,” Five concluded, or at least tried to.

“My name’s Diego, that’s Five, and the tall black woman’s Allison, the short one’s Vanya, the bigger looking guy is Luther and the high one is Klaus.”

“Didn’t Klaus quit drugs?”

“Well, I don’t know. Drugs or no drugs he always kinda seemed high to me,” Diego shrugged.

...

After Five treated you to dinner, you washed up and Vanya let you use her pajamas for the night. Five got you an extra blanket and pillow too.

In the middle of the night, you had a nightmare. Your neck and face was sweaty and you were panting heavily. Five woke up to his room shaking, a few small things falling off the side of his table. He glanced down at you, trying to shake you awake.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

“No ... please ... I can e-explain ... ”

“Y/N you’re dreaming! Wake up!” Five fell off his bed as the shaking got worse, and ended up on top of you.

“Ow!” You jolted awake and the room’s rumbling had finally stopped.

He scrambled to the edge of the mattress, clutching the sides of your shoulders as concern had smeared his face.

“Y/N are you okay?”

Your face was already stained with tears when you woke up, but you couldn’t help damping your face again as you bury it in your hands, sobbing.

“Y/N ... talk to me.”

“No!” You cried, lowering your head to the mattress. It was a horrible nightmare. “I ... I don’t want to.”

“Y/N ... Y/N ... listen to me. Please, look at me.”

When you heard this, you stopped, as he asked. But it was only because you couldn’t believe what he was saying, or at least, the tone he was saying it in.

His eyebrows arched upwards as your eyes met once more. Those calm, sea blue eyes told wonders to you without saying anything at all. It made you calmer.

“You were dreaming. It was just a nightmare, it’s okay. You’re okay. Do you hear me?”

You felt his hand on yours. It wasn’t so obvious, though, because it was just the tip of his fingers touching yours.

But somehow, you still felt the tears rolling down your cheek.

“I’m ... I’m so sorry, Five,” you started tearing up again.

“Here.”

He held out his arms slightly, and you gladly wrapped your arms around his neck, your back now warm from his touch too. You buried your face in between his neck and your arm, while he places his chin on your shoulder.

You felt him inhale and exhale, and somehow the feeling of his chest, his shoulders rising, it made you feel okay. It made you feel at home.

“Are you okay now ‘cause I’d really like to go back to sleep,” five broke the silence after several seconds of feeling each others’ warmth.

You nod, pulling away from the hug. “It’s okay if you say no, but I ... I really don’t want to sleep alone. I mean, on this mattress. It’s so big, it feels so lonely.”

Five blinked for a few seconds before nodding, standing up to grab his pillow and blanket.

“I’ll face the other way,” He said, pullling his blanket over him as he laid beside you. “But I’m here. Just remember that.”

You nod, resting your head on your own pillow, feeling yourself ease back into the drowsy feeling of sleep.

“Actually, Y/N ... how did you make the room vibrate?”

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 25

A/N: So this chapter begins the first mention of COVID-19 for the story.  I know it’s not much but I did want to put a little disclaimer because I know it was a traumatic event for many people, especially those who were affected by it personally.  We will obviously get deeper into it as the story progresses in the next chapters (judging by the date...it’s time!) 

Also, no @’ing me about what happens here with a certain someone.

March 2nd, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was paying attention to the news at the airport.

“While the first case of what epidemiologists are referring to as COVID-19 was recorded in Toronto on January 25th, the novel coronavirus is still baffling some scientists in terms of its symptoms.  They range from severe in some, to completely asymptomatic in others.  While there are currently less than twenty cases in Toronto thus far, Ontario health officials have recorded three news cases today.  One is a man in his 60s who returned on a flight from Egypt, while the other two are women in their 60s and 70s returning on a flight from Egypt.  Public health officials are encouraging individuals to wash their hands frequently and exercise caution whenever and wherever possible.”

“Want some hand sanitizer?” John asked from beside her.  He was laid out in the chair beside her while her knees were against her chest.

She nodded, leaving her bag of pretzels in her lap before she extended her hand and he squirted some Purell onto her hand.  John always had everything readily available – hand sanitizer, band aids, healthy granola bars, breath mints – she was sure he probably had a spare hair elastic in his backpack too, and a full surgery kit for all she knew.  She rubbed the sanitizer in between her hands.  “What do you think about all this?” she asked, motioning towards the TV monitor.

John shrugged.  “I’m a bit nervous about it,” he admitted.  “I know that Aryne is taking some extra precautions with Jace.  A lot of her friends from Queen’s ended up going to med school so she’s friends with a lot of doctors and listening to their advice.”

“I guess we should all be.”

“Wouldn’t hurt, right?” John asked rhetorically.  “Better safe than sorry.  What do you think about it?”

Aberdeen pursed her lips slightly.  “I have no clue.  Science goes way above my head.  But if doctors and epidemiologists are going to tell me to do something – or not do something – so I don’t get sick, I’m going to do it – or not do it – whatever.”

“Atta girl,” John smiled.  “Just listen to the experts.”

“That’s why I listen to you about hockey,” she winked.

He laughed out loud.  “You butter me up too much.  What are you looking for?  A granola bar?  You already have pretzels.”

“Not everything with me has to do with food.”

“Really?”

She pinched him.

***

March 5th, 2020

It was 24 Celsius in Los Angeles, and Aberdeen was loving it.  Though the Leafs had suffered a bit of an embarrassing loss to San Jose the night before, today the team had a day off before they had back to back games against the Kings and Ducks.  Some of them were going shopping on Rodeo Drive (Auston, Frederik), and some were visiting old friends since being traded (Kyle, Jack), but most were doing exactly what Aberdeen wanted to do: going to the beach.

They decided on Malibu Beach.  It was only a thirty minute drive from the hotel, so Aberdeen put on her bathing suit and packed herself in a car with John, Jason, and Justin Holl.  William, Rasmus, Kappy, and Pierre followed in another, with Tyson and Mitch tagging along in the last car too.  It may not have been super-hot to Californians, but for sun-starved Canadians, it would do.  The sun was out, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and she was going to tan the entire afternoon.  She would take advantage of it as much as possible.

As she helped set up the blankets and beach towels, she watched as Mitch and Tyson already stripped down to their bathing suits and ran into the ocean together.  Pierre was setting up some Bluetooth speakers and John was passing around the sunscreen.  The visual of these men rubbing sunscreen across their abs made Aberdeen’s heart flutter – but then the image of them having to slather sunscreen all over each other’s backs brought her back down to earth.  She chuckled to herself and shook her head.

“Aberdeen, sunscreen!” John tossed the bottle towards her.  She caught it and stripped down to her tankini before squirting some onto her legs and arms, making sure to cover herself thoroughly.  She could tell William was watching but trying not to make it seem like he was.  Jason took care of her back.  

The guys did their own thing while Aberdeen read her book and tanned.  She could hear them screaming every now and then and watched as they gave each other piggyback rides and splashed water at each other like they were a peewee hockey team on a weekend tournament.  Every now and again someone would come back to the blankets and beach towels to relax, but soon enough, they were back in the ocean, being loud and obnoxious but happy, happy boys.

