#she has big bear in the big blue house energy and would tell you you smell like blueberries then dance

[golden-girl-daisy]

Sniff sniff sniff!

[wri0thesley]

can i request arranged marriage with toji and corruption please 🥰

wedding rings - toji x fem!reader (5k)

the zenin clan just can't stop meddling in toji's affairs. what's he supposed to do with the nervous little virgin who shows up on his doorstep and says that her family and his have said they have to get married? not fuck her?

warnings: not sfw/minors dni. arranged marriage. corruption kink. virgin reader. light cunnilingus, fingering, coming inside. light dub-con by nature of 'arranged marriage'. afab reader, fem pronouns.

[a/n: writing toji is always so much fun ;_; ]

When you showed up at Toji’s door with suitcase in hand, trembling lip and eyes all wide and frightened, he had laughed outright.

It was just like the fucking Zenin clan to be meddling in his life even now, wasn’t it? Even though Toji has abandoned them and slaughtered their ilk, their bullshit about bloodlines still leaks into every facet of what they do; and clearly the idea that Toji, even with his flawed lack of cursed energy, might be able to pass on the technique and hasn’t got a pretty little wife to impregnate yet had rankled them so badly that they’d sorted the whole situation out for him.

If he didn’t hate jujutsu society so much, he’d almost feel bad for you.

You’re clearly in the bloom of life; fresh-faced and innocent, not expecting to find yourself in Toji’s messy shithole of an apartment (why bother making it nice, when he spends so long out of it for work?). He wonders who you’ve pissed off to end up here.

As it turns out, you end up telling him yourself, a frown on your face.

Turns out, you’re . . . not quite just like him, but you’ve been fucked over by your clan just as much for not being able to be useful. You can see cursed spirits, but you’ve got no cursed energy, no technique – despite your clan usually producing good, dutiful, powerful wives. Disappointment of the family. He can understand what that feels like.

So they were probably glad to get rid of you. Might even hope you’ll bear Toji’s kid and it’ll have no technique to speak of itself, too – so both families can forget about you.

(Well, Toji thinks to himself with a grin – his family can’t forget about him, much as they want to, considering both his nickname and his line of work.)

He takes a sip of the glass of water he’s holding in his hand, green eyes focused very hard on you. You’re not in traditional clothing, like most clan members he knows would be; you’re wearing a pale blue dress that you keep tugging uncomfortably down over your thighs. Toji lets his eyes linger on your thighs, too – he might as well appreciate the view, he supposes.

Your suitcase is full of, as well as a collection of clothes in modest cut and soft, pastel colours, documents. Toji flips through some of them, nose wrinkling at the boring jargon. He does linger on a caveat about if you bear him children, they all have to take the Zenin name, and Toji and you will be ‘compensated handsomely’ for handing over the kid’s education and raising to the clan--

Bullshit.

Toji’s about to crumple them up on the floor and tell you to get the fuck out of his house, when he catches sight of you over the edge of the paper. You’ve drawn yourself in; shoulders tight, pretty mouth pressed into a tight line, eyes shining with a mixture between hope and fear. You look so lost. You look so innocent.

A little curl of heat makes itself known in the very base of Toji’s stomach; the thought of you being a good little wife, on your knees. The thought of him telling you exactly how to suck his cock.

He knows how the sorcerer clans raise women like you.

He knows you’ll be eager to please and obedient, falling over yourself to keep your man happy. He knows, too, that you’ll be pliant and agreeable – and that you’ll be pure as the driven snow. That thought gives him pause.

You’re seductive to him without realising it, in the totally guileless way you act, as if you don’t know that he’s considering how your tits would fill his hands and how tight your precious, untouched cunt would feel around his girth.

If he rejects you, what will your clan do?

You’re as fucked as him. He can see it in the shine of your eyes in his kitchen; you’re afraid he will throw you out, like he was thinking of. Leave you to fend for yourself on the streets of Japan, because there’s no way your family will want you back after even scum like Toji’s rejected you.

Would it be so bad?

He lets himself look at you critically. He takes in the curves, the dips, the contours of your body; the way you’d feel beneath him. Your face, and what it would look like lost in pleasure.

Perhaps it would be pleasant, to have someone to return to after a hit; to have someone warm his bed, curl around him, cook for him and take care of him. Perhaps it would be pleasant to take a pretty little virgin and break her into exactly what he wants in a woman. To teach her how he likes to fuck, how he likes her to act, to condition her until he can crook his finger at her and she’s bending over, presenting herself already slick and needy for his cock to use however he sees fit.

“Alright,” he says, draining the glass. “Sure, sweetheart. We’ll get married.”

Later on that night, he creeps into the spare room. You’re asleep on top of the covers in a cute pyjama set that’s all frills and froth and pale pink; elastic in the shorts digging into the flesh of your thighs, top clinging to the curve of your chest. His cock stirs in his pants looking at you. You’re so . . . innocent. There’s no mark to you; Toji wants to cling to your hips until there are bruises in the shape of his hands, wants to worry love-bites into your neck like a necklace, wants to ruin you until you’re tear-stained and whimpering and arching your hips up for him--

Calloused fingers trail along your skin. You’re so soft. Where Toji is all scars and muscle, your skin is like satin. You moan in your sleep, pretty face furrowing, and Toji wants to see your face creased in pleasure too. Your mouth drops open and he imagines thrusting his cock in it; how pretty and shiny your lips would look wrapped around his shaft, almost too big for you to even take.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, thumb skimming the exposed stomach where your pyjama top has ridden up. “Ripe for the picking, ain’t ya?”

Your eyes twitch. Eyebrows, furrow – and you blink your gaze awake, sticky-slow, to see your fiancee looming over you in the dark.

“What’re you—?” You ask, still sleep-laced, but Toji just makes a soft noise in the back of his throat.

“Just lookin’ at the merchandise, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Wanna make sure you ain’t damaged, that’s all--”

“I—I’m not!” The cute little burst of outrage is ruined somewhat by the yawn that you have to suppress in the middle of it, but Toji grins.

He didn’t think the Zenins would send you if you weren’t – they wouldn’t want to risk the precious possibility of a kid born with power and technique not really being one of theirs – but it’s nice to hear your mouth confirm what he’s been suspecting and hoping is the truth.

“Aw, baby girl,” he says, keeping his voice low and even, trying to comfort you even as his hand is sliding further up, cupping one of your breasts (his palm brushes your nipple and he feels it harden beneath his touch, stiffening to a peak – he wants to see what you look like under there so badly), “C’mon, it’s fine. I ain’t gonna hurt you--”

“M-Mr Zenin,” you say, and the tremble in your voice is so cute. His cock is straining against the boxer shorts he wore to sleep in. You’re wide awake now; your eyes meeting his. “I—I know, but--”

He’s on the bed. He doesn’t miss how your gaze strays to his veined forearms, where the muscles bulge in his biceps, the carefully sculpted and maintained abdomen and pecs – he sees the swallow in your throat, the way your cute little tongue reaches out to swipe nervously over your lower lip.

Thumb brushes your collarbone and you shudder, your eyes fluttering closed at the sensation. He sees your thighs twitch, squeeze together – he’s willing to bet if he dipped his fingers into your slit right now, he’d pull his digits back out with your slick glimmering on them.

“Just call me Toji.”

“T-Toji—” Your voice pitches, shuddering with arousal that you don’t know how to handle. He’s heard that note in women’s voice before; that desperate ‘I want to be touched, but I know I shouldn’t want it’ wobble. He’s been the cause of it more times than he can count.

“S’okay,” he soothes, his other hand rounding over your hip, his knees nudging your legs apart. “You’re savin’ yourself for marriage, yeah? We’ll get the papers signed in the mornin’, I promise, botha our families are the kind to make sure things can be rushed through quick--”

“I—” You’re a little breathless, all needy and hot under his touch. It’s adorable. “I shouldn’t, please, it’s only a few days--”

“You want to.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement, as he curls his fingers about your hip, as he settles his own muscular thighs between yours and he sees that there’s a damp spot on the pale pink shorts. Soaked through your underwear and your nightwear? He forgot how sensitive virgins can be. “Don’t lie to yourself, angel.”

He leans down, scarred lips brushing yours. You taste like his toothpaste; peppermint on his tongue as he swipes it over your lower lip and you sigh as you allow him entrance. It’s the first mark of him on you, but he knows it won’t be the last. He deliberately presses his knee against your clothed mount, grinding it just a little – and you whimper into his mouth, heated and desperate.

“We’ll be married soon as,” he murmurs to you, pulling back, looking at you with lust darkening his eyes. No man has ever looked at you quite as hungrily as Toji is looking at you right now. And he’s so handsome, his touches gentle-- “You wanna be a good girl for me, right? S’just what a wife does for her husband, yeah?”

“Yes,” you breathe, and Toji grins at you. It’s a feral, starving grin, that you feel deep inside of you as you clench around nothing and burn to be touched.

He kisses you again, hungrier. He nips at your lower lip, his tongue roughly demanding entrance – he dances against your own. You’ve never really understood the idea of kissing with tongues, but Toji knows exactly what he’s doing; hitting a spot on the roof of your mouth that makes you shudder and gasp, your hands coming up to grasp his biceps.

The muscle underneath them is so solid, and Toji can’t help but notice how soft your hands are on him. He knows you’ll be that soft everywhere else, and the thought spurs him on.

“I’m gonna undress you now,” he tells you, thick and throaty. His big fingers curve under the hem of the lacy top you’re wearing, gently tugging it up over your stomach and then your breasts. That sharp green gaze caresses every newly bared inch of you, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “Fuckin’ hell. You’re a sight for sore eyes, sweetheart.”

Your skin feels hot under the compliment, Toji’s flat palm sliding along the softness of your tummy to round over your breasts. Your nipples have pebbled and stiffened in the cool air of the spare room, and Toji flicks his thumb along one (making you shiver, again, he notices) before he bends his head to suckle the bud into his mouth, his tongue lapping at it in a way that has your back arching and thighs clenching.

He chuckles at the noise you make as his lips pop off, and he turns his attention to the other side.

“Responsive, ain’t ya?” He asks. “You’re adorable.”

You give him a trembling breath as a response, which he takes as a sign to begin a trail of wet, open mouthed kisses down from your breasts to your stomach, tongue tracing the shape of your navel, teeth grazing your hips so gently that you barely feel them. He takes the waistband of your shorts in his mouth and tugs those down using your teeth, and the vision of him between your legs like that--

“Ha,” he says, as his fingers reach to tug them, expertly manipulating your legs so he can get them off without moving from between them. “Careful there, darlin’. You’re gonna soak right through the sheets.”

His mouth, again – kissing firmly against the wet patch on your underwear, his breath fiery hot. His mouth is solid enough that you feel the jolt that goes through you as his nose pushes against your clit, even through the cotton. Toji almost smirks at how much of a cliché the white cotton underwear trimmed with pale pink lace is, but the scent of you is too heady for him to want to do anything but bury his head between your thighs.

Lower. He kisses all over your slit, hard enough that you jerk, ruing the barrier between you two. His thumb strokes circles into your inner thigh--

He seems content to kiss at you through the fabric – but really, he’s waiting for you to give in. To beg him to take them off. From just how wet his face is even with the barrier in his way, he doesn’t think it will be long – and you do not disappoint. You raise your whips, softly mewling;

“Please, I –”

“Please, what, darlin’?” He asks you. “C’mon, you can use your words – no secrets from your husband, right?”

“I—” You’re so cute, squirming and feeling like a slut for him. He loves it. He loves the tremble of your body and the fact that your eyes are glassy with need. “P-please take my underwear off, I wanna--” You swallow. “W-wanna feel without it--”

“Aww, y’should’ve just said so,” Toji says. Fingers pry beneath the gusset.

He doesn’t bother manipulating your body this time. He simply tugs hard enough to split the seams, the fabric delicate from being saturated in your slick.

(Doesn’t matter, anyway. While he’s home, you won’t be wearing underwear.)

You gasp at the display of strength, swallowing – and Toji grins at you again. Oh, you like that? He’s got more shows of strength where that came from, don’t you worry.

He props up your knees with his hands and says;

“Wrap your hands around these, keep your legs spread for me like a good girl, yeah?”

You nod, shyly averting your gaze as you do just that and the position spreads you open lewdly; your velvet-soft folds bared entirely to Toji’s hungry eyes.

You’re already absolutely dripping, but Toji can see that you’re nervous.

“Don’t worry,” he soothes you, again. He can’t help but notice how small you look; the pearl of your clit nestled between curling soft petals, your pulsing hole. He knows you’ll take him, but . . . fuck, he thinks you’ll be a stretch. Not that that’s a bad thing. “I’m gonna open you up, darlin’, alright?”

“Y-yeah,” your voice is tremulous, soft – and sends a throb right to his cock. It’s been straining against his boxer shorts since the moment he saw you, but your eyes all big and glossy with trust and the vulnerable position you’re in and the knowledge you have never been touched like this are really doing a number on it.

But fuck it, he’s not gonna hurt you more than he has to if he’s really going to keep you around. He gently spreads your plump labia lips even further apart with his fingers, so your clit stands swollen to attention. You shiver under his calloused fingers, as he leans in and a hot wash of breath fans over you.

Toji’s tongue darts out to lap a long, slow stripe from perineum to clit, and though he can’t see your face any more, he hears the way you whimper.

Another. He lets himself soak his face in your slick; lets his tongue get deep between your folds. You taste so good on his tongue; honey-sticky and sugar-sweet. The tip of the wet muscle gently flickers against your clit and your hands are suddenly wrapped in his hair, your chest heaving in sensitive gasps. You keep your legs raised, so he decides to be kind. He eases his lips off of you for a moment to mumble, amused;

“Don’t pull too hard, I’m too young to be losin’ my hair--”

Before he dives back in between your legs, once more licking and sucking at the tender flesh. Your stomach explodes in fireworks, your heart beating so fast you can hear it in your ears. Toji’s mouth and tongue against you is a wet, lascivious noise that at once makes your toes curl in pleasure and cringe in embarrassment. Is it awful and forward of you to be enjoying yourself like this? Your family have always drilled into you that a proper wife isn’t a slut, but still does what her husband wants--

Toji’s not your husband yet, but this is fine, right? To have him eating you out like you’re a desert oasis? His lips lock around your clit and he sucks and your vision whites out for a second, your hands tugging hard at the dark hair in your grip--

And he comes away with a light laugh that still manages to shiver with seduction. His face is shiny with you as he looks at you with eyes half-lidded and still hungry.

“What’d I say, huh?” He teases you. “Angel, I could have fucked you with my tongue all night--” He likes seeing how the crude words make you flinch, nervous but pleased but ashamed all warring within you. Your lips are pushed forward, the moue almost petulant. His voice drops a tone. “Don’t look at me with that cute pout. You don’t know what it does to me.”

If he didn’t still need to stretch you out using his fingers, he’d take a moment to kiss you so you could taste yourself and just how needy you’d been for him on his lips. But he’s still driving a hole through his boxers, so . . . the sooner you’re able to take him, the better.

You’ve gone back to holding your legs apart with your hands. Excellent.

Besides. He hadn’t finished what he was doing, and he thinks it’ll be easier to fuck you if you’ve already come once. Your poor, swollen clit hasn’t had all the attention it deserves. You’re being so cute, so well-behaved for him--

“Relax,” he says, softly, as he eases his fingers from spreading you open, dipping them in the mess he’s made of your slit. “This might sting a bit--”

One finger finds your hole; circles the sensitive entrance, making the muscles in your thighs tremble. But you keep your legs spread open for him like a good girl, and he’s able to gently push his index finger in, first to one knuckle, then to the second, and then to the ones at the base.

“Good girl,” he breathes, barely able to breathe at how tight you feel around him. Your insides are silky and hot and wet, clinging to him like a lifeboat in the sea. He pumps the lone finger in and out of you, rubbing the pad against the inside of your walls until he finds the spot that makes you throw your head back and give him a long, choked moan. “There we go,” he keeps talking to you, softly, like you’re a spooked animal. “’M gonna put the second one in, yeah? You’re takin’ it like a champ, sweetheart. You wanted this, huh?”

You babble something that he doesn’t care enough to listen to but overall sounds positive. This one’s a stretch, his middle finger and index finger even tighter. But he needs to get three in you, he thinks, or you’ll never take his cock. You let go of your thighs, and he sucks in a breath – but your feet clearly need purchase on the bed, your fingers twisting in bedsheets now they can’t twist in his hair, and you breathe through the stretch so he figures it’d be churlish to tell you off for it now.

He keeps hitting that spot as he fucks you slowly on his fingers, until he can feel your cunt sucking him in, pulsing around him.

“Third finger,” he tells you, his own throat dry. “Next time I fuck you with this one, you’ll feel my weddin’ ring--”

You tighten around the other two at that. Cute. Three fingers opening you wide, scissoring inside of you, aches – but you’re being so good for him, the most that’s coming out of your mouth sweet little whines. Toji rewards you by crooking them inside you against that spot, his thumb coming to gently rub circles into your swollen clit.

He’s been teasing you for too long, and you are a virgin – it’s no surprise that the stimulation proves too much for you too quickly, and you arch your back at the same time as fireworks go off inside of you, your cunt fluttering around his fingers, tightening and loosening as waves of euphoria wash over you.

You soak Toji’s fingers with the rush of your release; the gush of liquid.

He whistles, low and impressed. So you’re a squirter, huh? Toji doesn’t mind that at all. It’s not like he’ll be doing the laundry – and it’s kind of hot, to look down at you and see what a mess he’s made of your little virgin cunt--

“That’s it,” he says, guiding you over the last low crests of your orgasm. “I think y’can take me now, sweetheart. Let’s get you comfy--”

He shows off his strength a bit, because he knows it will get you going despite the sensitivity of your body from your recent orgasm. You’re man-handled by him higher on the bed, so your head is on the mountain of pillows you’ve slipped down. He can pick you up as if you weigh nothing at all, despite the creak of the bedsprings clearly saying the opposite.

Your legs are urged to wrap around his hips.

“Don’t worry,” he tells you, again. He doesn’t think he’s ever reassured a fuck as carefully and constantly as he’s reassuring you; but then again, he’s never intended to marry one of his fucks before.

You, though – you’re so adaptable. So untouched. So different from women and men who come onto him at bars and flutter eyelashes and make soft little insinuations. He can corrupt you into exactly what he wants, and the thought of you knowing nothing but his cock forever and serving him like he’s the only man in the world--

It’s enough to make a lesser man come in his pants.

“You’re tired, yeah? I’ll do most of the work. You lie there and take it like the sweetheart you are.”

He’s shucked his underwear off in the man-handling, and now he shifts so that you can see the full glory of what he’s packing. Your eyes widen.

He gets that a lot. Even for a virgin who’s probably never seen a cock before, it’s obvious that Toji’s the real deal – you swallow, nervous, and whisper;

“I—what if it doesn’t fit--?”

(There’s a tremble of fear in there, that you’ve fucked up; that he still might throw you aside if you can’t take him, and now you’ve been utterly ruined.)

“Hey,” he says, all comforting and appeasing, “I ain’t hurt you yet, have I?” You shake your head, but your bottom lip is still trembling. “I’m gonna go slow with you, I promise.” He shifts forward again, the head of his cock catching against your entrance. “Just keep your eyes on me, darlin’. I promise, it’ll feel so good . . . you wanna keep your husband happy, don’t ya? I’ve already got you all stretched and prepped. Just breathe--”

He keeps up the steady stream of talk as he urges his hips forward, your cunt swallowing the head of his cock first before he’s able to push more of his shaft in. You keep your eyes on his, green eyes locked against yours – and though he can hear the shake in your chest, you don’t make any noise louder than a huff when he gets two thirds of the way in. He pauses there for a minute, letting you adjust – he can feel every minute tremble of your body, swears he can hear your heartbeat.

“Good?” He asks, and you nod – and he slides the last third of himself inside you in the same unhurried pace, until he’s settled hot and heavy entirely inside of you.

His eyes map your stomach, pleasure rushing through him at how big he must be inside of you; there’s the lightest shadow on your pelvis, as if he’s big enough to make your stomach bulge. He takes in the sight of you with all nine inches of him buried inside of you; the sore, spread-wide stretch of your cunt around him, the creamy ring of your pleasure where you’re joined.

He can’t fuck you vigorously – he thinks he’d fucking breakyou - but you’re tight enough that he’s getting plenty of stimulation just from keeping his cock in there.

“P-please,” you manage to form, through your swollen lips and your glassy eyes and your dry throat. “W-want you to fuck me, Toji--”

Oh, fucking hell.

You’re perfect.

“I will, sweetheart, don’t you worry,” he instinctively leans down and presses a kiss on your sweat-soaked forehead, flexing his hips so they withdraw the smallest amount. “Just lie there and take it for me--”

You do.

He doesn’t fuck into you with abandon, though he wants to more than he can say; plenty of time for that in the future, as your cunt moulds to his cock and it isn’t such an effort to get it inside of you. Plenty of time for you to learn just how hard he wants to rail you, until you’re covered in his bruises and there are friction burns on your knees – plenty of time for him to show you every depraved thing you make him want to do to you and make sure that you enjoy it.

He fucks you with slow, shallow strokes, taking most of his pleasure from the way you feel around of him; your eyes, your mouth, your heaving chest. You’re hot and tight and wet and grip him perfectly – his fingers digging into your thighs where they’re wrapped around his hips.

He’s been hard for what seems like hours, so it’s no surprise, either, that he feels his orgasm come quickly up on him like a steam train – it’s not like you’re going to shame him for coming quickly, you’ve never even been fucked before. So he lets the heat all gather low in his belly until he can feel himself teetering on the edge – and then, he dips his head and pulls you into a heated kiss as he grinds his hips in a circular motion inside of you and feels himself tip over the precipice.

His cock shudders and judders inside of you, shooting rope after rope of his come deep into your body; thick and hot and full. His teeth worry at your bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood, the groan vibrating through you as he comes and pushing you into another short, trembling orgasm as if trying to milk him dry of everything that he can give you.

(You like him coming inside? He can work with that too.)

Your thighs are tight around his hips, your arms draping loosely about his neck as he kisses you. Your tongue nervously probes at the scar; the slightly raised line bisecting his mouth, and though he usually doesn’t like it being noticed or touched (he knows it gives him an air of danger, but sometimes the events surrounding it’s acquirement sting), he finds that with you he doesn’t mind.

With you, his eyes flicker closed and he just enjoys the closeness and warmth of your body, even as he gently pulls his cock out of you (you leak slick onto the bedsheets, again. He’s gonna have to buy some more laundry tablets).

“How’s that, darlin?” He murmurs to you, not moving from his comfortable place on top of you. “Glad y’didn’t save it for marriage now, huh?”

Your cheeks radiating heat is enough answer for him, Toji’s smirk so wide and smug that it threatens to split his face in two. He flops to one side of you, pulling you in, cradling you against him like a little spoon. He can’t help but notice that the curve of your body fits perfectly against his.

The two of you will fit even better in Toji’s bed, he thinks.

“We’ll get all the paperwork and shit sorted tomorrow,” he tells you, as he feels your breathing begin to even out, the tremors from your orgasm begin to fade. He could get used to this too. Someone warming his bed. Someone to cuddle up to on cold nights. Someone soft, to ease the loneliness he hadn’t realised he was feeling.

He doesn’t want to get sappy on you, though. He lowers his face to the shell of your ear, breathing gently, murmuring in a voice that’s still dripping with desire for everything you represent to him;

“The other stuff that goes with a marriage too. I wasn’t kiddin’ about wantin’ to finger you with my wedding ring on, darlin’.”

[andreafmn]

I'm Not Afraid - Chapter 8

Word Count: 5,100

Characters: Female Reader Argent Character, Original Male Argent Character, Derek Hale, Allison Argent, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, Chris Argent, Jackson Whittemore

Story Description: (Y/N) Argent arrived at Beacon Hills to put to rest her father’s sister, Kate Argent. For the first time, her family has decided to settle down and sustain a life in this interesting small town. After 17 years, (Y/N) has the opportunity to establish interpersonal relationships but will she be ready to face the complications that come with relating to her cousin’s, Allison, friends; especially, the infamous Derek Hale. She will face the adventure of being associated with the Derek and McCall pack as well as being faced with the discovery of certain aspects of her life she never imagined.

