#on this accursed day Sun gets his ass

[nmethylphenidate]

[comatosebunny09]

carpet burn | r. kyojuro

summary: it all started with that stupid-ass rug messing up your washer. genres: smut, modern au cw: salad-tossing, fingering, explicit language, female reader, bodily fluids, established relationship music: endlessly - alina baraz

“Dumb-ass rug,” you grouse as you fish the accursed thing from your washer. Lightning strikes your spine when you bend, tugging a grimace onto your face. “I’m too old for this shit,” murmured while tossing the tattered mat in with the trash. It doesn’t help that you’ve been on your feet all day, cleaning the house and weed-whacking the backyard.

The summer heat was unforgiving, sun rays permeating your tank and branding your skin. Your clothes were saturated with sweat and mottled with grass stains by the time you conquered three-quarters of the terrace. You were baking, fatigued, and defeated when you peered down at your traitorous weed cutter.

Out of string.

Sigh.

Too exhausted for a trip to the hardware store, you decided to abandon ship and retreat into the house. Besides, your husband would be home within the next hour, and you had yet to start dinner.

An empty laundry basket greeted you, save for a few errant, crumbled dryer sheets. You didn’t want to toss your soiled clothing into it. Tirelessly worked through piles of laundry all day. So you decided to throw your attire straight into the wash. However, the bathroom rug in the cycle before had other plans. Shit had practically disintegrated!

The definitive click of the trash bin’s lid shutting brings you back to the present.

Clad only in your sports bra and boyshorts, you begin fetching loose wool from the agitator. Don’t want it caught in your clothing, for it will pose a more significant problem later. So engrossed in cleaning the washer, you don’t notice when the front door slinks shut—had silenced the motion detector earlier, annoyed with every notification of a school bus easing by out front.

When the pressure in the laundry room shifts, followed by warmth swaddling your backside, you realize you are no longer alone.

“My my,” comes a voice from behind, humor swimming in the undertow. “Is all of this for me, my love?” Icy palms engulfing the swell of your hips cause you to jolt.

“Jesus fuck, babe!” thrown over your shoulder at the room’s newest occupant as you squirm in his embrace. “Your hands are f-fucking cold!”

Luminous eyes glimmer with mischief. Kyojuro's smile is wolfish, and his mitts are devious whilst they creep to the rim of your underwear to squeeze those generous thighs.

“Apologies, darling.” Appreciative optics dance over your frame, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. His voice lowers to a sinister octave as he continues, “Couldn’t help myself. Not when you look so…delectable.” Kyojuro notches himself against you, the rough seam of his slacks grazing your ass.

You roll your eyes, averting your attention to the washer. “Yeah, yeah. Eat my ass. Tryna get this shit out the washer before I have a god damn aneurism.”

The clicking of his tongue should be warning enough. However, you’re a stubborn little shit. Once you set your mind to something, everything outside is mere background noise.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Kyojuro huffs. Fabric rustles. A cool breeze kisses your spine before the sensation of your panties swiftly drawn southward alarms you.

“Kyo!” You glance back with eyes wide as saucers. Your husband kneels behind, feigning innocence when your boyshorts puddle around your feet. Kyojuro merely shrugs, fingers gliding between your quads to coax your legs apart.

“What? You did tell me to eat your ass, did you not?”

You snort. “Not literal—ah-hah!” Your voice peters, replaced by a pathetic keening at the thumb lazily stroking your labia apart. You barrel forward, catching yourself on the rim of the glacial washer. Feel a callused fingertip prodding your opening, drawing your milky essence from inside, the sound of it sticky and obscene. “Kyojuro! I-I haven’t showered!”

“When has that ever deterred me?” the blond husks, pushing further inside, the intrusion a welcomed pain. He smirks at the rapture painting your features, digging a little more until he’s knuckle-deep. You bite your lip against a moan swelling in your chest, pleasure burrowing into the pit of your gut. He’s right; a little seasoning has never turned him off.

“Need an appetizer before the main course, my love.”

There is no warning. No preamble save for a palm spreading your cheeks apart, the slither of space allotting Kyojuro time to dive in.

His tongue is a scorching pressure against your puckering anus. Teasingly flits over the tight ring of muscle as he employs the help of his index finger, toying with your swelling clitoris whilst he drives his thumb in and out of your cunt.

“Ooooh, sh-sh-hit! You…cheeky little bi-hitch.” Your arms tremble, threatening to give way beneath you. Lips quiver, whimpers skittering out. Eyelids screw shut, tears gathering on your lashes. A sparkling feeling lingers between your thighs whilst he laves at your asshole, the strokes of his tongue voracious like he’s afraid to leave any part of you unscathed.

“Like that, lovely? Right there?” Kyojuro breathes, the crisp air against your asshole making your pussy clench around the grooves of his thumb. Your body hums from the feel of him when he plunges back in for another taste, the noise of his flittering tongue rivaling that of the dryer jostling beside you.

“Ah, fu-huck!” The worn pad of his finger circling the swollen heat of your clit sends you spilling further toward the edge. A shaky hand reaches back to bury its digits in locks of marigold, drawing him closer to you until his groans are muffled between your ass cheeks. Your calves burn from standing on tippy toes, your arm stretched taut against the washer to keep you upright.

Kyojuro continues his assault on your nether regions. His slippery appendage is wide and sweltering, flattening against your anus in quick swipes before he hollows out his cheeks and sucks. Fills the room with a vulgar rhythm, intermingling with your soft keens.   

“Oh fuck. Oh, fuck, oh fuck. Like that. Just like that, baby.” You’re standing upright now. Tongue lolling about in your mouth, brows furrowed with ecstasy hanging between them. Your mind is a nebulous cloud, filled only with the gnarling urge to cum. Clit throbs, pussy flutters. You chase that inevitable high, that sparkling rush of pleasure like pins and needles in your extremities whilst his fingers and mouth work in tandem to bring you to the summit.

“Kyo-juro, I’m gonna…I’m gonna…Fuck, I’m—” Your chest grows tight. Breath hitches, the onslaught of pleasure too much for you to bear. His voice humming against you, his digits working like a well-oiled machine inside and around you overloading your senses.

Your peak trickles through you like liquid heat. Steals your voice, a moan caught in your esophagus. A warm, viscous, translucent fluid seeps down your leg as your cunt spasms around Kyojuro’s thumb, a blinding whiteness taking hold of your vision.

You’re a panting puddle when he departs from the milky mess of your pussy, leaning back onto his hands. When you return to Earth, you glance back through shuttered lashes, hunkered over the washer to keep afloat. Chuckle at the sight of him, his puffy, rouge lips and peach-dappled cheeks shining with your dew.

You watch the labored rise and fall of his chest. Gaze flits southward when Kyojuro’s hand moves, palming the bulk of his cock, threatening to spill through the seam of his pants.

“Round two?” Kyojuro offers. A boyish smile boasts his teeth, dimples cratering his cheeks.

“Fucker,” you snort. Kyojuro huffs a laugh of his own, the low flavor of his voice making your cunt hiccup with renewed delight.

It seems this was a mere precursor to whatever evening he has planned for you.

“At least lemme shower first before you try to fuck me again.”

[flowercrown-bard]

A comforting embrace

Summary: Still thinking that he was the one with the Djinn wishes, Jaskier is overcome by guilt for killing Valdo Marx

Relationships: Jaskier&Valdo Marx, Jaskier/Geralt (background, pining, no actual relationship, unrequited)

angst, hurt/comfort (but mainly hurt), somewhat open ending

Word count: 2773

Content warning: grief, guilt, mention of blood, presumed character death

“I wish very badly to leave this place forever!”

Jaskier was lucky. He was so damn lucky that the Djinn hadn’t twisted his last wish and killed him off right then and there.

One should think a bard, master of words and silvertongue, would know how easily words could be misinterpreted, and yet, in his moment of blind panic, he had blurted out a wish that could have been his end.

He liked to think that Geralt would have cared if Jaskier had died. Maybe not as much as Jaskier had, when he had thought that Geralt had been crushed by a crumbling building, but maybe a teeny tiny bit of devastation would have been appropriate.

Then again, Geralt would have had Yennefer’s arms to find solace in.

While Jaskier was overtaken by the chilling realisation that he could have died by his own words just a couple of minutes earlier, and needed Geralt close to assure him that they were both alright, that nothing bad would happen to them now, Geralt didn’t wast a single thought for Jaskier and instead turned all of his attention to the woman who had held a knife to Jaskier’s throat and had nearly killed Geralt.

The initial surge of relief and pure joy at seeing Geralt alive was quickly dimmed when the events of the past hours came crushing down on Jaskier with a force that took his breath away and squeezed his throat as tightly as the Djinn had earlier.

Jaskier had nearly died. He had come dangerously close to watching his best friend and the man who held his heart in his hands, die. He had to watch said man fall in love with someone else.

And yet Jaskier was lucky.

He had to be, for if he wasn’t, if he were to lose this one last piece of driftwood he was holding onto for dear life, he would fall apart and drown in the terrifying reality of what had happened to him that day.

Jaskier was lucky. Others weren’t.

Jaskier had thought that, when the Countess de Stael had left him for a troubadour, who wooed her with poetry and love songs stolen from Jaskier, he had thought that he had every right to be enact revenge on Valdo.

And he had. A ditty dragging Valdo’s name through the mud. A scathing sonnet about how Valdo was no more a poet than a common ass was. Winning back the Countesses’ heart. All of it would have been revenge that Jaskier wouldn’t have enacted with a smug smirk and satisfaction surging through him.

But this… the thing he truly had done….

Jaskier’s hands began to shake and abruptly, he turned away from the sight of Geralt and the sorceress together. Even as his breath came short and his heart began to pound against his ribs like the beating of a drum at an execution, Jaskier evaded Chireadan’s concerned questions.

He had to get out of here. He had to leave, to make this right –

There was no making this right. He had killed a man. A simple sentence had been all it had taken and Valdo had been no more.

The fate that Jaskier himself had only narrowly escaped had been inflicted on another man – and for what? Jaskier wouldn’t be able to see the Countess ever again. Not after the wish he had made when he had been drunk on cheap alcohol and bitterness. The thought of her welcoming him with little clothing, that had been so appealing when he had been heartbroken and deep in his cups, churned his stomach now that he thought about it. She wouldn’t have a choice. She would do whatever Jaskier had damned her to do and he couldn’t do that to her, no matter how much his heart ached for a pair of loving arms to embrace him and for gentle lips to tell him that everything would be alright.

Geralt had never embraced him and whatever words he would have for Jaskier, probably wouldn’t be gentle. They still would be enough. Because they would come from Geralt.

Yet, Jaskier didn’t stick around to find out if Geralt ever was going to offer him any comfort.

He took his bags – not that there was much of Jaskier’s that Geralt had taken with him when he had hoisted Jaskier onto Roach and brought him to this accursed place – and his lute and left.

Maybe Geralt would worry when he realised that Jaskier was gone. Maybe he wouldn’t even notice.

With an ache in his chest, Jaskier forced his feet to take him away from Geralt and the happiness he experienced right now. Geralt didn’t need Jaskier, his fears, his doubts and his guilt to drag him down. He didn’t need Jaskier to wish he was in the sorceresses’ place. He just simply didn’t need Jaskier.

He didn’t even know where exactly he was going. Away. That was the most important thing.

It was only, when he reached a small port, where merchant vessels could dock before heading further down the Pontar, that he knew where he needed to go.

It took up most of the coin he still had to his name and a promise to make himself useful on board, to convince the captain of the vessel to grant him passage to Cidaris via the sea route.

The days until he reached the coastal city, Jaskier spent agonising about what to do.

Back in his Oxenfurt days, Jaskier had considered Valdo Marx something like a friend, or at the very least a rival that he enjoyed drinking and joking around with. But decades had passed since those days and now, there was no second chance to rekindle the friendship they had once had.

The troubadour was dead and it was Jaskier’s fault. He had no right to weep over his grave. Yet, Jaskier knew, the least he could do was apologize to the man he had killed. It wouldn’t make anything right. It wouldn’t bring him back to life. But maybe it would make this guilt that lay around Jaskier’s chest like an iron chain, lessen its grip.

He left the ship without saying goodbye to the crew and for the first time in his life, he didn’t enter Cidaris with his head held high and a song on his lips, ready to prove that he was far superior to Marx.

“Where is the troubadour’s grave?” Jaskier asked the first person he came across, an older looking woman with flowers bundled in her arms.

She gave him a strange look – She knew! Somehow she knew Jaskier had killed Valdo! - and handed him one of the flowers she was carrying, a poppy. Red, like the blood on Jaskier’s hands.

“If you’re looking for someone sleeping beneath the earth,” the old woman said with a gentle smile and a pat to Jaskier’s hand, “you should head east. That’s where the cemetery is.”

How fitting. Valdo had always loved the sunrise, had made fun endlessly about how Jaskier was never able to get up before midday.

Now, he would never see the sunrise again.

Jaskier’s heart got heavier with every step he took towards the cemetery. By the time, he was walking the rows, looking for a headstone with the familiar name, his throat was restricted and his eyes burned.

It was his fault.

And now he couldn’t even find the damn grave.

He must have spent hours searching for the grave, before he eventually gave up. It was no use searching for longer. The sun had nearly disappeared beyond the horizon and the poppy in Jaskier’s hand was wilted and crushed from how tightly he gripped it.

With his head hung low, Jaskier left the cemetery. Perhaps there would be a plaque of honour at the court the troubadour had played in? If there was, it wasn’t very likely that Jaskier would be permitted entry to go search for it.

He still went there.

Just as he had thought, the guards didn’t let him in. Jaskier simply nodded in dejection and sat down a little ways off, where they wouldn’t be able to hear him.

His hands trembled, when he took his lute out of her case and began plucking the strings quietly. Quietly, he sang the words of grief and guilt he had come up with during the journey to Cidaris. He didn’t dare sing any louder, lest he found out that his voice wasn’t restored yet. It was shaky and tight and it hurt as he forced the notes past his throat, but he continued singing nonetheless, whether because the dead man deserved the respect or because the man still alive deserved the pain, he couldn’t tell.

The melody was soft and mournful. It wasn’t good enough. If Valdo were here, he would hate it, would despise that Jaskier had written a song for him and criticise it mercilessly. Jaskier would take it. He would gladly accept every jab and insult coming from Marx, if only he was still alive.

But he wasn’t.

All Jaskier could do was play a dirge for a friend who had become a bitter rival and who had been killed over some petty spat.

He wished, more than anything he hadn’t spoken those hateful words to the Djinn. He wished, he was still with Geralt, consoling him about his struggles with his child surprise and probably arguing, but at least they would be there together. He wished Geralt had never found the Djinn. And above all, he wished that Valdo Marx was still alive.

“Good gods, who died to make you sound so maudlin?” A familiar drawl reached Jaskier.

The bard flinched, his fingers missing the right strings and creating a dissonant screech. He whirled around and –

No. It couldn’t be.

“That sounded terrible,” Valdo Marx said with a lopsided smirk. “And I’m not just talking about the ending there. Everybody knows that you shouldn’t use that key for a slow song. It’s just going to make it sound miserable. Speaking of which, what in Melitele’s name happened to your clothes? Not even wearing a doublet and –“ the troubadour blanched. “Is that blood?”

Jaskier stared at him. Slowly, afraid that the vison would vanish if he moved to quickly, Jaskier took a step closer, clutching his lute, his only source of comfort. His eyes raked over the man in front of him. The cocky stance that had shifted as a horrified tension had grabbed hold of him. The blonde curls that were immaculate as always, despite the late hour. That damned stupid feathered hat. It was Valdo Marx. It was impossible.

“You’re dead.” The words leaving Jaskier were barely louder than a breath.

“What?” Marx’ brows drew together and a flash of true concern twisted his face. “Juli- Jaskier, are you alright?”

“I-you – “ Jaskier’s voice broke off with a sob and he shook so badly that his lute would have slipped out of his grip, had it not been held up why the strap around Jaskier’s neck.

In a heartbeat, Valdo was standing before him.

“Give me that,” he demanded with uncharacteristic softness and took the lute away from Jaskier, placing it carefully back in her case. “What happened to you? Are you hurt?” His eyes drifted back to the bloodsoaked chemise that Jaskier had been too distracted to change out of, not that he had had any other clothes with him when he had left Rinde. “Why aren’t you with your Witcher?”

Another choked sound escaped Jaskier. He didn’t understand. How could this be? How was Valdo Marx still alive? Djinns were obligated to grand any wish their master gave them. It had been a wonder that Jaskier’s last wish hadn’t backfired, but there had been no room for interpretation with his second wish and –

Oh.

The truth hit him like a bucket of icewater being flung over his head.

“Jaskier?” Valdo asked, concern making his voice tight, but Jaskier couldn’t react.