“Whatcha reading?” Tyson asked as he walked towards her, wet from the salt water and sand sticking to his legs.  She flashed the book at him – Milkman by Anna Burns – and he squinted his eyes to see it properly in the sunlight.  “Is it about milk?” he asked.

She shorted.  She remembered back to when she was reading Women Talking by Miriam Toews and William asked “Do women talk in it?” like a smartass.  “It’s about a woman in what’s very obviously Belfast coming of age during the Troubles.  I thought it might give me some more insight into what my mom grew up in.”

“Is it any good?  Was it as good as the one you were reading last week on the plane?  Normal Girls or whatever it was?”

Aberdeen giggled.  “Normal People, you mean?  No, it’s not as good as that.  Fuck, I loved that book.”

“I know.  You wouldn’t shut up about it!” he joked, wiping his body off.  From behind him, Aberdeen could see John making his way towards them.  William was still off in the ocean, throwing a football between him, Pierre, and Mitch.  “Think you can teach Mitch how to read?”

Aberdeen smiled.  “I can certainly try.”

As if on cue, Mitch’s booming voice was heard.  “Hey T-Bear!  Get over here!” he yelled, putting everything he had into his throw of the football so it reached Tyson, who caught it expertly.

“See ya later, Aberdeen,” he said before running off, throwing the football towards Pierre who had to dive into the water to catch it.

Instead of focusing on the water cascading down Pierre’s abs or the sunlight hitting William’s broad shoulders perfectly, making him look like some Norse god, she focused her attention on John.  “You feeling good?” she asked.

“The best,” he nodded, wiping himself off before lying the towel down again and sitting on it, bringing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them.  “You’ve already gotten some colour,” he commented.

“Thank God,” she said, looking down at her arms.  “The winter has made me so pale.  It’s a bummer I didn’t get my dad’s skin tone.  My sister and brother got lucky with that.”

“You took after the Scottish side?” he asked.  Aberdeen nodded.  “I get it,” he said.  “Aryne can’t tan either.  She burns too easily.”

“Wonder if the Swedes are going to look like tomatoes in a couple of hours,” she said, nodding her head towards them.  “Imagine they’re on TV and beet red?  I might get fired for not slathering sunscreen on you guys or not telling you to put on some hats.”

John laughed out loud, choosing to lean back on his elbows.  “I don’t know about that, Aberdeen.  Something tells me you’ll be around for a long time if certain people have anything to say about it – well, until you want to leave, that is.”

Aberdeen’s body stiffened slightly at his words.  “Wh…what do you mean?” she asked.  

“Ah, nothing serious, Aberdeen.  Don’t worry,” he said, shaking his head.  With the silence between them, Aberdeen thought he may have dropped it, but he didn’t.  He was just preparing to articulate what he wanted to say.  “It’s not just Brendan liking you, you know.  We know William has, like, the biggest crush on you, okay?  We’re all adults here,” he said to her shock.  “It’s cute, but we all know it’s harmless.”

“It is harmless,” she stressed.

“I know, Aberdeen.  Don’t worry.”

“Don’t for a second forget that you’re all Toronto Maple Leafs,” she said.  “Every job in this organization is a dream job for someone and you guys forget that some people spend their entire lives, their entire careers, building up their resumes waiting to get hired by this organization.  Nobody would ever, ever, under any circumstances, want to do anything to fuck it up, because once you’re done here, there’s nowhere else to go.”

“I knooooow, I know.  I’m just ribbing you like we rib him about it,” he smiled.  He was so jovial about it all that Aberdeen calmed down a bit.  He wasn’t trying to get to the bottom of something like he was when he and Morgan asked her about Ethan – he was just being good-humoured.  A human, not a captain of a hockey team.  Maybe her overreaction was a bit much but she needed to remain guarded and vigilant about it if ever, and whenever the guys brought it up.  “He looks at you googly-eyed all the time even though he knows nothing’s ever gonna happen.  I’m pretty sure he’d cry whenever you leave.”

Aberdeen snorted.  Cry from joy, probably, because that would mean they could actually touch each other in public.  “He told you that?  That nothing is ever gonna happen?”

John nodded his head.  “Well, nothing’s ever gonna happen as long as you work here,” he clarified.  “But don’t tell him I told you.  He kind of figures and we all know it’s a lost cause as long as you’re working here.”

Aberdeen nodded, deciding not to say anything as she looked out into the distance.  The boys were still throwing the football, and Justin was attempting a yoga pose on the beach.  She picked up her book and buried her head in it.

***

Adrian Kempe, a Swedish friend of William’s, recommended a taco restaurant in Malibu for the group to have dinner.  It wasn’t a far drive from where they were on the beach, so at around six in the evening, they shook the sand off the towels and packed them back in the cars and headed to Café Habana.  Aberdeen was in the car with John, Jason, and Justin again.  

When they arrived at the restaurant, she looked out the backseat window to see Kappy making a beeline towards someone.  The girl, Aberdeen soon noticed, was Saylor.  She figured Saylor was here for another modelling gig, though Aberdeen did find it somewhat amusing that Saylor always popped up in cities or areas with…well, shall we say distractions.  She was in New York.  Las Vegas.  Aberdeen knew she’d been to Florida.  Now she was in LA.  Saylor didn’t go Columbus or Colorado.  

“Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii,” Saylor squealed as she saw Willy, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing him.  “Surrrrrpriiiiise!”

“Surprise,” he smirked, but Aberdeen could tell he wasn’t as excited as she was.  “Here for some modelling?”

“Who wouldn’t want to come down to LA to model?  I just came from a shoot,” she said, now focusing her attention on Aberdeen.  “Hey girl!” she squealed again.  

“Hi Saylor,” she smiled.

“I’m so glad I won’t be the only girl here tonight,” she smirked.  “The boys can get so boring sometimes.”

“Aberdeen’s used to it by now,” Jason piped in.  “She’s only been travelling with us since September.”

The group moved towards the restaurant and were seated in the back patio at a long table.  Aberdeen was squished in between Jason and John, and directly across from her sat Willy, Pierre to his right and Saylor to his left.  Saylor and Kasperi didn’t even have to sit down to ask the waiter and waitress attending to them if they had oysters.  They didn’t.  With one quick look at the menu, and a disproportionately long discussion requiring everybody’s calculators to be out to determine how many orders of tacos were required for everybody to have three tacos each (much to Aberdeen’s entertainment), the group ordered four orders of every taco variation (and there were five of them) on the menu, along with some sides of baby broccoli, sautéed zucchini, and French fries.  As a dining group of 11, it should have been more than enough food.  She felt bad for the chefs, but knew the food would be amazing.  She saw it being brought to a table near them and it looked delectable.  

While Aberdeen maintained professionalism at all times when she was in front of the guys, when the tacos came, that professionalism waned.  She made sure to grab the four tacos she was guaranteed and wanted and piled them onto her plate.  They looked delicious.  Even as she bit into her first one, she moaned audibly at the taste, making the guys around her laugh.  Willy eyed her as she did so, taking a bite out of his own.