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Teen Wolf, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Jeff Davis and MTV Network. The only thing I own is Argent Reader insert, her immediate family, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others’ storyline.

Chapter: 8/?

Warnings: mentions of bodily harm and blood

A/N: Okay, I finally sat down and wrote for Derek. I've been working on a mental health blog and it's taken some time, and I've also been working on requests to be able to post them soon! But I'll try to post more updates soon!! <3

If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories. Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

And, if it’s not a big ask, please check out my other socials and my Etsy store 😊

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Chapter 8

I waited until the blue jeep was out of view before walking up to the door, knocking softly due to the hour, and nervous as to who would answer the door. Hopefully, the only Argent that would be awake at this hour would be Allison.

“(Y/N), what are you doing here?”

“Uncle Chris, hey. I was looking for Allison after everything that went down this afternoon,” I explained. “Us Argents have to look out for each other, right?”

“That’s right,” he chuckled. “But she just went down to bed just a little bit ago. You’ll have to talk to her tomorrow.”

“Alright then, thanks uncle Chris. See you around.”

“Wait, (Y/N). Where’s your bike?”

“Oh, um, I left it at school.” He looked at me with a prodding gaze, wanting to find any traces of deception in my words. “It’s a long story, but I just felt like a walk.”

“Well, it’s getting late. I’ll take you home.” I debated for a second – if I went with him, keeping up lies would be difficult since I didn’t know what story Allison had sold; if I didn’t, it would just be strange. So, I agreed. “Here, have some water. You must be exhausted.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Inside the car, I took a big swig of the water, unbeknownst to how thirsty I actually was.

We were both quiet, listening to the soft music coming from the radio, staring out the window as the houses sped by. Maybe it had been how tired I was, or the view I was staring at, but my eyes drifted off and all I saw was black.

When I awoke, I thought I’d be faced with my house. Instead, my head felt dizzy, my hands and feet were tied, my mouth was gagged, and music no longer played. I blinked away the pain as I felt as my eyes tried to focus on the scene before me. Whatever had happened, I needed to gather my bearings as soon as possible to figure out the best plan of action.

Uncle Chris sat in front of me, tied to a chair just as I was. The panic in his face was evident, and I deduced the danger level was extreme. He struggled against his restraints, trying to free himself and get us both to safety. Rapidly, I fed on his energy growing uneasy myself. I could tell we were in the old Hale house, but I didn’t understand why.

“Have you wondered what happens if a hunter gets bitten, (Y/N)?” I jumped when I heard a man’s voice ring through the house, escape had become complicated. But I knew that voice, I have heard it too many times to be mistaken. “Ever wonder what happens if you get bitten? What do you think your family would do? What do you think your father would have to do?”

My uncle kept trying on his restraints pulling until the back of his chair broke off. He swiftly got rid of his gag and the ties around his wrists. It was too easy.

“When all it would take to change everything is one bite,” my father walked from behind his brother. “One bite, and everything changes.”

Of course, the Argents would go through extreme measures for their initiation. I should have known – my family had always had a knack for flair. My father walked toward me and removed the tight gag, allowing me to take deeper breaths.

“Our father/daughter dates have really stepped up their game, huh?”

“No, this is how we train.” He was serious, in no mood for my sarcastic remarks. “Do you know why we use arrows and knives?”

“They can’t start healing until the weapon is taken out.” My dad may have had a speech planned but I already knew where this was going. It didn’t take much to put two and two together.

“This look familiar?” He took out a blade he had gifted me when I was around seven years old. I took it everywhere I went, and through the years the blade had rusted and dull. How it had ended up back in my dad’s possession was the question. I had gifted it to Isaac a while back as a memento of our friendship.

“One of your friends dropped it during a hunt,” Uncle Chris announced. He held anger in his eyes because of my association with the teenage shifters, but my father didn’t. His gaze was harder to read, but I could sense a tinge of worry.

“You were going to kill him.” I wanted to question, but it came out like a fact.

“That’s right,” Chris spoke. “And if we find Isaac on another full moon, we will kill him. That’s the hard choice we make. But it wasn’t my choice.”

“Was it grandpa’s?”

“No,” dad answered.

“Yours then?”

“It wasn’t his choice either,” my uncle grinned. “You see, our family has a surprisingly progressive tradition. Knowing wars and violence are typically started by men, we place the final decisions – the hard ones – with the women.”

“Our sons are trained to be soldiers,” my father continued. He walked behind me and placed his hands on my shoulders. “Our daughters, to be leaders.” He placed the blade in my hands and a kiss on my forehead. “Training starts now. Time her.”

My father and uncle left the house together, the latter setting a timer before walking out.

It wasn’t hard to deduct that they wanted me to use the knife to cut the ties from my hands and feet, but there’s always a faster way – especially on a wooden chair. I gently rocked myself forward, balancing myself, before slamming backward. A few seconds is all it took to get used to the blow. The ropes loosened after the poles they were attached to were broken. If they wanted to challenge me, they needed to try a little bit harder.

I pocketed the knife and followed behind the route the men had taken. “That was a cute challenge.”

The brothers turned at the sound of my voice, looking from the phone to my figure and back to the phone. I could tell they were hoping I would take far longer than I did – especially since there was another man waiting outside with another car.

“That knife was completely blunt. It should have taken you hours to free yourself,” dad spoke first.

“How did you do it?” It looked like I had offended my uncle, Iike my escape was personal. “Were the ropes loose? You shouldn’t have been able to get out that quickly!”

“I broke the chair,” I answered nonchalantly. “If you wanted to really challenge me, make sure you don’t use an old wooden chair. Now, if any of you have some ibuprofen, please give it to me. My back is going to be killing me tomorrow.”

“Chris… she broke your record. And with the same method you used.” So, it was personal. “I told you we should have given her something more complicated.”

“I was going off what we did with Allison,” Chris defended.

“Yeah, but Allison is not as reckless as my daughter. No offense, honey.”

“None taken. But no hard feelings, Uncle Chris. You know, great minds think alike,” I laughed. “You guys did good though. Spiking my water, making me feel like I was in danger, leaving me to free myself. It’s fun.”

“It’s not supposed to be fun,” my uncle spoke through gritted teeth.

“Then I suggest next time you do a better job at providing a grueling task. Maybe you should customize the job to the person — it’ll be so much more effective. Just a thought.”

“Okay, (Y/N). That’s enough,” dad chuckled uncomfortably. “But congratulations, it’s only getting harder from now on.”

“Sure hope so,” I smiled mischievously.

“Better luck next time. Huh, Uncle Chris?”

“(Y/N)!”

“Sorry, dad.” I bit down a laugh, not wanting to get into more trouble.

“I’ll see you around, (Y/N),” my uncle finally laughed.

“Aye, aye Captain.”

I got into my dad’s car, and he started the drive out of the woods. It felt surreal that I was finally initiated into the hunter tribe even though I had been involved with the supernatural world for what felt like a lifetime. And there was something I couldn’t shake off. My dad had visibly been uncomfortable when his brother mentioned killing Isaac. But that was his job…

“I really am proud of you, munchkin,” he finally broke the silence. “And I sure was satisfying to see Chris that shocked. I still remember how cocky he was when he went through this. Wouldn’t let me live it down for months. Karma is a bitch.”

“Well, I’m glad I could get vindication for our family,” I chuckled. “But there’s something I want to talk to you about, dad.”

“Anything, honey.”

“Why were you uncomfortable when Uncle Chris mentioned killing Isaac? I’m sure you’re used to it by now.”

He sighed loudly and gripped the steering wheel tightly. “I’ve never been keen on the killing part of our job, especially when it’s young kids like your friend Isaac. We’re lucky Chris is such a stickler for the rules, but there are other people in the family that are hellbent on exterminating all werewolves. I don’t see how they’re that bad.”

“Then why do it?”

“It’s the only work I’ve known, and up ‘til now I’ve been able to be a voice of reason between the hunters. But, dad,” he groaned. “He’s just obsessed with eliminating them.”

“Why don’t people stand up to him? I’ve only been around him for like two seconds, but he’s just a walking bad vibe.”

“No one stands up to Gerard and lives to tell the tale. And be grateful you’ve only seen him for two seconds and that your uncle is the favorite. We would be going crazy if he was staying in our house instead.”

“Yeah, I’ll leave that to Allison,” I chuckled. “Can I ask you something else and you promise it won't come back to bite me in the a...?”

“Language, munchkin,” he warned. “I promise I won’t hold anything against you. Ask away.”

“How bad would it be if I ever got into a relationship with a wolf?” My volume lowered substantially, and I started picking at my thumb to calm the nerves that were trembling through my body. “Whether it be a friendship or a romantic relationship, how bad would it be?”

“Well, I’m gonna be completely honest with you — mostly because we’re alone right now. But I wouldn’t care.” His answer surprised me. For someone who had been trained his whole life to hate supernatural beings, he seemed to be on their side. “I won’t lie. When I was younger, I held the same disdain for them that the rest of the family has. But as I grew up and formed my own opinions, I couldn’t support everything we did. I try my best to protect as many of them as I can, but I haven’t been able to save them all.”

“Then, why haven’t you left already?”

“It’s all I’ve known.”

“Well, why can’t we change the rules then? Make them not so black and white.”

“As long as my father is alive, nothing is gonna change.”

“UGH! This is so frustrating.”

“Honey, is there anything you wanna tell me?”

“Not exactly.” As good as I was at lying, the trembling in my voice was giving me away.

“Alright. Well, whatever it is, honey, my job is to protect you regardless of whatever our family believes. And I know that most of yours and Alison’s friends are werewolves, so as long as I’m around know you have someone on your side,” he smiled. “I may not be able to stop the hunters from coming after them, but I will do my best to keep you informed of all that could go down. They are people too, and in my eyes, they’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Thank you, dad. I’m glad we have someone on our side.” I was glad to know my father shared my point of view and, should anything happen with my friends — or Derek— I knew would have his support. But I couldn’t help but feel there was something important he was keeping from me. “Is there any other reason why you would be so in favor of werewolves?”

“No other reason,” he choked out. “I just believe they’re not all as bad as our family paints them out to be.”

“If you say so, dad.”

“And don’t tell your mom any of this.” I thought he was joking, but his tone was stern, and his face was stoic. “Unfortunately, she sides with the extremist side of the family.”

“Okay, I promise.” I guaranteed. “And thanks for trusting me with this, dad.”

“Always, munchkin. As long as I’m alive, you won’t have to go through anything alone.” He parked the car and lent over the center console to hug me. “And not a word to your mom.”

“Scout’s honor.”

The night was quiet. It was well past twelve o’clock, many neighbors already tucked in bed. Inside our house, the light of the kitchen was on, and paws ran down the main hallway. I was sure my mom would be awake, eager to welcome her new hunter daughter — her record-breaking hunter daughter. If what my dad had said was true, I needed to keep my interpersonal relationships hidden from her.

“Hey, Brody!” The dog jumped on me, leaving slobbery kisses on my face —like he knew what had happened tonight. “That’s right. Your mommy is now a hunter.”

“Honey, congratulations!” Mom walked up; arms extended beaconing a tight hug. “Your uncle called. I can’t believe you did better than him.”

“Yeah, I don’t think he was too happy about that,” I chuckled. “But here you have the newest Argent hunter trainee.”

“I’m so glad you decided to join us. Now we can all make this town a safer place for humans,” she smiled. Her words worked to confirm my dad’s statement – my mother abhorred werewolves and would work tirelessly to eliminate them.

“Right. I’m a bit tired so I will be heading to bed now. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“We’re actually heading out tomorrow for the weekend, but we’ll be back by Monday morning.”

“Oh, well then. Have a good trip, guys. I’ll see you Monday.”

“Love you, honey.”

“Love you too, mom.” She kissed the top of my head and gave me another hug. As much as I did love her, I couldn’t help the antipathy I started feeling against her.

“Alright, munchkin. Good night,” dad hugged me next. “I love you.”

“Love you, dad. See you Monday.”

I couldn’t remember when I had fallen asleep. The next time I opened my eyes sunlight was spilling through a crack in the window curtains, and Brody was jumping on the bed begging to go out for a walk. But my body was still tired and my back was aching — going for a run was the last thing in my mind.

“Not today, buddy. We’ll go for a triple walk on Saturday, huh?”

Brody seemed like he understood and climbed off the bed to his bed, laying his head down and following my moves with his eyes. I started getting ready, ignoring the screams from my body to lie down and rest, but the crazy happenings of this town would not rest just because I was tired. Whether I was hurting or not, Stiles and Scott would be picking me up in a few minutes and life would continue to go on.

A honk rang out as I finished zipping up my boots, a text popping up on my phone simultaneously. I said goodbye to the sleepy dog and left a note for my parents. Before exiting I grabbed the bag that was by the door and locked the door behind me.

“Good morning, (Y/N). What a beautiful one it is, huh? No deaths to report today. So that’s a good thing?” Stiles babbled as someone as the door to the blue keep closed. “Yeah, that’s a good thing.”

“Hello to you too, Stiles,” I chuckled. “Hey, Scott.”

“Morning, (Y/N). Please excuse Stiles today. He’s a bit on edge.”

“I wonder why?”

“You know I never thought I’d have two friends that relied so much on communicating through sarcastic remarks.”

“It’s a defense mechanism, Scotty boy. Some of us have supernatural strength and abilities, and others have our words.”

“Granted, I have knives, guns, and arrows.”

“Well, I have a bat too.”

“We know, Stiles,” Scott laughed. “We know.”

Soon after we were all exiting the car in the school’s parking lot, laughter booming from our throats. In everyone’s eyes, we were a trio of friends having a laugh, unbeknownst of the supernatural baggage we were carrying. But it only took these moments to release pent-up anxieties in a positive ambiance.

I could feel someone’s stare on us, a burning gaze piercing my back. My eyes searched for the pairs that were analyzing me, falling onto Allison. She was angry with the addition of possible jealousy again. The same stare she had when we were stuck in the library. When her eye-line met mine she gripped her bag tighter and got lost in the sea of teenage students. The boys were oblivious to the glaring coming from my cousin, still lost in their conversation. It was going to be a long day before I was able to find out why she was so angry at me.

My morning classes went by smoothly, focusing mainly on the academic side of school and pushing down any worries related to Allison. I needed to speak with her and put to bed any discord between us. If we wanted to take down the Kanima whilst being hunters we needed each other’s support — so whatever rift had made its way into our relationship needed to be squashed.

During lunch, I decided to sit with Scott and Stiles, Allison doing a 360 turn from the direction she was walking on. She was full-on avoiding me at this point.

“Scott, has Allison told you why she’s been so angry at me?” I blurted.

“What do you mean?” Scott spoke through a mouthful of food. “She looks fine to me.”

“Yeah, look, she’s just sitting with Lydia and those people over there,” Stiles pointed. “She’s fine.”

“You really don’t notice how she has been sending me death flares since yesterday? She practically did a cartoon run right now — you can probably still see her dust body silhouette.”

“Come on, (Y/N). She’s your cousin. What could she possibly be angry at you about?”

“I don’t know, Scott. That’s why I’m asking if she’s said anything to you about it.”

“Honestly, since her mom insinuated we were still together I haven’t really talked to her. I’m scared of what might happen if her parents confirm their suspicions.”

“Well, they can’t kill you unless you kill someone else.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I’m just saying,” I shrugged. “Although, knowing Gerard, he’s looking for even the smallest reason to end you. But I’m sure you have nothing to worry about for the time being.”

“(Y/N), I think you should work on your pep talks,” Stiles said, biting back a laugh. “And just talk to Allison. It’s probably nothing.”

“Yeah, I hope so,” I sighed. “Scott, you have ketchup on your face.”

“Dude, you’re gross,” Stiles laughed, swinging a french fry at his friend’s face

Scott stuck his tongue out, trying to reach the ketchup blob on his cheek, a futile effort on his part. But it didn’t stop him from trying. He twisted his head, stretching his tongue as far as he could earning a boisterous laugh from his friend.

“Here. Let me help you,” I chuckled. I grabbed a napkin and wiped the red goop from his cheek. “There. All better.”

“Than..” Scott was cut off a chair scuffing loudly on the floor. Our heads turned towards the sound, witnessing Allison as she stormed out of the lunchroom, throwing away the rest of her lunch in the trash.

“Still think it’s nothing?”

We went back to finish our lunch in partial silence, only mindless chit-chat filling the void. But the rest of the afternoon was dreadful. I sat in my classes, anxious for the last best to ring so I could confront Allison.

Somehow, the last hour of the day was coming to an end and before I knew it, the bell rang loudly. I gathered my things quickly, ignoring the calls from Stiles about riding back home. My eyes sought for Allison’s face, finding her switching her books from her locker, a scowl drawn on her lips. I was sure I could see steam coming out of her ears, and one of her eyebrows was permanently raised.

“Hey, Ali. Can we talk?” I asked sheepishly.

“Talk about what?” She turned and slammed her locker door. “I didn’t know there was anything we had to talk about.”

“Come on, Allison. Don’t play coy with me,” I scoffed. “You’ve been pissed off at me since yesterday for some reason. So please, do me a favor and tell me why.”

“Oh, please. As if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Do you think I’d be asking you if I knew? Spoiler alert, I can’t read minds.”

“Ugh!” She groaned, turning around and speeding toward the parking lot. Unlucky for her, I didn’t give up easily. I walked behind her following her until I was able to grab her arm and turn her to face me. “What?!”

“Talk to me, Ali! What the fuck is going on?!”

“It’s you!” She yelled as loud as she could without peaking anyone else’s attention. “Everything about you. You come here and you make friends so easily, you get the perfect grades, you break the hunter’s record, and now you’re trying to take my boyfriend. It’s not fair that you get it all.”

“You think I’m trying to steal Scott? The boy that is risking his life just to breathe the same air as you?” I couldn’t believe her. To even insinuate that I’d try to take her boyfriend from her was nothing far from preposterous. “You know, I’m sorry if I’ve ever done anything to make you think that I would step in between your relationship with Scott, but these are the first friends I’ve had in years. So excuse me if I want to spend time ugh them and form relationships with them. But don’t blame me for your dwindling flame. You have your parents to thank for that. But that boy has eyes for only you — so if you can’t trust me, at least trust him.”

I was hurt. Angry. A bit annoyed. She has been the one to push a friendship between her friends and I, and now she was mad that I had done what she had asked. My relationship with Derek took up enough space in my mind to have another relationship to question. If she wanted to be angry at me for this out of my control, then so be it. If that’s what she believed then so be it. I wasn’t gonna subject myself to her wandering mind.

But her outrage only made me think of Derek, and how he must be feeling as I ice him out once more. It was time to grow up and talk out what I was feeling instead of hurting him because I was scared.

After leaving Allison with a dumbfounded look on her face, I sped off to the same place we had been to yesterday, hoping he was there. Somehow I’d remembered the way there and arrived shortly to be met with Derek’s black Camaro outside. I got off my bike and took a few calming breaths before heading inside. I could hear the sounds of heavy chains being moved and the loud sounds of groaning. Hopefully, I wasn’t interrupting an uncomfortable scene.

“(Y/N),” Derek smiled. Without turning around, he knew I was there. Had I not known he was a werewolf I would have been very impressed. “What’re you doing here?”

“I, um, wanted to talk, but I can see you’re busy. So, we can talk another time.”

“No!” He exclaimed. “I’m actually done here. Why don’t we go somewhere else so we talk a bit more comfortably? I’d say my place but it reeks of teenagers.”

“I’m a teenager too,” I chuckled. “But, uh, sure. My parents aren’t home — I guess we can talk there.”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

Next thing I knew we were sitting on my living room floor, Chinese food boxes scattered on the coffee table. We had yet touched on the topic that I wanted to speak of, but I couldn’t hold off for much longer. If I didn’t speak about it now, I was sure I never would.

“So, um, as I said I wanted to talk to you. I know you noticed I was kind of acting differently with you again, and you deserve to know why.”

“At least now I know I wasn’t going crazy,” he laughed softly.

“A couple of nights ago I went by to see Scott and asked him to tell me everything he knew about all of the supernatural things that were going down in the town, and he did. He told me everything.”

“Why didn’t you come to me? You know I would have told you what you needed to know.”

“I know you would have omitted some things in an effort to protect me, Derek,” I sighed. “He told me everything. Like how my aunt is the reason you don’t have your family anymore. I felt guilty when I found out and that night I had a horrible nightmare that I still can’t shake off. You were dead, all of you were dead. Every single one of you — Scott, Stiles, Allison, Erica, Boyd, Isaac, a-and you. You were inside your place, burning. And I couldn’t save you cause Kate was there. She told me I was just like her, that I would end up being the reason you all die. I-I was covered in blood, your blood, and I couldn’t do anything. I’ve always been the one most alike to her. Any day I could snap and become her. I’m a threat to you and my friends, and I’m scared. I’m so scared, Derek. That one day I’ll hurt you just like she did.”

Derek wrapped me in a tight hug as I allowed myself to let out my emotions.

“I don’t want to turn into her, Derek,” I sobbed.

“You won’t, (Y/N). You could never be like her,” he comforted running his hand through my hair. “I know better now and I’d see the signs. You actually have a heart, unlike her. You care for everyone, regardless if they’re supernatural or not.”

“But how can you say that? How can you even stand to be comforting me when my own family ripped you from yours, forced you and your sister to live a life without them? I would be disgusted to even breathe the same air as me.”

“What Kate did has nothing to do with you, (Y/N). I can’t hold against you what your aunt did.”

“You do with Allison and she didn’t do anything either. How am I any different? Am I not a hunter just like her and the rest of my family? Or like Kate?” I pushed him away, feeling unworthy of his comfort. “How can you be so sure that I’m not like them?”

“Just by asking those questions, I know you’re not like them. You understand that even if there are supernatural components to our beings, we are still people. You care whether we are safe or not, and I know you’d never kill a person that was innocent,” he spoke softly. His words were laced with love and compassion, but I couldn’t understand how he could do it. Sit in front of a close family member of the woman that murdered his family and make her feel better. “Allison doesn’t like me, and I don’t like her. I will admit I did hold her accountable for being an Argent at first, but the reason I don’t like her has more to do with her personality than being related to Kate. You’re nothing like either of them. You’re special.”

“But how can you be so sure?”

“Because I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” Derek whispered. His hand rested on my cheek, wiping away the tears that had stained my cheeks. I leaned into the warmth, closing my eyes as I allowed the touch to calm me down. “What Kate did was take advantage of a stupid young kid that was blinded by the attention of an older woman. I have grown since then. And I’ve closed myself off for years, but with you, it’s just natural. I don’t feel like I have to protect myself. You’ve shown me that it’s safe for me to feel again. And if there’s anyone that should detract from whatever this may be, it’s me.”

“Why would you say that?” I managed to choke out after I was able to look into his eyes. He looked sad, beaten up.

“I’m an emotionally volatile person with superhuman strength,” he laughed sarcastically. “I'm a werewolf for god's sake. At any given moment I could hurt you without even flinching. You should be deadly afraid of me. I’m not worth it.”

“I could never be afraid of you, Derek. Not when I’m so much more afraid of what I could do to you.” My eyes softened when staring into his. He was wounded, but I couldn’t tell if it was at my words or his. “My family hunts you for existing, and I’m expected to do the same. I don’t trust myself enough. What Kate said…”

“But that was all a dream, (Y/N). Kate’s dead.”

“Exactly! It was a dream. This means that somewhere in my subconscious I know that I am just like her and one day I’ll snap. And I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I ever hurt my friends — if I ever hurt you.”

“Then trust me. Trust what I’m telling you. I know you could never hurt any of us. You can’t hurt me. And if you still don’t believe me, then I’ll protect you. Even from yourself.”

“You barely know me, Derek. Why treat me with such kindness?”

“Because I’m falling for you, (Y/N).”