He hadn’t been the Djinn’s master. It hadn’t been his wished fulfilled.

He hadn’t been the one who had set a Djinn on someone he had once considered a friend. But –

‘I just want some damn peace!’

His throat had tightened, like a garrotte was pulled tight around it, making it impossible to breath, to speak! Jaskier had looked up at Geralt, so sure that he himself was somehow the reason for what was happening to him. He was so sure Geralt would save him.

It hadn’t been Jaskier’s words who had nearly killed someone he had once considered his friend.

‘Jaskier, you’re okay.’

Geralt had cared. He had been happy that Jaskier was alive. It didn’t matter that not a minute after, he had abandoned Jaskier to risk his life for the witch. Geralt cared that Jaskier was alright…didn’t he?

‘Let’s not jump to conclusions.’

Geralt was his friend. He was…he…

He hadn’t faltered once when Jaskier had begged him not to go into that building again. After it had collapsed, he hadn’t wasted a single moment to let Jaskier know that he was still alive.

When Jaskier had left, had Geralt even noticed?

“Jaskier, snap out of it!” Valdo grabbed him tightly by the shoulders, shaking him slightly.

Jaskier hadn’t been the one who had nearly killed someone he had once considered a friend. Then again, neither had Geralt, apparently. Because it seemed after everything, after decades of Jaskier singing his praises, of him trailing after Geralt like a devoted puppy, after years of Jaskier admiring and loving Geralt more than he had loved anyone else before, it was very likely that Geralt didn’t consider him a friend.

Maybe he could fix it. If Jaskier proved himself useful, if he made sure to be there for Geralt, when his relationship with the witch crashed and burned, perhaps he could save what he thought they had had. He could…he could be a good travel companion. He could become Geralt’s friend. He could-

Cool hands touched his cheeks, interrupting his spiralling thoughts.

“You’re shaking,” Valdo said, all of his earlier arrogance was gone. “Let me take you home. I know we have our differences, but I can’t let you stand here, looking like that.”

There was no bite in his voice, despite the lacklustre attempt at keeping the snark they usually exchanged going.

“Valdo?” Jaskier asked uncertainly, not knowing where to put his hands or what to do.

“I know,” Valdo said, dropping his hands immediately and taking a step back, “that we have our differences. But…we were friends once. If you need someone to talk to, I’m here. I even promise not to turn what you tell me into a song.”

He smiled wryly and Jaskier’s next sob was mixed with an unexpected laugh. When Valdo relaxed at that sound, there was nothing left of the pompous prick that was Jaskier’s most bitter rival. This was the man he had called his friend when they had been younger. This was the man, whose shoulder Jaskier had cried on, when he had gotten his heart broken for the first time, and with whom he had practiced the poems they were going to recite to the pretty medical students who would patch them up when they had drunk too much.

“Valdo?” Jaskier asked and he wasn’t the arrogant bard who sought to take revenge on his rival, anymore either.

“I’m here for you.”

Jaskier’s chin wobbled and before he could think twice about it, he flung himself into Valdo’s arms, burying his head into his chest and soaking the elegant doublet with his tears.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was muffled, but he didn’t stop talking. “I’m so sorry, Valdo. I’m sorry.”

Valdo didn’t reply. But he stroked one hand soothingly through Jaskier’s hair and held him close.

The embrace wasn’t given by the man Jaskier had wanted to hug him, but they were comforting nonetheless. If he could fix what he had broken between Valdo and him, then he could also fix his friendship with Geralt.

For now, though, he didn’t want to think about the witcher who had set a Djinn on him and broken his heart.

He just clutched the fabric of Valdo’s doublet tightly and let himself be held.

He wasn’t alone in this. Not anymore.

Tomorrow – for now, there was hope again for such a thing as a bright tomorrow – Jaskier would tell Valdo everything. And perhaps, if he was lucky, he would get to keep this friend.

As Valdo mumbled soothing nothings into his ear until Jaskier’s tears dried, Jaskier thought that maybe everything would be alright.

Maybe he truly was lucky.

[kristyana]

Untethered

Chapter 2/?

When he stepped into that throne room, Noctis had accepted his fate.

The ongoing war with Nilfheim, his father's slowly deteriorating life-force to power the force field protecting their city from daemons and magitek troops, their trip throughout Eos to collect the Royal Arms, the trials he endured from the Astrals to prove his worth for their cooperation when it was they who issued that condemning prophecy in the first place.

The sacrifices of all his loved ones.

It all led to that final moment in that throne room.

His death in exchange for the return of the dawn.

And when he had finally — finally — vanquished the Accursed along with the plague; battered body floating through the void as it slowly crumbled like shattered glass, he only hoped to see his father and sister one last time — to see his father's gentle smile and his sister's proud grin — before darkness embraced him.

So imagine his surprise to find himself waking up in a bed. Alive and well, as if a sword hadn't plunged itself right through his sternum.

He thought he had failed.

That all of their precious efforts were for naught and Ardyn was still alive.

That was when the door to his room opened revealing an exhausted Prompto who froze on the spot when his eyes landed on him.

They stared at each other for a full minute before Prompto broke down crying and launched himself at Noctis, clinging for dear life. They stayed like that for what seemed like forever.

Prompto was the first to pull away albeit reluctantly, saying he needed to tell the others and it didn't take long before they heard frantic footsteps outside getting louder. The door banged against the wall as Gladio practically shouldered his way into the room followed by a disheveled — and no longer blind! — Ignis.

"Ignis! Your eye—“ Noctis wasn't able to finish when he was engulfed in another hug by his advisor and Shield.

They tell him they'd won — after a second round of crying which he will forever deny ever happened — that the Starcourge was no more and that the sun was shining on Eos again for about a month now. People were making their way towards the city and that plans for restoration were being made as they speak.

"But why am I still alive?“ Noctis asked as he stared at his hand, noticing the Ring of Lucii wasn't there. "I'm pretty sure I died on the throne."

His friends winced at that.

"We're not sure of what happened either." Ignis replied, his arms crossed and face contorted in concentration. "All we could remember was fighting against those horde of daemons and then the princess showed up to help—"

Noctis cut him off. "Princess?“

"Your sister." Gladio inserted.

Nostic perked at that. "What?! She was there?! What happened to her? Is she—“

Prompto placed a calming hand on his chest. "Dude, take it easy. Like Iggy said, we don't know what happened. One moment we were fighting daemons with the Princess, next we woke up underneath this huge ass tree with you in it still in a coma."

Noctis couldn't help but stare at him in disbelief but also with hope. “But she survived, right?” If the four of them survived then she surely would have too.

Prompto's sad smile was answer enough.

The room was quiet after that except for the Prince's quiet sobbing.

-

The very next day, after a thorough examination from a hunter medic and several reassurances that he was fine, Noctis pleaded with his friends to show him where they'd found him. And they did, but the tree he had in mind wasn't the behemoth in front of him where the Citadel was supposed to be.

Calling the tree tall would have been the understatement of the century, it completely dwarfed all the city's skyscrapers. It's trunk was probably as wide as the Disc of Cauthess and it's canopy stretched far.

"How did this get here?“ He questioned, gaping at the giant.

“You guess is as good as ours." Gladio grunted as he and Ignis cleaved their way through the dense underbrush surrounding the roots of the colossal tree.

It took them a while before reaching a decently sized clearing, a large expanse of green grass forming a ring around the tree's ridiculously thick roots.

Looking around them, Noctis took notice of the details that indicated this was no ordinary tree; besides its unusually large stature Noctis can see white gold veins starting off thick along roots which then thinned and branched out as it goes up. Crystals of various shapes, sizes and color were embedded, faintly glowing in beat with the pulsating veins. And the leaves — Noctis picked up a fallen leaf — it was a luscious shade of emerald green with beautiful rainbow like iridescent when caught in the light.

"Noct!" Prompto called.

Looking up he saw them pointing to a large hole created by the tree's roots forming into some sort of doorway. Stepping inside, Noctis scanned the makeshift compartment. It could probably fit five people, plenty of flowers sprouted out of the somewhat undisturbed ground as if the tree purposely avoid this little patch of area.

Ignis and Gladio stood guard at the entrance while Prompto went to the very back of the area and sat down with a heavy sigh. He leaned against the tree and patted the space beside him. “Found you here, we woke up just outside... ”

Noctis paused for a moment, staring at the space beside his best friend before plopping down and leaning against the tree as well.

He could feel magic emanating from the tree, familiar but at the same time different. He sensed it reaching out towards him and unconsciously meet it halfway, it was then he felt it envelope him in a warm and comfortable cocoon, much like being swaddled in his amazingly soft bed for a nap. Unable to stop himself, he just closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Seeing their friend having fallen asleep, the other three followed suit, resting against the tree and be lulled by its comforting magic.

It was at that moment the four companions felt they could actually rest easy. No more fighting, no more daemons, no more duties (they'll get to that later), and no more prophecy. Just them and the sound of rustling leaves.

But with this sleep brought a dream to Noctis.

He was standing beside the very throne where his father would sit during council meetings, and right infront of him was his radiant older sister in her simple black dress standing in front of him with a smile. She reached out a hand and gently placed it against his cheek.

"You've done well, baby brother. Eos is saved and the Dawn shines upon the land once more. I'm sure you have a lot of questions but the answers will come to you in time."

Noctis clutched at the hand against his cheek as tears slowly trailed down his face. "Rosie, I—"

She shushed him with an exaggerated raised brow, as if daring him to interrupt her. The familiar action brought out a laugh from the siblings. Noctis quickly wrapped his arms around his sister and hugged her as tight as he could, praying to whoever gave him this boon that this moment be stretched on longer.

The siblings stayed like that for a while, basking in each others presence before he felt his sister speak. "I'm afraid I don't have much time, Noct. I came here to warn you."

Noctis paused at that. What? Warn him?

"You've fulfilled your task but the fight is far from over. Danger still lurks in the land and has masked its presence among the people. You need to find it before it'll overrun the whole continent.”

Noctis tensed as his mind went reeling at the message. He just killed Ardyn barely a month ago and now he's hearing there is still more?! It's as if his last quest wasn't bad enough!

A hand cupped the back of his head and Noctis felt some tension bleed out of him. ”I know. Gods, I know how unfair it is, Noct, but I wouldn't be here if it wasn't so urgent. Rest assured though that you'll have plenty of help this time around, they'll come to you soon."

His sister pulled away to look at him with teary eyes and a sad but proud smile. "I'm sorry for not being there for you as much in the end but know that I love you with all my heart, little brother. Now, be the King I always knew you were meant to be."

At those words Noctis' vision started blurring at the edges and he panicked.

No! It was too soon! He wanted her to stay! He'd be all alone if she disappeared!

As if reading his thoughts his sister gave him an incredulous look. "You'll have your friends with you, brother. They'll be with you every step of the way — and I'm not just referring to Gladio, Ignis and Prompto." Her expression softened back into a smile. "And remember what I always tell you, little brother. Physically, we may be apart,"

Noctis felt his chest tighten at the thought that this might very well be the last time they'll ever do this little ritual. "…but distance means nothing when it deals with the heart.” He whispers brokenly as he felt her place a kiss on his forehead.

Then everything fades to black.

But before he completely loses consciousness, he hears his sister and several other voices proclaim as one, "The Allmother has returned to Eos and has gifted the people the Guardian Tree, her conduit, through which to provide her protection and her bountiful blessings."

A furious beating of wings.

"King Noctis Lucis Caelum CXIV, with the Allmother’s grace, lead your kingdom to a new era of peace and prosperity."

In a softer tone but no less crystal clear his sister whispers, "Walk tall, my brother."

[fuzziemutt]

Do You Understand ?

Chapter 4/9 - Link to MasterList in reblog

Summary: Okay maybe not telling anyone anything wasn’t such as a good idea... Especially your dad the guy who’s job is to investigate things...

Tw: dissociation caused by trauma response.

The signing process didn’t last long. The landlord was fairly straight to the point, and she couldn’t know that he had already finished reading the pages set in front of him before her explaining what the rules were and what needed to be signed. She didn’t seem to comment on Connor’s lack of emotional responses to things or how his face appeared to be stuck in perpetual angry limbo. In fact, she seemed to be more understanding than any of his “friends” were and not taking offense when his attention wandered elsewhere when she droned a bit about policies he already knew. She even smiled at him at one point and it was weird to Connor how he just realized how rarely anyone smiled (most from Nines) so genuinely at him without hidden intentions. 

Afterwards, he retrieved the keys from her and hiked up the singular bag to head upstairs to the 4th floor for his room. He caught a sadness and sympathy in her eyes that he really wasn’t sure where it was coming from. Was she humanizing him? Makes sense with this beanie hiding his LED, but he still couldn’t decipher what she was assuming about him. He pushed it from his mind as he unlocked the door and walked in, locking it behind. 

He wasn’t sure what he expected. It was very barren, desolate with all the lights shut off like this. The sun was already starting to set and began casting long shadows inside. He didn’t mind since he could just see in the dark, but it felt lonely like this. He turned on the main living room light at the least since the apartment was open planned with only a small island wall separating the kitchen. Two doors on the far end were assumed to be the bedroom and bathroom. On the right were fairly large windows to let light in in the morning and there was even a slim door that led out to a small patio with railing of sorts that might be able to house a plant or two at most. There were even two storage closets near the door and near the kitchen, that one actually contained a washer and dryer duo unit now that he thinks about it. He knew he knew the actual layout of this place with no problem, but he just didn’t care. It didn’t matter much to him really. As an android, he really didn’t need much to work with, just his charging port that he packed with him if he was honest. Or at least he’d make sure that was all he needed.

Trying one of the further doors, he found the bathroom, bare minimum with tub, toilet, sink and small wall mirror. The bathroom was also connected to the room through their shared wall so he just used that door to go into the bedroom. It was big enough to hold maybe a standard bed and small dresser at most but again that didn’t bother him. The wall had one of those in built closets like Hank had and it somehow flares the pain that had settled low in his abdominal cavity and refused to leave. It didn’t matter because he was doing this to protect himself and make everything easier for everyone else. This was to make it far easier to separate himself from everyone. To hide. So he plopped his bag down and set about unpacking his very pathetic amount of items. Tomorrow he’ll deal with furniture truly; he’ll most likely just order it online and figure out pick up/delivery then too. 

He relaxed a bit against one of the walls when his internal phone started ringing again. Hank. Shit. 

“Hello, Lieutenant.”

“Hey, Connor.” Oh that didn’t sound good. He had that stern voice put on, like a dad about to lecture his kid.

“What can I offer you with this call,” Connor really wasn’t sure where to go with this.

“So I called Markus when I got home.”

“Mhm.” The alarm bells in Connor’s head went off. He knew relying so heavily on miscommunication would backfire. Idiot. 

“And asked him about that little meeting you supposedly had today to ask if it would be alright if I came by to pick you up so you weren’t going home alone. Since you told me about that little worry of yours earlier.”

“Yes.” Connor felt the panic start to rise inside him a bit, his voice kept leveled and his face calm, but internally? Freaking out.

“Where are you, Connor?” and there it was. He was fucked. Okay lying would be the stupid thing to do right now.

“I’m at New Jericho, I’m not sure what you’re asking?” Connor auto replied. He needs to do a diagnostic on that top notch Social Relation Protocol. 

“Oh really,” Hank’s voice turned low, “Don’t fucking lie to me right now unless you want to dig your grave deeper, Connor.”

Connor stayed silent worried his auto replies might do just that.

“Hmm well Markus also told me an interesting tidbit. Apparently yesterday you blew up on everyone and fucked off. Heavy topics and no big deal, my ass!” Connor could tell that Hank was getting riled up. 

“Where. Are. You. Connor,” Hank said with much more aggression after Connor continued to stay silent. 

Connor really didn’t know what to say. Hank was bound to find out he so unceremoniously moved out, he wasn’t sure why he was even hesitating right now to tell him that. 

“I noticed this morning that your clothes were missing from the bathroom, and I found it odd, but I just assumed you moved them. Yet when I got back home and actually started looking, I noticed that it seems all your stuff is gone! Even the fucking manta ray plushie is gone!” 

Connor really didn’t know why he thought Hank wouldn’t notice this quickly especially since he was already suspicious of Connor since this morning too. He took a deep breath to prepare himself for what was about to happen. 

“WHERE-”

“I’m in my apartment,” rushed out of Connor in one synthetic breath. 

Hank didn’t answer for a couple seconds. “Your apartment…”

“Yes.”

“When the fuck have you had an apartment? In fact, how do-”

“Just last night.” Connor focused on just trying to keep calm. He could do this. He was an interrogator. Just treat this as an interrogation. 

“Last night… and when did you think you’d tell me about this?! Did you think you could just book it with your shit, and I wouldn't notice!” Hank could be loud when he wanted to be. And honestly, Connor did think he wouldn’t care enough to notice for at least a day or two. It’s not like Connor owned that many items in the first place to notice gone as proven by the sad bag slumped next to him on the floor.