“So what have you been up to?” Saylor asked Aberdeen as she crunched on a French fry.  “Kappy told me it was your birthday?”

“It was!  I turned 22.”

“Ohmigod, I remember my 22nd birthday.  We went to the rooftop bar at the Bowery Hotel in New York City,” Saylor said.  Aberdeen knew it would be something ultra-luxurious because that was the only way Saylor seemed to roll.  “What did you end up doing?”

“Oh, a bunch of friends and I just got a booth and bottle service at a club.  Nothing as fancy as that,” Aberdeen answered.  

“How many were you?”

“I’d say about twenty.”

Saylor’s eyes bulged a bit.  “When you get older, your friend group gets soooo small,” she said, her tone making it seem like she was the all-knowledgeable big sister bestowing wise knowledge upon Aberdeen.  Saylor was only a year older than her.  If it was Jen, Aryne, or Bee giving this advice, fine – but not Saylor.  “My friend group is so small now.  All the drama that goes on between people is just so tiring, you know?  Less people, less drama.”

Aberdeen didn’t want to be rude, so she nodded her head.  “I can get that.  These are all people I’ve known since high school and throughout university, though.  We’ve already been friends for a long time.”

“And you’re still friends with them?” Saylor asked.

Aberdeen nodded her head.  Before she could say anything else, John piped up.  “I think that’s a testament to your character more so than anything, Aberdeen.”

“But it could also speak to, like, the way people are,” Saylor went on.  Aberdeen indulged her, looking at her so she would continue.  “Like, when I was in high school – my family is from Lake Forest, and I went to Lake Forest Academy – I found out this one friend was talking behind my back and I totally ditched her.  But then we ended up at the same college, and it was really weird for a while, but then we ended up becoming friends!”

Aberdeen didn’t know what point she was trying to make.  Neither did anybody else listening, judging by the looks on their faces.  “That’s good you were able to turn the relationship around,” she commented, not knowing what else to say.

Saylor looked very proud of herself.  “Besides that, what else have you been up to?  Are you still just, like, Brendan’s assistant?”

Aberdeen bit her tongue to smile curtly.  “Just.”

“And a great one at that,” Jason said before stuffing his mouth with a taco.

“I guess that’s enough for you,” Saylor commented.

Aberdeen almost dropped her taco.  So did Jason.  Willy was looking in between them.  She didn’t know how to respond at this point and not sound rude when Saylor’s rudeness was so blatantly obvious.  Aberdeen still wasn’t sure whether or not Saylor actually had the capacity to be underhanded.  She was starting to err on the side of Saylor knowing exactly what she was saying to people but saying it in such a way and with such a tone that everyone thought she was just dumb and didn’t know better.  Aberdeen began to believe Saylor did know better, and her act wasn’t fooling Aberdeen anymore.  It made her reconsider what Saylor said to her in New York about her nose.  “It’s actually not enough for me, but it’s what’s paying the bills right now and I’m not going to discuss career aspirations at the dinner table in front of people who are technically my colleagues and who don’t want to see me leave anytime soon.”

“But you can’t be in a job you hate just because it pays the bills!” she said like some dreamer.  “You need to go out there and be creative!  Cultivate!  Be artistic!  Design!  Sometimes the best opportunities come when you just drop everything, quit your job, and start hustling as you do what you love!”

Aberdeen felt her blood begin to boil.  She tried to remain calm.  “One – I never said I hated my job.  I love this job and I love the people I work with,” she clarified.  “Two – that’s a bit easy to say for someone with family money who grew up in Lake Forest and went to a private school.  I have rent to pay.  Bills – groceries, my cell phone, internet, stuff for my cat – I can’t just up and quit my job with a steady income to hustle and be creative when I have a shit ton of responsibilities.”

“I’m sure your parents would help you if it’s your dream and it’s something you really wanted to do.”

“No, they wouldn’t,” Aberdeen deadpanned.  “My parents have their own shit to deal with.  My mom would kick my ass if I was that stupid.  I mean, my parents are immigrants, so that goes without saying.  They don’t owe me a dollar, and I would never ask them for it.  I would never do that to them.”

“What about your grandparents?”

Aberdeen could feel John, Jason, Pierre, and Willy deflate at the question.  It was almost comical.  “I think you’re missing the point, Saylor,” Jason said nicely.  “Aberdeen is already hustling to get to an end-goal of writing.  This job is actually helping her get to that goal.”

“Writing?” Saylor questioned.  “I thought for sure you wanted to, like, work in sports or broadcasting or something.  Writing, then?  That makes sense, I guess.  Better for you to stick behind the cameras.”

Aberdeen wondered if everybody else could hear what Saylor was saying too.  She felt like she was in the twilight zone or something.  It confirmed to her that Saylor knew exactly what she was saying.  “Yeah, I guess.  Kind of how it’s better for you to be in front of the cameras because you thrive on attention.”

“Yes!  Modelling is all about getting attention and hype around your brand,” she smiled sincerely, so happy that the topic was back on her and her modelling.  She didn’t get the subtle dig at her…extracurricular activities that took up more of people’s attention than any work or collaborations or modelling she’d done.  “I’m working so hard to build mine now, which is why I’m in LA having meetings and doing more collabs.”

“Is modelling enough for you?” Jason asked.

Aberdeen almost spit out her water, but Willy beat her to it.  She saw Saylor’s face light up even more.  “Oh my God, yes.  I looove modelling.  I’m soooo into the creative aspect of it and building my brand.”

“That’s great, Saylor,” Aberdeen smiled.  “I’m really glad that it’s working out for you considering how much you love it.”

“Thanks, girl,” she winked.  “It’s hard because the industry is so saturated these days.  I mean we were talking about this in New York.  Every girl with an iPhone, some makeup, and good angles thinks she’s a model.  It really takes someone creative like me to stand out.  Someone with a unique look and a unique brand,” she went on.  “Like your nose, you know?  It’s big.  Huge.  We talked about that.  You could get a nose job, or you could work with it.  Most would get a nose job.”  

Jason was ready for Aberdeen to snap.  So was John.  So was Pierre.  But William knew better.  When he saw Aberdeen smile, close-mouthed, just a hint of a coy grin playing on her face, he knew better.  “I have a Virginia Woolf nose,” Aberdeen said.  “It reminds me of how much I want to become a writer and not a model.”

***

“I feel like I just watched a WWE match on pay-per-view,” Aberdeen overheard Justin say to Jason in a low voice as they trailed behind her in the parking lot (he sat beside Jason during the meal and had heard everything, but even if he hadn’t sat beside him, Aberdeen had a feeling he still would have heard).  After the tacos were eaten, everybody decided to call it a night and go back to the hotel – well, mostly everyone.  Saylor wanted to go out for drinks somewhere else in Malibu.  Everybody else politely declined.

“Yeah, except it was pretty one-sided,” Jason said in an equally low voice.  “It’s like Aberdeen was Stone Cold Steve Austin and Saylor was the poor jobber her stunnered every Monday night.”

“You picked up on the nose comment too, right?  I mean she was basically telling Aberdeen to get a nose job?” Justin asked.