Tag List: @hellowinterlane​ @lokisgoddesofpower​ @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @malar-region @sunshine-flower@lilstanxd @sunsetcurvej @malar-region @heyitsaloy @blackbluerose666 @bellabadacadabra @winter-soldier-101 @zheezs14

[yukidragon]

Our Life Snippet - Anchor

It’s time for another slice of the first draft of my fan novelization for Our Life: Beginnings and Always! For once, this is a direct continuation of a piece I’ve served up before. Last week we got the hurt portion of hurt/comfort in the moment Family with the snippet I called Adrift. Now it’s time for the comfort half with Cove and Jamie.

As always, thank you for enjoying my writing. Special thanks in particular for the game’s lovely creators @gb-patch for being so sweet and encouraging. You’re all wonderful and you bring me such happiness!

...

It was impossible for Jamie to tell how long she remained staring off into the far horizon, fighting to keep her head above water in the chaotic storm of thoughts she drowned in. She sat with her knees tucked against her chest, her cheek resting across her arms folded on top of them. The wind delicately blew her blue hair to the side, just strong enough to tease her bangs and end of her long braid.

A voice cut through the static screeching inside of her head. Someone was shouting, getting closer. Not even the presence of another person was enough to make Jamie move until she noticed that they were calling her name.

Upon that realization, she recognized the voice as well. She could never, ever mistake his voice for anyone else’s.

Jamie raised her head and turned quickly towards the shouts, her eyes wide. She quickly spotted a silhouette in the darkness where the sand gave way to grass. Even in the dim light, she instantly identified the figure.

Cove.

There was a moment where Cove stood breathless, his eyes fixed on Jamie sitting curled up where the sand met the waves, with the moonlight casting a shadow across her face when she turned towards him. The moment lasted only long enough for him to be sure it was her before he ran to her side.

Confusion and worry drew Jamie to her feet, clearer than anything else in her chaotic mind, and she fully turned to face Cove as he approached. “Cove,” she said, his name shaped with too many emotions to process. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

The question took Cove aback. “No!” He cringed a little at the intensity of his response and tried to calm his racing heart. “Not to me anyway. I wanted to know what happened to you.”

Jamie stared at Cove in confusion, her face blank. Her reaction only made him even more concerned, his grimace creasing into a deep frown.

“Mom told me you stopped by earlier,” he explained, his voice still a little frantic and breathless from his panicked search. “I went to your house to say hi, but your parents said you were gone, that you needed to get away.”

Jamie said nothing. She heard him clearly, yet failed to understand what about that alarmed him so much. She was fine.

It was her family who weren’t okay.

Cove only felt his worries grow the longer Jamie failed to respond or even show any emotion. Normally, she was so expressive that it was easy for him to tell how she was feeling, but now her face was a tense, blank mask that offered him nothing.

Nothing about all this was normal, and it was starting to get to Cove.

“I mean…,” he continued, pressing on despite the oppressive stillness of his best friend. “I had to think something was going on after something like that, so I came to find you.” His aquamarine eyes looked into hers - those normally captivating night blue eyes were so uncharacteristically dim, devoid of their usual sparkle and joy whenever they were together.

The look in Jamie’s eyes terrified Cove.

The silence stretched on, a heavy weight oppressing both of them. Finally, Jamie took a breath and wet her lips, tasting the salt in the air as she struggled to answer Cove’s concern, to reassure him and explain what had happened without making things worse for him.

“I…”

Even forcing out one word alone was a struggle for Jamie, but Cove was patient, willing to wait for her to speak. Her gaze dropped to the sand, unable to bear the worry in his eyes anymore as she fought for words. It was too loud inside her head, the static scraping away words she wanted to say with intrusive ones she never wanted to admit to anyone. There had been so much she had wanted to tell him earlier, but now there was too much.

Finally, Jamie managed to try again. “There’s a lot…” Her voice petered off, the words dissolving from her mind before more than a handful could leave her tight throat. She skewed her eyes shut. “Elizabeth… my parents…!”

She choked on the words, a hand moving up to cover her mouth as she tasted bile. The action urged Cove to take a step closer to her.

“Is everything okay?” Cove asked reflexively, even though the answer was obvious, as he placed a hand on Jamie’s shoulder.

The touch was warm, solid. It was a stark contrast to how disconnected Jamie felt from the rest of the world. She closed her eyes and focused on Cove’s hand, his closeness, his concern.

Cove cared.

Cove always cared about her, what she thought, and what she felt. He never judged her, never pushed her. Ever since they met, he was always there, so kind and mindful of her. He was her anchor grounding her when the waters turned turbulent and threatened to wash her away.

Jamie placed her hand on top of Cove’s, drawing strength from him as she always did.

“Thank you,” she eventually managed to say, her shaky voice barely more than a whisper as she lowered her head. “Thank you for coming…” She lifted her gaze, but could only reach as far as his worried frown; she couldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Cove’s brow furrowed even more as he only grew increasingly concerned, not as much by the words themselves but by the way Jamie said them. She sounded so… broken.

Despite his mounting fears, he held himself back from voicing his worries further, wanting to give her the chance to continue on her own.

Jamie closed her eyes and took another breath, giving the hand on her shoulder a small squeeze. It was hard for her to speak, to know where to begin, but the fact that Cove was with her now made things a little easier somehow. With his help, she would figure out what to do about Elizabeth, her moms, and…

And just like that the feelings she had been holding back surged forth like a tsunami and overtook her.

“My parents are dead!”

Cove froze at the weakly delivered outburst as it sent a shock through him. He couldn’t move, except for his mouth which fell open, but he was unable to do anything further as he stared at Jamie.

That wasn’t what Jamie had been intending to say, not at all.

For a moment, Jamie stuttered, scrambling to recover mentally, knowing she had to clear up the confusion she had just caused. “M-my biological ones… from before my moms… before they adopted me.” The explanation started as a trickle that only grew stronger, more emotional with each word, like water pouring from a crack in a dam that was only growing wider as more spilled free. “They died when I was a baby. Moms didn’t say how. Maybe they don’t know. But there wasn’t any other family I could live with. So that… that’s why I… why I g-got a-ado-adopte-”

Cove had heard more than enough. He closed the distance between them, pulling Jamie into a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry, Jamie,” he murmured, his warm breath ghosting across her shoulder. The comforting words delivered with such gentleness pierced right through her.

The warmth was familiar and comforting. It felt so right to Jamie, yet she stood frozen as Cove enveloped her securely in his arms. They were so close that his voice rumbled through her pleasantly when he spoke, creating small tremors that ran through her. In another situation this would be heaven. But this wasn’t right. She wasn’t the one who needed to be comforted right now. It was her sister and moms who needed it far more than she did.

“You… you don’t ha-have to do this,” she said, barely managing to force the words out, her voice cracking at the edges.

Cove rested his head against Jamie’s, his cheek brushing against hers. He refused to let her go. “Yes I do.”

He sounded so sure, yet for some reason that fact made Jamie begin to shake. Finally she could move, her trembling hands reaching up - to draw him closer or push him away was unclear - but her fingers hooked into his shirt at his sides near his back, the hold on the fabric so tight her already pale knuckles turned white.

“I… I-I’m o-oka…”

The lie was too big for Jamie to finish forcing it from her throat. She choked on it, her voice catching and quaking until it turned into a wail of anguish that racked her body. All of her denials and barriers broke then, and she crushed her body into Cove’s until there wasn’t even room for air between them. The tears she didn’t know that she had been fighting all this time gushed forth without restraint, spilling onto her best friend’s skin as she buried her face into the crook of his neck.

Cove held Jamie even tighter, as close as he could without hurting her, his eyes growing watery as well. Although they were of equal height, she felt so small in his arms just then. Her body shook almost violently against him from the force of her sobs, the sounds rending his heart in two.

Cove said nothing while Jamie cried, merely listening to the wails she made that almost formed words at times. It was painful to hear just how much she was hurting, but he didn’t falter. He would do nothing else but hold her until she was done bleeding out all of the poison tainting her heart.

It took time for the night to grow still again, save for the constant rhythm of the waves and the breathing of the two teens as they held each other on the shore. Eventually, however, the flood of tears slowed to a trickle, and then finally stopped when Jamie had no more left to shed. Her energy bled away along with much of the tension in her body, leaving her standing more by virtue of Cove holding her up than the strength of her own legs, her once firm grip limp, but still hanging on desperately.

When Cove noticed, he took great care to guide Jamie back down onto the sand. The position they sat in was close, with Jamie practically in Cove’s lap. Under normal circumstances, such intimate closeness would have left him a blushing mess fighting the urge to bolt like a frightened deer, but he didn’t even think about it now. The only thing he focused on was keeping her close to him.

Cove sat for a little while longer with Jamie cradled in his arms, until he was sure that she might be ready to talk. He didn’t release his grip on her, but shifted just a little, trying to catch a glimpse of her face to better see whatever expression she was wearing now without widening the distance between them.

Jamie looked exhausted, worn, but not as worryingly tense as before.

When Cove spoke again, it was delicate and deliberate. “Can you explain everything to me?”

For a moment, Jamie just breathed deep, the sound rough and hitching occasionally. Finally, she managed the strength to lift her head and face Cove. Her red-rimmed dark blue eyes met his, but only for a second before she had to look away. She nodded slowly before taking in a heavy breath and letting it out slow and shaky.

The actual event hadn’t actually been that long, but the telling took Jamie a while in stops and starts. Cove listened attentively, only nodding where appropriate or taking in a sharp inhale when words almost escaped him. He only spoke again when he was sure she was finished speaking, at least for now.

“Jamie,” Cove said, his voice trembling with heartache for his closest friend. He faltered, wanting so badly to say whatever it took to somehow make her feel better, but words alone felt inadequate. “I’m really sorry about what happened to your parents. So, so sorry…”

Jamie being adopted was something Cove learned early on after meeting her, but its importance never truly sank in for him. He never felt comfortable about prying into it, relating the loss of her original parents to losing his mom for a while due to the divorce, and the distance that had grown between them since.

Although things had gotten better for him, it would never get better between Jamie and her birth parents.

Cove tried to find the words to say more, but nothing came. He could only take in deep, shaky breaths as he struggled for something to tell her that might help heal her broken heart. It was frustrating. He hated feeling so helpless, especially when his best friend needed him.

Jamie barely acknowledged Cove beyond a slight nod of her head as she looked off at some point in the distance, not really seeing anything. She found more words to say before he could. “I had no idea it was so important to Elizabeth,” she said, her voice rough from all her crying. “She was so upset and angry even before our moms told her about her biological parents… and after they did she just…” She had to pause for a moment to take in a shaky breath before letting out slowly. “I mean… I thought about mine too, sometimes, but it’s not because I wanted to know who they were.”

Jamie made a vague motion with her hand before limply dropping it back onto Cove’s arm. “I sorta just figured either they wanted me or they didn’t, and if they didn’t, they weren’t worth thinking about. If they did…”

Closing her eyes, Jamie paused to take a deep shuddering breath before shaking her head. “I didn’t want to know if they did,” she confessed in a whisper, guilt dripping from every word. “I didn’t want to ask, but when Elizabeth did… when my moms asked me… how could I not?” Her eyes went to Cove, her expression almost desperate and only relaxing a little when she saw him nod in understanding.

“But I guess… they did want me,” Jamie said haltingly, the words coming out weak and fragile as she closed her eyes. “There were people who… l-loved me. And I can’t love them back. Ever. I can never love them like they probably loved me because they died, and I can’t remember anything about them. They’re strangers. They’ll always be strangers to me, even if they did have me. I’ll never get to know them and love them like my moms or Elizabeth or Lee and… and… and I just wish they didn’t and that they just threw me away and abandoned me because they didn’t want me like I always told myself they did so I wouldn’t feel guilty about not caring about them and being happy without them! Isn’t that awful?!”

It was hard for Cove to keep silent. He bit into the inside of his cheek to fight the urge to speak before Jamie was done unburdening herself. He only moved to gently pry her fingers from her braid as she started yanking on it at some point during her rant. It was only when she stopped, panting as though she had just been running, her dark blue eyes wild and desperate and looking right through him, that he spoke again.

“Jamie,” Cove said, drawing her attention back to him and away from that dark pit inside herself. His voice cracked as he struggled to keep himself together; he needed to be strong, for Jamie’s sake. “You’re not doing anything wrong. You know that, right?”

The emotions playing across Jamie’s face were too complex for Cove to understand, but he suspected that they were also too much for her to truly understand them either.

Cove took great care in choosing his words, which made them come out slower than usual, almost stilted. “I think you can be as sad as you want, for as long as you need. Or you can feel about it whenever you want, too. It’s okay for you to be happy. You deserve to be happy.”

It was a struggle for him, as his words felt woefully inadequate in the face of such dark thoughts as the ones Jamie laid bare before him. He was completely out of his depth here. Even comparing her situation with her birth parents to his own parents didn’t help him really relate; it just made him shudder at the idea of how he would react if one or both of them died.

Adding on the complicated feelings of never knowing them or loving them like he did was just…

Cove had to take a moment to breathe, exhaling deeply as he ran a hand through his hair and let his gaze drift to the ocean. The sight of it was soothing, which he desperately needed right now.

With another sigh, Cove shifted his gaze back to Jamie, meeting her intense stare with a look of sympathy and reassurance. He at least took solace in the fact that she was looking at him now and not lost inside her own head again. Even if he couldn’t really relate to what she was going through, that didn’t stop him from empathizing with the obvious guilt she held towards her own complicated feelings, or understanding how easy it was for dark thoughts to spiral out of control.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is…,” Cove continued at last. “Whatever you feel about it is how you feel about it, and that’s okay. You don’t have to force yourself to be different.” He managed a faint smile, as he recalled what Jamie told him at the beginning of summer when he confided in her about his complicated feelings about his mother coming to stay. “There’s nothing wrong with how you’re feeling about all this. It doesn’t make you a bad person. No one would ever think badly about you for feeling this way about something like this.”

He sounded so sure, Jamie couldn’t help but believe him. It was strange how Cove had the power to do that, to be able to hold such pure faith in her that there was no room left for doubt. It was effortless for him to slip past her barriers, denials, and twisted up confusing feelings to reach her heart directly, always with a touch so delicate it wouldn’t disturb foam on the water.

Bit by bit, Jamie felt the knot in her chest loosen, and she found herself relaxing against Cove as she let his heartfelt words settle in. Instead of the static of broken thoughts, she listened to the familiar rhythm of waves meeting the shore, and the slow, steady breaths of her best friend by her ear. Her eyes drifted closed and took a moment to simply breathe.

Finally, Jamie started to see things in a new light.

When Jamie opened her eyes again, she was quickly lost in Cove’s aquamarine eyes that somehow seemed to glow in the moonlight as they focused only on her. The way the moon made his eyes shine so bright despite the darkness of night was one of the first things she noticed about him on the night they met. Although those enchanting eyes held sadness like they did that night, they were also overflowing with affection for her.

Cove always saw her so clearly, all of her, both the good and the bad. He could see her like no one else.

Although Jamie thought she had cried out all her tears before, a couple more beaded up in her eyes before slowly trickling down her face. Despite their presence, she managed a weak but genuine smile. Somehow, Cove always found a way to give her exactly what she needed the most. “Thank you, Cove.”

The tension wrapped around Cove eased a little as well, as he watched the light slowly return to Jamie’s eyes, and he returned her delicate smile with a comforting one of his own.

“You know,” he continued carefully, “Elizabeth and I haven't ever been super close, but… I don’t think she’d want her family to break up, or drift apart.” He paused for a moment to offer a weak attempt at a wry smile. “Even if she complains about it sometimes.”

Jamie let out a breath that was almost a laugh, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards a little higher, and Cove took that as a victory.

His expression softened as he continued. “And your moms definitely don’t. It doesn’t matter if you’re not blood related, you’re definitely family.” He reached up to gently brush away the stray tears from her cheeks with the pad of his thumb. “I can see that… and I hope you can too.”

Jamie leaned into the touch, her eyelids dipping, but she didn’t want to stop looking into Cove’s ocean blue eyes. They were so bright and clear, able to see her with such sincerity. She could feel his reassurance in the way he looked at her, the certainty he held that despite everything she was going through, she and her family were going to be okay.

As his tender words and caring heart wrapped around her like a warm blanket, Jamie felt herself growing a little more certain as well. Cove was right - she didn’t have to apologize for how she felt, or even make excuses for it.

She didn’t have to deny how she felt either, not even to herself.

As the pain slowly receded like the tide, Jamie felt her almost overwhelming affection for Cove flow in to take its place. Mere words couldn’t express how grateful she was that he was here to support her, that despite seeing what she believed was such an ugly part of her, he accepted it and helped her see that it wasn’t as terrible as she convinced herself it was.

More than anything else in this world, Jamie knew that she could count on Cove to be there when she needed him.

Jamie no longer felt the need to hold herself back from fully accepting the comfort Cove offered her. She snuggled in closer, drawing her arms around his torso as she nuzzled her cheek against his. Being close to him, touching him, hugging him - it was always a soothing balm no matter how easily he could send her heart fluttering out of control. There was nothing more right in this world than being in his arms.

Although Cove started to become aware of their intimate position, it was a mercifully distant concern when compared to everything else that merely quickened his pulse. Not even his nervous crush on her could compare to the relief he felt knowing that his best friend was finally starting to feel better. He returned her affectionate gesture, brushing his cheek against hers, feeling her soft warmth and breathing in the faint smell of ocean and flowers that was distinctly Jamie. Despite how anxious he felt at times being so close to her, he couldn’t help but feel content holding her like this.

The two remained like that a while longer, neither inclined to separate now that the silence between them had softened into something comforting and familiar. For a while they simply sat together on the sand, idly watching the ocean as it reflected countless stars and the moon above.

[mefiman]

Hamato Family’s First Visit to the Hidden City

Story request by @rottmntrulesall. Hope you enjoy the story, bud! ^^

"C'mon, everyone! Hurry up!" Michelangelo's impatience was obvious in his excitement. He and his siblings were finally going to show their dad's relatives for the first time to the Hidden City for two reasons; one: to view the many wonders of the other world and two: to have a formal, proper meeting with Draxum's parents. The latter part had instilled some unease into the Hamato siblings, especially Saki who was wary about stepping foot into a mysterious world and was about to see for himself the father and mother of the "monster" who altered his younger brother many years ago.

"Are you sure this place is safe?" Hamato Kenji asked. Raphael glanced at his uncle, understanding his uncle's concerns. "We've been there a lot, Uncle Kenji! We did encounter a few dangers there before but other than that, the people there don't usually attack humans unless provoked." Raph assured his uncle.

"There are a lot of places to visit like the many resorts and spas if you want to have a massage and ooh, Señor Hueso's Run of the Mill Pizza where they make one of the best pizzas! I know the manager of that place, we're amigos~" Leonardo took the chance to quip in.

"I can't wait to see Grandpa Mons again! Wait till you guys meet him yourselves, he's the nicest, sweetest grandpa you'll ever meet! He's still as strong as he's gentle!" Mikey said happily.

"I wonder if Grandma Chemia has some wicked new inventions to show me!" Donatello exclaimed.

"This would be my first time seeing my grandparents, Arachne..." Ariadne whispered to her best friend, Arachne.

"You've never seen them before?" Her friend asked.

"Once when I was a baby... I haven't seen them for years." The yokai femme told Arachne.

"Alright, kids, you've shown us all that you're excited to bring us to visit the Hidden City, Mikey, can you open the portal now?" Splinter asked.

"Sure, Dad!" Mikey got to work quickly.

Draxum felt a tinge of anxiety inside himself. He could not recall the last time he visited his creators ever since he moved out of home to pursue his alchemy researching, away from his parents' constant arguments, half of which is about their preferred methods of raising him. It was a surprise how those two still manage to live under the same roof despite their obvious clashing personalities. He guessed that they tolerated each other just for his sake. His parents had never produced any more offspring after him and one of Arachne’s parents...

"Hey, are you okay, Dad?" A female voice asked him. Draxum jolted from his pondering to find that his daughter, Poison Ivy asking him out of concern. He just gave a small smile as he ran his clawed hands over her helmet. "Am fine, just thinking about your grandparents." He assured her. He marveled how Ivy much had grown from the last time he scientifically created her with his and Lou Jitsu's DNAs; she being so tiny as a developed newborn infant growing in a liquid chamber to a young lady around the boys' ages. From what he knew later on, Splinter raised her along with the Turtles. Ivy had lived her life at first as a normal human teenager until her yokai genes started appearing. The initial discovery of her origins did shake her world but over time, she had learnt to accept and use them to assist her brothers in their adventures. She was intelligent like Draxum and his mother with his father's gentle, mature nature as well as Splinter/Lou's sassiness. She loved to study on botany and coincidently, her powers involved using vines and summoning plant like monsters at will. She recently revealed her sexuality preference as a lesbian and had a girlfriend who is a fellow classmate and witch trainee/apprentice in disguise. Both her creators and siblings were happy for her. As of now, she was cradling her younger sister, Venus de Milo was giggling and squealing as April, Ariadne and Arachne cooed and tickled her belly.

The group watched Mikey draw a symbol on the wall at an alley. Once the symbol was drawn, an open portal revealed. The Hamato siblings' mouths went ajar, not believing what they just saw. "if you think that's mind blowing, you haven't seen nothing yet!" Mikey grinned. His three other brothers and the three girls each took hold of one of their Hamato uncles and aunts's hands. The moment they all jumped into that portal, they found themselves staring at a massive part of a what seemed to be a huge city. The sky above was unlike Earth's skies; instead it was orange with some brown. The architecture of the buildings there were monster shaped with some tall, castle like structures far away from the city. There were a lot of people of all shapes, sizes, colors and appearances walking, running, passing by each other, buying their needs or doing their usual business trades. The Turtle family allowed their Hamato relatives to take in their first view around them. Saki's eyes were bulging out of his sockets, he could not believe for his life what he was seeing. Anthropomorphic, mostly consisting of animal, everyday objects, monstrous and supernatural like individuals roamed every part of the streets around him, he felt as if he was having a strange dream that defied logic! Nori on the other hand, looked right and left, taking in interesting sights that captured her attention. Underneath a calm façade, Kenji was freaking out internally at the new, foreign view. Hiroki was squealing in delight similar to a child had just discovered a world made of toys and sweets. Her twin, Hikari was a bit calmer than his sister, feeling a thrill of danger running through his veins. Last but not least, the youngest Hamato sibling, Mei's stance looked poker face yet she looked around to see if there were any Gothic like people that she can interact with. The Turtles and the girls grinned, seeing the reactions of the others.

"What do you think? Surreal, huh?" They ask.

"Amazing.."

"Fascinating..."

"I can't believe what I'm seeing..."

"Someone please tell me that I'm dreaming..." Saki mumbled, still not believing.

"No, you're not," Draxum replied, going straight to the point with an indifferent expression. "May we please hurry to my parents' house, I bet they're waiting for our arrival..."

"Oh yeah!" Mikey clapped both his hands once. "Lead the way, Draxy!"

Draxum sighed as he took the lead of the group. Along the way, there were a few whispers around and behind Draxum coming from the city people but Splinter and Ivy took hold of both his hands and gave a comforting, assuring squeeze, making him feel better. Ariadne gave her uncle a comforting hand on to his shoulder. They were soon out of the main city square to a further distance into the woods. They had to climb up a hill for a while until they reached a big mansion residing there.

"We are here at last. My childhood home..." Draxum said, looking at the grassy, serene valley below, reminiscing the times where he as a little one ran galloping around the field, cartwheeling with glee among the flowers and his sire teaching him the basics on how to defend himself the predator way. Both father and son spend their days in the early years, sparring with each other...

"Draxum, my son!" The former alchemist warrior villain snapped out of his memories to find himself being engulfed into the arms of none other than his dear, loving old father, Monsrage who brought his only son into a crushing bear hug which knocked the wind out of his lungs. "How have you been, my little baby boy? It's rare that you visit us but it's so wonderful to see you bring your family along! How delightful!" the older yokai gushed, his bushy tail wagging with unlimited enthusiasm like an excited puppy. Monsrage was rather huge and muscular with perked up, pointy ears, silky straight black hair unchanged through time and a fairly long beard to match. Like Draxum before, he wore a battle mask. He had a significant dark upperlip. His body had different shades of blue just like his son, Draxum when he was armored. Monsrage's eyes were the same like Draxum's. His feet in particular, was a noticeable difference. Unlike his wife and son, his feet were shaped like a lion's paws, fitting for him coming from a predator species.