“I knew you would notice, but I was uncertain on how to approach the topic. I thought I would have more time to tell you, but I assumed wrong.” 

“Damn right you assumed wrong! How could you not understand-” 

Connor didn’t even register whatever was said next. He heard that accursed word and felt himself shut down. The panic receded just as quickly as the tsunami of that same anger from yesterday overwhelmed him in seconds. 

“Don’t say that word,” He didn’t even notice he murmured anything from the haze surrounding him until Hank went silent and asked a far quieter “what?” than his prior volume. 

“Don’t say that fucking word,” Connor stated far louder. He distantly felt how tense his whole body seemed to have become, fists trembling and he wouldn’t doubt his LED was burning bright red under the beanie he still had yet to remove. 

“I don’t understand. What word?” Hank asked, confusion clear in his voice. There also seemed to be a bit of concern that Connor’s system registered, but he ignored that as that was impossible.

Connor couldn’t handle it, the feelings inside were too much, and he didn’t want a repeat of yesterday. He could control himself. Cyberlife drilled into his head how he had to stay calm and in control at all times. He can’t fail this simple rule. 

So he simply shut everything down. He quickly quarantined everything. He immediately cut his call with Hank as it was his source of stress. He needed everything to shut down. To not think. Hank kept trying to call him back, to get some sort of answer, but it was too late. Connor disconnected from everything and felt himself float off. This was much nicer, just not aware of anything. That anger and panic was all gone. The guilt too. He was just existing, his body’s eyes stared unblinking, unmoving at the wall ahead. Sure it was dangerous how he wasn’t able to register anything nor had any clue where he was anymore, but it was quiet.

Eventually, he slowly returned to his body. Became aware of the twitching of his fingers, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the sounds of cars passing outside below him. He blinked and came back into himself looking around and noticing it was far darker than before. Checking his internal clock showed that he lost 2 hours to whatever that was. He couldn’t help the annoyance he felt from apparently having another malfunction happening to him. The anger and emptiness from yesterday weren’t necessarily a malfunction, but he shouldn’t be able to lose control of himself like that (thus he was malfunctioning). He lost control of himself in a different manner here and still felt himself almost floating even now. Checking his notifications revealed countless number of missed calls from Hank, Nines, Mark, even North and numerous texts and internal messages, but he just ignored them again. He clearly needed to cut himself off from them all. They were causing him to glitch and fail like this by overwhelming him beyond his control. He can’t let that happen.

After some shuffling, he managed to set up his charging port, plugged himself in and set himself into stasis.

[nirnrootemporium]

The Arena

Tw: blood, violence, suicidal thoughts

After you gave yourself away for Tamriel, I walked out of the Temple, unseeing. I think there were people and they might have been cheering, but my vision was blank white and the only sound I could hear was my own damningly persistent heartbeat. I walked among the crowd and spoke to no one. I passed through the first door out of the Temple District I came upon. For days I wandered the Imperial City like a specter, letting cold rain soak me then rise away from me in the sun.

My blind path led me around the city and finally to the Arena, where my vision cleared at last and my ears picked up the sound of a jeering crowd and the ringing of swords and armor clashing. The dead forest of my insides ignited into a massive, agonizing fire that propelled me down into the Bloodworks. There I spoke my first words in days to the Blademaster: “I want to fight.” He scrutinized me.

”You want to fight? The Champion of Cyrodiil?”

”Yes.”

”Well... you’ll definitely bring quite a few spectators. Take your raiment and get your ass into the red room.” I took up a raiment and changed into it, abandoning my battle worn armor in a corner.

I mounted the ramp up to the arena, each step a stab into the ground. I felt no fear as I waited behind the gate, only the need to put out the fire in my body. When the gates rose, I entered the arena with smooth steps and killed my opponent with one stroke of my sword. It didn’t quench my fire, but it dulled it for a moment.

I went back down into the Bloodworks as the crowd roared for me and demanded another fight. And another after that, all for the sick, momentary relief killing brought me.

I slept for the first time since before the battle at Bruma in a bedroll on the Bloodworks floor that night. I don’t remember what I dreamed about, but I know you were there. I woke in a cold sweat in the morning and quickly got ready to fight, my mind begging for a second’s relief.

As my opponents got harder to defeat, I started to allow myself to be injured. I let an Argonian woman slash me with her blade and slam the hilt of her dagger into my lip before I plunged my sword into her with the same ease as dipping my hand into a pool of water. I let a Breton man fire an arrow into my shoulder before I struck his heart still with a burst of lightning. Each letting of my blood seemed to release some toxin in my body that I couldn’t name. It felt like a necessary thing.

I healed myself sloppily, letting my wounds scar and sting, allowing them to keep hurting. I didn’t really care. I didn’t know why I didn’t just let myself be killed out there, but I just couldn’t do it. Maybe I was a coward. Maybe it was fate. Or maybe it was you. But whatever it was keeping me alive, I fought my way to the top in a matter of days.

The time came. I challenged the Grand Champion Argonak gro-Malog and he accepted. Now I knew I would die. The Gray Prince had been Grand Champion for a decade. I had nothing on him, and if he couldn’t kill me, maybe I’d finally let go.

In the Arena, I let him tear into me. He was strong. It hurt. Good, I thought. Without even realizing it, I ran my blade through his stomach, managing to break through his armor. He fell onto his back, taking my sword with him. His eyes were wide and panicked like a cornered deer as he quickly bled out on the ground, his spilled blood running into the grate under him.

The crowd was ecstatic, but I heard nothing except for the rushing of blood in my ears. I was supposed to take the Raiment of Valor off of Argonak’s body now that I’d killed him, but I couldn’t touch him, couldn’t take one step closer to him.

I sprinted out of the Arena and through the Bloodworks then out into the street.  A young Bosmer with blond hair ran up to me.

“Hey! You’re the Grand Champion! I can’t believe it!” I stared at him, shaken.

“Why do you care? Find a new hobby. Fighting for entertainment isn’t fun, it’s cruel.” His face fell.

“But-” I had already turned and continued my sprint. I knew where I had to go, and even if I didn’t, I knew I’d still end up there anyway.

I dashed into what was left of the Temple of the One and stopped, but somehow not of my own volition; it was more like running into a wall. My head drifted back and I stared, glassy eyed, at what you'd become. I opened my mouth to scream or to sob, but nothing came out.

I saw all of the faces of those I'd killed in that accursed arena in my effort to exert the chaos of my own life onto others. The fear, rage, or pain frozen into their death masks. Their hot, final breaths on my face. I saw the faces of all of the Blades cut down at the hands of the daedra and the Mythic Dawn. I heard the sound of their joyful and wine-drunken laughter when I spent nights at Cloud Ruler Temple. I saw soldiers slain in the street with no more thought given to them than one would give to killing a sewer rat.

I remembered the last time I saw my parents before some bastard Imperial soldier murdered them on the steps of our Morrowind home for what seemed to be no reason. The horrified looks they gave me as they begged me to run. I didn’t see them killed, but I heard it. The screaming, the wet sound of heads hitting the ground. At fifteen I cursed your father's name with all of my fury and all of my agony. I couldn't remember anymore why I'd agreed to help you at all, but I couldn't remember the shape of my life before I did either.

The shoddy dam I'd been building in my mind against you splintered then split, the waters roaring forth. I saw your face and the strange glow your eyes had when you discovered something. I saw your hands and the way they clutched the book you were reading. I remembered the way you’d knelt in reverence as you smashed the amulet, the last time I saw you as you.

My legs broke underneath me and my body shattered onto the floor. You'd gone gladly, you said. Gladly. But I didn't stay gladly. I gasped for air, not out of exertion, but because it felt like the air was being sucked out of my lungs faster than I could breathe it.

I realized I was crying and tears drew lines through the fresh blood on my face. I lifted my head up to face you, forcing my eyes to remain on your stone form. I stayed there through the night, begging. Begging for forgiveness.

[ask-garnet-n-ruby]

Uch to her horror, Velvet finds herself going into heat at the worst possible time, but thankfully, the Rose twins find her as she's frantically masturbating before she throws herself to anyone she regrets.

“Gods no, why did it have to happen today?” 

Velvet could not hold back the groan of growing discomfort as she pumped one of the largest made dildos she had on hand with her as fast as she possibly could in and out her pussy. The thick sex toy moving at a complete blur while her free hand was furiously rubbing her clit, hoping that it would give her the stimulation she desperately needed for a powerful orgasm that was building up inside of her.

Today had been the start of the one thing Velvet dreaded the most when it came to her faunus heritage. The accursed Heat Cycle; a time where her body would be reduced to a constant state of horniness. Rendering the poor bunny in a near incapacitated position as she could barely do a thing thanks to this mating season. In the past, she had gotten off rather lucky, as her heat cycles were never really bad and she could power through it no problem. But this year seemed to be by far her worst yet. Almost nothing she did seemed to work in relieving her pent up frustration. Even the dust infused dildos she had borrowed from Blake and Weiss were not doing a thing for her. If anything, she was starting to think that her body was actually ADJUSTING to these massive toys. God forbid if that was the case; regardless, as much as she hated to admit it, she needed cock, badly. But from where?!

Yatsuhashi and her entire team had left for a mission some time ago. The bunny having been left behind as Coco had understood that her Heat cycle was fast approaching. And she didn’t want it to come at a critical moment that could jeopardize her life severely. And she couldn’t just ask anyone to help her with this. The LAST thing she wanted was to have anyone in beacon have the gross misconception that she was some kind of slut. So who-

“Velvet?” 

The bunny faunus froze, color draining from her face as she looked up. To see one blushing Ruby and Garnet Rose staring at her from behind the bushes behind the academy. 

… Did she neglect to mention that she had currently stripped herself of her clothes and was masturbating shamelessly in the woods behind Beacon? As her heat crashed down on her while she had been rushing back to her team’s dorm room with the toys in hand?

Yes? Okay, moving on. 

“R-Ruby. G-Garnet, I- th-this…” The poor brunette couldn’t utter a single word. Her cheek burning hotly with horror and embarrassment. (She’d be damned if she were to admit, a part of it was also from arousal.) 

Garnet folded his arms as he and Ruby glanced at one another nodding with a grin. “Heat Cycle.” They said in unison

“Eh?” Velvet blinked stupefied. 

“Don’t worry, we know what’s going on with you Velv,” Garnet said. “Blake IS our partner after all.” 

“But man, going into heat must be an intense thing if it even has Velvet getting off outside in public,” Ruby said, unable to keep her eyes from wandering all over Velvet’s lovely body. Her entire figure glistening from the sweat that was rolling down. Smiling Ruby looked at faunus in the eyes. “Need a little help?”

Velvet immediately wanted to scream out “YES!” But could only muster up a meek nod; yelping as Garnet and Ruby walked up and scooped the girls and her belongings. Venturing deeper, to a more secluded part of the woods. Velvet let out a shameless sigh/moan, unable to hide her relief just from being in Garnet’s arms. “This spot should do.” She heard Ruby say before she was set down and placed on her knees. Looking up and watching the twins strip down themselves, her entire face red once they were naked as the day they were born. 

Ruby giggled at the expression on Velvet’s face, she and her older twin took their cocks and slapped the horny girl on the face. “Ready to get started Velv?” 

Velvet couldn’t speak, the moment the two fat cocks landed upon her face. Her brain shut down, taking in the powerful musky scent emanating from the shafts alone. It had been too much, too intense for her to handle. That she ended up cumming instantly right then and there. Her strongest climax yet, as her juices sprayed all over the grass beneath her. Panting as she if were a lowly bitch under a hot sun. The sight alone stunned the twins and made Garnet laughed. 

“She’s got it worst than Blake.” He commented, remembering how Blake had been the first time she went into heat with the twins. 

“Yeah, think she’ll be able to- WHOA!!!” 

Ruby yelped as she was suddenly on her back, Velvet hovering above her with a crazed look of lust and desire on her face. “I’m so sorry Ruby.” She could feel Velvet’s slick lips kissing the tip. “I can’t hold myself back anymore.”

Coming down on the huge cock, Velvet’s eyes nearly rolled into her head as the relief she had desperately urging for, was finally here. Her mind focusing on nothing else but pure pleasure as she rode Ruby. Bouncing aggressively on the monolithic length belonging to the younger Rose Twin. Ruby moaning loudly from the tight walls clamping down all around. Not wanting to let Velvet take full control, she matched the girl’s pace. Thrusting upwards and meeting her hips halfway. Grabbing a handful of Scarlatina’s plump cheeks, spreading them nice and wide. Revealing the twitching pucker for her brother. Smirking, Garnet lined himself up, plunging himself into Velvet’s back door. Making the faunus seized up, the growing ass slut side of her making her body cum once again all over Ruby. A shiver of ecstasy ran up her spine, unable to her voice back any longer as the twins ravaged her. Moving in perfect unity pistoning in and out of her tight holes. Making short work of the frustration of the heat that had been built up today. Another cry of happiness left Velvet as her back arched, due to Garnet pulling her back by her wrists. Giving Ruby a wonderful view of Velvet’s tits bouncing erratically in front of her face. 

Licking her lips, she pulled the faunus down, wrapping her lips around the pink-colored nipple. Adding more pleasure to the already cock drunk bunny, Velvet’s tongue lolled out. Her mind beyond comprehension, not caring if anyone saw her in this pathetic state. Only wanting to be fuck ruthlessly by the meaty cocks belonging to these amazing twins. Blake was so lucky, she got to be fucked like this every day between these two. 

“Think she’s okay?” Garnet asked amidst all his thrusting. Ruby looked up at the ahegao that was on Velvet’s face and saw that the girl was too far lost. 

“Nope.” She said, popping the ‘P’. I think us double-teaming her broke her almost instantly.”

“Well... one thing’s for certain...” He grunted. “She knows how to milk a cock, I’m gonna cum.” 

“Same.” Was all Ruby was able to get out before she and Garnet came at the same time. Blowing their loads inside of the heat-riddled Faunus. Hilted all the way deep inside, their cocks twitching slightly. Velvet shuddering as her insides were flooded with the two’s hot creamy baby batter. Her walls squeezing as much as she could. Wanting to make sure neither of them wasted a single drop on her. The three remained that way until the last of their seed was discharged inside of her. With a pleasant sigh, Ruby looked up, blinking surprised. 

“Ah, she passed out.” She noted, Velvet’s eyes completely in the back of her head, her body completely limp. 

“Guess that means we should sneak her back into the room then,” Garnet said looking down at his sister who smiled. 

“Nah!” They said before laughing. If Velvet was anything like Blake when it came to her heat. She wouldn’t be out of it for long and will wake up soon. And will want to go again. And, if they were being honest with themselves. 

Horny Faunus that entered Heat Cycles was one of the best types of sex they ever had. 

[keeroo92]

Savior, Bloodstain, Hellfire, Shadow Ch28 (V x Reader)

So here’s another chapter that somehow never got posted on Tumblr. My bad.

Chapter 28 - Last Glimpse of Sunlight

Soundtrack for this chapter is Coheed and Cambria’s Love Protocol. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M1hs4fj-B-k

_______________________________________________________

June 15th, 12:00 pm

A cacophonous rumble breaks your stride as you and V trek through a park after your… break. Instantly you both look at the Qlipoth to watch in horror as it grows suddenly, massive chunks of roads and buildings mysteriously floating skyward as its spiny branches reach above the clouds and into space.

“We’re almost out of time,” V mutters morosely.

The shaking earth prevents you from answering as you're forced to take off running, the stable path you’d been walking crumbling away into a chasm. V falls behind quickly to your dismay, and you slow just enough to keep him close.

Even so, you’re separated when the ground you stand on rises as the terrain he remains upon drops. You fall to your belly immediately, looking back as V reaches out to grasp your forearm as the soil continues sinking away. You grunt and grit your teeth as your shoulder wrenches from taking his weight but you miraculously manage to hold on, your other arm quickly joining the first to spread the strain out. He glances back and forth between your determined face and the destruction beneath him, his clever eyes judging whether you’ll be forced to drop him or if you’re strong enough to pull him up to join you.

I did NOT spend three days searching Dante’s library just to drop him!

The thought makes you snarl and sends a blast of adrenaline through your system, temporarily lending you the strength you need to haul him up beside you with a primal shout of exertion. His legs scramble against the dirt fruitlessly for a moment before he finds enough friction to help raise his body higher. The moment he can support himself safely you let go with a gasp, flopping over onto your side and panting.

I miss Griffon.

He drops down and lies there beside you as the trembling terrain settles, his chest displaying his racing heartbeat. His emerald eyes find yours and the rhythm of his breath changes as his laughter fills the air.