“Yup,” Jason popped the P sound.  

“I thought I was going crazy when I heard it.”

“Yeah, me too.  But from what I’ve heard from Jen I didn’t expect more from her.”

“It’s good that Aberdeen is mature.  I think if it were me at 22, I would have lunged across the table,” Justin commented.

***

“Who’s Virginia Woolf?”

Aberdeen was lying naked in her hotel bed, tits out, with William lying by her side after he’d fucked her, and that was the question he asked.  Aberdeen smiled.  She loved William and she knew him – she really did, at least she liked to think – but sometimes she didn’t understand how his brain worked.  She knew she liked to call him “Head Empty”, but sometimes she wasn’t so sure.  He clearly had thoughts.  He just brought them up at weird times.  “She was a writer in the early 1900s,” she answered, laughing slightly.

“And you want to be like her?”

She shook her head.  “I’d like my writing to be like her writing.”

“Why don’t you want to be like her?”

“She filled her pockets with rocks and committed suicide by drowning herself in the river behind her home,” she said, looking over at him.  His face was blank, processing the information, and she smiled wider.  “Maybe if my writing was like hers, I’d actually get published in Toronto Life or something.”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

Her smile faded.  She hadn’t told him yet.  She’d wanted to keep it to herself for as long as possible because she didn’t want to burden him with the news.  “I did try.  I sent in one of my personal essays and they rejected it.  They sent me the email on my birthday.”

William remained silent.  He saw the look on Aberdeen’s face and knew that she felt embarrassed and disappointed – in herself, in her writing.  He wrapped an arm around her and propped himself up on his elbow so he could look down at her.  “Minskatt…”

“Don’t, Willy.  You’re going to make me cry.”

“No,” he shook his head, not accepting what she was saying.  “After the Carolina game you told me I needed to talk more and that you’d listen.  Well, you need to talk now and I’ll listen,” he said.  “Talk to me, minskatt.  I’m listening.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and it wasn’t because of her writing getting rejected anymore.  It was because of the man hovering over her.  His head may by empty, but Aberdeen was sure his heart was full of gold.  She didn’t know how she got so lucky.  She didn’t know how he was hers.  “I just don’t know how much more rejection I can take,” she whispered.  “I try and I try and I write and I write and I read so I can write better and nothing is working.  Nothing,” her voice was shaky.  “I just want an editor to read my writing and say ‘This is what I’ve been looking for all along.’  But that hasn’t happened yet.  And I’m scared it’s never going to happen.”

“It’ll happen one day, minskatt.  I promise you,” William encouraged as he tightened his grip around her with his one arm.  “You’re so talented.  Your dreams are going to come true and you’re going to look back and wonder why you ever doubted yourself.”

“Do you doubt me?” she asked suddenly.

“No,” William said without hesitation.  “Not for a second.”

Aberdeen stayed silent, bringing a hand up to wipe the few tears that had fallen down the side of her face.  She rested it on William’s forearm draped across her body.  “When I get like this, all my insecurities come out.  About my future, about everything.  Maybe I was never destined to be a writer.  Maybe I was destined to be a personal assistant or a bank teller.  Maybe I was destined just to be normal girl with a big nose and nothing special.”

“How can you say you’re nothing special when you’re my treasure?” he asked, burying his face in the crook of her neck and placing a light kiss there.  She couldn’t help but smile, and he smiled at the fact he made her smile.  “That has to count for something, right minskatt?” he stressed the word.

She nodded.  “It counts for everything.”  She looked directly into his baby blues, barely blinking.  “The second I leave here I’m going to plant the biggest kiss on your lips, Willy.  You have absolutely no idea.”

That caused William to laugh out loud before he bent down and gave her a quick kiss.  “Not if I beat you to it,” he said.

“You won’t.  Trust me.  God, I can hardly wait,” she said.  “I still don’t know why you keep waiting for me.”

“Are you listening?” he asked.

“Mhm.”

“I wait for you because I love you.  Because I love everything about you.”

“Even my big nose?”

“My favourite part of you,” he kissed the tip of it.  She could have cried again.  “It’s what makes you you.  I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

When she craned her neck to kiss him, she made sure to wrap her arms around his body and pull him close, wanting to feel his body on top of hers.  He got the hint, and stuck his tongue down her throat, and they kissed until he was hard again.  Though he hadn’t expected a second round, he was more than willing to partake.  He even made sure to bring extra condoms.  He always did now – since Valentine’s Day.  He had them everywhere: in his wallet, in his suitcase, in his shoe.  “I love you minskatt,” he mumbled against her lips.

She didn’t respond at first.  But when she did, it was with something he wasn’t expecting.  “Tell me how you want me.”

He froze for a brief second, the previous conversation they were just having still fresh in his mind.  “What?”

“Do you want me from behind?  On top?” she asked in a breathy voice.

He groaned.  “On top.”  

They switched positions so he was lying on his back.  Aberdeen climbed on top of him.  “Willy?” she asked.  “Can we…can we try something different?”

He nodded quickly.  “What is it, Aberdeen?”

“Can we…” she began, almost a bit embarrassed.  “Can I try reverse cowgirl?”

William couldn’t help but smile.  “Of course,” he said, gripping at her hips.  

“D’you have another condom?”

“My back pocket.”

She dismounted him, leaning over the bed to grab his pants on the floor and retrieve the packet.  When she straddled him again, she did it so her back was to his face.  He could feel her pump him a few times before she rolled on the condom, and he sighed at the feeling.  She looked over her shoulder at him.  “I love you, Willy.”

“I love you too,” he said, his hands back on her hips.  He helped her lower herself onto him, the both of the moaning at the feeling.  He loved watching himself disappear inside of her.  He noticed she wasn’t moving yet.  “You okay?” he asked.  

Aberdeen nodded her head.  “It feels so good,” she said.  “I’ve never…you know…”

“It’s okay,” he said, understanding what she wasn’t saying.  He couldn’t believe that her previous sexual partners were so selfish that they never let her explore what she liked or what she could possibly like or positions she could do.  He shuddered at the thought of her potentially asking and being turned down.  It made him angry just thinking about it.  He didn’t want her to be that way with him.  He wanted her to be completely open.  “Do what you feel comfortable with, minskatt.”

She began rolling her hips back and forth.  William groaned in response, and he could feel Aberdeen’s hands grip his thighs and her nails dig in slightly.  As she rocked herself on his cock, she began to moan, gasping out anytime William would buck his hips slightly.  He had to admit he liked the view, but what he liked even more was that she was enjoying herself on top of him, doing what she wanted.  

“Willy?” she asked suddenly.  She looked over her shoulder at him again.  She looked so innocent and he knew that she meant to do it, and he almost exploded right then and there as she bat her eyelashes at him.  “Can you…can you come up here?”

He did as he was told, pushing himself up and wrapping his arms around her body.  He kissed her back and dragged his lips along her skin to her shoulder and neck.  “What is it, minskatt?” he asked.

“What if I wanted to try more?”

If it was possible, William felt even hotter.  The sound of her voice saying those words was…indescribable.  “What do you mean?”