"Father, it's great to see you... but can you please let go now? I can't breathe..." Draxum choked out, being smothered by his sire's busty chest. Monsrage immediately loosened his grip, apologizing profusely while checking to see if he had accidently broken any of his son's bones. Draxum shook his head, smiling a little. His sire had never changed all these years, still a concerned worrywart. And he bet his mother had not either...

Chemia on the other hand, was greeting the rest of the visitors with feverish energy. She was a redhead with shades of pink for her skin colour and her ears, long and drooped. Her eyes had a little twinkle in them, a part of her eccentric personality and plump, red lips. Like her husband, she wore a mask. Donnie, April, Arachne and Ivy were given a whirlwind hug the moment they came in front of her. Monsrage went back to the mansion with his son to give the new visitors, the Hamatos, April, and Arachne a warm greeting as well as welcome his beloved grandchildren with his signature bear hug and proceed to pepper their faces with smooches which they were delighted to have especially Mikey, Ariadne, Ivy and Venus. Monsrage and Chemia ushered them all into their humble abode. The Hamatos were initially skeptical about meeting Draxum's family but they were soon warmed up to them. Later on, the mansion was filled with guffaws of laughter as Monsrage showed them all baby pictures of his son which embarrased the poor warrior scientist. Donnie, April and Ivy were treated to Grandma Chemia's latest creations. Monsrage himself had a blast, playing with Venus and sparring with the Turtles and the girls. Arachne was delighted to meet her grandparents as a young adolescent, telling them about her achievements, adventures and that her own parents are doing well. The Hamatos became comfortable talking with Draxum's parents over some snack delicacies. Overall, everyone had a wonderful time at the Hidden City.

I had fun writing this! Was tiring but oh so worth it.

The Hamato siblings (minus Lou/Splinter) and Venus de Milo belong to @rottmntrulesall while Ariadne and Arachne are the OCs of @mikeykawaii/@mikey-ho. Monsrage, Chemia and Poison Ivy along with the mention of the witch girlfriend belong to me, @mefiman. I hope you don’t mind me incorporating your girls into this story, @mikeykawaii but I’ve been dying to add them in, especially Ari meeting her grandparents! ^^ 

[the-lightning-strikes-again]

A Review of Voltron DDP Comic: A Legend Forged (2008)

I knew the old Devil’s Due Publishing (DDP) comics for Voltron were lit…but the sequel, A Legend Forged, really resonated with me! This 5-issue comic series is DDP’s interpretation of the history behind the Voltron robot itself, and it wraps this lore within an adventure plot featuring our main pilots (Allura, Keith, Hunk, Lance, Pidge) in an alliance with Lotor.

I’ve meant to write a review about A Legend Forged for a while because I know that older Voltron comics aren’t always accessible. I think this one deserves some attention because it does things that I find just really refreshing after watching the 2016 Legendary Defender show. It also has some fun details that could have been source material for the world building and events in the 2016 VLD show. 

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The basic summary of this comic is that Team Voltron and Lotor are accidentally transported 1,200 years in the past after some classified time travel tech destabilizes in the middle of a fight. Powerless from the blast, they crash-land on a nearby planet, and they’re soon captured by people on the planet who have exceptionally advanced technology. Lotor agrees to a truce with Team Voltron to help find a way out of their prison, and back to their own time.

In arriving through the wormhole, however, they catch the attention of a very powerful group who are missing an important piece to complete their special defense project (the Voltron robot). The robot is being built in part by King Altarus, Allura’s ancestor, to fight off the villain in that ancient past—Empress Jain IX, Lotor’s evil great great (10X) grandmother, who is a sorceress hellbent on intergalactic domination.

Ultimately, Team Voltron and Lotor get caught up in the efforts to stop Empress Jain and assist King Altarus’s Council…and they discover some interesting things about themselves and about Voltron along the way!

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I found A Legend Forged to be one entertaining, snarky shenanigan after another. Although it does source the 1984 character designs and backgrounds along with some references to Vehicle Voltron (which may be alienating to fans familiar only with VLD), I love that this comic deeply and openly explores what makes the Voltron franchise so identifiable and unique—its Arthurian legends/magic in the midst of an expansive space opera.

The comic is meant for slightly older audiences compared to VLD—it includes several instances of adult cursing, frightening images, some brief images of romance/non-graphic sensuality, and occasional graphic violence showing blood. I couldn’t find a publisher-recommended age for this comic on the book covers, but I think it might be T for ages 12 and older.

If you’re interested, a deeper overview of A Legend Forged is included under the cut!

___

At a high level, there’s certain things that just really attracted me to this comic, even though I’m usually not much of a comic reader:

THE WORLD BUILDING

The whole timeline distortion that takes them back 1,200 years is a direct consequence of humans attempting to back-engineer the mysterious Voltron robot. Within that back-engineering, they’d stumbled into creating a time machine:

(Photo Description: The city of Toronto in the future. Someone asks, “Time travel?” Coran replies, “Devised using reverse engineered technology from Lion Voltron, no doubt.” An alliance official responds, “Come on now, how would that be possible?” A second official responses, “Coran’s right. The way that Lion Voltron summons energy and weaponry is a mystery. We learned how to mimic the ability with the vehicle units, without really understanding it.”)

So there’s a lot of undertow here about just what exactly all these different parties (Earth/Galaxy Alliance, space pirates, Lotor) were planning to do with a time machine to begin with before it gets blown up in a battle over it. But there’s also something interesting happening here involving Fate/Destiny and plasticity of time itself.

At the very heart of this comic is the concept that the Voltron robot could not have been completed 1,200 years ago if Team Voltron and Lotor were not accidentally tossed back in time to help complete the project. And idk, I think that’s just pretty cool. It ties these lives of these characters together in a way that I don’t think I’ve seen in any other Voltron iteration—that they were meant to pilot Voltron, because their presence helped to unlock the final missing piece to bring it to life.  

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In addition, we get a really interesting look into the ancient past of the Voltron universe, back to the beginning of the first space empire. The comic’s big bad, Empress Jain IX, is an incredibly powerful and heartless sorceress of Drule heritage, from the planet Doon:

(Photo description: Empress Jain standing before the leader of a world she’s conquered, declaring, “And thus, the mighty fall! The powerful kneel at my feet! Behold the grandeur of your empress, and witness what happens to those who stand in her way!”)

But there’s always been this larger question in the Voltron franchise around King Zarkon’s unique, fish-like features compared to other Drule characters like Jain, and this comic answers that.

This is what the OG Zarkon looked like:

Compared to the ancient people of Korrinoth, who have similar ears and coloring as he does:

(Description: Keith says to the team, “I think we may be witnessing the beginning of King Zarkon’s people’s assimilation into the Drule Empire.”)

The planet that our protagonists crash-land on 1,200 years in the past is called Korrinoth. The people here had been recently conquered by Jain and share many similarities with the visual features of Zarkon. So this comic establishes that Zarkon has both Drule and Korrinite heritage. Unfortunately for Lotor, the Korrinites of the planet don’t acknowledge his Korrinite blood because he looks too Drule in comparison. So this comic reaches back on the hints that Lotor struggles to fit in with his own people…and it helps to explain why he’s captured along with Team Voltron:

(Photo description: Team Voltron and Lotor stand together, having been captured in a purple energy field functioning like jail bars.)

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There’s also the concept that Voltron—just like the surrounding environment in Voltron franchise—is an amalgamation of science and magic. The comic’s big bad, Empress Jain, had discovered that her own dark sorcery arts could be challenged by the “lion gods,” who were demanding an increasing price be paid for her horrific conquering. In order to negate the lion gods’ power, Jain explicitly banned religious worship around them and any lion god iconography from her empire.

(Photo description: The dark entity Sarga says, “It is coming, and soon, that which may be your downfall. A twisted abomination of science and technology. The might of the Lion-Gods with the heart and mind of Man.” Jain says, “But I have banned worship of the Lions through the empire.”)

So the Voltron builders were reaching back to a very ancient, lost power that they were risking their lives to resurrect. The connection to a pantheon of lion gods helps to provide some logic around why the Voltron robot itself splits into lions—because it’s literally the symbol of these lost gods.

The visual design of Voltron is also reflected in the armor worn specifically by warriors fighting in the name of these banned gods:

(Photo description: A humanoid warrior wearing Voltron-based armor, coming to Team Voltron’s rescue at the command of the Council.)

So Voltron as a machine metaphorically stands as the Ultimate Warrior in humanoid form, supported by the individual lion gods.

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Within the comic, it hints at some pretty intense religious discrimination—that Empress Jain was willing to arrest and torment even her own daughter, Azakhi for becoming a Lion Priestess:

(Photo description: Jain’s daughter, Azahki, is revealed to be a dirtied prisoner captured by Jain’s forces. She tells Team Voltron, “Do not fear my Drule appearance. I am a devout follower of your ways.”)

This background battle supports why Team Voltron and Lotor are instantly targeted by Jain’s forces when they crash-land on Korrinoth, bearing the banner of the lion gods in the form of Voltron.

Later on in the comic, we also see that the colors themselves represented the various domains of these lion gods:

(Photo description: An image of Voltron as it’s being built, with King Altarus narrating in the background, ““Yellow for win, red for fire, green for earth, blue for water, and at the center…the might blackness of space which houses all of reality.”)

So we really see Voltron pick up a lot more backstory to explain the robot itself. 

--

We do get a deeper look as well into King Altarus and his Council.

King Altarus, Princess Allura’s ancestor, is the leader of the group. But the work involved in building Voltron doesn’t just rest with him like it did with Alfor in VLD. His council is just as equally if not more powerful than him in other ways.

In this panel, King Altarus introduces his four other team members as the most powerful scientists or sorcerers of their respective planet:

(Photo description: An introduction of the five council members of Altarus: “Cybrus hails from a world of sentient machines…More than a computer, he is also sorcerer to rival any other. The striking beauty to my right is Heket. Born of a nomadic race who travels the galaxy bestowing gifts of knowledge to primitive worlds. She is also the most brilliant scientist of her people. Phelos is a brilliant sci-mage from the neighboring solar system. If you are truly who you say, you may already know legends of our final ally. From a primitive world, but master of the most advance wizardry in the galazy: Merlin.”)

The combination of Altarus, Cybrus, Heket, Phelos, and Merlin all echo the 2016 Legendary Defender’s backstory—in which leaders of various people united together for the greater good of their galaxy. Once again, we have five unique planets represented in the Voltron effort—but in this case, it even includes Earth. This helps to explain part of why Voltron’s original design had very medieval attributes.

Maybe some would think it’s a bit hokey that the OG builders included the actual Arthurian figure of Merlin, the wizard? Idk, I think it’s kind of a fun way to connect Voltron’s ancient, magical past to Earth as well, and it suggests that Merlin was preparing or called by the others to help prepare for a future of advanced warfare. I’ve always wondered why the OG Voltron looked so medieval with the crests and the swords and such—and actually, it being built in part by a medieval human wizard would help to explain that!

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We also see in the DDP comics a very heavy evolution to Allura’s character and to the world building within the Voltron franchise itself. She’s no longer just a princess who knows how to fight—she’s actively a Clairvoyant, with untapped power. King Altarus acknowledges, and the other Council members sense it, that Princess Allura has way more internal magic than she even knows about herself:

(Photo description: Council member Heket says to King Altarus, “I have a feeling about the girl [Allura]. Her aura is oddly similar to your own.”)

We also see that the dark entity Sarga recognizes this in her as well:

(Photo description: The dark entity Sarga says to Empress Jain, “The visitors…they each have a link to this monstrosity. However, the blood of only one of them pulses with the  magic of Arus. The one called Allura! She is the one! She must be—” Jain cuts in, “The host!” And Sarga confirms, “Yes, with Princess Allura, Sarga will live in this realm once more. With her, we can control Voltron.”)

I feel like this magic probably helped to set the tone for the Princess Allura we meet in the 2016 Legendary Defender reboot, who ultimately got the opportunity to grow into the powers that are hinted at here in this previous iteration.

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I do also like this comic because the protagonists (with the exception of Pidge who is 16) are adults, and they’re a little more mature in their decisions and interests.

Like, for example, the Lance in this comic has a much more extensive sensitivity to and interest in culture. Instead of it being Hunk bonding with aliens through food, we see Lance as the diplomat, bonding with Jain’s daughter Azahki, just by asking her questions:

(Photo description: Lance and Jain’s daughter, Azahki, sitting at a table and eating. Lance says, “That hit the sport. I was frickin’ starving.” Azahki says, “After being held prisoner for so long, I had forgotten what real food tastes like. So much time was wasted…so much life. Just sitting in a cell because of my beliefs. I…I’m sorry, Lance. This should be a nice evening, and I’m bringing the mood down.”)

(Photo description: Lance replies, “Actually, I’m fascinated to learn more about the followers of the Lions, and about you. Like, where you come from. You feel free to talk about whatever comes to mind.” Azahki responds then, “You’re too kind.”)

I think along with this, we see a more nuanced view into the Drule themselves. Azahki, as both a Drule and as Empress Jain’s daughter, has turned away from the evil deeds of the empire and has suffered dearly for trying to do the right thing. This falls in line with DDP’s dedication in the worldbuilding to show that not all Drule are bad.

--

We also see some very interesting, Honervian backstory relating to Empress Jain’s dark powers. Like VLD Honerva, Jain is in part backed by an ancient spirit/power she likes to “talk” to. She calls on it as the “Mother of Power.” This creepy creature is named Sarga in the comics:

(Photo description: Jain summons Sarga: “Mother of Power, Great Spirit, I summon thee.” The dark entity Sarga manifests and says, “Yesss, sweet Jain! You know my name! Feel free to speak it. Have you found the Host?” Jain replies, “Not yet, great Sarga. But the search continues. To date, my body is the only one that could sustain you in our realm.” Sarga says, “Jain. Do not be so simple-minded. It’s only your mortal shell.” Jain retorts, “One that I rather like, thank you.”)

Sarga is pushing for Jain to give up her mortal body entirely so that Sarga can walk the mortal plane, but they don’t see eye to eye on this. Jain likes having her own body. Even so, Sarga knows that she has to protect her investment in Jain, and so she’s the one who plants a devious idea in Jain’s head—that she could potentially use the Voltron from the future to destroy the Voltron of the past, and therefore reestablish her supremacy over the lion gods and their legacy.

Tbh, I visually get a LOT of vibes from Jain relating to VLD’s Honerva character? Down to the long stringy hair and gold eyes…and she really does look like a female version of Lotor, tbh, lol.

(Photo description: Jain leaning in a circle of candles, exhausted from summoning Sarga, who has referred to Voltron. Jain murmurs to herself, “Pow..power. There is power in that name.”)

I think what I like about Jain as a big bad, though, is that she’s legit just an evil person. She doesn’t have an abuse backstory, like what so many content creators like to reference as the reason for someone going insane/evil. She’s clearly very talented and very powerful and very in control, and she’s using those abilities in all the wrong ways just because she can.

Given DDP’s contributions to the Voltron franchise with its female villains (Merla, Jain), I almost can’t believe that the 2016 VLD show didn’t carry these characters forward but instead raised up the all-new Honerva as “needed female villain rep.” But I can definitely see the echoes of Jain in the Honerva that we see throughout VLD.

I also really, really see similarities in how Jain is willing to use her own daughter, Azahki, as a pawn for her own aims. And by the end of the comic, Jain eventually accomplishes bringing Sarga into the mortal plane by sacrificing her own daughter’s body. This pretty hauntingly echoes the lack of maternal instinct seen in Honerva in VLD and Honerva’s malicious interest in and use of Lotor, even post-death in s8.

I feel like I relived Honerva’s interactions with Lotor in s8 when I saw how Jain acts with her own daughter, Azahki:

(Photo description: Azahki has been shot in the battle. Jain kneels down to her and cries, “Daughter. My only daughter.” Azahki says, “Mother...you…you’re crying? I…I’m sorry…you didn’t give me… a choice.” Jain pleads, “You can’t do this, Azahki, not now. After being gone for so long and now…” But then Jain has a complete switch of demeanor. She stands up and declares, “Now you’ve ruined everything! Everything!” Azahki, bewildered, says, “What?” And Jain yells, “I should have killed you in your crib!”)

Another association with Honerva is that Honerva/Haggar killed the original paladins. Likewise, it is Jain who takes down the Council one by one:

(Photo description: Jain breaks into the Council, hand glowing with power and fallen warriors around her, saying, “How could someone with such feeble defenses have eluded me for so long, Altarus? I give you credit for that, at least.”)

(Photo description: Jane is surrounded by the dead bodies of Merlin and Heket. She says, “Now, to finish this.”)

So I guess I’m just fascinated by Jain as a villain and find her similarities with Honerva interesting. In Jain’s case, however, there’s absolutely nothing to be sympathetic with her on, lol.

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In terms of Lotor’s part:

I think this comic represents probably the most actively hopeful iteration of him that I’ve seen in the Voltron franchise? Like, Dynamite Comics had Lotor moving to ally with Team Voltron to bring down the rift creatures in a massive alliance, but those comics were canceled before we could see the whole story that Brandon Thomas intended. Here, we have a whole, complete story in which Lotor actively does good deeds and lives, wow.

(I didn’t think that was, like, allowed in this franchise, lol?)  

I do think it’s really interesting that here, Lotor comes face-to-face with just pure, unadulterated evil—and it scares him. Just like in VLD, this Lotor is forced to watch Jain decimate an entire planet and enslave its people. Despite being canonically “evil,” Lotor does not take this level of destruction very well:

(Photo description: Empress Jain speaking to an underling, saying, “For now, rid this planet of its luscious environment and warp home.”)

(Photo description: The planet is set ablaze by Jain’s forces. Lotor is looking on from a different ship. He is unsettled by Jain’s power and says, “My god.” His prisoner that he’s watching on Team Voltron’s request (the space pirate Captain Stride), teases, “Nothing like a little global decimation to build character, eh, Lotor?” And Lotor warns, “Stride,” with an upset look on this face.)

His motivations for helping out and connecting with both Team Voltron and King Altarus’s council do start with just wanting to save his own neck. But as the comic progresses, we see him taking larger and larger risks to help protect the team, and he responds more emotionally to the stakes being faced by other allies.  

Jain’s level of evil, and her later attempts to target Princess Allura as a host body for the dark entity Sarga, are what really push Lotor out of the antagonist/villain role into the position of antihero. And I like this exploration of him because Lotor is a really fascinating character in the franchise and usually always a wild card. Like, he has the capacity to play both sides and be unpredictable.

And it’s interesting too that this comic even opens up by acknowledging that. In the beginning, King Altarus and his council are watching Team Voltron and Lotor recalibrate from their crash-landing on Korrinoth. King Altarus notes that Lotor is evil, but that he’s capable of doing good…because of his love for Allura:

(Photo description: King Altarus judging the team: “The girl has a clairvoyance about her, but doesn’t even realize it. I sense something noble about all of them…save for the Drule who should not be trusted. Although his apparent fondness for the woman may cause him to fight his true evil nature at least for a while.”)

Later in the comic, it’s King Altarus himself who leans on Lotor when he thinks all hope is lost. And it’s Lotor who holds him up and tries to take down Jain:

(Photo description: King Altarus leans upon Lotor and mourns, “She’s…she’s done it, Lotor. She’s ruined our chances. Five generations…for nothing.” Lotor has raised a blaster and replies, “Not without going through me first.”)

So we really see this comic actively allow Lotor’s character to do things outside of the typical bounds of a villain. The very person who called him inherently evil is the one wailing to him and counting on him to save the day, lol.

We also see echoes of VLD Lotor’s pride in this comic. The DDP Lotor is also a man of mixed heritage and is very proud of who and what he is.

(Photo description: Lotor is on the battlefield, having slain an enemy who’d called them pathetic. Lotor responds, “Pathetic? My noble blood begs to differ.”)

So I liked that once again, Lotor is actually proud of who he is even though the world around him actively tries to devalue him. I think that’s been something meaningful about the Lotor character that a lot of people have connected to.

In his efforts to assist Team Voltron in reclaiming their own recharged Voltron lions (so that Jain can’t get them), Lotor is actually a very helpful ally as well, and a skilled warrior. So it was fun to see panels of Team Voltron and Lotor fighting together, side by side.

--

THE CLIMAX AND RESOLUTION

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Ultimately, the evil Empress Jain tries to take over the Voltron from the future, in realizing that Allura has deep, spiritual connections to the machine. She agrees that this makes Allura the perfect host body for the dark entity Sarga, and as their way to control the robot. And so she enacts the rituals to possess Allura:

(Photo description: Allura’s features are mutating unnaturally as Sarga begins to posses her. In the background, Jain calls, “Don’t fight it, child. Don’t fight the honor of becoming a god.” Someone in the background, revealed later to be Lotor, calls out, “No! You can’t do this!”)

With Jain threatening Allura’s life, Lotor steps up to defend her, still holding up the battered King Altarus:  

(Photo description: Lotor yells, “No! Not Allura!” And he shoots Jain through the shoulder.)

(Photo description: Jain snaps, “Lotor! How dare you attack your own kind! I’ll smite my own daughter, let alone a pissant distant grandson!”)

Ultimately, Lotor’s decision to shoot his grandma (what is it with this franchise and matricide/patricide lol) results in Jain being distracted long enough for the combined spiritual/soul energies of Allura, the previous Council members, and Altarus to bring “life” to Voltron.

This completes Voltron as a spiritual being as well—that it’s sentient and not just a robot, but imbued with the hopes and impulses for a defender against the evil attacking them.

(Photo description: Voltron awakens as a sentient robot and stands to move against Jain.)

Realizing that she has lost, Jain flees in a poof of magic—with her daughter, Azahki, oddly disappearing too. The comic ends for them on an unsettling note that Sarga has in fact slipped through to the mortal realm…by choosing Azahki instead of Allura as her host body:

(Photo description: Jain kneels and cries, “Oh mighty Sarga, I humbly beseech thee. Forgive my failures. Forgive my ability to bring you into our world. I beg you to be given a second chance! I vow to you we will see this through.” From behind, someone says, “Don’t be so harsh, mother.” Jain turns around and asks, “Who dares?” A woman in a cloak appears and says, “You may have failed to give me Voltron’s power, my child. But do not fear.” The woman is revealed to be the possessed body of Azahki, Jain’s daughter. Through her body, Sarga says, “I found a body that will do just fine for now.”)

However, we don’t see this thread explored any further. Shortly after the battle, the Galaxy Alliance manages to rebuild a temporal manipulation device to lock in on the missing Team Voltron and Lotor, and pull them back through time.

(Photo description: A strange flying machine appears. Someone asks, “What…what is it?” Allura echoes, “What’s it doing?” Lotor peers at it curiously and says, “I believe it’s scanning us.” The comic panels show the device scanning and identifying people to send back to modern times.)

And so, eventually, this wayward team makes it back home, with the final panels suggesting the  Garrison had to complete a couple of temporal jumps to do it.

FUN LITTLE PIECES ALONG THE WAY

The comic itself had some interesting and funny scenes in it, including the following:

Please enjoy this image of a boi having tamed a dinosaur in the middle of an active battle:  

(Photo description: Prince Lotor sitting atop a large, dinosaur-like creature that he’s tamed, calling joyfully to the paladins, “You can put your toy away, Pidge. I know where to find the lions.”)

Pidge jokes about Hunk and Lance:

(Photo description: Hunk had saved Lance from a shot. In running past them, Pidge calls, “Keep moving, guys! There’ll be time for spooning later.”)

Some time-traveling paradox humor:

  (Photo description: Lotor shooting an ancient Drule, “Hope you’re not one of my forefathers.”)

Some Keith and Lance badgering:

(Photo description: Lance complains, “Keith Kogane seriously isn’t going to lecture me about battlefield romance, is he?”)

Did VLD get the name Kaltor from this comic??? Because Kalthor sounds pretty darn similar to Kaltor from VLD:

(Photo description: Jain calling out for an underling, “Kalthor! Sigh. Kalthor, this effort is beneath me. Extract the information I seek.”)