“When they find they must, my lord, they will,” he quips between his relieved chuckling. You let out a snort of your own, sitting up as your cheeks stretch and your laughter mixes with his. His eyes sparkle with delight, the widest smile you’ve seen in days showing his white teeth to the sun above.

“I never knew that William Blake had a line of poetry for every conceivable situation until I met you, V,” you remark as the humor begins to fade. He smirks at you as he rises to his feet, his cane taking most of his weight. You join him with much less effort, still choking back the last of your giggles as your steady stride accompanies his limp forward.

The next half hour passes quickly; the hordes of demons apparently enjoyed the rumbling earth even less than the pair of you had and left the area. Your thoughts drift back to revisit every aspect of your theory, dissecting it and searching for flaws in the haphazard ideology yet again with no results. Frustration at your lack of new insight fills you and you irritably imagine what your life would have been like if you’d lived in a different city, fallen for a normal guy with normal problems.

You know exactly what it would look like; you’d lived that life before. The image you form seems drab, colorless and without flavor.

Contentment would’ve been easy, that much is true. A comfortable home, a decent paycheck and a special someone to buy you flowers on your anniversary, rub your back when it ached or, if you were lucky, who would cook dinner from time to time. A reasonably attractive man who was acceptable in the bedroom, someone your mom would like. Maybe you’d finish school, earn a position as a trauma surgeon like you used to dream about. Save lives every day, helping people you’d never see again after they left the operating table.

A life like all the rest, a cog in the machine of society struggling to achieve a pale shadow of the joy that fills you every time you draw your sword, every time you hear Nero’s battle cries or Nico’s muttered curses as she tinkers. A soft echo of the incandescent love you feel for your poet. You don’t even bother picturing a face for the amorphous form representing a romantic partner, knowing that regardless of the creativity of your imagination it would be like holding a single candle up to the sun at its zenith compared to V.

I have a life most people lack the capacity to even imagine.

Your eyes drift to study his face, taking in the small growth of dark stubble on his strong jaw. The curve of his nose, the small indent on his cheek by his wide lips. The arch of his brow, the intensity of his gaze under his dark eyebrows, even from the side. You force yourself to ignore the thin scar on his cheekbone, choosing to focus instead on the smoothness of his alabaster skin.

His lips twist into his signature smirk, his eyes catching yours glued to his face.

“What are you staring at, love?” he asks teasingly. You blush at being caught but meet his eyes with a smirk of your own.

“Nothing much, just the most attractive man to ever exist,” you reply casually, adding a shrug for good measure. His smirk deepens and he stands a little taller, breaking your stare bashfully to look at the sky as his cheeks tinge pink.

 Gotcha!

He recovers quickly, playfully swatting your ass with a light tap of his cane. You gasp in mock horror.

“And here I thought you were a gentleman!” you remark, easily stepping out of his range.

“You know very well that I can be gentle, and I can be rough. You’ve never complained about my performance in either category,” he easily shoots back at you with a wry grin. The reminder of his… variable tastes sends a torrent of lewd memories through you and your thighs shake as you step forward. You turn to face him and raise your arms in surrender.

“You win, you win! No more, kind sir, I beg of you,” you plead playfully, and V chuckles softly in amusement.

“Then allow me to claim my prize,” he growls, his arm already extending to pull you against him. You don’t resist, happily letting him capture your lips with his own. His kiss is soft and sweet, a light pressure lacking any urgency as he molds his mouth to fit yours. You part with a soft sigh, taking his hand as you step ever closer to the Qlipoth.

The tree seems to grow with every step now, its form meeting the ground mere blocks from where you stand. The closer you get, the worse the devastation. Instead of chunks of rubble, entire buildings are simply gone, only the outline of their foundation marking where they once stood. Even the trees that once lined the roadway have been uprooted, the very asphalt cracking to set their roots free. And the smell… if you’d thought the Glutton was the worst imaginable aroma, you are quickly proven wrong by the sickening stench of blood, death, decay and dirt that permeates the air.

Two blocks away, the ground turns slimy with the amount of blood that’s soaked into it, the dirt stained red along with the lower portion of anything unfortunate enough to be touching the desecrated earth. The once white soles of your faithful slip-resistant shows turn crimson, then almost black. You’ll never be able to wear them again without remembering this place, this carnage.

A block left; you can see where the accursed tree meets the pavement and you smile at V. The resounding relief in his emerald eyes as you slowly creep forward is almost painful to behold, telling you exactly how worried he’d been about getting this far. The ground here is so sticky you have to be careful not to lose a shoe with each step, the caked-on blood sucking the soles in a tight embrace. You’re amazed that the area is so flat, expecting more of the strange elevation changes or shifted surface to impede you yet finding nothing of the sort.

The daylight vanishes as you enter the shadow of the massive structure at last. The change in lighting is reminiscent of an eclipse, the darkness so complete it feels like you’ve entered a cave. Through a convenient gap in the structure, you spot Nico’s van within, hastily pointing it out to V and rushing toward it to reunite with your friends. As you enter the base of the accursed tree the stench reaches a new level and you have to hold your shirt over your face and breathe through your mouth to keep from retching. Trish and Dante are loitering nearby, talking seriously as if they haven’t noticed the smell.

I bet I know what they’re talking about…

As you approach, Griffon flaps over with a relieved caw, settling back into V’s dark tattoos instantly to rest. You glance back at the group as Trish tells Dante something and his eyes go wide. Nico, Nero and Lady are nowhere to be seen.

So now Dante knows, too. Good.

The man in red glares at you and V as you enter the small area, fury radiating from him in waves as he stomps over, hands balled into fists and chest heaving. He stops just before you and the poet, restraining his anger visibly with a clench of his jaw.

“You’re dying? You’re part of Vergil?” the son of Sparda demands harshly. V sighs heavily, taking a seat on a conveniently located stretch of Qlipoth roots. You meet Dante’s enraged eyes with your own, making him pause.

“Yes, he is. Now get a hold of yourself, Dante. We don’t have time for this right now. We can deal with it after Urizen is gone,” you reply firmly, leaving no room for argument.

He shakes his head and is silent for a few long moments, his hands slowly relaxing and his lips twisting into a smirk as he faces you once more.

“There’s that fire. Careful not to burn him, sweetheart,” he comments wryly, his flirtatious tone making your fingers twitch angrily.

“Lucky me, I can’t get burned,” he adds slyly, and you growl in frustration at your own restraint keeping you from slapping him silly.

V cackles softly, his emerald eyes rising to meet Dante’s blue. His amused smirk soothes your anger as he speaks.

“If any could desire what he is incapable of possessing, despair must be his eternal lot,” the poet quips sarcastically and you have to choke back your laughter. He winks at you, clearly noticing your mirth. Dante grimaces but doesn’t respond to the teasing, instead finally focusing on what’s important.

“Hey, where’d that garbage god go? What is Urizen after?” the brash man asks you both.

“He’s at the top of the Qlipoth,” V answers in a strained whisper. Trish steps over to join your trio, adding her own considerable knowledge to the conversation easily.

“It's the other way around, Dante. This is the lowest level of the Qliphoth's upper echelon. Human blood is the source of demons' power. The fruit born through the Qliphoth is even more dense than the blood that created it. Its power is unparalleled. Even the almighty Mundus used it to become king of the Underworld. V told me everything,” the blonde woman explains carefully, crossing her arms and tossing a dismissive nod of her head at the poet.

Dante gives her a look as he responds, striding away confidently.

“Yeah, well, that’s a lovely story and all, but… as long as we know where to find him,” he rumbles, his hands already hovering near his waist in preparation for the showdown. Nico steps into his path with a huge grin and you almost laugh as she meets her personal hero for the first time, her nervousness evident in her every motion. If this moment wasn’t so obviously important to her, you’d already have her in your arms in a relieved hug.

“Whoa! You are the infamous Dante! Um, I'm Nicoletta Goldstein. Sounds familiar? My grandmother is Nell Goldstein. The gunsmith that made all your fancy weapons that you got... strapped... back there...” she gestures lamely at the two pistols strapped within Dante’s coat and he pulls them out to show them to her kindly.  

Nico points to one of the portraits on the handle excitedly. “Yeah, there she is!” she exclaims proudly. Dante glances between the portrait and Nico doubtfully.

“You don't look much like her...” he mumbles.

“Yeah, I got my looks from my daddy. That's about all I got from him,” her southern drawl replies, but your attention is elsewhere as Nero steps forward from behind the van. You dash over to envelop him in a hug, hopelessly thankful that your friend is alright. He briefly hugs you back, agitated by something and not entirely focused on you. He doesn’t even scratch the back of his neck like he always has in the past at any sign of physical affection. Nico’s voice rises even higher as she presents a gift to the man in red and you both glance over silently.

“Um...it--it-- consider it a gift! In honor of us finally meeting! Meeting,” she tells Dante, holding out a white cowboy hat with a small piece of demonic decoration adorning it. Dante shakes it suspiciously, as if he expects something to fall out of it, but the hat instead leaps onto his head. Your eyes widen as a red and black scarf forms around his neck and he winks right at you before smirking and dancing to music only he can hear.

His moves, while skilled, are ridiculous. He adds several exclamations and crotch grabs, ending with a moonwalk and a pose that is an obvious imitation of Michael Jackson. Nico claps happily, laughing as the man in red nods at her.

“I’ll take that,” he states simply and walks away, clearly about to resume his hunt for Urizen. Nero quickly joins him, an angry scowl on his expressive face.

“Dante! I'm gonna go too,” the young warrior informs him. Dante turns around to face him with a serious look on his face.

“Why don't you sit this one out?” the devil hunter asks, trying to be kind.

Nero is having none of it and his scowl deepens. “Oh, and let you call me dead weight again? No thanks. I got all the power I need. Right here,” he retorts, flourishing his metal arm to emphasize his readiness for battle. The whole conversation makes no sense to you; Nero is a capable fighter, already having proven himself many times over in your eyes.

Why doesn’t Dante want him coming along?

“You don't understand. That's not what I mean,” he begins, exasperated.

“Let him go, Dante. Time is a luxury we can no longer afford. We must chase after him, post-haste,” V pipes up from his perch, carefully standing and limping over to the two men. Being near them only highlights how weakened he is, how frail his posture marks him to be and you frown, anxiety tugging at your thoughts.

“Why? Does this mean you're going too?” Dante replies in confusion.

“I have a duty to see this through,” the poet reminds him hoarsely, and you step over to stand beside him in silent support. Your breath hitches painfully as you notice more flakes of his flesh floating away in the still air. Dante shrugs, walking backward to the edge of the small area your group stands upon with a smirk.

“Well that's all you have to say, Mr. Poetry. I'm gonna go my way, you guys can go yours. Let's just say that's best for the cause,” he claims, and jumps over the edge without any further comment. Nero and V exchange a look but follow quickly behind him, each choosing their own pathway. V twists his wrist and Griffon’s side of his body lightens as the bird appears overhead, swooping around to take his outstretched arm and carry him to the next level. You wait impatiently until Griffon comes back for you.

“C’mon, little lady! No time to waste!” the mouthy demon informs you and you roll your eyes as his claws close around your arms and carry you to join V below.

[bluboothalassophile]

Chicken

Hopes for a Bastard Universe

This is @raven-melanin who has been delightful to talk to, congrats again! And I hope you enjoy the story!