“You just make me feel so good.  I’ve never had anybody make me feel this way.  I feel so comfortable with you,” she said.  “You…I feel safe to try things with you.  Things I couldn’t try with other guys.”

He knew what she was getting at.  He placed a tender kiss on her shoulder.  “What do you want to try?” he asked.  She remained silent, wondering if she should have even said anything.  “Don’t be ashamed, minskatt.  What do you want me to do?”

She hesitated.  “D’you…can you pinch my nipples?”

He smiled because it was such a simple request.  He brought his hands up and cupped her breasts, pinching her nipples between his thumb and index fingers.  He felt her sharp intake of breath and her head leaned back into his shoulder.  He could tell by her reaction that she wanted more.  “What else?” he asked, biting down on her skin near her shoulder.  “What are you not telling me?”

“That,” she stressed.  He didn’t know what she meant.  “The bite.  You—You can fuck me, Willy.  I want you to fuck me.  You can be rougher with me.  I think I’ll like it.”

When William heard those words and how she emphasized them, he wanted to make sure.  Needed to make sure.  The first time they had sex it was a good old-fashioned hookup.  The second time they had sex they’d made love.  In subsequent times since, it was mostly making love, if only because they had waited so long to finally be together and that was what they wanted to “release” – love.  But now, with those words being said, he knew Aberdeen was ready to take the next step.  She was willing to go further.  She trusted him to go further with her, and only wanted to do it with him.  “Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she nodded.  “I trust you.  Fuck me, Willy.”

He pinched her nipples again, harder this time, and she gasped.  He started to move his hips too, moving inside of her, and she began to moan again.  Without warning, he fell back down on the bed, bringing her with him so her back was flush against his chest, though her knees were still bent and he was still in her.  This was definitely a new position for her, judging by her reaction – a quick “oh fuck” escaping her lips.  He heard her breathing get heavier as she felt one of his hands snake down from her breasts and on to her clit.  “Willy…” she moaned out.  

He started pounding into her, using his athletic physique to be able to so with such force in a new angle she’d never felt before.  Her moans fuelled him, and the moans changed to slight whimpers when he started rubbing at her clit.  “Fuck, Willy…” she managed to get out.

But he wasn’t done.  At least he didn’t want to be done.  His other hand, still pinching her nipple, moved up to her neck.  “Willy,” she mewled, bringing her own hand up and placing it over his.

“Is that okay?” he whispered into her ear.  He wasn’t applying any pressure – it was just sort of there – but that was apparently enough for her.  He wouldn’t have felt comfortable going further, anyway, at least without her verbalizing something.

“Yes Willy, fuck,” she arched her back.  “Fuck me.  Fuck me harder.”

He increased his pace.  Her cries let him know that even with those simple actions, she was feeling pleasure.  She was liking it.  She was getting what she wanted from him.  That was the only thing he wanted.  “I want you to cum all over my cock, Aberdeen,” he growled into her ear.  She didn’t answer, but when she arched her back again, he felt her walls tighten around his cock and he knew she was done.  He let himself find his release too, groaning in pleasure as her body writhed on top of his.  He didn’t stop rubbing her clit until her hand went over his to stop him.  Her body went still as he slipped out of her and she fell to his side, trying to regain her breath.  

After a couple of minutes, she curled around to face him.  “I know that was probably really tame but it was new for me.”

William shook his head.  He didn’t want her to feel nervous about anything.  “Baby steps,” he kissed her.  

“No guy has ever, like…asked what I like in the bedroom,” she admitted.  “So I couldn’t explore things.  Well I didn’t feel comfortable exploring things.  But I know I can with you.”

William nodded his head.  “Don’t worry, minskatt.  We can start slow.  No need to rush.  You can tell me what you like and where you’re willing to go.”

“You too.”

“Hmm?”

“You tell me what you like and where you’re willing to go, and I’ll go there with you too.”

He nodded his head, smiling.  “I love you.”

“I love you too.  More than anything.”

[havenoffandoms]

All That I Cannot Have (Eskel/Geralt) (NSFW)

Based on Kashimalin’s 50 Types of Kisses prompt list.

Prompt: "Deep kisses where they have their hands tangled in each other’s hair to pull them closer."

Pairing: Eskel/Geralt

Content Warning: breeding kink (Geralt), bottom Eskel, top Geralt, possessive Geralt, nipple play

Read on AO3.

Most people who meet Eskel for the first time - people like Triss, people like Jaskier, people like Ciri - describe him as serious, quiet, calm and potentially a bit shy, even a little intimidating with the scars running down his face and curling his lip in a permanent snarl. Geralt knows better, though. No matter how well people claim to know Eskel, they’ll never be on par with the century of shared trauma that Eskel and Geralt went through together, first as friends, then as brothers, then as lovers. It’s not like Eskel isn’t serious, or quiet, or calm, and occasionally shy around people he doesn’t know well. He can definitely seem a bit intimidating when he wants to be, but what witcher isn’t? 

All Geralt is saying is that there is so much more to Eskel’s personality, aspects that Eskel either wouldn’t dare show to a stranger in public, or aspects that only Geralt notices after over a century of knowing Eskel intimately. At times Eskel can be quiet and shy, and to use Lambert’s phrasing, as stiff as a bookkeeper in a body cast. He wasn’t always like that, though. A century of walking the Path, of being spat on by contract givers and chased out of villages by having stones thrown at him, a century of people not bothering to hide their disdain, and fear, and disgust for Eskel and his kind, was bound to take a toll on anyone eventually. Even Eskel, who used to be so playful and full of mischief. Even Eskel, who would willingly get himself into trouble to make Geralt laugh. 

Eskel has changed over the century Geralt’s known him - and that was always bound to happen, Geralt presumes - but one thing that never changed was Eskel’s bleeding heart and the inherent goodness inside of him. If anything, his big heart only grew bigger and softer over the years. Geralt admires that about him. Even though the Path has wiped away all of Eskel’s childlike playfulness, there are times when Eskel’s mischief comes back with a force, usually when he finds himself around children. Geralt will never forget the first winter he brought Ciri back to the keep. Once she had warmed up to Eskel’s presence, he would goad her into action every time, giving her ideas for pranks to play on Lambert, Vesemir and Geralt, of all people. 

Turns out that sharing Eskel’s bed every night during winter did not grant Geralt immunity from Eskel’s prankish machinations. If anything, it used to make him Ciri and Eskel’s prime target. 

There are times, when it’s just Geralt and Eskel in their shared bedroom, when Eskel’s playfulness truly comes to shine. Nobody else knows just how adventurous Eskel can be in the bedroom, nor how bratty he can be when he decides to test Geralt’s patience. Not that Geralt wants anyone to ever witness Eskel like this - not like this, completely debauched and reduced to a whimpering mess. That is a sight reserved for Geralt’s eyes exclusively, as he’s made it known multiple times in the past when Eskel would tease him about letting someone walk in on them. 

Nobody gets to see Eskel like this, not if Geralt has a say in this. 