ALSO BLESS, THIS COMIC LETS ALLURA CUSS:

(Photo description: Princess Allura raises a blaster to use, but it doesn’t work. She says, “What the--? Damn! Now is not the time for you to malfunction! And I do not know how to fix a 1,200-year-old—”)

This comic probably is also the singular place in the DDP comics that offers any evidence whatsoever that Lotor and Allura actually did have positive childhood experiences together prior to his father decimating Arus, helping to explain Lotor’s curious loyalty to Allura throughout:

(Photo description: Lotor standing before Allura and saying, “I knew you’d pull through, Allura. Speaking of treehouses, do you remember climbing the Arusion orchids in the royal gardens when we were children?” Allura responds, “Yes…of course I do. I…”)

And finally, this comic has no issues whatsoever with making fun of itself or the concept of robotic lions:

(Photo description: A space pirate complains to Lotor, “Think about it! How you think this place ends up looking like it does in our time? Looking like Planet Doom?! Meanwhile, the Kitty Cat Club up there gets out without a scratch!”)

VOLTRON IS THE KITTY CAT CLUB, 2008 CONFIRMED

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CONCLUSION

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The 5-part comic A Legend Forged (2008) adds an incredible amount of history and lore to the Voltron franchise. It gave me some things that I personally was really craving out of this franchise—including some logic behind the lion imagery, a legit alliance between previously warring groups that doesn’t just end in catastrophe, some adult snark and some good-old fashioned silliness, some deeper exploration into dark entities/spirits, and also just a really powerful villainess that you can love to hate.  

I think the comic ultimately took on the theme of Strength in Unity and fulfilled the concept that people really can work together. Even if the Team Voltron and Lotor and Council alliance was all just temporary, it was still nice to see that alliance come through for the greater good of the universe, instead of leading to more mass insanity like it did in VLD….

I liked that in this iteration, Voltron stood as a collective effort on the part of various worlds who were oppressed by Empress Jain. That helps to tone down the savior complex inherent in the franchise, that at least here, Voltron wasn’t one nation’s attempt to play police for all other people.

From a critical perspective, if you read carefully, there are some instances where you can tell that various alien races are prejudiced against each other and discriminate on the basis of appearance and religion, and even Team Voltron feeds into this at times in their initial assumption that Korrinites are a barbarian race when in fact they’re very intelligent and advanced. These aspects are just not fully reflected on within this comic, but they definitely feed into the conflict as we experience it 1,200 years in the past. Interestingly enough, the comic also makes fun of Team Voltron members who are from Earth as being “primitive” too. So I guess the DDP world does function in a “problematic” state where all of these alien races are struggling with how to interact well with one another. I’m not sure if that baseline would be a potential trigger for someone just entering this series, so I wanted to call it out here.

I do also occasionally find comics hard to read because of the all-caps print and because comics will switch back and forth between past and present, with only small visual markers to warn you. So I don’t think these comics are designed in the most accessible way. But that could just be me.

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Overall, I think A Legend Forged ranks as one of my more favorite comic iterations of Voltron. It definitely has some differences from both the 1984 and 2016 shows, but it pulls on enough shared content to remain accessible. And while it was a quick read, it felt pretty tightly constructed. I would have liked to see more aftermath and epilogue, but I feel thankful that the story got an ending and that both Team Voltron and Lotor are shown being transported back home. The comic’s similarities and differences compared to VLD made it fun to read and analyze as well.

So yeah, if you get the chance to try reading it yourself, I recommend it! And if you’ve made it to the end of this very long post, thank you for reading!

[novelconcepts]

fic: (could be dreadfully) boring

Boring gets a bad rap, really. Boring can be the best thing in the world. 

“Could be kinda boring, right?” Dani says one Thursday morning, cold breath and hot hope mingling in the words, and Jamie laughs a little. She says it like it’s the best idea in the world: could be kind of boring, like all the songs say it shouldn’t be, like every movie tries to dismiss. But Dani says it, and Jamie thinks she’s only partly doing so to make her smile. Maybe she’s saying it for other reasons, too. Real ones. Ones that have nothing at all to do with Jamie, and how much she knows about the allure of boring.

Jamie didn’t grow up bored. Jamie walked the line between bad and worse most of her life, between one poor decision and the next, and Jamie found out all too fast what it was like to live out an adventure. The storybooks make adventure sound like something to chase, something hot-blooded and excitable, a rush. 

In real life? In real life, adventure is hot-blooded, and excitable, a rabid thing with teeth. You grab hold, it swings around and bites you right back. 

Spend enough time with enough idiots who think I want is a perfectly fine life philosophy, spend enough time far from freedom, spend enough time picking up after someone else’s catastrophe, and adventure starts to sound something like a dirty word. She doesn’t want adventure. Her life, as it stands, makes sense. Get up. Get ready in a little flat made up with a little bed, a little couch, a little table. Drive to the house. Grow. Go home at the end of the night, ready to start it all again. 

It’s not easy, but it is simple. And simple, from where Jamie’s standing, is a good thing. You can make sense of simple. Of when to plant, when to harvest. How much to prune away, and how long to let something linger before it’s ready to be picked. Simple, scheduled life. Nothing wrong with it. 

And then here comes Dani Clayton, and Jamie doesn’t have the words to explain why she knows, but she does: Dani isn’t simple. Dani blows in with her strange American accent and her big blue eyes and a smile that doesn’t quite reach them, not all the way, and she’s not...simple. At first, Jamie can’t say what she is. Bigger than she looks, somehow. Like there’s something too expansive behind her ribcage to fit under the pastel blouses and the denim jackets. Like she spends all that time puffing her hair up and puffing her chest out because if she were to let her guard down for one minute, something on the underside of Dani Clayton would come unmoored. 

And it’s not Jamie’s problem.

Not supposed to be, anyway. 

She did this once, sort of. This caring about an au pair thing. Rebecca Jessel was different, but there was something about her that clicked with Jamie--something like a younger sister, someone with such ambition and so little self-preservation at the same time--and Jamie had thought, sure. Sure, this is worth the time, the energy, the stress. Family is what you make of it, and say what you will about Hannah and Owen, but they are family. The kids, too. Wee monsters, the pair of them, but they’re hers, somehow. 

Rebecca was almost hers, too. She thinks some nights about that far-away look in dark eyes, the way Rebecca turned her head sharply away near the end, like looking at Jamie--at any of them--was too near a mirror she couldn’t bear peering into. Rebecca was something special, and Jamie couldn’t see her pulling away until she was too far out to swim to.

And here: Dani Clayton. Also something special. Also something...something about her Jamie can’t quite put a finger on. Like walking into a room and inhaling the scent of the last good day of summer vacation, and thinking, yes. This one’s right. 

But she’s also twitchy as all get-out, and her eyes do this funny jig any time Jamie meets them, and her mouth goes tight around the corners, and Jamie thinks: not this time. Not again. Not my problem. 

Until it is. 

And she didn’t plan it, certainly. Didn’t plan to stay the night, with the kids all wound up and the rain pattering outside and Dani bunched up on the couch beside her using words like love and possession like she’s intimately acquainted with both. Didn’t plan on the way Dani’s breath hitched around the words. Didn’t plan the way her own throat swallowed like it was trying to force down the first spark of true honesty. 

Just for safety, she tells herself, setting up on that couch with a thin blanket and a shake of her head. Just in case. 

And on it went: a grab of the hand; a sudden understanding; a flirtatious banter exchanged under guise of mourning. All of it innocent enough. 

And then there’s Dani Clayton, telling her she sees ghosts. Telling her she sees the ghost of her ex-fiance. Telling her, with eyes clenched shut and thumbs jammed into her fists, like she doesn’t want to say the words, but she needs Jamie to hear them. And Jamie, she thinks, this isn’t boring, with a lurch of the stomach that says it shouldn’t be an attractive quality in a person. The idea of not being boring. It’s a bad goddamn idea.

Like it’s a bad idea when Dani surges into her. Like it’s a bad idea when she’s got Dani’s hair wound around her hands, her thumbs dragging arcs across Dani’s cheekbones, her mouth pulling into a delirious grin as Dani kisses her. It’s a bad idea. She knows it, and she doesn’t care in the least as Dani presses in and groans softly against her lips, and--

Jerks away. 

Always, with the jerking away. 

This isn’t how you do the thing, Jamie thinks for the next several days. This isn’t how you get involved in something like this. People are so goddamn much. And Dani is maybe more than most, maybe more than anyone she’s ever run up against in her entire life, and she tries not to think of it. Tries not to feel Dani’s small hands clutching her jacket. Tries not to taste the way Dani almost laughed with relief into her mouth. She tries. 

Few days away, she tells herself. That’ll do the trick. Few days to get her head on straight again, and then she’ll go back. Go home. Get back to the schedule of plant and tend and harvest, and it’ll be like it never happened. 

“Could be kinda boring,” Dani says, and Jamie looks at her. Wants to tell her no. Wants to want to tell her no. 

Smiles anyway. 

“Could be dreadfully boring.”

And even then, she thinks it won’t make a difference. Dani’s already shown her cards. Dani’s carrying something bigger than the both of them, and Jamie knows all too well how someone else’s baggage can upend a person’s life. It can ruin a person, to stand too close to someone else’s bonfire. Can singe you straight down to the bone. 

And yet...here she comes, anyway. Back for Dani that night. Back to take her hand, feeling the slide of cautious fingers knitting with her own. Back to lead her into a damp, dreary grove where only Jamie has ever stepped foot, and she tells her. Everything. How it is. How the world is. How her world is. She tells her more than she’s told anyone in years, and never all at once like this, and even as the words are spilling out of her, she thinks, this isn’t simple. 

Dani doesn’t seem to mind. Dani looks at her for the longest heartbeat in the world, and she is looking at her. Not with eyes darting, not with jaw tensing, but with the most open-hearted want Jamie has stood near in maybe her entire life. 

It burns. It burns in the absolute best way. 

And it isn’t simple, and it isn’t easy, but it’s right, she thinks, as they stand in the drizzling rain with Dani’s arms wrapped almost double around her shoulders. As she lets Dani hold her and kiss her and sigh like this is what finally letting go feels like. 

It isn’t simple, and maybe it isn’t smart, because Dani Clayton isn’t boring. And, suddenly, Jamie doesn’t want her to be. Or, rather, she doesn’t want Dani Clayton to be anything shy of what Dani is: selfless, silly, hopeful Dani, who touches her like she’s never touched anything worthwhile in her whole life and is a bit terrified Jamie’s going to fade away under her fingertips. Dani, who walks back to the house with her like she’s on a goddamn mission, head up, eyes more certain that Jamie’s ever seen them. When she smiles in that bedroom, it reaches those eyes. When she lets Jamie slide with her beneath the blankets, with nothing between them, there’s no sign of ghosts or goblins or guilt. 

She gasps when Jamie touches her, and burrows closer, and Jamie thinks, oh, we’re in this, now. 

Her blood sings, her heart racing, and it feels like adventure, and something in Jamie sits back and sighs. All right, that something says. All right, you’ve made your call. When’s it ever gone right for you, to choose something like this?

She shakes her head, helpless, unable to explain to this core of self-restraint that this is...everything. That Dani being less than simple isn’t enough to negate all the rest. That Dani being less than simple is, in fact, integral to how desperately Jamie needs to keep her close. 

The day comes and goes, Jamie still wearing yesterday’s t-shirt, Dani smelling faintly of Jamie’s shampoo somehow. No one calls them on how close they sit, on how Dani’s hand is always brushing Jamie’s, a constant reminder that last night happened, that Jamie is still here. No one calls them on how Dani’s laugh is louder now, dizzy-giddy as she gasps for breath, or on Jamie’s leg angling of its own accord to press against Dani’s thigh from the next chair over. She looks up once, sees Hannah’s knowing brow rise, and thinks, this could be you, you know. Hannah, for all her clever glances, doesn’t seem to read her mind. She only lifts her mug of untouched tea very slightly, nods, smiles. 

The day comes and goes, and it isn't easy, and it isn’t simple: Flora’s acting strange again, coming and going in that unpredictable way children sometimes have, and Miles is strung tight at the table, and there’s a strange distance that seems to be growing up between Hannah and the rest of them. The price of family, Jamie thinks with a stab of regret--and then Dani is slipping away with her to the hall, pressing her gently against a low table, kissing her with the already-easy fervor of someone who would gladly do this every day for the rest of her life. 

That thought, above all else, should scare her. To think of a life not lived in that little flat, with the little bed, the little couch, the little table. To think of a life lived, instead, sharing someone else’s baggage. 

She almost stays another night. Almost. If Dani had tried a little harder, she thinks she would have lost all measure of restraint. If Dani had kept making that tiny noise, the one that unbinds everything calm in Jamie’s chest, her tongue brushing Jamie’s in the sweetest invitation. If Dani had taken her hand and led her back down the hall. She almost does it, anyway. 

Simple, she reminds herself, breaking the kiss, her skin humming beneath the splay of Dani’s fingers around her ribs. Boring. Boring and simple and let it blossom on its own time, why don’t you. 

She goes home. She goes back to that little flat, where she showers and lays down with a book she can’t seem to read, her head buzzing with the nearly tactile energy of Dani’s smile. Eventually, she sleeps. 

She wakes already reaching for a body she knows isn’t there, and the only thought in her head is, trouble. 

Her phone is ringing, she realizes belatedly. For a bleary second, she’s sure it’ll be Peter Quint on the other end, breathing deep, taunting--but it’s Owen’s voice, shaggy with sleep, saying, “The house. Something at the house, Jamie. Do you feel it?”

She’s already screaming Dani’s name before she reaches that lake, before she has any idea why talons of terror are scraping down her back. She’s plunging into the waves in great hitching leaps, moving as fast as she can to catch Dani up before she--and Flora, Flora’s out here in a nightgown and shuddering fear, her eyes older than any eight-year-old’s have a right to be--can tip over into the restless water. Dani is shaking like she’s going to come apart right here in Jamie’s arms, shaking and clutching Flora close and muttering, “It’s us. It’s us. It’s us.” 

There’s something wrong with her eyes. Jamie won’t be able to tell for almost an hour what it is--the moonlight isn’t bright enough, the shadows too thick around them, and even when everyone is back on solid ground, Dani curled in her arms, she holds them shut against Jamie’s searching worry. As if she thinks Jamie seeing her up close tonight will undo all the careful, hopeful, wonderful work they did together over the last two days. 

“D’you want some company?” Jamie asks her, when the dust has settled enough to make clear the road that led them all to this point--Henry, here; Hannah, not; Owen, drifting. It’s a mess, she thinks, just the biggest goddamn mess she’s ever come across, and the simple answer would be to walk now. To drive back into Bly, back to the little flat with its little world bunched up behind little walls. Close down, start over when things regain proper equilibrium. 

“D’you want some company?” she asks, and she’s sure Dani will say no. Dani’s head is already shaking--and then, slowly, reversing course. Dani, looking at her with swollen eyes--one the blue Jamie fell into that very first day, the other a soft brown made up of all the sorrow one woman could possibly carry without falling down dead of it. Dani, letting her kiss their joined hands, a silent promise that other nights are coming--as many of them as Jamie can scrounge together--and that Jamie isn’t going anywhere. 

And now they’re here: in America. In another life altogether from au pairs and gardeners and ghosts. They’re here, and Jamie thinks, not simple. But boring?

Yes, in its own way, she supposes it is. 

It takes her by surprise, honestly. This sort of behavior is textbook adventure. To up and leave the only place she’s ever known for a land as alternately thrilling and scandalizing as America. To do so with Dani’s hand in hers, holding tight like if she lets go for even a second, she’s sure she’ll turn around to find Jamie gone and the beast in the jungle standing in her place. Jamie doesn’t mind the way Dani’s grip grinds her bones together some nights. The way Dani just sits back and looks at her, searching her face for something, anything, of the monster she feels lurking in the shadows. 

Jamie does her best to give only what she has, and what she has is apparently enough, because Dani slowly...slowly comes back. There are moments, yes, afternoons that start out perfectly sunny and swing without warning to Dani sitting with her back against the wall, her breath coming in shallow gulps as she chokes on her own terror. There are nights Jamie wakes to find Dani clambering atop her with a child’s grace, legs and arms clutching, heart racing so hard, Jamie can feel it beneath her lips. Those nights aren’t good ones, and Jamie wonders each time if she’ll wake the next morning to find Dani has fled under cover of moonlight. If Dani has decided the terror is greater than the reward of working on this with her. 

But each morning, Dani is there. And, slowly, slowly, the tension slides out of her grasp. The look in her eyes, the one that says she’s been staring inward too long to see Jamie at all, fades. They’re still mismatched, those eyes, and sometimes, Jamie misses when they were both that mesmerizing blue--but the longer Dani looks at her, the more she thinks, doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter what color they are at all, s’long as it’s her looking back from behind them. 

They build a routine. Jamie wonders if this will get old, if this will wear at them; the songs all say it, the movies all insist: routine is cousin to death. Got to keep it fresh, everyone insists. Got to keep it moving. 

But what they don’t seem to get, what they don’t seem to see, what Jamie believes with her whole heart is this: 

Anything worth growing takes time. And patience. And routine. Anything worth growing needs a person to give every ounce of devotion they can muster, not the ragtag chaos of the brand-new. 

They build a routine. Find a place. Build a shop. And with every passing day, Dani comes back to herself a little more. She’s making jokes now--bad ones, ones even Owen would cringe away from--and Jamie’s laughing every time because it’s not the words that count. It’s the delight in Dani’s eyes when she lands one that makes water stream out of Jamie’s nose. It’s the sheer open-hearted bliss of knowing someone so well, you can’t help but make them laugh with the stupidest things. 

Jamie’s out of bed first each morning. When it was Dani, at the beginning, it made her uneasy; waking in bed with one arm reaching toward Dani’s side always felt like an omen of uncertainty for the day ahead. Would she walk out of the bedroom to find Dani pacing the apartment, wearing tracks into the carpet as she muttered under her breath? Would she find, instead, Dani struggling over the morning coffee? Would she find Dani gone altogether, only to come stumbling through the door hours later, arms laden with grocery bags and strange decorative bits and bobs? 

Jamie likes it better this way. Out of bed at six, sitting on the edge of the mattress, watching Dani breathe. At the beginning, this was the only time she ever saw Dani truly relaxed. It still feels like a gift now, a stolen moment unshared with anyone else. Dani curls toward Jamie’s pillow, her hand sleep-sneaking over to rest beneath it, and Jamie leans to kiss her brow. 

She’ll sleep another hour or two, probably, and in the meantime, Jamie breathes. Brews tea. Waters plants. Plans out orders to keep the shop stocked. Every day like this feels clean in some strange way, like by getting up with the sun, she’s allowed a chance to wash away the past. If she didn’t, if she slept later, maybe she’d wake to find the ghosts had followed them after all. Better this way. Better to keep vigil so Dani doesn’t have to. 

“You’re not sick of this, yet?” 

Those same words come weighted with different meaning. Sometimes, Dani says them laughingly--usually when they’ve both managed to botch a meal so badly, the only recourse is pizza. Other times, her voice is stiff with swallowed tears. On those days, Jamie knows, she’s thinking about the concept of borrowed time. Wondering how much she’s earned with good behavior. Wondering how Jamie could possibly stand starting every day not knowing what might pop out at them from the corners of Dani’s anxiety. 

“Not sick of it, Poppins,” she says every time. Sometimes, she says it and pins Dani against the nearest bit of furniture, ensuring they’ll both be breathless and giggling with irritation when the pizza finally does interrupt. Sometimes, she says it into the crown of Dani’s hair, hands stroking calm, repeat patterns down Dani’s back. It doesn’t matter how she says it. It’s always true. 

It’s boring, she wants to tell Dani, but can’t quite find the right way to say it. It’s boring, and it’s right. It’s the good kind of stable, the kind where you know for a fact that no matter what happens, your reaching hand will never come up empty. It’s the right kind of natural, the organic state of live and flourish that comes from tending something with earnest care. It’s boring, and I could never be sick of it, she wants to say, because it’s you. It’s me. It’s us. 

Their home is the good kind of cluttered, and their bickering is the good kind of stupid, and every time she finds herself tucked under Dani in bed, or tucked into Dani on the couch, or tucked close to Dani in a moment of perfect bliss, she thinks, this was always how it was supposed to go. I knew it, somehow. First time I saw her at that lunch table, I knew it. 

But there are words, and then there are words, and Jamie isn’t really designed for pretty language. She presents Dani with a flower--one carefully tended moonflower, grown in secret--and she says with shaking certainty, “We’ve got a problem, Poppins.” The problem, of course, being that she’s not sick of it. Not sick of Dani’s legs tangling smooth against her own after a shower, not sick of Dani’s heaving laughter when they slip on an icy Vermont sidewalk and go down in a heap of limbs, not sick of waking to Dani’s hands tracing, gently, the raised tissue of the scar on her back. She knows her life inside and out, knows the good days and the bad, and above all, she knows the thing that counts most: 

It’s boring. It’s the right kind of boring. Dreadfully, perfectly, wonderfully boring. 

And she is so in love. Has been, if she’s honest with herself, for ages. Has been since Dani was scolding her for a bedframe gone unbuilt, since pinning Dani against an upright mattress and sliding a thigh between her legs and hearing her groan against her ear. Has been since Dani was sitting beside her in that weathered diner, talking about realism and one-day-at-a-time. Has been since Dani reached for her hand without looking in the Bly Manor foyer, has been since Dani shuddered and shook in her arms after the lake, has been since Dani kissed her in the hall, in the grove, in the greenhouse. 

It makes sense in all the ways that Dani has from the very start, and it makes no sense at all in the way Jamie thinks good things in her life never do. And it’s right. Dani, looking at her over the counter with such affection, like she’s questioned so much, but never this. Never Jamie. Not really, deep down, where it counts. 

They’re in the back room, all hands and mouths and laughing sighs, and Jamie knows boring gets a bad rap. Knows that every kind of narrative insists this is the thing to be avoided. Keep moving. Keep dancing. Keep it fresh and new and hot-blooded and ready to bite. 

But this...this is what people don’t understand. What people could be so much happier, if they could only wrap their heads around the concept. Boring doesn’t mean stagnant. Boring doesn’t mean stuck in place. Theirs isn’t a photograph, all arc and angle and line frozen in time. 

Theirs is a story. Growing. Shifting. Ever-evolving. Blooming and fading and blooming again. Dani’s hands, always finding hers. Dani’s eyes, mismatched but so full of adoration, whether she’s spent the day worrying about dinner or demons. Dani, who once stood with her back to a greenhouse counter and said, “Could be kinda boring, right?”

Boring is good. Boring is perfect. 

Jamie thinks she could do boring for the rest of her life. 

[thiswasinevitableid]

95. you just witnessed me kill a guy and I have a really, really good reason for it, please don’t call the cops

Sternclay as a super/vigilante au? sfw or nsfw, please!

Here you go! This is NSFW

Content note: this fic contains mentions of murder, serial killers, knives. Brief description of a porn scene with implied dub-con (you can skip from the part where Barclay sees the TV to the next section break). But I included lots of fluff to balance it out.

This is the best hook-up Barclays had in years. Mr. Tall, dark, and handsome has done nothing but compliment him all night, from the fit of his shirt down to his kissing skills. So now that he’s facedown on the bed in this guys brownstone wearing only his boxers, he’s so excited he can barely think.

“Almost ready” a shcck of blinds dropping, “I just need to grab one more thing. Then the fun can start.”

“Can’t wait.” He sighs, shuts his eyes as his date moves across the room. Then the movement stops.

“Who the fu-”

Horrible, sticky warmth spatters the side of his face. Startled, he opens his eyes in time to watch his date fall to the floor, dead. Behind him is a figure in dark clothes with a tactical mask covering his face and a gun with a silencer in his right hand. A figure who has just noticed Barclay is awake.

In five swift, purposeful steps he’s at the bed, and Barclay doesn’t know what to do, whether to bolt for the window or knock the gun away or beg or, or or-

“Are you alright, sir?” The voice coming from the mask is calm and businesslike.

“.........what do you think?” Is the reply his useless brain comes up with.