The entire story, to be completely and utterly honest is inspired by @dar-draws‘ art; here and @ihavepinkknees‘ art; here, so I hope you enjoy the inspiration as well as the story! =)

~~~*~*~*~~~

Lounging on the docks Raven relished in finally surviving the wedding and just basking in the sun, in her bikini top and boarding shorts, with Pride & Prejudice in hand. She had survived, crisis after crisis, disaster after disaster. The wedding had been both a delight and disaster, it was a bitch, and yesterday, vows said, and rings exchanged, crisis averted.

Now it was time to unwind for a few days, savor the after bliss of surviving the wedding.

Which included the rock-n-roll play list from Constantine, after texting her moms that she was still breathing. A set of shadows fell over her which had her peering over her aviators at Roy and Garth who grinned menacingly at her.

“No.” she responded.

“We didn’t say anything!” They balked.

“I know those looks, it’s the same looks Stephanie and Cass give me before I end up in a gym or neck deep in some shenanigans or other.

“Come on Rae,” Roy pleaded.

“No!”

“Wally teamed up with Artemis, Dick’s obviously with Kori, Cass and Duke are a team, Damian and Jon are too, Stephanie is with Tim, I’m with Roy, we even got B and Selina in on this, Donna and Karen are a team, we just need Jay in,” Garth smiled.

“In for what?” Raven asked the accursed words as she finally pried herself from her book. Oh, she was going to regret this. But she’d made it her damn mission to get Jason to finally stop being alone.

“The Ultimate Game Of Chicken!” Roy smiled.

“And you didn’t just ask him?” Raven asked looking back at her book with mild interest.

“He said he would if you were in then snorted at the idea,” Roy mused and Raven could feel the lie as he said it.

“Did he now?”

“Yup,” Roy popped his p to annoy her, she glared at him.

“Very well,” she stood, gingerly putting her book on her seat with her glasses before shimmying out of her board shorts and walking in her itty-bitty red bikini to Jason who was napping on the docks in his red swim trunks and a black t-shirt.

She heard Garth and Roy snickering in delight as they ran for the water and she stopped at Jason’s ribs before toeing him hard. The man grunted and peered a bleary eye at her.

“We’re annihilating your family, the friends, and the bride and groom, get up,” she ordered.

“Well if you’re going to sweet talk me like that,” he grumbled.

“Now Jason,” she mused tapping her foot.

“Make me,” he yawned and buried his face in his arms. She flicked she shadows tossing him in the water.

“RAVEN!” he roared.

“Good, I have your attention,” she mused.

“What the fuck!?” he sputtered.

“You want to crush Dick?” she demanded.

“You should have started with that rather than flicking me into the lake,” he said.

“Uh-huh, now how do we play chicken?”

“Well, you’re obviously going to have to get on my shoulders, and we knock the others off their partner’s shoulders,” Jason said walking out of the lake peeling off his black t-shirt.

“Fine, but we’re winning,” she decided as Jason came at her. Raven walked away from him, only for him to grab her waist and toss her over his shoulder.

“Pay back is a bitch,” he mused devously.

“Don’t you dare!” she screeched.

There was a splash and she was gasping as she clawed against the icy waters, it was freezing! Gasping for air she was suddenly sitting on shoulders.

The other pairs gathered. Roy was sitting on Garth’s shoulders, Dick was on Kori’s, Karen on Donna’s, Damian on Jon’s, Stephanie on Tim’s and Selina on B’s, Cass on Duke’s. Raven wove her fingers into Jason’s hair as Wally appeared with a disgruntled looking Artemis on his shoulders.

“Kay, the rules are simple, you get knocked off you’re out, only stay where we can stand, if you can’t touch the bottom then you’re out, and last team standing gets a week’s vacation wherever they want!” Roy grinned.

“Oh, we’re so going to win this!” Artemis grinned then as she cracked her knuckles. The blonde looked intimidating on Wally’s shoulder’s now as she smiled with malicious intent.

“Go!” Dick shouted. Damian came right for her, and Raven shoved his head back when he was near enough, he and Jon toppled into the water, Jon laughed, Damian looked disgruntled. There was a squeal with a loud splash as Stephanie toppled under Cass’ assault. Artemis however was quick to shove and off balanced Cass into the water with Duke.

“Git Dick!” Jason ordered. Dick had Roy toppling sarcastically into the lake and Raven squealed when she was shoved from behind only to see Selina.

“Sorry kid, but your ass is mine!” Selina smiled. Raven locked hands with her as she felt Jason’s grip bruise her thighs and she shoved back when Jason shifted his feet gaining traction.

“Losing skills old man!” Jason taunted.

“Not likely,” Bruce retorted. Raven just vainly held onto Jason as she shoved Selina off her. The older woman laughed as she fell back with a splash, her foot catching B’s chin as they disappeared with an undignified splash. Karen yelped then there was a splash and Raven twisted just in time to see Kori and Dick charging them.

“I apologize friend Raven!” Kori laughed

“Nope!” Raven gasped as she caught Dick’s hands, arching back. Jason twisted them only to send Dick toppling in a belly flop in the water with a shout. Raven gasped desperately.

“Yes!” she shouted in victory, throwing her hands up in triumph as she smiled only for a calloused hand to grab her and yank her off Jason’s shoulders.

“Fuck!” she gasped as she slammed into the water. Gasping she felt someone shoving her up and found herself tucked against Garth’s side as he grinned.

Artemis sat perched on Wally’s shoulders smug as could be as she smiled prettily now.

“One of these days Artemis,” Roy declared.

“First you have to beat the reigning Queen of Chicken,” Artemis smiled.

“Next time I’m teaming up with Garth,” Raven decided.

“I don’t think Tula or Dolphin are sharing him Rae,” Roy sniggered.

“Fuck off Roy!”

“He won’t!” Jason mused.

“Again!” Cass shouted.

[theoperaghostsstudent]

To The Stars Who Listened (Sanders Sides Fallen Star AU)

After drunkenly making a wish on a shooting star, Logan Sanders got more than he was expecting when the star fell from the sky and into his living room. Now in human form, the star by the name of Patton claims he is there to help grant Logan’s wish.

———————————————————————————————

Pairings: Logicality and Prinxiety

Chapter summary: Roman’s struggle with the accursed writer’s block is a difficult one, but maybe what he needs to make a break through in his writing is something new? Maybe to find some inspiration from an unlikely place? 

Word Count: 3,475

Warnings: Mentions of drinking and of getting drunk, writer’s block, lack of self care-[hygiene/eating/drinking/etc.] (I think that’s it, but please let me know if there’s something I missed!)

————————————————————————————————

[Chapter 3]

Roman sat at his desk with his face buried in his hands. An entire day had gone by and inspiration had barely tapped him on the shoulder. He’s tried everything, but lo and behold the sun sets on yet another uninspired day. He cursed himself as his eyes threatened to close once again, but then again he hasn’t slept in a couple days. To think, just a couple days ago he had been nagging Logan to get some rest. Then again, based on the fact that Logan never comes up with stories (let alone get drunk on his own), Roman figured he definitely needed the rest more than him.

“And I thought that I was the master storyteller.” Roman huffed out before standing from his desk and stretching his arms out before stifling a yawn. His muscles felt stiff from spending all day at his desk and man did the small action feel like heaven. Another thing that would feel like an angel’s heavenly kiss right now would be the feeling of his head on his pillow while he knocks out on his bed, but sadly he had work to focus on. He let out a small sigh as he stared longingly at his bed before walking to the bathroom. Maybe splashing his face with cold water could wake him up a bit? Hopefully this time would be successful since he’s been splashing his face with water almost every hour with no luck.

Roman was quick to turn the faucet to its coldest setting before cupping his hands under the water with a sigh. He looked up from his hands and nearly jumped backward at his reflection. It was just so unlike him! His hair was messy and tangled (essentially an abomination), his eyes had dark bags beneath them (definitely not designer), his tan skin was certainly paler than usual (it wasn’t all that noticeable since his skin was still naturally dark but he could tell his gorgeous glow was gone), and he was still in his Mickey Mouse pajamas that he had put on over a week ago. His precious hygiene routine had clearly been thrown out the window along with his creative spark. If he didn’t have his inspiration and creativity, along with his practice for perfect hygiene and good looks, then who was he?

He let the water that was in his hands fall into the sink as he let out a frustrated groan before he shut the water off. No amount of rinsing his face was going to help him write a story, so he stomped back to his desk and sat back down. His tired mind kept wandering back to the story Logan had come up with. Maybe...Maybe a shooting star was just what he needed?

He got up again, stumbling a little this time from the lack of sleep, and made his way around his apartment making sure to turn off all the lights. He remembered how Logan would ramble on and on about light pollution or something like that when they were younger, so he smiled to himself after completing his task. Of course, now sleep was calling out her sweet song to him, and it made it slightly harder to navigate his messy home in the dark.

Roman opened the patio door and stepped out. Immediately he started searching the sky for any signs of a shooting star. With any luck he could at least wish away the pain in his royal ass that was his writer’s block. He’d do anything for inspiration at this point, even fight the accursed Dragon Witch from one of his previous books.

After searching and searching as best as he could with the naked eye, he let out a frustrated noise. This wasn’t going to work. Of course it wasn’t going to work! Standing out here and procrastinating wasn’t going to work!

Roman shudders at the thought and scrunches his nose. That sounded an awful lot like something Logan would say, but totally ten times harsher. At least he would give some helpful advice like telling him to go to sleep on time, to drink water, and remind him to eat. It was kind of strange that he hasn’t heard from him since his drunk phone call. Hopefully he was doing okay. Maybe he should call him later to check up on him?

Suddenly he felt his black cat, Sugar, purr as she rubbed her head against his leg. Was her bowl empty again? He should check it before getting back to writing. Even if he put off his own meals, he’d rather drop and suffer the pain of a million deaths than neglect his child.

With a sigh he bent down and pet the small cat before looking up at the sky one more time. He silently prayed that he could make his wish, but felt pretty hopeless. It would be just his luck if he never saw another shooting star in his lifetime.

“Let’s go inside, Sugar. Looks like the stars don’t want to listen to me complain tonight.” He said with a small sad smile, looking down at the cat who meowed in response. He gave a dry chuckle, and turned his gaze back to the sky. His eyes widened as he slapped his hands onto the railing of the small patio porch, startling his poor kitty. Were his eyes just playing tricks on him or had he seen what he thought he saw? Could the thing that had made its way from the right side of the sky to the left have been a shooting star? Only one way to find out.

“Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight….I wish I could be inspired-maybe find my muse? Anything that could help me get my creativity going again.” Roman said after closing his eyes tight, feeling hope bubble up and flourish in his chest. There was a moment of silence. All Roman could hear was the sounds of the night. Well, at least the sounds of a Floridian night which consisted of crickets, frogs, and cicadas if it’s hot enough. He honestly wished that the frogs here sounded like coquis. He’d take them chanting their own names like a choir of Pokemon than sounding like a duck getting run over but hey, Florida, right?

Roman kept his eyes closed for a moment longer and took in a deep breath before opening them. Well, he might have to wait a hot moment for his wish to come through, but at least he got some fresh air, and the stars looked beautiful...tonight?

Now, if Roman was right, he could have sworn the shooting star he had wished on had made its way to the left of the night sky, so what exactly was this really bright one tripping on? Was it getting brighter? What was going-?

“I drunkenly made a wish on a shooting star last night and that very star crashed into me…”

Suddenly Logan’s words from their last phone call rang in his ears and made sense as the star appeared to be getting brighter, as if it was heading straight towards him. A sense of panic ran through his body as he backed up into the house, unsure of what he was doing exactly, but the star was getting brighter and brighter until it was too bright and Roman was wide eyed and frozen with shock.

The impact was harsh as Roman was thrown backward, but he instinctively wrapped his arms protectively around the ball of light that was growing heavy against him as they landed onto the ground. Roman groaned in pain, his eyes shut tightly from bracing the impact. He could see the bright light fade from behind his eyelids, which he kept shut until the light was gone entirely from fear of going blind. When that happened, he allowed his eyes to fly open and his breath caught in his throat (and it wasn’t just because he had gotten the air knocked out of him).

Now, Roman wasn’t one to normally believe in love at first sight. Actually, who are we kidding? Roman was a sucker for love at first sight. He wrote about it all the time and dreamt about it daily for Pete’s sake! However, what he was feeling now as he gazed into the gray eyes of the man above him that he was currently holding in his arms was definitely different from the feeling he got when a handsome barista at the local coffee shop touched his fingers while passing him his order. No, this was much stronger.

Now, if we’re being entirely honest about the situation Roman is currently in and look at it from an ‘outside of Roman’s tired and hopelessly romantic mind’ point of view, Roman wasn’t so much gazing at the stranger. It was more of staring at him with wide eyes as he tried to breath. In all honesty, he looked like a fish out of water.

The stranger held his stare, equally-or seemingly equally-terrified. It was in that moment that Sugar decided to wander back into the house and start rub her head against her owner’s barefoot. The small action made him laugh-or at least attempt to-which in turn frightened the man, making him jump back as Roman was gasping for air while trying to wiggle his foot away from the clueless cat.

When Roman had finally managed to catch his breath, he quickly ran to the nearest light switch. Had he imagined the whole encounter? Once the switch was flicked on, Roman could feel his heart race in his chest when he saw the strange man in the corner of the room...standing on his couch? Oh, he looked scared. Roman took a slow step forward but jumped backward when he heard Sugar hiss. He had accidentally stepped on her tail and now he felt like the worst human being to ever walk the earth.

From the corner of the room the star watched as the human had jumped back in fear after hearing the creature make a strange sound. It must be a form of protection to scare off attackers.

Roman took another step forward, but this time watched where he was stepping.

“Greetings, Stranger.” Roman started to speak as he neared closer to the man. “I am called Roman and this is my home-”

HISS!

Roman jumped back once again in surprise as the man hissed at him. He took it as a warning to back away. Okay, Ro, baby steps this time and-OH MY GOD HE’S NAKED.

The human dashed away and the star smirked to himself. He wasn’t very knowledgeable on humans, but he was at least a quick learner. Or at least a fast enough learner to see how to protect himself. The star’s sense of ease disappeared the moment the human had returned, but this time they were holding something? It appeared to be a piece of fabric of some sort.

“Let’s-let’s try this again, shall we?” Roman said, raising his hands to try and convey that he wasn’t going to hurt him. “I’m Roman. Roman Prince Figueroa. This is my home, and you’re free to make yourself comfortable if you’d like, but please take this first?” He said while holding out the fabric for the stranger to take.

The star eyed Roman...Roman...This must have been the human that had mistakenly wished on his star while trying to wish on the passing comet. Apparently now he wanted him to take the bundle of fabric from his hands.

Roman couldn’t help but notice the side eye the stranger was giving him. He should be the one giving the side eye right now, no matter how attractive the stranger is! He’s naked in Roman’s own home for Pete’s sake...but, maybe he’s not used to the surroundings? Or even human things? Roman let out a sigh before looking the stranger in the eye.

“Look, I know you don’t really know me and you’re probably unsure of whether to trust me or not, but you have my word that I would do no harm to you. I’m just as confused by all of this as you are and I would just really like to help you get accustomed for now until I can get my friend to figure things out-and he’s really smart, I swear! The guy is literally a walking brain. I’m sure he’ll know what to do, but for now I’m gonna need you to trust me.” he said, speaking earnestly. Who was he if not a man of his word?

The stranger furrowed his eyebrows together in thought before taking a careful step and taking the fabric in his hand to which Roman gave a small, hopeful smile. After the star examined the fabric that appeared to be a human garment of some sort, he raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“It’s a hoodie. I kinda just grabbed the first thing I could since you’re...you know?” Roman replied bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. The stranger silently replied with an unamused look that seemed to say, ‘Do you really think I know?’. Roman took in a deep breath a silently prayed for a right way to say this.

“You’re-...Well, you see-...When-when humans aren’t wearing clothes they’re...kinda naked? Or nude? Whatever you know it as I suppose, but point is that’s kinda what you are...right now…” Roman mentally kicked himself for how awkward he sounded and how confusing the explanation must have been. Curse his tired mind!

“Sorry if that made no sense,” Roman began, looking away from the stranger “I knew I should have gotten some sleep.” That last sentence was more directed to himself than for the stranger to hear.

When Roman turned his attention back to the stranger, he was surprised to see the stranger looking down at their own body with a look of shock while his cheeks began to turn a mix of both purple and black, making the freckles look as if they were swimming in galaxies. Was that normal though?

“Hey, are you alright?” Roman asked, concern lining his voice. The stranger looked back up at Roman and bit the inside of his cheek before shoving the hoodie back into Roman’s arms.

“What are you-?” Roman began, confused by the action. The stranger interrupted by pointing at Roman’s shirt, then to the hoodie, and then to himself. This was definitely an odd situation, but Roman tried his best to figure out what the stranger meant.

“Do you...want the shirt I’m wearing instead?” Roman tried guessing. The stranger shook his head in reply.

“You want my shirt and the hoodie?” was met with another shake of the head from the stranger.

“Do you want something more like the shirt I’m wearing?” Roman tried again, getting a little frustrated, but again the stranger shook his head, a little more aggressively this time.

“I don’t think I’m understanding.” Roman groaned.

‘No kidding.’ The star thought to himself, half amused but mostly annoyed.

“Do you want my pants too or something?” Roman tried again and was met with an even more aggressive shake of the strangers head as well as a dirty look.

“What do you want from me?” Roman said, throwing his arms up in the air in frustration. The stranger ran frustrated hands through his hair before stepping forward and snatching the hoodie back and covering his head with it.

Roman stood there for a moment in surprise. The stranger stood there with his head covered, taking in a deep breath before pointing once again to the hoodie and then to his body. Now Roman felt like an idiot.