Tonight is not that kind of night, though. Tonight is different, and Eskel somehow subconsciously knows that Geralt craves a different kind of game. Geralt and Eskel have retreated to their bedroom after celebrating Ciri’s coronation as Empress of Nilfgaard. A big day for Geralt’s pup… well, not so much a pup anymore, is she? She’s all grown up now, no longer the fiery little she-devil that the wolf witchers trained, but a grown woman. An empress. Geralt didn’t think Ciri’s coronation would make him feel so damn emotional, but it did, because it means that he’s now officially lost her. She’s officially left the nest, and she has exactly no obligation to visit Geralt now if she doesn’t wish to. 

Tonight, Geralt needs something different from Eskel, a game they’ve dabbled in on past occasions, but one that Geralt and Eskel both had to be in the mood for. He knows it’s weird to want this - not that Eskel would begrudge him this need, not his dear Eskel, who’s never once judged Geralt based on what he enjoys in bed. It’s weird to feel this need as a witcher, of all things. Or perhaps the fact that Geralt and Eskel are witchers is precisely the reason why he craves this kind of activity in bed. 

“Are you sure you want this?” Geralt asks one last time as he drops his forehead to Eskel’s, and lets his hand roam over the flat expanse of Eskel’s abdomen, “say the word, and it stops now.” 

“I want this,” Eskel whispers back, his tone growing impossibly softer as he leans into Geralt’s touch, “I want you, whatever way you’ll have me.”

“Hm. Safeword.” 

It’s a request, not a question. Geralt won’t proceed until he’s certain that Eskel is aware that he has a way out if he needs Geralt to stop. Eskel huffs out a small laugh which falls just short of teasing. It sounds almost fond, in fact. 

“Wolfsbane.”

One of the herbs used in the Trial of Grasses, the smell of which Eskel has come to hate with a passion over the years. Geralt nods, pleased with his lover’s cooperation, trusting Eskel to use his safeword if he feels at all uncomfortable with what’s about to happen. Geralt takes a composing breath and snakes one hand at the back of Eskel’s head, where he buries his long dextrous fingers in the soft brown mane and tugs him closer into a hungry kiss. 

"I love you," Geralt breathes between them, gently biting down on Eskel's lower lip as he breaks their heated kiss, "so much."

Eskel whimpers, his body arching needily at those words. Geralt smirks, knowing just how worked up Eskel gets over hearing the three magic words. Geralt presses a final, chaste kiss to his lover's lips before sinking lower. His hands squeeze the soft layer of fat that covers Eskel's hips and abdomen. If Geralt closes his eyes, he can almost pretend that Eskel's winter blubber is not just the result of the hearty meals and Cintran ale he's been enjoying as of late… 

A possessive growl rumbles deep in Geralt's throat as he nuzzles the dip in Eskel's hip. He splays his fingers so that they cover most of Eskel's belly, pretending that the sound of his lover's accelerated heartbeat belongs to someone else, to something growing inside Eskel's belly… Geralt isn't delusional. He knows that even if witchers weren't infertile, he and Eskel could never have children of their own. Not biologically, at least. Geralt knows that, and he knows that this kink of his is ridiculous. 

And yet, here they are, and Eskel looks so willing to indulge Geralt’s fantasy. Geralt simply can't help it. 

"Geralt?" Eskel's rough baritone is the only thing that keeps Geralt from spiralling. That, and his lover's hand gently cupping his face in a silent demand to look at him. Geralt complies easily, seeking reassurance in the familiar amber orbs. "I can hear you being mean to yourself in your head. Stop that."

"You don't think I'm…" Geralt swallows thickly as he musters the courage to finish his sentence. "Weird?" 

A fond smile, one that falls just short of sad, graces Eskel's lips. He shakes his head and cards his fingers tenderly through Geralt's hair. 

"I'm glad you feel comfortable enough around me to show this side of you," Eskel assures him, "but if it doesn't feel right, we can stop. This should feel good for you, not make you feel ashamed."

Geralt knows that his lover wouldn't lie to him about this, nor would Eskel pretend to be fine just for the sake of getting Geralt off. That has never been how their relationship worked. Contrary to Eskel’s reputation as being a people-pleaser, even Eskel has his limits. It's all the reassurance Geralt needs before he fully surrenders to this unusual urge of his. 

"Don't wanna stop," Geralt grates, his voice rough with desire, "gonna fill you up with my pups before the night is over." 

Eskel’s reaction is instantaneous. The high-pitched keen that tumbles past his lip goes straight to Geralt’s cock, which gives a twitch of interest in response. Geralt’s fingers glide reverently over Eskel’s abdomen, followed closely by his lips as Geralt scatters feather-light kisses over the twitching skin. Eskel arches into the touch, whispering a string of curses under his breath as he does so. Geralt lets himself drift further and further into that corner of his mind reserved for nights like this one, into that corner that longs to breed Eskel and see him grow large with Geralt’s pups. 

Geralt’s lips travel back up of their own accord until his mouth latches onto one of Eskel’s nipples, pulling a startled gasp from his lover. Geralt presses the flat of his tongue against the areola and gives the sensitive bud a tentative suck. If Geralt concentrates hard enough, he can imagine how Eskel’s milk would taste, sweet and warm and filling. Eskel nearly bucks him off then, but Geralt’s steadying hands on his lover’s hips brings Eskel’s twitching under control. Once his lover has relaxed into the mattress and gotten used to Geralt’s suction, Geralt brings one hand up to cup Eskel’s other pec, squeezing the meat of it between his calloused fingertips. Eskel’s tits - so firm, but layered with a softness that Geralt adores - look so inviting that Geralt cannot resist temptation much longer. He switches sides, barely giving Eskel a moment’s respite before latching onto the other nipple and resuming his gentle ministrations. 

“Ger’lt… gonna-” 

That is all the warning Geralt gets before he feels Eskel’s cock twitch and spill hotly between his and Geralt’s body. The thought that Geralt made Eskel come just by focusing on his nipples has no business making Geralt’s cock twitch in the way it does. He pulls away from Eskel’s sensitive nipple with a wet ‘pop’, flicking his tongue at it one last time. Eskel looks dazed, maybe a little bit shocked at himself even, but Geralt is quick to wipe the insecurity he sees reflected in his lover’s eyes with a hungry kiss. 

“Fuckin’ love your tits, Kel,” Geralt growls between two heated kisses, “love how soft they feel under my hands, love how sensitive they are… they look so full already. They’ll get fuller once you’re heavy with my pups.”

Eskel makes a choked noise at that. He throws his head back against the pillow and lets out a needy little mewl, Geralt’s name falling from his lips like a prayer or a plea. Geralt smiles wolfishly at the sight. 

“Would you like that, sweetheart? Would you like for your tits to fill with milk until they’re nice and heavy for me? Bet you’d be leaking so easily, too. That’s okay, though,” Geralt leans in to capture Eskel’s lips in another sloppy kiss, “because when that happens, I’ll lap it all up and relieve you of the pressure. Wouldn’t you like that?”

“Fuck, Geralt!”