“You look like you’re in shock. Which is understandable.” A gloved hand touches his face, “shit, I’m sorry, I was hoping none of it would get on you. Here, hold still.” He rifles through a pocket while Barclay’s mind drifts further from his body. Why isn’t he just killing him now? Is this part of some sick game?

“Turn your face this way just a bit” the back of his hand nudges Barclay’s chin, “good, thank you. I’m going to get you cleaned up, once that’s done I need to ask you to stay here until I’m finished cleaning up the scene. And also to not call the authorities for help when I’m out of the room.”

“Why?” Nope, okay, that’s it, that’s the reply that gets him shot.

“For one, you’re not in any danger from me. You were in danger from the now-deceased Mr. Martin, which is why I killed him.”

“I, uh, h-how can you be sure?”

“Let me show you” he helps Barclay up, guides him to the body, “you don’t need to look at him, just at that.”

He’s pointing to the boning knife clutched in the man’s hand. Barclay’s guts turn to sour milk.

“M-maybe he picked that up when he saw you?”

The killer shakes his head, gently guides Barclay back to the bed and, after a moment of studying the nightstand, pulls out the bottom drawer. It contains two more knives, duck tape, pliers, and seven, severed human thumbs.

“Oh fuck. What the fuck, what the fuck?” He whispers as the man closes the drawer.

“Mr. Martin is the Bear Butcher. I doubt you’ve heard of him, because that’s the name the authorities use among themselves while insisting that there’s no need to warn the public about him. He’s killed seven men, all gay and all on the bigger side; you would have been number eight.”

“I’m gonna be sick” He tips forward, feels gloved hands catch him and easily half-drag him into what turns out to be the bathroom.

“Wait here and do what you need to. I’ll be done in fifteen minutes, less if I can manage it. And, um, you might want to keep your eyes closed.”

Barclay has no problem with that order, though when the killer (his hero?) moves the body into the tub he discovers both the reason for the warning and that he does indeed have more in his stomach to throw up.

After an eternity of iron and bleach in the air and bile on his tongue, he’s helped back into the bedroom. The man hands him his clothes, turning his back as he dresses. He’s changed too, though the mask remains.

“I, I didn’t bring my car.” Barclay says weakly, knowing he won’t have the energy to walk home and the thought of getting in a cab or rideshare sets his nerves screaming.

“I assumed, since he wouldn’t want it being abandoned to lead to someone calling you in missing. If you’re okay with it, I can give you a ride home.”

Barclay nods. The man ushers him out the front door, pausing at the threshold for a final sweep. Then he pulls off his mask. Black hair sticks up until he smooths it back in a practiced motion, and blue eyes regard Barclay gently from a handsome face.

“It’s the Altima, right on the corner.” He says, folding the mask and tucking it into his pocket. Barclay gives his address, sits stiffly in the passenger seat as a pop station plays from the speakers.

“Do you want to change the station?”

“No” Barclay inhales fine, but the exhale comes out shaky, “jesus, how are you so calm?”

“Because if I’m trying to help you stay calm, I need to model the behavior. And, um, this isn’t my first time doing this, in case that wasn’t obvious. I’ve never had a witness before, for all the usual reasons and I’d prefer not to traumatize someone. But he went off his pattern and picked you up tonight, and I was not about to let him claim another victim.”

“Thank you.” Barclay doesn’t know what else to say. His adrenaline brain suggests propositioning the man in gratitude because it’s not everyday a hot mystery man saves your life. But the rest of him is well aware that if anyone touched him right now he might scream.

“It’s my job. Or it’s supposed to be.”

His curiosity peeks out from where it’s been hiding behind his sense of self-preservation, “What’s your name? Or can you not tell me?”

“It’s Joseph.”

“Barclay.”

“I wish we’d met under better circumstances, Barclay. Oh, here we are.” He parks the car, engine still running, “do you want me to wait until you’re inside to go?”

It should feel safe; it’s his apartment, his home above Amnesty’s new location, Mama’s own little house just out in the backyard. But his hand can’t make the fucking door handle go.

“Would, uh, would you mind coming up with me? Just, just for a few minutes?”

The man raises his eyebrows, but nods. Soon he’s standing in Barclays little kitchen, hands folded politely behind his back while Barclay tries and fails to start tea.

“If you want to just point to where things are, I can do that for you. You should eat something too, if your stomach’s settled.”

Barclay declines at first, but when his stomach growls Joseph moves through the kitchen--making distracting small talk all the while--not stopping until he’s assembled a plate of crackers, cheese and apples.

“Ooh, you got the good stuff.” He steals a piece for himself while Barclay nibbles a Triscuit

“Kinda a cheese snob; comes with the job.”

They talk about food and food writing until his plate is clear, at which point Joseph suggests he get ready for bed. Without being asked, he stays by the door as Barclay finishes getting changed and brushing his teeth.

“I, uh, I’m not really sure how to, uh, end this night.”

Joseph cups his cheek, “Lock the doors behind me. You don’t need to worry about anything else; you don’t owe me a thing. You’re safe. That’s what matters.” He smiles at him for the last time and heads out into the early morning light.

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

“Hey big fella, you’ll never guess who put in an order.” Mama clips up the slip from the table she’s working; Amnesty has been busy in the week since they opened here, so much so that she’s had to help with the crowds.

“Who?” Barclay flips the pancakes he’s watching, checks the bacons for tables 15 and 9.

“Your late night visitor.” Mama winks.

He turns, spots Joseph at the far end of the counter. He’s in a black suit, blue tie setting off his eyes, and his hair is fully slicked back. On his chest is a badge identifying him as working at the nearby FBI offices. He’s clearly as surprised to see Barclay as Barclay is to see him. He’s less surprised that Mama saw him leaving; she gets up early and her window faces his back stairs

“Hold on” Mama nudges him, “did he give you trouble? Because you look pretty off.”

“No, no, just, uh, didn’t expect to see him again.”

Joseph orders hash and poached eggs, and when Barclay sends the order out, he hands Dani a slice of cherry pie to go along with it. He peeks over his shoulder; Joseph is looking at the free dessert, smiling. Then he takes a bite and makes a face that’s borderline orgasmic. Barclay looks away before he drops a hot waffle on his foot.

Amnesty's restaurant closes at 3, and as Barclay is locking the front door, he notices Joseph waiting for him in an easily visible, well-lit spot.

“You know, I meant it when I said you didn’t owe me anything. Not even the most delicious pie I’ve ever eaten.”

“I give freebies now and then” Barclay smiles, “no rule that says I can’t give them to someone who did me a huge fucking favor. And, uh” he blushes, “glad you like the pie.”

“The whole meal was incredible. You’re a very talented cook. Would it be okay if I came back?” His expression is hopeful, almost nervous.

Barclay touches his shoulder, “Anytime.”

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

“So, uh, I’ve haven’t had a chance to ask but, uh, when you’re not working or chatting with me here, what do you do? For, like, fun?” Barclay leans across the counter as Joseph licks his form clean of meringue. Barclay’s gone through twelve different pie recipes in the last month just to see which ones the other man likes best.

“I read a lot, cultivate an extensive knowledge of old horror movies, try to make decent risotto in my apartment...oh, I play frisbee golf sometimes, I picked it up in college.”

“Any interest in seeing that new Godzilla movie? It looks terrible but in a fun way.”

“Oh yeah, I like what I’ve seen of the design they’re using for the kaiju.” He notices Barclays hand resting millimeters for his own. He runs his thumb along Barclays knuckles, “are you asking if I’ll go see it with you, big guy?”

“Uh huh.”

“I’d love to.”

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

“Holy fuck babe, when you said you were running out to get breakfast I figured you meant, like, McMuffins.”

“Only the best for you, big guy. Consider it a thank you for making dinner last night.” Joseph finishes laying out the donuts from “Holes in One” next to the plate of bagels and lox from the only place that Joseph insists does them right.

Barclay wraps his arms around him, tickling his cheek with his beard, “you’re fucking amazing babe.”

Joseph kisses him, coffee flavored and light, “So are you. Still want to play chess later?”

“Uh huh. Winner gets to blow the loser?”

“I like those terms, Mr. Cobb.”

It’s been like this for the last three months; evenings at the movies or tangled up in bed, mornings in sleepy hazes on the couch or out the eat, days upon days of Joseph spoiling, servicing, and just generally loving the hell out of him.

There are also the nights or, more often, early mornings, when Joseph returns steeped in grim satisfaction. At first he avoided having Barclay over those nights or going to see him the next day. Lately, they’re together so much that it’s unavoidable that Barclay will see the lethal edge lingering in his gaze or rub knots from his shoulders that he knows were earned in some darkened room where horrors had been playing out for weeks, months, even years. He doesn’t shy away from it; he loves Joseph, and that means seeing him clearly, though sometimes what he sees sends chills across his skin. Chills that feel less and less like fear.

They’re out for a walk around the lake, trading bites of gelato, when a question tunnels it’s way to the front of Barclays mind. He waits until they’re sitting on a bench far from any prying ears to ask it.

“What made you decide to, uh, do what you do?”

His boyfriend studies him, then sighs, “A number of things. Fear was the first one; you said you don’t follow true crime, so I’m guessing you don’t know of the Janesville Strangler?”

“Nope.”

“He killed ten young women over the course of three years. He’s also my biological father. Michael Stern is my stepfather and, at my request, my adoptive one as well; my mom remarried as soon as she was sure my father couldn’t get out. He, he never turned any violence on me, but I suspect he used me as leverage with mom; she was a smart woman, I suspect she noticed something amiss but was frightened into keeping quiet. I was six when they locked him up, eight when she remarried. Mike is a gentle man, he did his best to raise me the same. But I, I never shook the fear that whatever drove my father to kill innocent people lurks somewhere in my genes.”

Barclay’s arm rests protectively across Joseph’s shoulders.

“I joined the FBI because I felt if I was able to turn whatever killer genes I have towards understanding serial murderers, I could use them to help others. Keep people safe. Ambition and skill moved me through the ranks quickly but” he sighs, “the more I rose, the more I saw how little was being done. How cases were mishandled, how if there was the slightest hint it was a cop or veteran doing the killing suddenly the case went cold, how a killer could pick off person after person and no one cared because the victims were the “wrong” kind of people. It came to a head two years ago; I’d poured all this energy into a case where the killer went after sex workers. He was prolific and obviously cruel, I fought tooth and nail for every resource I needed to track him. Officer Alex Brown was my main suspect, I was so close to getting a warrant to search his property and then they closed the case. Insisted the deaths were unrelated. I...I went up and searched on my own and” he looks at the sky, rests his head on Barclays arm, “lord almighty the things I found. I was right, I was right and I couldn’t do anything about it, he’d get to just go on preying on people and I couldn’t handle failing his future victims that way. I waited until he went on a hunting trip. Alone. Lots of things can happen to a man in the woods. And it’s hard to find evidence when his body just happens to fall near a coyote den.”

A little smile, one he tries to suppress, creeps up his cheeks, “I’ve never felt so powerful in my entire life. I decided I’d still try to play by the rules but that if I knew, for certain, someone was guilty and being shielded by either ignorance or malice, I’d solve the problem myself.” He looks at Barclay for the first time since he started his answer, face turning to shame, “I’m sorry, I, I should have given the short answer. I didn’t, I don’t want to upset you, or scare you but it’s hard not to given-”

“Joseph” Barclay carefully runs his fingers over black hair, “it’s not like I forgot how we met. I...I’m not under any misimpressions about what you’re capable of. I just wanted to know how you arrived at the solution you did. It’s, uh, it’s not what I’d choose for myself, not something I could do but, uh, I guess what I’m trying to say is that this isn’t going to push me away from you. And that it means a lot to me that you trust me enough to explain it.”

His boyfriend curls closer, “It means a lot to me, too.”

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

Black gloves on his throat, weight on his chest and when he opens his eyes it’s Joseph above him, steel in his gaze and between his fingers. He’s in a muddled dream version of Bear Butcher’s apartment

“Hi, big guy.” The thin knife slices up Barclay’s pants, “let’s get you out of these.”

“Please, please I-”

“Shhhh” Joseph kisses him, “I removed the man who threatened you. But you’re so handsome laid out like this, a victim just waiting for someone to make you scream.”

“Babe, I-”

“That’s not my name right now. Call me..” the hand no longer has a knife, is running roughly up his cock instead, “call me…”

Barclay wakes up still humping the mattress as he cums. Blindly, he reaches for his phone to check the time. It’s the fifth dream like that in two weeks, and they always leave him so horny he tries to get it up and get off again if there’s time. No such luck today; he has to be up in ten minutes.

He tries not to think about it during work, just like he tries not to think about it the rest of the time. Especially in bed with Joseph, his attentive, indulgent Joseph who puts all his organizational skills and professional practice at giving orders into domming Barclay so sweetly he stays in subspace for hours.

He’s still very much not thinking about Joseph gagging him so his screams don’t wake the neighbors as he climbs the stairs to his boyfriends place. Dani was a sweetheart and took care of his orders for him, so he was able to leave work early.

The T.V is on, volume up loud enough that he can tell what his boyfriend is up to before he even walks into the room. He fully intends to tease him for not being able to wait until Barclay was there to jerk off before hauling him into the bedroom. But when he sees the screen, he freezes.

A man in what looks like a cheesy camp counselor uniform is tied to the bed, his shirt stuffed into his mouth as a make-shift gag. Straddling him is a man in a black jumpsuit, knife near his hand and cock buried in the counselors ass.

“That’s it sweetheart, wiggle and try’n get away; you ain’t gonna and it feels so fuckin good when you try. This is what you get for leaving the window open.”

The counselor shakes his head, fear so palpable Barclay barely notices the fact the boom mic is in the shot. The killer pulls the gag free.

“Please, please, don’t kill meAH, ohgod”

A dark laugh, “I’m not gonna kill you, sugar. Thought about it, but when am I gonna find an ass this good again? Nah, I’m gonna take you back with me, keep you strapped down because you’re the, fuck, cutest goddamn specimen I ever caught.”

On the couch, Joseph tenses, cumming in the sleeve he’s using with a cry at the same moment the killer on screen cums and bends to kiss his co-stars tear-streaked face.

Joseph hits the remote, causing the T.V to go dark and reveal Barclay’s reflection.

“Shit!” Joseph leaps up, making Barclay yelp in surprise, “oh, oh thank the lord it’s just you….oh god how much of that did you see?”

“Some?”

Joseph drops to the couch, head in hands, “shit. I’m, I’m so sorry Barclay, I, I never wanted you to know about this habit, I’m sorry it’s awful.” The voice between his fingers sounds like it might cry.

“I mean, that wasn’t like a snuff film, right?”

“Those aren’t real.”

He can’t help but smile remembering Joseph’s rant on the subject, “what I meant was: those guys are just actors getting paid to do a scene like that, not some actually getting attacked.”

“Of course not.” Joseph looks up, horrified, “I’d never watch something like that. The, the whole reason I like this company is that they do horror porn under very ethical working conditions.”

“Then why are you acting like I caught you pissing in my coffee?”

“Does the fact I get off to this honestly not bother you?”

“I mean, people get off to all sorts of shit. Like, um, like” he twists the bracelet on his wrist, “like their boyfriend tying them up and threatening to make them scream.”

Josephs eyes widen. Then he shakes his head, “No. No we can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I...I never, ever want to hurt you that way. Even in a scene. I can’t stand the thought of you being scared of me, of turning these impulses loose on you. It sounds fun until I picture it and then it makes me ill. No, this stays firmly in my head.”

“Okay.” He keeps his reply soft to hide his disappointment. Joseph is still on the couch, refusing to look his way, and so he circles it and kneels at his feet to better rub his arms. He thinks about the images on screen. About Joseph, blissed out then suddenly shame-faced. Joseph, two nights ago, calculated and loving as he worked Barclay over.

No, maybe the kind of scene he’s been picturing isn’t for them. But he can think of one that is.

“What if, uh, instead of giving into the desires that freak you out we kind of rechannel them. Like, instead of strapping me down to torment me, you’re doing it to show off?”

Blue eyes meet his for the first time all night, “Say more.”

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

“Ready?” Barclay bats his eyelashes at Joseph as his boyfriend finishes double checking the tightness of the rope he’s using to tie Barclays arms above his head.

“Ready.” Joseph stands, rolling his shoulders and closing his eyes as he takes deep breaths. Then he frowns, “can you start us off?”

“Sure thing, babe.” He nestles his head on the pillow, “okay, you found me tied up like this. What’s your first thought?”

Joseph opens his eyes, gaze sharp, “That I’m so lucky someone left a handsome specimen like you where I could find him.”

Barclays cock twitches at being referred to that way, “You’re not gonna let me go?”

“Not just yet. You’re so perfect, will you let me make a case for staying here with me?”

“Please” Barclay whimpers as Joseph straddles him, knife in hand.

“I’m very precise, for starters.” He cuts slowly up Barclays boxers until he can pull the strip of fabric off. Repeats the process, lips a firm line of concentration, with his undershirt, “see? There’s not even a scratch. I have to be careful not to damage my perfect specimen.”

Barclay groans, rolling his hips. Joseph smiles, shifting so his cock rubs against Joseph’s clothed crotch.

“Fuck, Joseph-”

“Shhhh” a gloved thumb brushes his lips, “When you’re like this, my name is Sir.”

“Ohfuck.” Barclay rubs his cheek pleadingly in his palm, “Sir, please, please, untie me so I can touch you.”

“Not yet.” Joseph pats his cheek, scoots backwards on the bed, “besides, you’ll have lots of time to touch me once I take you home and make you my sweet live-in plaything.”

“Holyfuckingshit.” Barclay fights off a dozen tantalizing images of what that could entail to focus on their plan, “Sir? What, uh, what was the guy who tied me up going to do to me?”

His boyfriend settles between his legs, “He was going to take you apart.” He lifts Barclay’s right leg, “starting with these, so if you got free you couldn’t run. This tendon first” he kisses the back of his knee, making Barclay giggle. He pauses, then decides on holding both legs up at once so he can repeat the kiss on the other side. His lips move slowly down to his ankles, right side and then the left, before a final one lands on his arch, “he was going to cut here too. But not me” the kisses continue, “I’m going to rub them every evening so you’re never sore.”

“Fuuuuck” He sighs as Joseph straddles him once more, leaning forward so he can kiss and fondle his arms.

“He was going to slice alllll along here” Joseph’s breathing is picking up the longer he lavishes Barclay with kisses, “then he was going to take your fingers one by one” Joseph kisses each knuckle in turn, his free hand petting Barclay’s face and hair, “then he was going to commit a cardinal sin by mangling these” Joseph toys with his pecks, sucks happily on his left nipple for a moment, “what a crime that would have been.”

“Sir” it’s a whine as Joseph nips and kisses his way down to his navel.

He raises slightly, mouth just above Barclays cock, “and because he had no imagination, he was going to cut this wonderful appendage off. Which is not the treatment it deserves.”

“What treatment does it deserve SirrrrrOHfuck, fuckyes” Barclay pants as Joseph licks stripe after stripe up his cock. As Joseph licks and sucks him to a hard-on, he feels the plug slip from his ass.

“I don’t know what his plans were for that” Joseph sits up, undoing his pants and pulling out his cock, “but I know what mine are.” He pushes Barclays legs wide, works his cock in with slow, steady thrusts while Barclay tries to remember how words work.

“Shit, yes, god your ass is amazing, what kind of person sees it and thinks its for anything but fucking?”

“Nngh” Barclay clings to the ropes as Joseph’s thrusts quicken.

“Lord, I thought you were a perfect specimen before but I was wrong, you look even better taking my cock.”

“Fuck, fuck that’s hot.”

Joseph grip his thighs tight enough to hurt, “well, big guy, will you stay with me?” His eyes glitter, his hair is coming loose and falling across his forehead.

“YesAH, yes, ohfucksirright there” He didn’t notice Joseph changing the angle of thrusts until his cock found his prostate, “I’ll be so good Sir, wanna be a good boy for you.”

“Oh good.” Joseph’s smile goes wolfish for an instant, “because I would have had to do some very mean things to persuade you if you refused.”

Barclay cums at that, staining Joseph’s shirt with white. His hands knock against the headboard as Joseph fucks him hard enough to make him sob with oversensitive pleasure.

“You’re going to be such a nice plaything for Sir, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Good boyOH, ohshit, shit.” Joseph pulls out halfway through cumming, spattering it on Barclays thighs and balls. Carefully, he lowers his legs. Then his boyfriend collapses into his arms, panting and giddy.

“That, that was so fun. I’d say who knew but every time we fuck you show me just how fucking fun all this can be.”

“Aw, babe.” He goes to hug him and rediscovers the ropes.

“Ohshit, here” Joseph sets to work undoing his knots, “are your wrists okay? Not too sore? How about your shoulders?”

“They all feel fucking great, baby. I feel great. How could I not? I got you looking after me.”

Joseph smiles, “and out for you.”

“That too. Now c’mere, special agent, your next assignment is cuddling your boyfriend.”

[seasonsofeverlark]

Beautiful Dreams

Author: @ameliaodair​

Prompt:  Katniss and the children are down with a cold. Peeta takes care of them. Brings them Lamb Stew and favourite baked goods. He draws colouring pages for the kids but all are colouring. He puts in a fall realted movie. As all who are sick are snuggled together in the master bedroom. Katniss says shes cold Peeta goes and gets more blankets walks out of the room to get more comes back and looks at his wife and children all cuddling together watching the movie and thinks how did he deserve this. [submitted by @katnissandpeeta125​]

Rating: G

Author’s Notes: Thank you @eiramrelyat​ for betaing :)

Word Count: 1977

___________

“Thanks, dad. Katniss caught the kids’ cold and woke up feeling pretty miserable this morning,”  I tell my father, explaining the care package I am picking up after placing the order at the butt crack of dawn.  It is filled with all of her favorite foods; two pints of lamb stew, a dozen cheese buns, and half a dozen mini rolls of Mallorca sweet bread for the kids.

“The kids are feeling better, though?”

“They’re on the uphill slope,”  I tell my dad as I climb into the driver’s seat of my car.  “I better hurry up and get back before the kids destroy the house. I love you, dad!”  I yell out to him before shutting the door behind me, and wave through the window as I pull out of the parking lot.

“Daddy, Daddy!”  Stella yells excitedly as soon as I open the door. She runs up to me and wraps her tiny arms around my legs⎯ nearly knocking me down in her all too adorable Winnie the Pooh pajamas. 

It utterly blows my mind at how easily children bounce back after being sick.  I remember around a year ago when Stella had the flu. It only took her two days before she was running around, bouncing off the walls and full of energy. Yet, when Katniss and I were run down with fevers, it had been almost a week before we could muster the energy to simply lift our heads from the pillow.  Thank goodness for our wonderful parents who live less than five minutes away, or I do not know what we would have done.

“Hey sweetheart, where is your brother?”  I ask her, making my way into the kitchen to place the care package down on the island.

“In his cwib, daddy,”  she tells me matter-of-factly, giving me a slight roll of her eyes as if I should already be aware of this information.  Scooping Stella up, I raise her in the air and blow a raspberry on her belly.

“Why don’t we go check on him?”  I ask her once her giggles subside, then I carry her into her and her brother’s room and set her down.

Lucas is sitting up in the corner of his crib, hugging one of his favorite stuffed animal teddy bears.  At the sight of me, he erupts into the most adorable toothless grin, seeming to emanate an almost iridescent light in the process.

“Come on big guy, how are you feeling today?”

“Da-da.  Ma-mee!”  He chirps, grabbing onto the rail of his crib to steady himself while holding his stuffed teddy bear out to me.  I reach in the crib to scoop him up, and the three of us make our way into the kitchen.  We stop at mine and Katniss’s bedroom first, and I crack the door open, poking my head in to peek in on her.  But no matter how sick she is, her hunter’s instincts are always as keen as ever, and she lifts her head groggily from her pillow.

“Peeta, are you okay, the kids—” She croaks, her froggy voice sounding no worse for the wear.

“We’re okay, I was just going to heat up some lamb stew.  You want some?”

“That sounds amazing.  Will you guys  keep me company?”  She whines in her sick throaty voice.