“You...you need help putting it on?” Roman asked. The stranger nodded meekly from beneath the hoodie. Why hadn’t Roman thought of that sooner? He must either be very tired or a true idiot...Well that wasn’t a pleasant thought.

“Right...Sorry about that-here, I’ll just-...” Roman said, taking the hoodie off of the stranger’s head before helping him slip his arms through the sleeves and then zipping it up. Thank goodness the hoodie was oversized enough to cover most of him up, but now Roman needed to find him pants. The only issue was that he didn’t have anything clean in his house since he had been procrastinating on doing his laundry. He really should have listened to Logan. At least it didn’t seem like top priority for his surprise house guest since the stranger immediately walked over to the large bookshelf that he kept in the living room.

“So, my dear-uh-what is your name by the way?” Roman asked as he watched with curiosity as his guest passed his hands over the different book titles, letting it linger over a few different ones. For a simple question, he was taking an awfully long time to answer. Did he not want to answer the question? Why was he skimming through the large selection of books? In all honesty, the star-man was very confusing just as he was mysterious. He seemed to have froze with his hand on a particular book, only turning around to give Roman a look of shock and confusion before letting out an amused huff and pulling the book out. He took the book and handed it to Roman before pointing to the title. ‘The Enclogues by Vergilius Maro’ seemed to be the book he had chosen.

“What does this mean to you?” Roman asked, which earned an eye roll from the man.

“Hey, easy there, Buddy. I haven’t slept in over twenty four hours, so do cut me some slack? My brain is exhausted.” Roman admitted, turning his attention back to the book.

The star stood there in shock. Was this human crazy? Just how many hours has he been awake for? This was something he wanted to do something about but there were some formalities to get through first. So for now, the star shook the thought from his mind and pointed to the title again before pointing to himself.

“What are you-?...Is...Is that your name? Vergilius?” Roman asked, a large grin making its way onto his face. The star nodded before using his thumb and index finger to gesture smaller, or in this case, shorter.

“Uh, shorter? Then I guess it would be either Virgil or Verge if I’m right? That’s how people refer to Vergilius nowadays.” Roman said, pondering it for a moment. Virgil smirked, watching Roman think. The man must be pretty intelligent after all, or at least he would guess so based on the fact that he actually had a book by Vergilius Maro, a Roman poet.

“So, Virgil,” Roman tested the name out “what exactly are you doing here?” and in that moment Virgil decided to retract his previous statement. Roman had a feeling that he wasn’t gonna be getting a verbal answer anytime soon, but he had a feeling that he might know someone with the answers he needed.

“You go ahead and stay here, I just have to make a quick, teeny-tiny phone call to that super smart friend I told you about, alright?” Roman said, pointing with his thumbs to the room behind the living room. Virgil simply raised an eyebrow and shrugged before turning his attention back to the bookshelf and the various titles. Once Roman saw him occupied, he dashed to his room and dialed the number from his most recent call.

The phone rang a few times, reminding Roman that it was late, but he had hope that the phone would be answered. That didn’t stop him from chanting, “Come on, pick up-pick up!” in his head until the call finally went through.

“Hello? Roman?” Logan answered groggily from the other end of the line making Roman sigh in relief.

“Hey there, Pal! Sorry to wake ya up, but I kinda have a bit of a problem on my hands?” Roman said, speaking quickly from the nervousness he was feeling now that the reality was sinking in. The line stayed silent for a moment.

“And, what type of situation have you found yourself in exactly?” Logan asked.

“Well-uh-you know how you told me about how you got piss drunk and made a wish on a shooting star only to have it fall from the sky in the form of hunky guy?” Roman replied, his voice an octave higher than normal.

“What-I-I never described him in such-such a way…-What is this about, Roman?”

“Well, it’s late and I haven’t slept in ages so I thought ‘Hmm, a shooting star sounds like a good idea right now’. I went ahead and made a wish on a shooting star, and Sugar was with me and-well, Logan, it’s raining men, hallelujah, it’s raining men.” Roman quickly finished off. “Help?”

————————————————————————————————

A/N: Sooo, I know it’s been a while since I updated, and I know this chapter isn’t very long, but here it is! I had some pretty bad writer’s block (partially from having to write about writer’s block and partially because I’ve been really busy at my new job), but now I’ve got the ball rolling again, so I’ll try to write more on my days off from work so I don’t leave the story without an update for long periods of time ^^” Lol Hope you guys enjoy!!

Tag List:  @tenkowo-chabashiwa @ilylogan @anony-phangirl @lunareclipse-524 @beach-fan @bookwormravenclawgirl @professional-fangirl75

[missslothy]

Jot it down July - H50 Fic

Title: Divine Intervention

Rating: Mature

Summary:  What if the reason Danny and Steve have never got together is not their fault?  

Notes: This is AU.  I originally started writing this last weekend, for Jot it down July – I was going to post it on Monday = Museday.  Real life decided that wasn’t going to happen.  It’s not going to happen this Monday either ☹ So I’m posting today 😊

The Gods mentioned in this story are:

Apollo – God of music, poetry, knowledge, medicine etc.

Aphrodite – Godess of love, beauty and procreation.

Ares – God of war.

 H50H50H50

Somewhere up in the heavens…

Apollo comes to a halt when he spots Aphrodite sitting in the garden in front of him.  It crosses his mind to hide behind the nearest marble column.  She looks morose, staring sightlessly into a fountain.

Sighing, he rummages around in the pocket of his white toga, pulling out a small wax tablet.  Running his eyes down the inscription he purses his lips. 

Aphrodite’s the Godess of love, beauty, pleasure and procreation.  If she’s happy all the Gods were happy.  And if she isn’t all hell would break loose.  So, Zeus had decreed that each of them would take it in turns to make sure she was happy.

According to the schedule on the accursed tablet in his hand it was his turn to keep her entertained.

Squaring his shoulders, Apollo approaches her bench.  Something on Aphrodite’s lap shifts, slowly morphing out of her white dress.  It’s a small, smooth-haired white cat.  It turns, staring straight at him.  With a jaw-popping yawn it regards him with distain before making itself comfortable in Aphrodite’s lap again.

“I’m vexed,” Aphrodite sighs deeply as he takes the seat beside her.  “These humans are just so…”

“Vexing?” Apollo suggests helpfully as she trails off. 

Aphrodite rests her chin on her hand.  Wrinkling up her nose she stares into the fountain again. 

Apollo waits patiently.  Anyone else would look ugly with a scrunched up face, he muses.  Aphrodite is still stunningly beautiful.  No wonder the other Gods are lining up to warm her bed.

Aphrodite waves her hand at the fountain, breaking into his thoughts.  The flow of water parts to show an image from the world below.  Two men are walking out of the sea, side by side.  One is tall, dark haired and long limbed.  The other is shorter, his golden damp hair glittering in the sun. 

Apollo whistles under his breath.  Both men are well-built, chest muscles rippling as they walked.  Their water-dappled flesh glistens like precious stones.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Aphrodite breathes, leaning forward, spray from the fountain marking the hem of her ankle-length white silk dress.

“Breath-taking,” Apollo agrees, his mission to keep Aphrodite happy forgotten in the face of such masculine beauty.  “Who are they?”

Sitting back, Aphrodite folds her hands together, resting them in her lap.  The cat grumbles  then jumps down to curl around her sandaled feet.  “Steve McGarrett and Danny Williams.”  Frowning, she struggles to recall something.  “They come from Hawaii,” she continues after a pause.  “It’s an island in the Pacific.”

“Hawaii.”  Apollo nods.  He knows the place: it’s an island of artists and music, of warriors and peace makers.  He hoped to visit it one day.  Soon, he decides, as he watches the two men jog through the sand.  Something catches his eye, a shimmer of colour around both men that blocks out the sun.  They have an aura.  It was red.  Blood red.

Shocked, he jerks back.  “They have bleeding hearts.”

Aphrodite covers her eyes with her hand.  “They are broken.”

Apollo shuffles in closer, still transfixed by the image from the world below.  These men were perfect – almost perfect. “Then you must fix them.  You must find out what ails them.”

Aphrodite’s blue’s eyes flash to black.  “Don’t you think I’ve tried?  I thought they wanted life partners,” she huffs, her opinion on that particular relationship status obvious, “but every time I gave them a girlfriend they just…gave up.”

Apollo frowns, watching the two men towelling off.  They’re standing close together.  So close together.  Steve pats Danny on the shoulder, touching just a split second too long.  As they collect their things together Danny’s fingers brush along the top of Steve’s swimming attire, stroking Steve’s hip. 

Apollo licks his suddenly dry lips.  “They love each other?”

“That’s what I thought.” Aphrodite’s suddenly animated.  “But I’ve tried everything to get them together and they still won’t do what I want.” Crossing her arms, she pouts like a spoilt child.

Apollo reminds himself of the real reason he’s here.  Swallowing the laugh that’s threatening to escape, he adopts a serious face.  “Are you sure you’ve tried everything?” he says consolingly.  “Perhaps there is something you’ve missed?”

“There isn’t.” Aphrodite hugs herself.  “I’ve tried parting them in the hope they would pine.  I’ve put them together for three days, all day and all night, but all they did was argue,” she sighs, reaching down to stroke the cat who, to Apollo’s surprise, seems to sigh too. “Not even putting them in peril made a difference.  They’re so annoying.”

They’re annoying and they’re upsetting Aphrodite, Apollo thinks.  He can already feel his own stress levels rising, a direct effect of her mood.  It’s time for more direct measures….

H50H50H50

Back on earth…

Steve tightens his grip on the tree root.  Swinging his leg up, he gets a toe hold on a rock that’s sticking out.  Levering himself up enables him to find another tree root to wrap his other hand around. It’s not enough to get him back up to the top of the cliff but at least he’s secure.  For now.

Taking a deep breath, he yells for help.  Then he yells a few more times.  When his voice threatens to give up he pauses to revaluate the situation.

He’s hanging off the side of a muddy cliff.  The top’s about ten foot away.  Below him is a life-threatening thirty-foot drop.  How he got here is not entirely clear to him.  One moment he’d been out running, listening to music on his headphones.  The next, he’d been tripped over and before he knew it, he’d slipped over the cliff.  Luckily, it doesn’t feel like he’s broken anything.  How the hell he got that lucky, he has no idea.

Now all he has to do is get out of here.

“Steve?  Steve, you out here?”

It’s takes Steve a moment or two to realise it is actually Danny who is calling his name.  In fact it’s not until Lou’s yelling voice joins Danny’s that his brain finally acknowledges what’s going on.  He starts yelling too, as loud as his voice will go.

A short-while later Danny appears, attached to a rope.  There’s more yelling, some cursing, but eventually they get to the top of the cliff.  Steve lets Lou pull him over the top then he rolls onto his back, panting hard. 

“How’d you find me?” Steve gets out between gulps of air. There hadn’t been anyone else out on the road.

Danny’s face appears, obscuring his view of the sky. 

“Someone called it in,” Danny explains as he runs his hands over Steve’s chest, gently prodding and pulling.  “Lou and I were just about to pay a visit to our suspect when the call came in that someone had gone over the cliff.  Duke knew we were in the vicinity so he asked us to check it out.”

Steve lets his eyes drift closed.  Danny’s hands are moving lower, checking the rigidity of his belly, then going lower to smooth across his hips.

“Hey.  Hey.  Don’t fall asleep on me.”

“I’m not,” Steve answers truthfully, keeping his eyes closed.  Sleep’s the last thing on his mind. 

“You wanna tell us what happened?”

Lou’s voice is gentle but insistent.  Reluctantly Steve opens his eyes.

“I don’t know.”  He looks away, avoiding Danny’s gaze.  “I was running.  Then I think…maybe I tripped.”

“Maybe?”  Danny’s hands transfer to Steve’s head, running through his hair.  “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”

“You tripped?”  Lou sounds equally unconvinced.

“Yeah.”  Steve bats away Danny’s hands.  Carefully he levers himself up onto his elbows.  “There was a cat, a white cat.  I wasn’t looking.  It came out of nowhere—”

“A white cat?”  Danny pushes himself up from his kneeling position next to Steve.  Crouching, he hovers instead.  He frowns.  “You sure about that?”

Steve runs the conversation back through his mind, looking for whatever he’s apparently missed.  His heart sinks.  “Danny…”

“Okay, you’re gonna get checked out,” Danny insists, reaching out a hand to help Steve up.

Steve hesitates, making his feelings known.  Lips pursed together, he lets Danny pull him up.

“Someone want to tell me what’s going on?” Lou says to no one in particular.

“Steve has a record with white cats,” Danny explains, emphasising the last two words.  “Last week he almost crashed his truck because a white cat ran in front of him.”

Steve plants his feet in the ground.  “It did.”

Danny studies him.  His expression softens as he tucks himself under Steve’s arm.  “I’m not saying it didn’t,” he says, nudging them forward.  “What I am saying is that if you’re seeing white cats again then maybe it’s time we got the doc to check you out, okay?”

“It was just one cat,” Steve mutters but he lets himself be led.  Danny’s arm is around his waist, sitting easily just above his ass.  Warmth seeps into his skin.  Sparks of pleasure skip across his nerves endings.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickle in warning.

Instinctively, he halts.  Pulling away from Danny, he spins round.  Eyes darting left and right, he checks out the area around them.  Behind him he’s aware that Danny and Lou have stopped.

“Everything okay?” Danny asks.

Steve mentally shakes himself.  Turning back, he winces.  The sudden movements have revealed new cuts and bruises.  “Thought someone was watching us,” he confesses, his cheeks turning pink.  Sparing one last glance up at the sky, he tucks Danny back under his arm.

Lou hangs back, eyebrows meeting in the middle as he surveys their surroundings.

“Welcome to my world, Lou,” Danny calls back to him with a long-suffering sigh.  “He’s been imagining for weeks that someone’s been watching us.” He points at the sky.  “Someone up there.”

H50H50H50H50

Back up in the heavens…

Aphrodite waves her hand and the scene in the waterfall goes dark.

Apollo throws his hands up in despair.  “They didn’t kiss.”

Aphrodite shrugs.  She looks smug.  “I did warn you.”

“They didn’t kiss.” Apollo jumps to his feet and starts pacing.  This isn’t acceptable.  It’s not acceptable at all.  “They were touching.  There were sparks…they were both enjoying it.  So why didn’t they kiss?”

Apollo spins round and paces around the fountain.  As he passes Aphrodite she shrugs at him again.

He’s beginning to hate her shrugs.

Hunkering back down beside her on the marble bench, he considers their options.  “We need to make the situations more dangerous.  They will not be able to deny their feelings for each other then.”

Aphrodite tugs at her ear, her gaze distant.  “I’ve tortured Steve, several times.”

Apollo nods, filing that information away.

“He’s jumped off high bridges, been exposed to nuclear radiation.”

“Okay.” Apollo ticks those off his rapidly shortening list of perilous situations.  Humans are fragile: the list isn’t endless.

“I’ve even destroyed his liver.”

“Really?”

“Really.”  Aphrodite looks super-smug now.

Apollo nods, quietly impressed.  That was a gutsy, dangerous move.  “So what happened after that?”

She rests her chin on both fists. Her body deflates.  “Danny gave him his liver.”

“No.”  Apollo snaps his jaw shut.  “No.  They couldn’t have…no one could have resisted that.”

Aphrodite folds even further into herself.  “They did.”

Apollo covers his face with his hands.  “They are so annoying.”

They both sit silently, lost in their misery.  Time passes.  So absorbed are they in their own thoughts they don’t hear the footsteps approaching at first.

“Apollo!  You are neglecting your duties!”

Apollo scowls as he turns.  There’s no mistaking the voice.  Ares, the God of War, is used to making his voice heard.  They all get to hear it a lot.

Beside him, Aphrodite half-smiles and flutter her eyelashes as Ares approaches.  Apollo forces himself not to groan out loud at her behaviour.  She might be a married woman but they all know who she is really in love with.

Aphrodite pats the bench beside her, inviting Ares to sit down.  “Apollo’s been trying to help me with these humans,” she coos, “but he doesn’t know how to heal their broken hearts.”

Apollo bites his lip against the implied slight she’s just delivered.  Instead, he concentrates on Ares’s face.  He has to struggle not to laugh.  Ares is way out of his comfort zone.  This might actually be fun.

Settling back, he watches as Aphrodite waves her hand and the image in the waterfall rematerializes. 

Steve and Danny are in a bedroom.  Steve’s laying on the bed.  The shorts he’s wearing don’t leave much to the imagination.  Danny’s dressed in a tee-shirt and shorts and he’s leaning over Steve, wiping something on the cuts and bruises that litter his skin. Their bodies are only inches apart.

Apollo squirms uncomfortably on the bench. Self-consciously he rests his arm across his crotch.  Beside him Aphrodite is breathing heavily.  He finds that reassuring.

Ares appears to be oblivious to both of them.  He’s staring at the scene, stroking his chin.  Eventually he stirs himself to start asking questions, to find out what they’ve already done.  Once they’ve finished explaining they fall silent again and wait.

Eyes narrowing, Ares glares at the image.  “They are soldiers, are they not?”

Apollo shrugs.  It’s not strictly true but they have both seen battle.  Aphrodite nods.

Ares sits up straight, slapping his hands on his thighs.  “Soldiers do not need thoughts.  They need action.”

Before Apollo can ask what that means, Ares snaps his fingers.  Steve and Danny’s bodies jerk.  In a blink of an eye, they collide.  The sound of their heads connecting rings out.  The sheer force of their collision makes them both bounce back.  With a surprised curse, Danny lands on his ass on the floor.

Slowly, Aphrodite turns to face Ares. “What was that?”

Ares looks her in the eyes.  “Kissing.  Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Not really, Apollo thinks, rolling his eyes.  Trust a warmongering idiot like Ares to think that was enough. 

Aphrodite smiles though as Ares clicks his fingers and replays the scene.  Steve and Danny’s lips do meet – barely.  Aphrodite smiles wider.  She pulls Ares down for a kiss of his own.

“I knew there was a reason I loved you,” she purrs as Ares gets up, pulling her to her feet.  The cat stretches, then curls itself around Aphrodite’s ankles.

As they disappear out of the garden, Apollo shakes his head.  This really has been a disappointing interlude.  Looking at the image doesn’t improve his mood at all.  The two idiots on earth are still talking.  Still.  Perhaps he won’t go to Hawaii after all, if everyone is as idiotic as these two men.

Waving his hand, he blanks out the image again.  Walking away, he sighs.  Some people just don’t deserve the benefits of divine intervention.

They really don’t.

H50H50H50

Steve rolls onto his side, cupping his nose with his hand.  Experience tells him it’s not broken but it hurts like hell.  “Ow.”

A groan from the floor gets his attention.  Gingerly, he hangs over the edge of the bed to check it out.

Danny glares back.  He’s sprawled across the floor. “What the hell was that?”  He daps at his nose with his fingers, his face relaxing minutely as they come away free of blood.