While Geralt is now firmly in the right mindset, he knows that Eskel won’t engage with him as much when they’re playing this game. Eskel is enjoying himself, that much is clear, but he doesn’t feel the same need to breed - or, in his case, be bred - as Geralt. Eskel’s pleasure comes from having Geralt’s attention focused solely on him, and having Geralt whisper soft praises about Eskel’s body. That’s fine, Geralt thinks to himself as he reaches for the slick he stored away in the bedside table, so long as Eskel is getting something out of this too, even if they’re both getting different things out of this game. 

Geralt gets to project his fantasies onto his lover, while Eskel gets to be worshipped by Geralt. A win-win situation if Geralt’s ever seen one. 

“You still good?” Geralt rasps just as he pops the cork of the vial open with his thumb. Eskel nods jerkily in response, his chest heaving with the force of his panting. 

“All good. Need you, Wolf, please!” 

And how can Geralt deny his lover this when Eskel begs him so sweetly? The night is just beginning. 

[evanthenerd83]

“Holly And The Demon Visit The Mall”

1

“Do you feel me,” asked Holly.

The demon nodded, then looked away sheepishly. “I… I guess.”

She smiled. Teeth nearly blinded It. Nearly, because the demon was used to far too much light.

Hell had several suns.

It was always summer, too.

Holly jumped off the hood of the cop car. “Good.”

She still wore her school uniform. The skirt danced about, revealing pale legs and torn stockings.

And thighs. Just the bottoms. But just the bottoms were enough.

A sudden chill sent the demon glancing every which way—at a discarded soda can, a stained napkin, a used condom. It knew that Its cheeks were blue.

Thankfully, Holly didn’t seem to notice. She never noticed.

She skipped around the cop car. Towards the back. Her hand tapped, tapped, tapped on the trunk.

She had nimble fingers. Small hands and nimble fingers.

Fingers that traced the handprint, which was beginning to dry. It was no longer bright red. It looked more brown, brownish black.

The demon felt like gagging.

“You’re… you’re—“

“Absolutely adorable?”

Holly opened the trunk. Her face disappeared.

The demon nearly gagged.

“No. Yes. Kind of?”

A sharp giggle, girly, cut through the night. It was sweet. It was also poisonous.

The demon felt needle-hairs rising to attention. It wrapped Its arms around Itself, and one of Its horns shrunk. The other wobbled a bit.

“Aw, thank you.”

The demon watched the trunk.

It could hear her rummaging around, shoving things. The cop car started to bounce.

The demon held Its breath.

It glanced at the mall.

Lights were still on inside. The parking lot was just barely empty. A few cars sat in sporadic spots.

People were still there.

People.

Men. Women. Children.

An image flashed through the demon’s mind, vivid and sensory. An image so horrible— and so horribly detailed—that it gagged.

It stumbled.

It leaned against the cop car with one clawed hand.

The night spun.

At that moment, Holly slammed the trunk. The sound carried. Nobody seemed to notice.

She was carrying something. The demon could tell. It was obvious from how she was walking. She was also grunting.

The demon screwed Its eyes shut.

‘Please be a hammer. Please be a hammer. Please be a hammer.’

It wasn’t exactly praying. Not entirely.

If a demon prayed, it only prayed to one being. And that being definitely wasn’t a God.

Not an all-loving God, anyway.

Not even a God.

It was a being that barely answered its worshippers’ prayers.

And if it did, it did so with ulterior motives. It only wanted to entertain itself.

The demon was mostly begging. It was begging to the other being, the one opposite—an all-loving God.

Its sworn enemy.

Holly came around the side of the cop car. Her footsteps echoed, a tap-dance routine. They abruptly stopped.

The demon saw her black shoes in the corner of Its eyes.

They shined.

“Whatcha doing?”

‘PleasebeahammerPleasebeahammerPleasebeahammerPleasebea— Oh. Crap.’

The demon gasped. It had glanced up at Holly, slowly, hesitantly. It had just seen what she was carrying.

The thing she had resting against her shoulder.

“No.”

Holly blew a bubble.

Her gum popped.

She resumed chewing it.

“Yes.”

Holly spun around, then started walking towards the mall.

The hammer was big, very big. Practically a sledgehammer. It bounced with each step.

It must have weighed a ton. A hundred tons. Holly didn’t seem to notice, however. She moved just as fast as ever.

The demon stumbled to Its hooves.

It chased after her, tail swinging, striking the pavement. A fear pounded its way through Its chest.

“No. No. No. You can’t.”

It caught up with the girl.

Holly ignored It.

She kept chewing her bubblegum. She had her free hand stuffed inside a pocket, and one of her shoes was untied.

The laces flipped and flopped.

The demon growled, then jumped in front of her. It spread out Its arms. It also shook Its head.

Holly froze.

“No. No, Holly. Not again.”

Holly just stared at It. Her green eyes gleamed. They glimmered like diamonds.

The demon wasn’t sure if this was from the moonlight, the lights in the mall, or something different altogether. Maybe a little bit of both.

Maybe it was her soul again.

Her damned soul.

Holly tilted her head. A curl of blond hair came loose, falling over her left shoulder. It looked cute.

She looked cute.

Wait. What?

The demon blushed again. It looked away from her.

“Why not? We had fun last time, right?”

The demon felt tears forming. They burned.

But It took a deep breath, and It shook Its head again.

“No. You had fun. I was—“

“Hiding in the shadows. And pools of blood. Like a little bitch.”

The demon gaped.

Before everything, all of this mess, Holly had never sworn. Ever.

In the sixteen years of her life, It had never caught her swearing. Not even when her little brother accidentally killed—well, semi-accidentally killed—her pet goldfish.

Or when her crush had stood her up at the Valentine’s Day dance. Nor when she had found him behind the cafeteria, sticking a finger up Jenny Mackindale.

Or when her parents had sent her to the shrink.

Or—

The demon grabbed both of her shoulders. It looked deeply into her eyes.

“Why?! Why are you doing this, Holly?! Huh?!”

Holly just blinked.

She chewed her gum.

“You never spoke like this before… be-before…”

Holly blew another bubble. Like before, it burst.

“Before you showed up?”

The demon blinked a few times.

Yes.

Yes, she was right.

Before It had shown up, appeared in the middle of her dorm, Holly had been a simple girl. A good girl.

Not necessarily a good student. But nobody really was a good student if they went to a catholic school.

The demon knew.

Everyone sinned.

The young. The old. The middle-aged.

Even newborn babies sinned. It was only natural. Humanity was a terrible species, violent and horny and very, very, very selfish, and it was normal for them to seek their own satisfaction.

But Holly…

… Holly was different.

She hadn’t sinned. Ever.

Like her mouth, she had been pure. Unpolluted. She was actually a good person; helpful, forgiving, considerate, respectful.

But now.

Now.

Holly pushed It, passing by. The demon rocked on Its heels for a second. It managed to stabilize Itself.

But by then, it was already too late.

Holly was already entering the mall.

2

“I don’t understand why—“

“You don’t understand anything.”

They were power walking, side by side.

The demon swiped a claw across Its forehead. Pain rose up Its arm. Sweat peppered Its rippled, scaly skin.