“Of course, just give us a few minutes and we’ll be in here.”

“Okay.”  She moans and her head collapses to the pillow, gravity getting the best of her.

Once we are in the kitchen, I strap Lucas into his highchair while I heat the lamb stew.

“Daddy, forgot to get dressed!”  Stella squeals, already trying to peel off her nightgown.

I pour the lamb stew into a pot and set it on the stove to simmer for a few minutes. “Honey, remember, we’re having a sick day, pajama’s only,”  I playfully scold her, twirling around like one of her ballerinas to show off my own pajama pants.

“Do you guys want to watch a movie with me and mommy in our bed?”  I ask Stella, raising my voice an octave near the end to make it sound more enticing than it actually is. 

“Wif lots of bwankets and piwwow’s?”  Stella beams, her eyes lighting up as if it’s Christmas morning.

“No—” I begin, frowning and pretending it’s a bad idea and my heart sinks when I see her eyes sadden a bit, so I quickly brighten my face with a radiant smile, “—with lots and LOTS of pillows and blankets!”  I finish quickly and watch as her eyes return to their previous state of sheer excitement.

“And coworing, daddy?”  she asks, already running into the playroom to collect her crayons.

Lucas is squirming in his seat, already bored of sitting there with nothing to do, so I hand him a wooden spoon to bang against the tray of his highchair.  Stella returns with her container of assorted crayons, and I frown at her, wondering why she didn’t bring her coloring books.

I stir the lamb stew and test it out on my tongue, making sure it’s hot enough, and then give my attention to Stella.

“You forgot your coloring books, sweetie.”  I point out.

“Siwwy daddy, you draw the coworings.” She grins, shaking her head and pointing to me.

“Oh, okay,”  I concede, shrugging my shoulders.  

One rainy day a few months ago, Stella was flipping through a coloring book, and noticing her frustration after the third time, I asked her what was wrong.  With a disappointed face, she informed me that the coloring book didn’t have the specific image she had in mind, so I offered to draw it for her.  Ever since then, Stella refuses to color in the pre-drawn coloring books⎯ preferring  my sketches instead, which I suppose I should be proud of.  My daughter does have exquisite tastes.

“I think it’s done, are you guys ready?”  I ask the kids after scooping the stew into two bowls and placing them on the food tray.  I remove the tray from Lucas’s highchair and pick him up to set him down on the floor.

“I’ll carry our food and drinks. Stella, will you help your brother?  We’ll come back for the rest after we eat.”

I carefully pick up the food tray which contains two bowls of lamb stew, a plateful of cheese buns, and the sweet bread, then motion for Stella to follow me into mine and Katniss’s bedroom.  When I look behind me to make sure they are not far behind, my heart swells with an inordinate amount of pride as I see Stella crawling on the floor next to Lucas.  She’s making a game of having him chase her into our room, and I cannot help the ear-splitting grin that overcomes my face⎯ nor do I want to.

Katniss is already sitting up in our massive bed and has made room for the three of us to climb in with her.  I hand her the soup and she takes it greedily⎯ lamb stew being her favorite.  Stella climbs in first and scoots up to Katniss, then I pick Lucas up from the floor and swing him in the air and plop him onto the bed. He bursts into a contagious round of giggles that Stella catches for a moment.

Once the kids have calmed down, I climb in next to the kids and we all situate ourselves under the covers, getting ready to have breakfast in bed as a family.  Stella grabs her own piece of bread and takes a bite into it.

“Peeta, will you hand Stella a napkin?  I don’t want crumbs—”  Before Katniss is able to finish, I already have a towel wrapped around Stella’s waist, ensuring that it will catch any pieces that do not make it into her mouth. 

Katniss turns her head to meet my eyes and mouths the words ‘I love you.’  I can’t help but lean over the kids and plant a kiss on her forehead.  “I love you too.”  I tell her, meeting her eyes.

“Daddy, you fowgot me!”  Stella mumbles with a mouthful of bread, glaring at me with those beautiful bright blue eyes that resemble my own. 

“One for you—” I tell her, kissing her cheek, and then move to Lucas, “And one for you.”

I begin pinching off pieces of the sweet bread dipped in lamb stew and feed it to Lucas in between bites of my own.

“You guys want to watch a movie?”  Katniss asks after turning her bowl up and slurping the last remnants of her stew.

“I want Winnie-Pooh!”  Stella squeals, scrunching her shoulders up excitedly.

“Winnie-The-Pooh it is!”  Katniss says excitedly, but I see her rolling her eyes behind Stella’s back.  Stella is obsessed with Winnie the Pooh, and we have probably watched ‘Winnie The Pooh’s Season of Giving’ at least fifty times since the beginning of October.  And since Lucas is too small to voice his opinion yet, Winnie The Pooh it is.

Once everyone has finished eating and are moaning over their full bellies, I clear the food from our bedroom and sit the food tray on the counter in the kitchen. I save the dishes for later, eager to return to my amazing family.  Stella disappears for a moment, returning with her container of crayons and my sketch pad.

“Dwaw Pooh, daddy?”  she asks me, her eyes so wide and blue⎯ how can I say no?  I scoop her into my arms, hugging her tightly, and place another kiss on her cheek.

“Of course, baby girl.”  I release her and she snuggles up to Katniss while I sketch her an image of the famous Pooh Bear.  She accepts the picture and secures it on her clipboard and begins coloring away. 

“No, Lucas, we don’t eat crayons, we color with them,”  I tell Lucas, giving him his own piece of paper and showing him how to utilize the crayons.  Fascinated with the array of colors, he begins fashioning his own masterpiece while we watch Winnie the Pooh.

Stella is exhausted by the time she has colored in every bit of white on her paper, as is Lucas.  Tired baby that he is, he nestles himself onto Katniss’s chest, while her chin rests on the top of his baby-soft hair.  She leans up to kiss the top of his head, inhaling his signature baby scent.

“Are you cold?”  I ask Katniss, but I already know the answer as I feel her shivering next to me.

“I’m okay.”  ‘Liar.’ I think to myself.

“I’ll be right back,”  I tell her, popping out of bed before she has time to object and run into the playroom to search for her favorite blanket.  The kids were making a fort a few nights ago, so it must be in here somewhere.  It takes me a little longer than I expected, but I finally find it.

Scooping it up, I make my way back to our bedroom but stop myself in the doorway⎯ my heart fills with so much joy I think it may explode on sight.

Sitting before me on our bed is my beautiful, amazing wife, fast asleep and lightly snoring, with Lucas curled up on her chest just the way he did as 0a newborn.  Stella is scrunched up on her side with Katniss’ arm securely around her back.  And all three of them are fast asleep.

Standing in the doorway, witnessing this perfect family we have created, I grin from ear to ear, intoxicated with so much love, wondering how I got so lucky for these amazing creatures to be mine.  I slip into bed next to them and kiss each of their heads before spreading the blanket out to cover all of us.  And although reality can’t get much better than this, I fall asleep, awaiting beautiful dreams.

[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy Birthday, alepaolvi!

Apologies for the delay on your birthday gift, @alepaolvi​! We hope you had a wonderful day on October 2, and got exactly the presents you were hoping for! To bring your party back around, the lovely @norbertsmom has written a story just for you!

Author’s Note: Happy belated birthday, @alepaolvi. Sorry for the delay. I hope you enjoy your arranged marriage fic with a jealous Gale. This is set in Panem au. The revolution happened a few years before it did in canon. You may notice several lines are taken directly from the book, and tweaked to fit this new timeline. Special thanks to my bestie, @mega-aulover for her help. Rated T.

A Different Kind of Reaping

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

When I wake up, I reach out for Prim but find the other side of the bed is empty. Prim has her own bed now, but sometimes I forget we’re no longer in the Seam. I prop myself up on one elbow. There’s enough light in the room to see that she’s not in her bed. Of course not. She’s been so excited to help me get ready for today. I’m sure she and mother are up prepping my clothes and making breakfast.

The two of them are so alike, with their blond hair and blue eyes and perky attitude. At fourteen, Prim is fresh faced and as lovely as the primrose for which she was named. My mother is still beautiful, if not a little weary in her grief at the loss of my father. Even seven years later, his absence is still felt, especially today.

I get out of bed and pull on trousers, a shirt, and tuck my long dark braid up under a cap. I slide my stocking feet into my leather hunting boots and grab my bow and sheath of arrows along with my foraging bag.

On the table is a feast fit for celebration: eggs, bacon, toast, and orange juice. All luxury items just a few years ago, before the war. Now a gift to me on my reaping day.

Reaping day is so different now. Before the revolution, reaping day was the day all district children between the ages of twelve and eighteen had their names put into a drawing. In punishment for the failed first uprising, each of the twelve districts had to provide one boy and one girl, called tributes to participate in the Hunger Games. The twenty-four tributes would be imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena to fight to the death. The last standing tribute won.

“Sit down for breakfast, Katniss,” my mother says. “You’ll need your energy today.”

I set my hunting gear down and sit, loading up my plate and tuck into the meal. I want to go out into the woods one last time before the ceremony. Who knows if I’ll be able to go back out after today?

Prim plops down in the chair beside me. “Are you excited, Katniss?” she asks as she loads up her own plate.

“Um,” I hum around a mouthful of food because I really don’t know how I feel. “A little scared, I guess.”

When the revolution was won by the districts, the Hunger Games were abolished. But soon after it was discovered that the population was critically low, and at risk of extinction after all the loss during the war. The new senate that ruled the country with one representative from each district, came up with a plan to help repopulate the nation: arranged marriages.

They decided to reclaim the reaping day as a day to bring new families together. That first reaping day after the war, men and women eighteen and older were matched to form new families. I wasn’t old enough then, but I am now. I don’t know how I feel about having my future decided for me.

I think back on all of the questionnaires we had to complete in our last month of school. We also had to list the names of those we would be happy to be matched with. We weren’t allowed to leave it blank, so I wrote down the one name I secretly wish for, but I’m sure I won’t get.

I may not even be matched this year. Not everyone is matched in their first year, so they have to go through it again the next year. Special deferment was granted for those who fought in the war to put off their reaping a year or two.

“Leave your sister alone, Primrose. She has a big day ahead of her,” mother says as she joins us at the table. She pours herself a large mug of coffee and cups it with both hands, holding it under her nose to breathe it in. She closes her eyes before taking a sip.

I’m the first to finish and get up to leave. “Thanks for breakfast,” I tell them as I grab my gear and head toward the door. I’m in a hurry. My old hunting partner, Gale Hawthorne is back in the district today. I haven’t seen him since he went away to fight in the rebellion. After the fighting was over, he stayed in the military and moved to district three so he could study under the victor Beetee Latier.

“Don’t forget your cheese,” Prim says as she gets up from the table and hands me a perfect little goat cheese wrapped in basil leaves. It’s been a tradition since she started making goat cheese to give them as gifts on special occasions.

“Thank you,” I tell her with a hug as I pocket the cheese.

“Don’t stay out too long, Katniss,” mother says. “You need to report to the Justice Building by one thirty. We need time to get you ready.”

“I won’t,” I tell her as I slip outside.

Our part of District 12 is the merchant quarter. My mother and Prim run the apothecary, but we didn’t always live here. I grew up in the part of the district nicknamed the Seam, where the miners live. The apothecary had been vacant since my grandparents died when the mayor’s mansion was bombed at the start of the revolution. After the war, my mother applied for and was granted permission to take it over.

As I’m skipping down the back steps, I look over to the bakery next door. Peeta Mellark is walking toward the trash bin with a bag in his hand. He looks up at the sound of our door closing. “Hey Katniss,” he says with that contagious smile of his. “Heading out to the woods, I see.” He nods to my hunting gear after placing the bag in the bin.

“Yep,” I tell him with a smile of my own. “Gotta catch dinner for tonight.”

“Ooh. Wild game, that’s one advantage you have over the other girls in the reaping today,” he says, crossing his arms as he leans against the small fence that divides his yard from mine.

“Whatever you say, Mellark,” I tell him, shaking my head. He’s always teasing me about how different I am from the other girls who live in town. Not because I’m from the Seam, but like I’m some unique creature he’d never encountered before.

As I walk down the path I wonder who Peeta will be matched with. He’s such a kind person. He was the only person to help me and my family after my father died. He gave me bread that helped us survive and gave me hope to go on. I’m sure he’ll have no problems finding a match today. Lots of girls will be hoping to be the next baker’s wife. Peeta lost his mom at the start of the war. She was one of those lost in the bombing of the mayor’s mansion.

Even though there’s an entrance to the wood close to home, I make my way through town toward the Seam to the entrance by my old house. It makes me feel closer to my father. That’s where he would take me into the woods when I was a child.

The streets of the Seam are empty today. Usually, the workers would be out heading to their morning shift at the mines or the medicine factory, but the ceremony isn’t until two. Might as well sleep in if you can.

Our old house was almost at the edge of the Seam. I only have to pass a few gates past it to reach the scruffy field we call the Meadow. The barbed wire loops that used to top the high chain-linked fence that separates the Meadow from the woods are gone. The fence remains to keep the wild animals out of the district, but gates have been installed at several locations around the perimeter to allow citizens access to the woods.

As soon as I’m in the trees, I look around for signs of a threat, like packs of wild dogs, bears, venomous snakes, or rabid animals. Inside the woods they roam freely, but there’s also food if you know how to find it. My father knew and he taught me some before he was blown to bits in a mine explosion. There was nothing even to bury. I was eleven then. Seven years later I sometimes still wake up screaming for him. But since Dr. Sidney, the head doctor, came to the district after the war, I’ve learned how to deal with my grief. My nightmares aren’t as frequent. Dr. Sidney helped my mother as well. She no longer lies in bed staring at the walls.

Before the war, trespassing in the woods was illegal, and poaching carried the severest of penalties, but the woods belong to us now, the citizens of District 12. Still, most people aren’t bold enough to venture out unarmed. My bow is a rarity, crafted by my father along with a few others that I keep well hidden in the woods, carefully wrapped in waterproof covers. If my father was still alive, he could have made good money selling them, but before the rebellion, if the officials found him selling weapons, he would have been publicly executed for sedition. Which is kind of ironic since the mine explosion that killed him was one of the catalysts for the rebellion.

We were never prosecuted for poaching back then because most of the Peacekeepers had turned a blind eye to the few of us who hunted. They were as hungry for fresh meat as anybody. Now we get food shipped in from other districts regularly, and I can sell my game openly to the other merchants at their back doors, and at my booth in the open-air market called the Hob.

In the woods waits my hunting partner Gale. I feel myself relaxing and quicken my pace when I think about seeing him again. I only got a quick chat with him yesterday when he arrived, mobbed by his family. He asked if we could meet up to hunt this morning like old times. I climb the hills to our rock ledge overlooking the valley. A thicket of berry bushes keeps it hidden. The sight of him brings on a smile. We used to be the best of friends before he went away.

He looks different than I remember. Not just older; he stands different, ridged and yet alert as if he is waiting for an attack from a wild lone wolf. He’s wearing gray uniform pants, and a faded black shirt. His eyes are sharper; they scan the area, before settling on mine.

“Hey Catnip,” says Gale. He knows my real name, but I had whispered it when we first met so he thought I said catnip. It stuck as a nickname even after all this time.

“Look what I shot,” Gale says as he holds up a loaf of bread with an arrow stuck in it. I let out an uncomfortable laugh. It’s fine bakery bread, the kind used during a toasting ceremony.

I’m not sure if he’s trying to impress me with what he can buy with his fancy new job, so I take the bread in my hands. I pull the arrow out and hold the puncture in the crust to my nose, inhaling the fragrance that reminds me of the blond haired, blue eyed son of the baker.

“Mm, still warm.” He must have been at the bakery at the crack of dawn to buy it. “Prim gave us cheese,” I tell him quickly as I pull it out of my pocket.

“Thank you, Prim,” Gale says as he pulls out a shiny knife from a sheath on his hip. I watch as he slices the bread. He could be my brother, same straight black hair, although his is cut short in a military style, same olive complexion, we even have the same gray eyes. We’re not related, at least not closely. Most of the families in the Seam resemble one another this way.

That’s why my mother and Prim, with their light hair and blue eyes used to look out of place when we lived in the Seam. They were. My mother’s parents were merchants. They ran the apothecary. That’s why she got it after the war. Now I’m the one out of place. I have the look of the Seam, but I live in town.

My father got to know my mother because he would collect medicinal herbs and sell them to her shop. She really loved him to leave her home for the Seam. Back then, the homes in the Seam were nothing more than shacks really. We had to boil water from the spigot in the yard if we wanted it hot. After the war, all of the squat gray houses in the Seam were replaced with new homes that are well insulated with running hot and cold water and reliable electricity.

Gale spreads the bread slices with the soft goat cheese, carefully placing a basil leaf on each slice while I strip the bushes of their berries. We settle back in the nook in our rock. I don’t eat much, since I already had breakfast, but it’s a nice treat. Everything would be perfect if all this day off meant was roaming the woods with Gale for a casual family dinner tonight, catching up on how our lives have changed since the war ended, but instead it feels awkward, like I’m here with a stranger instead of my old friend Gale.

“What’s it like in District 3?” I ask quietly to break the awkward silence between us. It was never like this before. He would rant about the unfair treatment the citizens endured, and how we should rise up against them. But now that the revolution is over and won, we don’t really have much to say.

“It’s alright, but I’ll be moving to District 2 after the ceremony. You’ll love it there. Mountains bigger than these. Lots of woods to hunt in.”

“Why would I want to go to District 2?” I ask. The idea is preposterous. I can’t leave my sister. Before the war, the fantasy was to run off, and live in the woods, but this conversation feels all wrong now. There’s never been anything romantic between Gale and me. When we met, I was a skinny twelve-year-old, and although he was only two years older, he already looked like a man. It took a long time for us to even become friends, to stop haggling over every trade. Then he went off to war and moved to District 3 as a hero. His hero status gave him the option to postpone his reaping until this year.

Gale’s good looking, strong from his time as a soldier, and he has a good job in another district. He will be a desirable match at the reaping today. I don’t know why he would want me.

“Forget it,” he snaps.

I let out a breath and ask, “What do you want to do, hunt, fish, or gather?”

“Let’s fish at the lake,” he says. “We can leave our poles and gather in the woods. Get something nice for tonight’s betrothal meal.”

Tonight, after the reaping, everyone is supposed to celebrate, but I’ll be betrothed. I’ll be spending time with my intended. He and his family will come to my house so we can get to know one another. Does Gale hope it will be him?

We fall into the comfortable silence I remember from hunting with him before he left. By late morning, we have a dozen fish, a bag of greens, and best of all, a gallon of strawberries.  

On the way home, we swing by the Hob and trade half the fish and greens for fresh vegetables. Greasy Sae gives us a nod as we walk by. Even with the beef and chicken coming in from other districts, her wild game soup that she calls beef is always a hit. The customers around her booth are talking away about today’s reaping.

When we finish at the Hob, we go to the back of the mayor’s home to sell half of the strawberries. The mayor lives in a modest house not unlike the others in the district. After the war, the residents of the district realized that the old mayor’s mansion was just another tool the Capitol used to keep us in the district divided. The poor people of the Seam resented the wealth the mayor and the merchants had. So when the mayor’s home was rebuilt, he had it built the same as all the others.

The mayor’s daughter Madge answers the door. She was in my year at school, and my closest friend since Gale left. Her everyday outfit has been replaced by an expensive white dress, and her blonde hair is done up with a pink ribbon. Clothes fitting for the betrothal reaping.

“Pretty dress,” says Gale.

Madge shoots him a look, trying to see if it’s a genuine compliment. He used to antagonize her when we were younger, but now that he’s been gone for a few years it’s hard to tell. She presses her lips together and smiles. “Well I have to look nice for my reaping today, don’t I?”

“I’m sure you’ll have the match you want,” Gale says with a scoff.

Madge’s face has become closed off. She puts the money for the strawberries in my hand. “Good luck, Katniss.”

“You too,” I say, and the door closes.

I turn to Gale, “What did you mean by that?”

“Her father’s the mayor. People in power can influence the outcome of the reaping,” Gale says.

Madge’s father isn’t just the mayor. He was quite influential during the war. He was able to convince the residents of District 12 to join the revolution by bringing in Annie Cresta. Then he became our district’s liaison with the rest of the rebels.

Annie Cresta was the last Victor of the Hunger Games,and the spark that started the rebellion. She won the summer after my father died in the mining explosion. During her interview, after winning her games, she started screaming about her father and brother who were lost at sea with a whole ship full of fishermen just before her games. The Capitol played it off as her going mad. But during her victory tour she was more subdued, she would compare her district’s loss to the loss each district had suffered from a tragedy that same year.

The rumors started that perhaps the mine explosion that killed my father wasn’t an accident, but a sabotage to take out the rebel miners who had been planning an uprising. While in District 11, she talked about the silo collapse, in District 10 the stampede, and so on until she had rallied half the country behind her. Before her tour reached the Capitol, District 13 re-emerged from the ashes to sweep her off to be the face of the rebellion.

District 12 was one of the last districts still neutral to the rebellion even though the mayor tried to get our residents involved. He asked Annie Cresta to come back, to rally us to join the cause. Most of our Peacekeepers were recalled to the Capitol to fight off the uprisings in other districts. Those who stayed behind were sympathetic to the districts’ plight. The residents of District 12 wanted to wait out the war. If we didn’t join in, nothing would happen to us.

After the rally, while most of the residents of the district were at home debating why we should join the rebellion, the mayor hosted a dinner for Annie with the most influential Merchants and Seam residents. After the dinner was over, the mayor, his daughter Madge and a few others were seeing Annie off to her hovercraft back to District 13 when the mayor’s mansion was bombed by the Capitol. All those still inside were killed, including the mayor’s wife, his staff, my grandparents and many others.

The rally that day, along with the bombing that took out the mayor’s mansion, is what finally convinced the residents of District 12 to join the rebellion. We couldn’t stay neutral. The war came to us. Gale, among others old enough, went off to fight in the war. Not everyone came home. The baker’s oldest son died. Gale stayed in the military.

As we walk back toward my house, I glance over at Gale, still wondering why he came home this year. He could have participated in the reaping in his new district. I hope he didn’t come back here for me.

Gale and I arrive at the divide between the Seam and town and split up our spoils.

“See you in the square,” I say.

“Wear something pretty,” he says flatly as he walks towards his mother’s house in the Seam.

When I get home, Peeta is in the yard next door, feeding the pigs. “Hey, Katniss,” he says. “Good day hunting?”

“Yep, got some fish and greens for tonight,” I tell him.

“I’ve got a few recipes you can try out on your new family if you want?”

“Sure, that last one with the nuts was nice.” Curious I get closer. “So are you ready?”

He stops feeding the pigs. “I’m nervous,” he confesses.

“Nervous?” Peeta has nothing to be nervous about. He’s good like my sister Prim. Any of the women today would be lucky to have him.

“Well, what if the girl they pick for me doesn’t erm,” his face turned pink. “Well, like me.”

What he is saying is impossible.

“My parents didn’t have the best marriage, you know.”

I nod. I can see why he would be anxious. His parents did not get along; they hated each other but miraculously, had three boys.

I wish I had the words to be able to tell him that he had nothing to worry about. But nothing comes.

"Listen, I'll see you at the reaping. I've got to get ready. Don't want to scare my bride away by smelling like a pig pen."

I shake my head and laugh. When I go inside my mother sets aside her knitting and jumps up from her chair. “There you are,” she says as she helps me remove my hunting gear. She hands my bag to Prim and ushers me into the bathroom. “Get yourself a shower. You need to start getting ready.”

I scrub off the dirt and sweat from the woods and wash my hair. When I’m done I find my favorite dress from my mother’s collection laid out on my bed. A soft orange, with white lace insets near the collar, and a tie at the waist. “Are you sure?” I ask.

“Of course. I’ll fix your hair,” she says.

After I’m dressed, I sit at the vanity as she towel dries my hair and I watch as she braids it up into a crown on top of my head. I hardly recognize myself in the mirror.

“You look beautiful,” says Prim in a hushed voice.

“And nothing like myself,” I say as I hug her. Things are going to be so different after the reaping today.