“Hey, I didn’t do anything.”  Steve raises his hands defensively.  Wincing, he pushes himself upright and slides off the bed.  “You okay?  I don’t know what—”

“I’m fine.”

Danny’s expression suggests otherwise but Steve lets him have the lie.  Helping him to his feet, they stagger back to the bed, perching on the edge of it.

“I swear, I didn’t do anything,” Steve starts but Danny waves him to silence with his hand.  Twisting sideways, he looks straight into Steve’s eyes. 

“You kissed me.”

“No I didn’t.”  Steve holds his gaze, his eyebrows joining in a frown.  It might only have been for a split-second but it’s a moment he’ll never forget.   “You kissed me.”

Danny’s eyebrows drop into a matching frown. He rubs the back of his neck. Looking away, he exhales loudly.  When he looks back, doubt is written across his face.  “Okay.  This is gonna sound weird but…but for a second there…for a second it felt like someone…made me move.”

Steve feels his heart stop.  He reminds himself to breathe.  “Like someone picked you up and moved you?”

“Yeah.”  Danny grimaces, his cheeks reddening from embarrassment.  Then he looks at Steve’s face again.  Really looks.  Understanding dawns.  “You felt it too.”

Steve scratches one of the numerous tiny cuts on his arms, inflicted when he fell off the cliff.  They sting like hell.  “I’ve felt it before,” he admits.  “Just now.  Today, at the cliff.  When I nearly crashed the truck.”  The list was longer than that – much longer – but he’s already walking on dangerous ground.  It’s a touchy subject between them.

Danny rubs at his face, with both hands.  “So what we’re saying,” he says finally, jerking his chin upwards, “is that those guys up there are real and—”

“We talked about this.  I know you don’t believe in them.  I respect that but don’t reject my—”

Danny gently places a finger on Steve’s lips, bringing him to a halt.

“So what we’re saying,” Danny starts again, his tone warm and fond, “is that the Gods think we should be kissing.  Am I right?”

Steve blinks at the sudden left turn the conversation’s taken.  Lost for words he nods. Enthusiastically.

“And you really want me to kiss you?”

Steve nods more.  He wants it so much.

It seems like forever before Danny’s lips touch his. Closing his eyes, Steve leans in, claiming Danny’s hips with his hands.  Hauling Danny closer, he deepens the kiss.  Danny groans, deep and needy, his hands grabbing for purchase, sliding over Steve’s skin.

Danny’s touch sends a spark of pleasure down Steve’s spine.  Skin suddenly hyper-sensitive he twitches, a full body twitch down to his toes.  Rolling back onto the bed he takes Danny with him, groaning in return as their bodies rub together in all the right ways.

Steve protests when Danny pulls away, sliding off the bed.  But then his brain catches up again. Stretching out on the pillows, he laughs as Danny hops and curses as he struggles to strip.  Then Danny’s naked and gorgeous, crawling back up the bed towards him. Eagerly he hauls him back in, claims his lips for another much longer kiss. 

Time blurs.  His brain empties of all thoughts.  The next time he can string two words together it’s several hours later.  And Danny’s asleep in his arms.

Humming happily to himself, he buries his nose into Danny’s hair and breathes.  Danny mutters something, shuffles, then goes back to sleep.  Steve watches him for a while, wondering how he’d denied himself this for so long – why they both had.

They’d both been idiots, he thinks, as his eyelids finally slide closed.   

There’s no point arguing with the Gods.

The end

[idonthaveanaccent]

could you write a story about a human jacked up on adrenaline against this humongous beast of an alien? thanks!

*rubs hands together*

Finally, I get to write a crazy man killing a giant alien.

Hells yeah, let’s do this.

The large trees were blocking out almost every part of the sun. Xylion could barely see without the headlight he had on, and the rest of the crewmembers were muttering about the cold or the darkness. He glanced behind him to see Human Isaac. He was the only one to come with them. Human Mason had to help stitch up Human Fredrick after the extensive wounds he had received a few days ago, and Human Jenny kept talking about how humid it’d be.

Human Isaac was small, so he wasn’t exactly great for combat situations. Captain Zellnor would’ve preferred Human Mason to go, but Xylion told him about his PTSD thing, and the Captain understood. He didn’t want him to have any problems should something happen.

Xylion watched as Human Isaac puffed his cheeks out and poked them out repeatedly. He sighed. He was a weird one, definitely.

As the group trekked on, Datallion, one of the other crewmembers on the expedition, came up to Xylion. “Hey, Xy?”

“Yes, Llion?”

The two exchanged a pleased expression with each other. Datallion was one of the doctors aboard the ship, and Xylion and him had gone to the academy together. They were roommates, actually.

“Tell me about the humans.”

“Which one?”

Datallion pointed at Human Isaac, who was now making some weird vibration from his mouth as he bobbed his head back and forth. Xylion sighed. “That’s Human Isaac. He’s a weird fellow. The others always seem really annoyed by him, but for some reason they tolerate him. He always makes jokes, and he’s a mechanic. Human Isaac has never really been one to hold back honesty, so that’s a good trait. Though, when he told Human Jenny her hair looked like a rat’s ass, which in all truth, it did, she ended up hitting him and telling him his mother looked like a rat’s ass, so who knows.”

His friend laughed. “Humans are weird, no?”

“That’s certainly one way to put it.”

Datallion rubbed his feathered head. “Yes, definitely.”

The group eventually stopped in a clearing they found. Xylion sat down and opened his pack to group some food to munch on. He glanced up and saw Human Isaac not eating anything, instead he was laying on the ground, looking up at the sky. Xylion frowned. “What’s wrong, Human Isaac? Are you not hungry?”

“Nah, I can’t eat. Somethings bugging me.”

“‘Bugging you’?”

“I have this sick feeling in my stomach. My guts telling me something is about to happen. I can’t very well eat when my stomach is riding a rollercoaster in me now, right?”

“I guess so…”

Human Isaac sighed as he sat up. “It’s intuition, alright? No messing around right now, somethings off. Do we know anything about this planet?”

Datallion sighed as he pulled out a few papers. “It’s mostly covered in large vegetation, a few bodies of water, couple hills, mostly flat land, and uninhabited by intelligent life forms.”

“See? Nothing to worry about.”

“What about unintelligent creatures?”

Datallion shook his head. “None have been found.”

Xylion gave Human Isaac the customary grin. “See? Nothing to worry about.”

Human Isaac rolled his eyes before lying back down. Xylion sighed as he looked up at the dark sky above them. It was time to sleep.

The night was the perfect cover. They never saw it coming.

Xylion was almost asleep when he heard the low growl coming somewhere from besides them. His eyes slowly opened, and he looked around stealthily, trying to see if he could locate the culprit, but nothing. He assumed perhaps someone was sleeping. It could happen.

His eyes closed again.

However, when he heard the sound of screaming, he sat up.

Dattalion was dangling in the air, his yellow blood dripping down his wounded leg as a huge, furred creature held him up. Dattalion was struggling against its claws, trying to break away from it.

“Dattalion!” Someone shouted.

Xylion reached for his backpack, but then he remembered. They had left their guns behind because of the report. If there was no intelligent life, then why bring a gun to shoot it?

He looked up to his friend, knowing there was no way to help him. He watched the beast throw him to the ground. The beast howled in pain and whipped around suddenly, clawing at something behind it.

Xylion watched as Human Isaac ducked the claws, his dark eyes rounded and his jaw clenched. Blood was dripping from a cut on his forehead, and in his hand he held a large branch. It was larger than him by at least twice his size, and had a large pointed end. He saw some bright blood on the end of it, and a wound on the creatures butt.

“Human Isaac! We have to run!”

Human Isaac reeled the large branch behind him, and hurled it at the creatures face. The creature cried out as it nicked the side of it’s face. Human Isaac rolled out of the way of another one of its attacks.

Xylion was now even more concerned for Human Isaac. “Come one! We have to go!”

“Nah! I have to get this damn things head and hang it above my fireplace back home!” He shouted. “I’m gonna cut it off and scoop out off it’s organs and then stuff and mount it. When people ask how I got it, I can proudly proclaim that I took its life for hurting someone on my crew, and I can tell my damned grandchildren how great their fucking grandfather was for killing this accursed thing!”

Everyone stared in disbelief at what he had just said. Xylion watched as Human Isaac looked around madly. Then, his eyes lit up.

He jumped backwards. “Hey! Yo ugly ass creature! Come get me, motherfucker!”

The creature growled at him and ran at him. Human Isaac ran into the forest, and the two vanished.

It felt like hours. There was no sound, no cries of death. The world was calm once again.

However, the tranquil silence was broken when Human Isaac ran out of the forest, a sharp rock in his hands. Not only that, but he had large scratches covering his body. His dark blood was coating him, but he seemed to not feel a thing! Xylion could see some white in one of the wounds, and his left arm was laying limply by his side. He clearly was not having a fun time, yet he was still fighting! The creature ran back out, blood dripping down from multiple wounds. It was then that Xylion saw the glowing blood on the end of the rock.

Human Isaac stopped and pulled his arm back. He examined the creature as it started to run towards him. He then pulled his arm back even further before hurling the sharp edged stone at the creature.

Xylion watched it pierce the creatures eye, and it fell backwards, yelping in pain. Human Isaac then bent down and picked up the branch. He slowly walked towards the creature, his right leg bending in an odd way. He stood next to the creature, and plunged the branch deep into its neck.

The creature cried out, and spasmed for a few moments before laying still. Human Isaac still gripped onto the branch, before leaning against it. He slowly began to slide down it until he laid next to the beast, and his eyes closed.

Xylion hurried over to him before gently picking him up. He watched as one of the crew members called for a ship to be delivered to them as soon as possible.

As Xylion held Human Isaac in his arms, he realized just how strong every human was, no matter their size.

They were tough, fearless, and would fight for their friends, no matter how much they knew about them.

Humans were odd, but they were strong as well.

They were a rare being, one that Xylion didn’t think he could ever live up to be.

Yo I suck at writing action scenes.

Like, I am actually bad. I can’t write what I imagine onto the paper without sounding like a sick freak, or I just can’t even imagine the right words.

Oh well, at least I did my best.

What’d you think?

I hope you liked it, the-true-space-australian! I did enjoy writing this.

Anyways, I have one more to write before I’m done with today’s asks! Feel free to ask me anything! I’ll do my best to write it!

[insomniasix]

Tragedia Coram Amandum Quae |Part II|

A/N: Mostly explanation part. Working on the rest now. *whisper* It gets more complicated |names and such|

Words: 2676

OCs: Six Ulric, Elderon Lights, Morticia Blackwell, Sha’van Blacke (If you don’t want me using anyone please let me know! )

Warning: Swearing, Violence, Complicated situations  (If I’ve missed anything please hit me up, I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable!)

Part I

So, you’re still here huh? Good. I’m starting to like having you around.

Alright, so, last time I told you a lot of things about myself and thinking back on it, it seems kinna selfish. You don’t leave in my head. You probably don’t know what’s going on, or half the shit I talked about. So how about I explain a few things before getting to the good stuff? Yeah, things are getting even more complicated by the minute here, so let me try and clear some of it up.

Where do I begin?

How about Noctis?

Yeah, Noctis sounds good.

There’s a legend going around for eons. It tells the story of The One True King. The one who vanished all Darkness from the face of Eos, defeating the Accursed and his mighty army of daemons.

His name was Noctis! And for his actions and sacrifice, the Six Gods of Old named him “Protector of the Light”.

Time moved on and the people –me included, forgot, or didn’t care about the Old Astrals.

“They disappeared” Morticia Blackwell, the High Priestess, said “leaving only the Holy Protector to look over Eos.”

Years have passed and Noctis is the only remaining Astral. The Protector of Light!

Don’t know if I believe the fairytales about his accent in Astralhood but I know one thing: If there’s someone worth believing in, it’s him! I’ve read the stories, about the ten years of Darkness and Daemons; and to be honest, I’d be scared shitless living in a time like that.

I don’t have to though, thanks to Him; thanks to the things he went through and sacrificed.

If you ask me, the “Evil” he fought, this “Accursed”, he was just another pawn of the Six, too. Just like Noctis himself. It doesn’t really matter though. Gods and Daemons have nothing on real, living, fire-breathing dragons!

Second theme of explanation.

If there aren’t any daemons, what do the people fight?

What do we hunt and kill except from each other?

In the beginning, people were content. They and their children and grandchildren wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore. Especially since the sun stood tall in the sky again. But a few years later, the world became trigger-happy! Killing, stealing, eating each other alive –sometimes that last part was literal, too.

Things got real crappy real fast and the world was neck deep in chaos again!

That’s when the Three Kingdoms rose up.

Lucis, standing proud on the Northeast of the map. Home of yours truly. Ruled by the Lucis Caelum bloodline.

Accordo, on the South. Accordo and its people are pretty chill when it comes to… well, pretty much everything. I mean, they’re probably thinking something like “We’re surrounded by water, what could possibly go wrong?”. They haven’t been wrong up until now. The Accordo bloodline seems to keep their nose out of everyone’s business, action that has kept them going all these years.

Lastly, the troublemakers, if I’d ever seen a bunch. The Niflheim Empire. Led by the “Man of No Consequence”, the “Time traveler” and probably a hundred other self-proclaimed titles, Ardyn Izunia Fleuret and his precious witch of a daughter, Lunafreya; the one who enchanted my idiot father and sent me to jail.

The Kingdoms have been at war for as long as I can remember, the only neutral party being the High Priestess no-one dared to fuck with –I’ll get to explaining her story at some point.

About a year ago, the emperor of Niflheim, Ardyn and his daughter Lunafreya, came to Lucis with talks and ideas about how the two powers should unite. It was a bullshit story the King should have foreseen would end badly.

The emperor and his daughter stayed inside the Citadel’s walls for three days. Luna didn’t need more to put some unlucky bastard under her spell. That unlucky bastard being my father, the great Nyx Ulric! The gemstone of the Crownsguard and Kingsglaive all together.

You know, no matter what I call him now, he used to be a good man, a great soldier and an even better father! He was the only family I had.

He was a fool, though.

So, when Luna swayed her magnificent piece of ass in front of him, he followed like an obedient puppy.

God, I hope it was just that. I hope he followed her to Hell because of her magic; it’s the only way the King –the only way I would ever forgive him.

He led both Luna and her father to the Archives when everyone else was occupied with something. Being the captain helped greatly; he knew every schedule of every soldier in the Kingdom.

Try lying to that man when you get home late. Not fun!

Anyway, the enemy royal family grabbed the Kingdom’s most valuable secrets –and my dad, and hauled ass!

Few days later, the Council of Royal Asses instructed King Regis to send me in jail, to pay for the crimes of my family, saying it’s the only right thing to do. Show the world that no crime goes unpunished, no matter your place in the food chain.

I spent a year in jail, a year of everyone –except maybe a handful of people, blaming and shaming my family’s name. The name we worked so hard to build. A year in jail for a crime I didn’t even commit.

I’m not here to vent, though. So, where was I? Oh, right. Explaining. Let’s see.

Enemies of men.

The Astral, Noctis, took care of the daemons, so they’re out of the list, thankfully. There are more beasts running around now. From spiders –reaching the size of an average sheep, to Behemoths and Dragons; the beasts’ sizes vary, with the largest being High Dragons and the last remaining Zu –all reaching unmeasurable sizes when fully grown.

Between you and me though, when it comes to danger, it’s not entirely about the beast’s size as much as it is the brains. I find humans being the worst of all! A beast will attack when threatened, for its survival; humans, on the other hand, have proved to slay each other for their own liking, for fun!

No, I’m not talking about Niflheim! I’m talking about the Glauca band of thieves and murderers!

They top even the Emperor of Niflheim in both creativity and brutality. Ravaging entire villages and cities, no matter what time of day. Torturing and killing men, women and children alike.

I met a guy once, some five years back. We had both been captured by Titus Drautos, the band’s leader. I was sent to assassinate him –my first and only fail, while my soon to be friend, was out for revenge.

The band had been terrorizing his village for years, so he decided to pick up his sword and title as a renowned hunter again.

Elderon Lights of Galahd!

The man was a beast; but even he wasn’t enough to take Glauca down.

The band had attacked Galahd while Elderon was on a Griffon hunt. He came back to witness his home buried in flames and blood!

Elderon run inside, calling out, screaming for his wife to answer him. For a sign that she was alright, but his wife… Hope, never answered back.

His heart stopped as he reached the backyard.

Hope was laying on the ground, her marked torso pressing against the blooded dirt, all sign of life had left her mistreated body.

Elderon sank into his knees, his trembling, calloused fingers grabbed hold of his beloved’s soulless body, moving her closer to him as he cried, making promises of revenge and justice against the Astrals and the murderers.

Blinded by his own hatred and rage, he didn’t notice I was moving to in too, from the opposite direction. As a result we fell right on top of each other. We argued as to who had more right to be there, to take care of things –not revealing our true intentions, stories or identities. We caught one of the thieves’ ear and they were on us in no time.

After about three weeks, Elderon and I managed to get away from Drautos, thankfully before he or his lackeys got their hands on me.

Elderon got most of it! Defying their orders and defending my honor and dignity.

He didn’t even know me, yet I got away with only a few new scars while his own back was barely recognizable.

“Not all men are evil, yet the line between the two notions is getting thinner every day. I know. I’ve seen people there –I’ve been there. Struggling to figure out what’s right and what’s wrong. It’s now always clear as day. There are consequences, for your choices and the choices made for you. Those consequences and the way you deal with them, are what defines where you stand.” That quote he told me has stayed with me ever since. Drawing a visible line in my mind and placing people in their right side; I have to admit, I think I’m running out of space on the ‘Evil’ side.

Speaking of the line between good and evil, this is where the explanation for the High Priestess comes in. It’s the last one, too. Promise.

Morticia Blackwell. A mighty enchantress. Morta was given the power to ‘Speak’ with the Astrals when she was only a child. As a result she was the youngest Priestess to join the Chantry. Morta made her way up the hierarchy pretty fast as she was named High Priestess at only 27 years of age. All these years later –she’s like twice that age now, she’s still one of the most powerful people on Eos, if not THE most powerful.

Morticia is the line itself.