Everything that came out of the demon—be it tears or sweat or pee—was acidic beyond all measure.

It had ruined way too many toilets.

No wonder they’d been jumping from motel to motel.

“Hold on,” Holly plucked out her gum. She pinched a pink blob between her fingers.

The demon froze. “What?”

Holly peered back.

She winked.

She swung by a trash can. Said trash can had been positioned behind a rather imposing pillar. Said pillar, gray and very, very close to falling apart, was standing in the middle of the lobby.

The lobby. That wasn’t the right word… was it?

The demon didn’t really know all that much about the living world. It knew enough to get by. How else could It have survived this long?

It had a vague understanding of malls. These large, maze-like complexes bristled with self-indulgence and self-flagellation. Not to mention… capitalism.

So much capitalism.

It knew that humans, driven by their need for material objects, went from shop to shop, wallets filled with money. They bought things. The mere variety of things sent a numbing shock through the demon’s mind.

Books.

Clothes (especially those with more than one fabric).

Jewelry.

Shoes.

Blow-up dolls.

Dildos.

Cold suddenly flooded Its cheeks, and the demon covered Its face with both hands.

It took deep breaths.

“Hey. You okay?”

Her voice made It jump.

The demon also yelped. A hand was suddenly slapped over Its mouth, and Holly glared at It.

She lifted a single finger to her lips.

The demon went quiet. It might not have known much about humanity, but It did understand the gesture.

Be quiet.

Holly pulled It behind the pillar.

She backed up, pressing her back into the pillar. She had It cradled. She was hugging It.

“Hope you weren’t too loud,” Holly peered.

The demon went rigid.

It could taste metal. No, not metal.

‘Blood,’ It realized. “I’m tasting the blood on her hands. Oh, Christ, oh lord, oh my Go—‘

Holly breathed a sigh of relief. Something soft and plump, but not too plump, touched the demon’s spine.

No. Not just something. Some things.

Things that, from Its calculations, were situated on her chest…

‘Tits.’

She let go, and the demon fell to Its knees.

The floor was colder than her hands. Discarded receipts fluttered by. A broken watch gleamed, and It impulsively glanced up.

Holly grabbed her sledgehammer. She’d laid it down while throwing her gum away.

She spun around. For Its credit, the demon tried to avoid the whiteness—flesh, fabric, didn’t really matter—that suddenly flashed across Its field of vision. It did try.

A glare pinned It down. A frown as well.

“H-Holly—“

That gesture again.

Holly tilted her head. She indicated the side of the pillar.

The demon shuffled on Its hands and knees, peering around. It felt like a soldier crawling through a trench.

Was there a sniper waiting for It?

If It exposed Itself, would a bullet go flying? Or would someone scream, causing others to scream?

Scream and scram?

The demon would have giggled.

It exposed a single eye, iris deep crimson.

It saw what she’d been checking out.

The food court, across the lobby, was closed. Many of the restaurants had their lights off. Sandwich Queen. McRonald’s. Burrito-ville.

Only a few still ran. A Lamby’s was being tended to, the cashier Holly’s age. The cook kept looking back at her.

But that wasn’t all.

Because It then saw… them.

Them.

“Do you see?”

The demon didn’t respond.

It shook Its head, slowly at first. It quickened. An icy dread flooded Its empty lungs.

Holly gripped the sledgehammer tighter. Her knuckles turned white.

It knew that she was licking her lips. It could feel the bloodlust wafting off of her, thick and musky.

And what Holly was feeling was bloodlust. Blood. Lust. The demon heard her breathing heavily.

“Do… Do you see?”

The demon gulped.

It could see. It could see plenty.

They were just sitting there, all of them at one table. One—a girl—was busy with her cellular device. Another—a boy—had his arms draped around the girl’s shoulder.

Yet another tipped his chair backwards. A different girl sat in his lap, face twisted in mock horror.

She was giggling.

A third boy stared at a third girl. A goth girl, the demon realized.

A goth girl with her hand underneath their table, shoved down his pants—

“Holly.”

Holly was silent now.

It scooted back, then stood up. It put both claws on her shoulders. It stared deep into her eyes, searching for something, anything, a shred of the girl she had been.

All It found was excitement.

“Holly,” It whimpered. “Holly, no.”

Holly was no longer listening, though.

She was now tossing her sledgehammer—such a big sledgehammer, where’d she even find it—from hand to hand. She muttered to herself.

“No. Not like this.”

Left hand.

“No. Not that either.”

Right hand.

The demon shook her. It was sweating acid-bullets now.

“Holly? H-Holly, please don’t. Just leave them alone.”

Above.

“Maybe it should be higher? No. Not that high.”

Below.

“At my midsection?”

The demon gripped her shoulders tighter, and It felt Its nails digging into the flesh. It loosened Its grip.

“Holly. Holly, let’s just… let’s just go back to the motel. We can… we can order room service… or something.”

It was desperate now.

It was close to tears now.

But Holly didn’t notice. She had finally found a position that she liked. The sledgehammer was tilted, horizontal, and her left hand gripped the handle, the knuckles turning blue.

“Hey! Re-remember that s-story I refused to t-t-te-tell? About those b-b-b-bl-blo-blood or-or-orgies? I… I’ll tell them now. I’ll tell you everything. Just please, just please, don’t go hurting those nice peo—“

Holly ducked out of Its grip.

She then began to run.

…

The teenagers didn’t know what hit them.

Well, that wasn’t true. They saw her running towards their table. How could they have not?

She was wearing a school girl’s uniform. A light brown vest over a white button-down shirt, her collar undone. Her skirt revealed legs that wouldn’t have quit.

And they didn’t quit. They carried her all the way to their table.

Marcy saw the school emblem—a cross.

She was sitting in the right position. She looked up from her phone just long enough to see it.

And to catch the blunt side of the sledgehammer.

Tony managed to stand up and clench his fists. The words were at the tip of his tongue; those three, simple, universal words.

What. The. #$@&.

But before he could open his mouth, the girl swung her sledgehammer.

Everything cut to black.

Samantha instinctively clenched her own fist, and Marcus suddenly reached the finish line. He screamed her name. It sounded like a goat baying.

Something warm filled her hand.

Something else that was warm soon filled his pants.

She tried to pull out. She tried. But before she could, a shoe hit her chest, and Samantha fell backwards.

Marcus went with her. He had a funny look.

That funny look disappeared underneath the sledgehammer.

Samantha opened her mouth to scream.

Something filled her mouth. Another shoe. It was shoved hard, and pressure started to build. A cracking sound from somewhere inside her own head. The pressure gave way to brief, potent pain.

One last, loud crack.

Her lower jaw came loose. It practically dangled, swinging from side to side.

The sledgehammer then found her.

Silence. Dark.

And the warmth coating her hand faded away.

The girl stood over her, chest heaving, cheeks flustered. A strand of blonde hair was plastered to her forehead.

Her eyes gleamed. But they didn’t gleam like emerald diamonds. They gleamed like glass.

She heard their chairs scraping the floor.

She spun around.

The empty chair kept on spinning.

…