The Chantry can’t take place in politics or wars. It’s out for all the people Noctis scarified for. As a result, it’s the highest power there is. Both Lucis and Niflheim desire its power, but Morta quite simple told them to ‘Suck it’. She said she’d rather be trapped in the Beyond than decide who to aid in all those meaningless wars the nations waged at each other.

I have to admit, for a gal her age, she has balls; and the sass is strong with that woman. I adore her –when she’s on our side.

The High Priestess is a unique caster of both Light and Dark magic, although she prefers to use her healing techniques as well as the elements. She has great respect for all living things, even if sometimes she doesn’t agree with the choices made by them. For example, when the Niflheim Emperor decided to abduct her, so she would be seen in Niflheim instead of Lucis, Morticia showed them who’s boss. She took down all the soldiers and assassins the Emperor had sent and appeared on his bedside when he slept soundly. Her dark figure rose above him like a nightmarish shadow, everything, from her hair to her eyes to her dress was pitch black. She cast a spell on the Emperor and his followers, trapping them in each one’s nightmare for two days. Two days of sleeping in their beds soundly while their brains were destroying their spirits. A small price to pay, she said. Needless to say Niflheim never whined about her staying in Lucis, ever again.

Thinking on that story, the way she ‘punished’ them, the way she appeared on the Emperor; just the thought of it sends shivers down my spine. You see, the Morta I know is always cheerful, helpful to the ones in need; helpful to the ones who don’t want to be helped. In that story, the High Priestess appears nothing like the one of Lucis.

When she’s here; when she’s home, she’s the exact opposite. She’s always dressed in white, matching her long silky white hair and her bright smile that reaches up to her rosy cheeks, creating faint wrinkles around her misty hazel blue eyes.

I always wondered if she was the reason Lucis is considered a Good Kingdom. Morticia being the line –the border between the two notions and nations. But I guess I’m over thinking stuff again.

What do you think?

Hah, look at me. Actually talking to you. I must be going insane.

Well, like promised, I have no more explanations as to what has been going on around Eos. So I guess I’ll start telling you what’s going on now.

They got me out of my prison cell, only to put me in another. This one doesn’t have bars and gray walls. This is the Council room. A large chamber, filled only by a round table and a bunch of chairs right in the middle of it. There are statues of Iron Giants on the walls near the entrance; well, I think that’s what they are. I’ve read about them in the Archives. Noctis really fought those things?

The King had sent for me. They gave me plenty of time to take a shower and get into some new clothes, other than the dirty white scrubs they had me wearing for a year. It sure feels nice having a pair of new clothes around my body again. They also gave me my phone and wedding ring back –guess that means I won’t be going back. Wonder what they have in store for me.

I’m sitting on one of the chairs, waiting for someone to appear. I’ve gone through all my missed messages –all from Ignis. The man knows how to make a woman blush. He knew I wasn’t going to answer but he still sent a “Good Morning” or a “Good night” every day. My eyes passed a few “I love you”s too, as well as some “I miss you”s. I did too, my love. Once this charade is over, I’m coming home!

-Iggy, are you there?

Sent him a message? What the hell am I thinking? How is he gonna answer it? How is he gonna see it? Stupid! Stupid! Now he’s just gonna worry if it’s –oh, it’s been delivered. Oh, Noctis. What am I doing?

-My love? Is this really you? By Noctis, Six, what have you done?

He answered? How the –he’s probably with someone. Maybe he’s gone to Morticia for healing.

-They got me out. Gave me new clothes. I’m waiting for a Council meeting as it seems. Are you alright?

My heart is pumping like crazy. I still get nervous every time I text him.

-So that is why. His Majesty sent for me as well. I should be at the Citadel in an hour. Do you think you can stall them enough? I have missed your voice.

Aw, Ignis. There’s chatter coming behind the doors. Guess they’re here.

-I will do what I can. Make it quick, can’t wait to see you again.

The doors open, here comes the Council of Royal Asses! I look up at them, eyebrow raised and they all stare back, jaws clenched as they see my posture. I’ve crossed my legs and placed them on their table, my eyes never leaving my phone as I wait for Ignis to answer.

The King walked in behind them along with the new Princess, Sa’van Blacke. She’s the only one worth respecting of the entire bunch. The King is… is he smiling at me? This is getting weird. Where is Gladio?

Let me sit correctly, my ass is starting to cramp. Sa’van took a seat next to me instead of her rightful place next to the King.

“Are you alright?” she asks.

“I’m fine. What is going on? What have I done this time?” I whisper only for her to listen, my eyes never leaving the creepy smile the King is blessing me with.

“We are in need of your help, Six. So please” did she just place her hand on mine? I mean, I like Sa’van, I respect her, but is the situation that bad? “Please listen to what His Majesty has to say before the witty comments.”

“Alright” this should be interesting.

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Feedback is always appreciated! Thank you for taking the time to stand by me! <3

[fantastic-fantasy-fanfics]

WHAT ARE QUEENS COMPARED TO A GODDESS?

Request by Anonymous: “I think a Steve x plus size reader would be nice”

A/N: Thanks for your impute/ request!  After writing this, I actually would like to write a fic about an underweight!reader x Bucky.  Also, I think you should listen to this song by Mary Lambert before you read. Enjoy all my beautiful readers!

Steve x plussize!reader

Word count: 2227 (way longer than I anticipated)

Summary:  When (Y/N) is feeling insecure, she stops acting like herself.  Steve always takes notice.

Warnings: self-hate, self-depreciation, angst, sad reader, fluffy ending!

(Picture and GIF not mine)

*Reader’s POV*

           The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, Brooklyn was awake, alive, and bustling- but you were lying in bed.  You had woken up hours ago, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to get out of bed and go to work.  You loved your job as a computer engineer at Stark Tower, you loved your coworkers, you loved that Tony Stark was your boss, you loved that you got to work with so closely to your husband, Steve Rogers.  But what you didn’t love, was watching all the other, much prettier, female co-workers.  You despised that.

           You weren’t like the other women working on the tower.  They were all strong, lean, skinny, girls, with rosy cheeks and thick, long hair.  They all had perfect breasts and bouncy asses that could make any man swoon.  These girls had pearly white smiles that could outshine the brilliant sun.  These girls had almost no scars, and the ones they did have were from bullets grazing their skin, or from knives piercing their skin; their scars showed off their bravery and skill.

           They had perfect bodies and their scars were a symbol of their justice-fueled fury.  While they had the bodies of queens, you had the body of the ugly handmaid.  You were flawed, imperfect, warped, junk, broken, damaged, worthless, alone- you were ugly.  Your ass was barely visible due to your stump-like thighs, your boobs were outshone by your prominent belly, your arms looked like that of bat wings, and your hips were devoured by your love handles.

           You weren’t always this insecure.  There were days where you owned your body, where you would strut around like you were Freddie Mercury on his way to a sold-out show.  There were days where you and your heavyset body felt like you could conquer the world!  But… today was not one of those days.  Today was one of those days where even the thought of looking in the mirror made you want to puke.  Today was one of those days where the scale in your bathroom hissed your name like a witch’s black cat.  Today was one of those days where showering was just code-name for ‘see your ugly, scarred body naked’.  It was one of those days where you just weren’t yourself.

            It was about eleven in the morning when you finally gathered enough energy to get up.  You felt gross, both literally and figuratively.  You wanted to shower off your grossness, but you knew that you would have to look at your gross body.  You ended up taking a quick shower anyway, just to start your day off somewhat properly.  But you decided to wear your one-piece swimsuit while showering, just to avoid looking at your naked body.

           Once you were all dried off, you forewent your cute, blue sundress, and dawned your baggy sweatpants and thick hoodie, despite it being over 90 degrees outside.  You moseyed on into the kitchen, groaning at the thought of breakfast.

           Avoiding the accursed kitchen, you plopped down into Steve’s favorite chair. It was a big, dark brown, leather recliner that Steve loved to sit in.  He loved to sit back and relax after a long day, sometimes he would even fall asleep in that chair and stay there for the whole night.  Steve would often offer for you to sit on his lap or lay on top of him as he slept, but you would always politely decline.  Though, you would never admit that fact that you always declined because you were afraid that, if you climbed into the chair with him, your combined weights would break the chair.

           As your curled up into the familiar smelling chair, your phone rang and vibrated from within your pocket.  “Hello?” you groaned, not wanting to have any type of human interaction that day, let alone a phone call.  “(Y/N)?” Tony said from the other line, “where are you?  It’s almost noon…” “I uh… didn’t feel too well this morning,” you half-lied, “I didn’t want to spread it to the whole tower,”.  Tony gave an unenthusiastic hum, “I see…” he sighed, “well, I hope you feel better,” “thanks Tony,” you droned, not even waiting to say ‘goodbye’ before you hung up.

 *Steve’s POV*

           “Where is she?  What did she say?” Steve asked, Tony after (Y/N) hung up, “she said she didn’t feel good,” Tony huffed, angrily setting his phone on the counter.  Steve furrowed his brows in confusion, “what are you so mad about?” he asked, following Tony into the tower’s kitchen for lunch, “is she on her period or something?” Tony grunted, swinging the refrigerator door open. This confused Steve even more,

“uh, no?  Why does it matter?”

“she sounded all… bitchy and she rudely hung up on me,”

“what did you say to her?”

“nothing!  All I said was that I wanted her to get better!”

“that’s weird… I-I’ll talk to her,”

“you better…”

           Steve was very confused, normally you weren’t that grouchy, and it was very unlike you to call in sick four hours after you were supposed to; normally you would call in way earlier.  Steve pulled his phone out of your pocket and pressed your text thread.

“Hey sweetheart, you doing okay?”

As soon as he sent the message, the little dots that indicated you were typing came onto the screen.

“Ya…”

“Do you want me to come home early?”

“No…”

“Can I pick something up for you on my way home?”

“No, I’m okay…”

“No Tylenol? Saltines?  Gatorade?  Excedrin?”

“No, I’ll be alright,”

“Want me to bring home takeout for dinner?  Pizza? Chinese?”

“… no… no thankyou…”

That was weird.  (Y/N) always loved having pizza night with him.  Steve knew something was off, but he couldn’t quite tell what.

“Okay, doll. I’ll be home later tonight.  I love you! <3”

It took a while for (Y/N) to respond.

“okay. Love you too.”

Something was definitely wrong.

 *Reader’s POV*

The sound of jingling keys and creaking door hinges woke you up from your nap.  You shifted in the leather chair to see who was coming into the apartment, “hi darlin’” Steve greeted with his signature smile.  Normally you loved that perfect, adorable smile, but, at the moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to tolerate it.  You flopped back down into your original position in the chair, so, once again, your back was facing the door.  “(Y/N)?  I brought home some dinner…” Steve hummed, hoping to regain your attention.  You didn’t even flinch.  “I got some soup, a salad, a-and some subs!” Steve explained, setting the bags of food on the kitchen counter, “Sam recommended them to me, he says that they’re really… good…” Steve trailed off, seeing that you weren’t responding, “(Y/N)?”.  Steve jogged over to the chair, seeing as you weren't in the mood to move.  Kneeling beside you, he placed his hands on your thighs, “(Y/N)?  Are you okay?”.  You just groaned and swatted his hands off you.  “What’s wrong?” Steve cooed, rubbing your back soothingly, “are you sick?” “nuh uh…” you whined, pulling the hood of your sweatshirt over your head and down in front of your face.

It was clear you needed some affection. Scooping you up into his arms bridal style, Steve stood up then went to sit in the chair with you in his lap, “c’mon, tell me what’s wrong,” Steve grunted, sitting down in the chair.  As soon as his body made contact with the piece of furniture, you leaped out of his hold and nearly crashed into the coffee table.  Steve was stunned at your sudden movement and shot right back up from his sitting position, “are you okay?!” Steve panicked, helping you back onto your feet.  You nodded, distancing yourself from your husband and curling in on yourself.  Steve took notice of this and tried to pull you in for a comforting hug, but you fought your way out of his grasp.  “I’m gonna go to bed…” you mumbled, rushing off to the bedroom.

 After eating alone and letting you simmer down for a while, Steve knocked on the door frame, alerting you to his presence. “(Y/N)?” he called, hoping to get a response, but all that he heard in return was a pained sob.  “(Y/N)?!” Steve saw that you were curled up in the corner of the bed and rushed over to your side, gathering you up in his arms.  You tried to kick him away, but he was not letting you reject his affection this time, you clearly needed it.  “No Steve!” you cried, trying to push Steve away, “I don’t want you to touch me!”.  Steve didn’t listen, he just held you tighter.

Once you calmed down a bit, you were able to relax into Steve's arms.  “Are you ready to tell me what’s wrong?” Steve asked, rubbing your back.  Tears welled up in eyes again as you buried your face into Steve’s chest, “I’m just so ugly!” you sobbed, clutching the lapels of Steve's shirt.  Steve looked shocked, he didn’t know what to say; how could you think you were ugly?  To him, you were the most gorgeous person to ever grace the presence of normal humans.  “Wh-Wha?” Steve gaped, looking at your tear-soaked face for any sign that you were joking.  He couldn't find any.  “I’m so ugly, Steve!” you whaled, wiping the tears off your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, “I’m ugly!  My thighs are like tree stumps, my arms make me look like I have Pterodactyl wings, my butt doesn’t exist my love handles are so big, and my stomach makes me look like I’m pregnant!” you ranted, getting more and more angry with your body with each word you uttered.

Steve held you in his arms once again, rocking you back and forth in his lap, “don’t be so hard on yourself,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head, “you’re not ugly, never have been, never will be,”.  You sniffled, pulling away from the embrace so you could see Steve’s face, “how can you say that?!” you gasped, feeling more tears sting the corners of your eyes, “I’ve got stretch marks and cellulite, I have bumps and rolls, how can you say that I’m not ugly?!”.

You were insecure, and Steve knew it right from the start, but he never thought it was this bad.  He always saw you as the adorable, bright, loving, confident girl he had fallen in love with.

Steve looked at you, not with pity or anger, but with pure, unadulterated love; you could see it in his eyes.  But you stared back in frustration and impatience as you waited for his answer.  “Stretch marks and cellulite are normal, they are a part of the human body, and they don’t make you ugly,” he declared, kissing both your cheeks, “and bumps and rolls don’t make you ugly either.  Here…” Steve said, pulling out his phone and going to his photos.  “What do you see in this picture?” Steve asked, holding up his phone.  It was a photo of a famous sculpture, the sculpture of Aphrodite.  “Uh… I see a statue?” you stated, not sure of what he was getting at, “it’s a statue of the Greek goddess,” “look closer,” Steve instructed, a knowing smirk of plastered on his cheeks.  Rolling your eyes, you looked back at the brightly illuminated phone screen and looked more closely at the beautiful work of art.

Realization hit you like a truck when you saw what Steve meant, “she has… sh-she has…” you stuttered, unable to get the words off your tongue, “she had fat rolls,” Steve finished, putting his phone back in his pocket. Steve held both of your hands in his as he looked you in the eye, “Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of beauty, had fat rolls.   (Y/N), you are the most beutfiul girl I have ever seen, and if you think I'm lying, look at your left hand,". Your eyes flickered to the beautiful diamond ring Steve had given you on your wedding day last year.  "Not only does that ring signify how beautiful I find you, it represents how intelligent, resfectful, talented, dilligent, funny, loving, caring, and elegant you are," Steve's words made you blush.  "Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love and beauty had fat rolls, and so do you. And do you know what that means?” Steve asked, cupping your face in his large hands, “you, my beautiful, intelligent, kind, hard-working, (Y/N), are a goddess,”.

[cynassa]

snippet from next ch of Eat, Drink or Be Merry (which will be up as soon as my thesis stops kicking my ass)

Seto insisted that they have dinner together, no matter what. He usually worked for hours after and he was well aware that Mokuba did everything but sleep at night. But it ensured that he saw Mokuba at least once a day. And that Mokuba ate at least once a day.

“Battle City,” Mokuba had looked up from his phone to his brother for the first time in weeks. “Are you really planning…?”

Seto had nodded sharply, the deck in his pocket seeming to burn into his side with reflected excitement. Mokuba’s sources at KC must have let him know. He had not made a secret of the fact that there were people who reported to him and Seto had not bothered asking who, he thought he knew. Before Yu… before, he might have suspected his brother of having designs on his position at KC. Now he knew he was far luckier than that, luckier than he had a right to be.

Mokuba kept eating mechanically, head cocked and thoughts turned inwards. Then a slow smile spread across his face, and his eyes met Seto’s as he said, “Cool.”

Seto had been fiercely pleased and had planned for a spectacular night out for them both after he had won against Yugi with his magnificent new God Card, and regained his rightful place at the top. It had not yet occurred to him that the manic glee both of them were going through was as unnatural as Mokuba’s previous inattention. It had been a very long time since he had paid attention to what constituted normal in either his brother or himself.

The end of the tournament brought more living nightmares, without even the shoddy rest sleeping brought and after half a minute in private spent swearing at himself, the accursed Ishtar woman, and the moment he had heard of God cards, Seto had decided that they were leaving for America permanently.

He had stalked into his room on the blimp, locked it and double-locked it then gone into the bathroom just as calmly and locked that too. Then he swiped everything off the counter for the pleasure of hearing them crash and bang. Most of the bottles were plastic and in this mood, Seto wanted something to break, he would have been glad to light a match and see the world burn. Frustrated in his efforts to break something, he instead smoothly sank down to pick up the only heavy thing in the room, a pumice stone, and stood up swinging the stone at the mirror in the same easy motion. The mirror broke and so did the haze of rage. His anger was under control again. He could hear his own breathing, still controlled if faster than normal. Then he had to get back to work before morons burnt down his blimp and everyone in it.

A few hours later he had had the time to tell Mokuba that they weren’t going back to Domino and the sudden surprised smile on his face was brighter than the rising sun as they flew off to their new home.