Prim and mother get dressed. We have a quick lunch and then it’s time to go to the Justice Building to check in.

As we head toward the square, we are joined by others headed that way. Attendance is not mandatory like it was for the Hunger Games reapings, but most people show up anyway.

Mother and Prim hug me goodbye when I go into the Justice Building. After checking in, I’m ushered into the women’s waiting room. I find Madge and join her at the refreshment table.

At precisely 1:45, our escort, Effie Trinket, comes into the room. Miss Trinket was on track to be an escort for the Hunger Games, but she was actually a rebel working inside the system to help bring it down. After the revolution she became our escort for the betrothal reaping. Her bright pink clothes and makeup, while much more flamboyant than what those of us in the district would wear, is nowhere near as garish as the makeup and outfits worn by our last Hunger Games escort.

“Ladies, it’s time to follow me out onto the stage,” Effie says and we all line up to follow her out.

As we go out onto the stage, a cheer begins to rise from the crowd gathered in front of the Justice Building. Effie escorts us to the several rows of seats arranged on the left side of the stage. Madge and I sit next to each other.

Once we are all seated, Effie goes back into the building, but comes out a few minutes later followed by the group of men for the reaping. She escorts them to the seats on the right side of the stage. They are all wearing their best suits. Peeta gives me a wave before he sits in the second row. Gale sits in the front row in his military uniform.

At precisely 2 o’clock, Mayor Undersee steps up to the podium and begins his speech. He talks about the history of Panem: the dark days, the first failed rebellion, the 70 years of the Hunger Games, and then the revolution that freed Panem. He talks about how we have to rebuild Panem, the population lost from the Games and the war. Which brings us to today, the Betrothal Reaping. He then introduces Effie Trinket.

“Welcome, welcome,” Effie says. “It’s such an honor to be here, to help bring together the families who will be the future of our country.” She goes on to explain how the selections are not random. The answers we gave in the surveys taken during school, as well as our DNA were used to determine the matches. “Now, onto the pairings!” she says, and with a flair of her hand pulled out a stack of envelopes.

She plucks the first envelope from the stack and calls out, “Delly Cartwright!”

Delly jumps up from her seat, and quickly walks up to stand next to Effie. Delly is practically vibrating in anticipation. I wish I could be that excited. I just hope I get someone I can stand.

“And your match is,” Effie pauses dramatically, “Thom Davison!”

Thom, one of Gale’s old classmates who didn’t get matched in his previous two reapings, looks around bewildered. He gets a nudge from the person sitting next to him before he gets up and walks up to the podium to formally meet Delly.

Delly and Thom are ushered to the back of the stage where they stand next to each other whispering, with big smiles on their faces. I guess that means they are happy with that match.

“Very good,” says Effie. “Our next match is the mayor’s daughter, Madge Undersee.”

I squeeze Madge’s hand and she stands and gracefully walks up to stand next to Effie Trinket.

“And your match is… the local hero, Gale Hawthorne!” Effie exclaims. A quiet murmur goes through the crowd. That pairing was unexpected. I think everyone expected me to be paired with Gale, but I know it would have never worked out, we’re too alike.

Gale doesn’t look very happy at his selection, but stands and walks up to meet Madge. They stiffly shake hands, then walk back to stand next to Delly and Thom. It’s quite the contrast between the two pairs.

“Wonderful!” Effie says with a little too much enthusiasm. “Next up we have, Katniss Everdeen.”

I stand up slowly, then stiffly walk to stand next to the podium.

“And your partner is… Peeta Mellark,” Effie calls out.

My eyes go wide as I think, Oh, it’s him, my neighbor, my friend. The boy, no man, I correct myself, who saved my life and gave me hope. The man who reminded me that I was not doomed. The man who’s name I wrote on my questionnaire. I feel a smile come across my face as I watch Peeta get up and walk toward me. The smile on his face matches mine.

When he reaches me we stand and stare at each other for a moment before Effie Trinket clears her throat. “Go ahead, shake hands,” she urges. Peeta's large warm hand engulfs mine, and he gives me a reassuring squeeze. “Go ahead,” she tells us, nudging us toward the back of the stage.

When I drop Peeta’s hand, I feel the loss of warmth immediately, but I feel his hand at the small of my back as he escorts me to join the others. “Told ya I’d see you at the reaping,” Peeta whispers in my ear, and I can’t help but laugh. After that, I’m in a bit of a daze and miss most of the remaining matches.

At the conclusion of the ceremony, Effie dismisses the few remaining people who didn’t get paired up and calls the matched pairs to the front of the stage. Delly and Thom lead the way, arm in arm. Madge and Gale walk stiffly side by side. Peeta takes my hand and leads me toward the front of the stage, and the couples behind us follow suit. When we are all lined up, Effie calls out, “District 12, I give you your new couples. Please join us in the reception hall for family introductions.”

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

That’s the end of part 1. This will continue as a work in progress.

A few notes: Dr. Sidney is named after Dr. Sidney Freedman from the final episode of the TV show M*A*S*H. He helped the main character work through his PTSD. Thom Davison is named for Dave Thomas of Wendy’s fame, who seemed like such a sweet man. The character Thom in canon is only mentioned a few times, but he is such a great guy. Gale’s friend who helps carry him back after the reaping, and then after the war Thom comes back and takes on the task of clearing away the debris so the district can rebuild.

[translations-by-aiimee]

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 28

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 28 - Immortal

In some remote mountainous areas in the south, Miao women used clay pots and menstrual blood to raise hundreds of insects. They sealed them, placed them in a damp place and cast curses on them. Once the day was done, the poisonous insects will have killed each other and the last one was embodied with Gu poison*. The curse made with Gu poison could make someone's love interest fall helplessly in love with them for the rest of his life, and it could also plague one's enemy with nightmares, madness, and even death. The women who concocted Gu poison were typically loners, often muttering to no one, avoided by the general public.

*(T/N: 蛊 - Gu poison was believed to be the combination of all the venoms from the insects that died and would be used for black magic in southern regions of China)

In Nanyang Black Magic, they would use the body of a baby that died recently, boiled out the toyol*, poured it on a puppet doused in human blood and placed it in the home. The imprisoned baby ghost would protect the house but the curse-caster will be punished. They would also carve birthdates into wood, causing the other to die.

*(T/N: 尸油 - literally 'corpse oil.' I'll spare you the graphic details but basically taking a dead body's chin and boiling it until oil drains out of it)

This black magic flourished in the Ming Dynasty. The Eastern Depot eunuchs* were in turmoil. Everyone was reporting each other, no one would speak to each other, eyes darting between each other daily. These curses were developed as a branch of Daoism to oppose political rivals. A-Yan said that the Daoist practices used to drive out ghosts and save people were declining, but this black magic has stuck around. It was one of the biggest spots in Daoist history.

*(T/N: 东厂 - a secret police & spy agency run by eunuchs meant to suppress political opposition towards the emperor)

Saturday morning was a beautiful day. The sun was shining but not to the point of being unbearably hot. The distant mountains stood silently under the blue sky. A black Audi passed quickly through the country’s tree-lined roads, raising a cloud of grit and dust. A white goose with its head held high on the roadside was startled by the car, flapping its wings and stretching its neck to hide behind a fence.

The car stopped at a small farmhouse in the northwest corner of the village.

In the courtyard, a tall Shuzi tree stretched out dense branches, looking extraordinarily vibrant. In contrast, the entire courtyard was strangely decrepit. A well was covered by a millstone and the stone-paced path was full of weeds. The doors of the three mud-brick houses were closed, with straw curtains covering the doors and windows covered with dust.

Everything was very different from a month ago. Lin Yan remembered that the last time he came here, there were hens and rabbits. The old lady in blue embroidered clothing was kneeling on the futon with her eyes closed. The small courtyard was filled with the mysterious atmosphere of the countryside. The current yard would give people the impression that the homeowner hadn't been home for years when, in fact, a fresh grave in the back of the mountain had only been built a month ago. Rural people were convinced that the houses inhabited by the living were blessed by the gods and sheltered from the elements for decades. Once the owner of the house dies, the gods will follow, so the empty house often collapsed and was destroyed in less than six months.

"When Second Immortal Gu was in the village, she would help children that fell sick with fever, and the adults that were dealing with evil spirits. Young men would ask her when they'd get married and, for the right price, she'd tell them." The village chief said with a cigarette in his mouth.

The village leader knew Yin Zhou’s mother well. He heard that Yin Zhou wanted to bring someone to pay tribute to Second Immortal Gu and waited at the entrance of the village to welcome them. It took ten minutes to drive from the village leader's house to Second Immortal Gu’s house. The village head smoked four cigarettes in a row. Yin Zhou squeezed his eyes shut while Lin Yan and the little Daoist priest twisted their heads out of the window every 30 seconds to gasp for a breath of fresh air. The village chief was the only one of them chatting in the smoky car. Lin Yan saw how the complaints of three people and a ghost just flew over his head.

If a ghost could complain.

Lin Yan found a roll of incense from the little Daoist's bag and lit it. He put the incense burner at the door of the mud-brick house and offered his respects.

"Last time, we left just before Second Immortal Gu had her accident. I should have come to offer some incense sooner, it's just things with school got busy and I haven't been able to make it until now." Lin Yan brushed the straw curtain and the accumulated dust fell on his face. "Cough, cough. Does - Does anyone take care of this place?"

"Of course not. You big city kids wouldn't know. Doing this line of work is only good for putting food on the table. Immortal Gu came out here in her twenties. In less than ten years, her husband and two sons had died and she was the only one left. She couldn't even save herself." The village leader stuffed his yellow striped shirt into his pants. "Don't feel bad. No immortal in this village could escape that fate."

"Come on, let's go, you guys are here to see her grave. We don't put up any gravestones here. We just build a stone platform, but the villagers will remember who it's for. I'll take you up there."

The sun was growing hotter. Several of them used broken branches to smack the grass in case of snakes while they hiked up the rugged mountain trail. A rural cemetery wasn't as neat as an urban cemetery. Each family claimed a spot, with every newly deceased buried next to the rest of their family. The grave was a prominent mound of dirt with a large stone on top. Some of the graves were too old to even make out the mound, the ground studded with small light blue flowers. A date palm tree grew wildly, and they needed to watch their step when walking so they wouldn't disturb the resting dead.

Second Immortal Gu's grave was off on its own. The mound was freshly dug. Other than a crooked wreath lying on it, it was indistinguishable from the older graves that had been abandoned for years.

The scene made Lin Yan feel incredibly guilty. He burned a large stack of paper dollars in front of the grave, playing with his branch while saying silently in his mind: Auntie, if you're still here, please come back and tell us who harmed you. We'll avenge your death.

The village chief took the cigarettes Lin Yan had bought him and squatted off in the distance to smoke. Lin Yan winked at the little Daoist priest and said softly, "Let's start?"

A-Yan nodded and took out a crumpled photo from his pocket that he had found in a frame in Immortal Gu's house. The immortal in the photo was still very young, wearing a floral cotton jacket and staring vacantly ahead.

"Now isn't a good time. The s-sun is too high. The mountains are filled with Yang energy, and the ghosts may not be able to be reached." A-Yan said. He jumped up and grabbed a twig from the date tree above his head. He hung a spirit summoning flag on it and patted the dust off his shoulders. "Here's a picture, here are the bones. Um, Lin Yan, I'm going to borrow your birthdate for this."

Before Lin Yan had time to ask, the little Daoist priest handed him a dagger. Unlike his usual mahogany sword, this one was actually made of metal. The handle seemed to be a few years old, and the tip of the blade gleaming a bright white in the sunlight.

"H-Hold this for a minute. You might feel a little uncomfortable, but don't let it go." A-Yan instructed: "I-I'll read one sentence and you read the next."

Yin Zhou chuckled but he felt that it probably wasn't the time to laugh so he quickly turned his laughter into a string of coughs.

Surprisingly, A-Yan never stuttered whenever he talked about Taoism and charms, Lin Yan muttered.

Time passed by and it was almost noon. The date trees in the mountains couldn't block the hot sun. After standing there for a long time, most of them were covered in a layer of sweat. The village leader couldn't bear the heat and left to join some nearby people to drink some tea. Lin Yan stood in front of the grave with the dagger in his hand. He rubbed the sweat on his cheeks off with his shoulder, hoping that this time it would be over quickly.

The little Daoist started reciting. His voice didn't sound like proper speech, but the slow rate of speech wasn't too difficult to follow. Lin Yan held the hilt of the dagger and along with the chant. Not even halfway through the incantation, Lin Yan already began to feel that something was wrong. The temperature around him began to drop, and the hot sweat condensed on his back. He kept shivering like he was suffering from heatstroke. A chill came from the handle of the dagger. First, the temperature seeped into his palm, and then his whole arm, up to his shoulders, through the bones in his spine to the back of his head in a numb wave. It was as if he wasn't holding a dagger but a frozen fish that had been left in the bottom tray of the freezer for a year.

The spirit summoning flag above his head began to move.

"It's cold." Lin Yan took a breath and scanned the silent mountains around him. "Have you reached the soul?"

"I t-think I found her." The little Daoist hesitated. "Huh. . . that's weird. . ."

After reciting two more incantations, the bone-chilling cold air had spread to his calves. Lin Yan's teeth chattered and he shivered out: "A-. . . A-Yan, are you sure this is okay. . . it's too. . . cold. . ."

The chanting continued, the little Daoist priest shot him a sideways glance, his eyes cold. Lin Yan can only brace himself to keep follow the mantra incantations, a heavy cold sweat forming on his forehead.

"Hold on for a little longer. The soul is bound to something, I want to break it free." A-Yan gritted his teeth, and a piece of talisman paper was slapped against the blade. All of a sudden, the cold washed over him like a tsunami. Lin Yan's whole body felt like it was being stabbed by needles, veins popping on his forehead from the pain.

"A-Yan, what are you doing?!" Yin Zhou knew something wasn't right when he saw Lin Yan's lips turn blue. "If you can't do it now, someone's going to get hurt. Lin Yan, use the ghost that's following you!"

"Almost there. Don't let go!" The little Daoist was flushed a sickly pale colour and he rapidly chanted the mantra. The spirit summoning flag above his head was being whipped by the wind. There was a ripping sound and the whole piece of cloth was torn in half and fluttered down onto the old grave in the distance.

"I-It's okay. . . A-Yan, go faster. . ." Lin Yan was so cold that he could barely get his tongue to work. He tried to move the hand with the dagger to it but he found that his skin was stuck to the metal and he couldn't budge it. He was shivering from his arms all the way down to his legs. Lin Yan staggered back and stepped on the bag they'd brought, almost falling backwards.

A force of strength supported his back. Xiao Yu's voice sounded right when he needed him, but his low voice didn't let him retort: "Let go."

Xiao Yu's hand covered the back of Lin Yan's hand. Compared to the temperature of the dagger, his palm was actually warm. It was just right to block the cold air that kept pouring into Lin Yan's arm. A-Yan's expression changed in an instant and he shouted loudly: "Back off, beast!"

"I'll fucking finish this. . ." Lin Yan abruptly closed his eyes and pressed his palm to the blade. All at once, the bone-chilling cold air felt like ten thousand needles running through his palm up to his arm. At the same time, there was a cold that grew behind him. He quickly opened his eyes but Second Immortal Gu hadn't appeared. On the contrary, Xiao Yu snapped Lin Yan's wrist with completely overwhelming strength, forcing the sharp weapon out of his hand.

The moment the dagger was taken out of Lin Yan's hand, he felt like he was immediately torn out of an ice block and thrown into a fire. The ritual was broken, the hot sunlight licked his back, making his whole body numbly feel like it was going to dissolve. However, he couldn't care less about his body's reaction. What happened next made Lin Yan and Yin Zhou - who was freaking out off to the side - shocked. They saw Xiao Yu holding the dagger inching towards A-Yan, frigid eyes filled with killing intent. When the palm of his hand touched the hilt of the knife, it sounded like searing flesh. But he didn't care. He grabbed A-Yan's collar with one hand, and violently plunged the dagger toward his left eye with the other!

Lin Yan's mind kicked into action. He subconsciously rushed over to hold Xiao Yu's waist, using all his strength to drag him back. However, something was wrong with the little Daoist priest, too. His usual cowardice was gone and his eyes burned with rage. He rolled away and broke free, rapidly taking out a handful of cinnabar and tossing it towards Xiao Yu. His voice changed because of the trembling: "An evil beast is an evil beast. You can't stay!"

"What the fuck is going on!" Yin Zhou couldn't see Xiao Yu. He could only see the little Daoist tumbling on the ground alone trying to avoid a shimmering dagger. Lin Yan's nerves were fried. While dragging Xiao Yu back, he roared towards Yin Zhou: "How the hell should I know? You grab A-Yan!"

He had never seen Xiao Yu so angry. The midday sun was burning and blinding. The ghost's whole body was emitting a faint greenish-black aura. The knuckles of both hands snapped open, sharp claw-like nails grabbing the back of the Daoist priest's head. Lin Yan thought he was seeing things and closed his eyes, but the scene stayed the same. The place where the ghost stood glowed a greenish-black and the place where the human stood was a dancing orange fire, intertwining with each other, but the orangish-yellow flames were gradually dying out. . .

Later, he would learn that people have yang energy and ghosts have yin energy. When the energy was extremely concentrated, he could directly perceive the yin and yang without his eyes confusing it in his mind. This was the foundation of excellent Taoism. He had inadvertently opened a long-closed door to the mystical arts.

However, the current situation was extremely dangerous. Xiao Yu held A-Yan’s neck with one hand and the dagger cut inch by inch into the little Daoist priest's arm blocking it. The hand holding the knife was searing black from the contact with the blade of the evil spirit's. A Yan's face grew purple, his eyes bulging. Lin Yan didn't dare to hesitate for a moment and scrambled over to protect A-Yan from behind. There was a clanging sound and the dagger rolled to the ground.

The little Daoist broke free from the evil spirit's hands, clutching his bleeding wound and groaning intermittently: "Lin Yan. . . Immortal Gu. . . Immortal Gu's spirit is trapped. . . I couldn't get her. . ."

Lin Yan supported the little Daoist's shoulders. His eyes gleamed, and the soft deer-like eyes were different from those when he had when he cast the spell. "The curse. . . Be careful." A-Yan whispered. Lin Yan hadn't gotten the chance to ask what was going on before his thin body couldn't support his own weight. His eyes rolled back and he fainted.

Lin Yan and Yin Zhou looked at each other, shocked by the outcome, unable to utter a word.

[firaknight]

I’m gonna make Adeleines opinions on all the dream friends and then maybe the helpers idk (and a few others cuz fuck it!)

Kirby: 10/10 best goddamn friend

Huge ball of love and joy!!! The happiest little friend!! He may be small but he is packed with love!!! One of Adeleines best friends and she care him :)

Bandee: 10/10 Friend :)

Friend from way back during the Crystal Shards incident! He’s a little anxious (think Tuter from Bear in the Big Blue House) but he’s very sweet and strong! He’s supportive of her and also squishable. Dees are surprisingly squishy!

King Dedede: 10/10 Mentor figure!

He’s super cool! Helped her find herself during Crystal Shards and was the first to get her to speak to everyone! She used to only speak French and barely spoke English (tragedy had occurred a few years before and she hadn’t recovered from it yet, being so young when it all happened), and he taught her a whole bunch of stuff along the way! She learned how to speak a lot of English, got a bunch of random trivia out of him, and learned how to be strong! He’s almost a dad but she’s too scared to try and call him that (he would ABSOLUTELY let her call him “dad” tho)

Meta Knight: 9/10 Oddly nice!

She was nervous around him early on because “mysterious knight has a sharp sword and doesn’t seem to care about safety” but he proved her wrong! He’s surprisingly chill and she really enjoys his company!

Rick, Kine, and Coo: 9/10 Old friends!

She’s known them since she was 3! Her mom introduced her to them before Dreamland 3 happened and she’s best buds with them! They’re all a lot bigger than you’d think and she can and will snuggle up with them in a big sleeby cuddle pile. All are soft except for Kine who is smooth :)

Marx: 7/10 Kinda scary but SOFT

He’s kinda creepy looking, especially when he’s got his wings out, but he’s not as terrifying as he looks? He’s got some odd little ticks but he’s snuggly and smol! He’s fluffy and it’s really weird? Like, he doesn’t look like he’s fluffy??? But he is??? She cannot wrap her brain around it but tries not to.

Gooey: 7/10 Funky lad

Points taken off because of him being Dark Matter and thats got a lot of trauma behind it for her, but Gooey is a legit funky friend. She was terrified of him at first (see: Star Allies title screen skits) but she’s friends with him now! He’s got a habit of holding everything with his tongue and exploring with said tongue (stuff gets slimy real quick) but aside from that he’s a malleable squishy friend!

Daroach: 8/10 Rat boy!

He’s got a New York accent and he’s a chaotic little bastard but absolutely sweet!! He’s made Adeleine an honorary Squeak Squad member and even gave her a little bell to commemorate the event! He takes her on occasional treasure hunts (safer ones because she’s fragile and speed is not her forte) and she gets to keep whatever she finds and an even portion of the total spoils!

Dark Meta Knight: 10/10 Adopted dad

Dude literally said “Is anyone gonna adopt this poor, fragile child who deserves the world?” and then didn’t wait for an answer. She was originally almost just as scared of him as she was of Gooey, but she warmed up to him super quick! He looks scary (and can be) but is really just a short ball of love and purrs.

Magolor: 7/10 What is he saying.

He’s the cool wizard friend but points off because half the time he’s speaking in Halcandrian and she has no idea what that is or how to translate it, nor does anybody else. He’s wacky and absolutely does magic tricks for people (Adeleine being one of them since she has a very vague grasp on magic and that stuff looks super cool to her) but like... what is he saying????????

Taranza: 9/10 Spider friend!!!!!!

He’s really good friends with her! They both sorta have someone they lost and still grieve over (Adeleines being her mom and Taranzas being Sectonia), so they look out for one another in that aspect, but they get along really well!!! He’s kinda soft and he sticks out his tongue when he’s happy!! They both go to Floralia and drink tea together at least once a month!!!

Susie: 6/10 Tolerable...

Susie is not a personal favorite for Adeleine on account of the fact that she tried to invade (emphasis on tried) Cloudy Park to mechanize it. She only succeeded in getting data from Kracko (who nearly fucking obliterated her and her robot right then and there) and was quickly chased out. The two have just... not liked each other since and Adeleine wasn’t very happy to see her join the group. She’s done some good things!!! She created super eco-friendly tech and gave it out to Dreamlanders and such, but her personality can be bitchy and she tends to not get along too well.

Francisca: 8/10 Cold but a friend!!!

She’s very very pretty and Adeleine kinda envies that (she doesn’t exactly have the means to keep herself looking pristine. The best she can do is wear something that isn’t her smock and fluff up her hair a little) but they’re close friends!! The two make gelato sometimes and it always turns into a fun mess because Adeleine has no fucking idea how to bake literally anything other than cinnamon rolls and gelato is WAY outside her skill level. It always tastes good tho!!!

Flamberge: 9/10 Cooking buddy!

Don’t let these two into the kitchen at once unless you want a banquet of food to come out of it. Berge brings out Adeleines more chaotic side and they get into trouble a lot. They make up for it with cooking! You’d think Berge would burn stuff with her fire magic but nope! Shes a frighteningly good cook! They can often be found cooking together!!!

Zan Partizanne: 8/10 Gives me mom energy but doesn’t seem to like me.

Had a bad habit of insulting everyone because she didn’t like them (see: Kirby Twitter) but she’s warmed up to everyone. She tried to keep up that “tough-guy” facade because she hates being seen as weak, but Adeleine has caught her holding Kirby like a kitten and bouncing/rocking him whilst baby talking him. She’s shown some genuine care for Adeleine, but sometimes it’s reeeeeaalllyy hard to tell if she genuinely cares about her or not.

[chelsfic]

Leftovers - Part 4 - Nandor the Relentless x Reader Fanfic

Previous Parts: Masterlist

Summary: Vampire (bite) aftercare, Nandor tries to pretend like he doesn’t want to fuck you, you bond with Guillermo!!, and the gang gets an invitation!

A/N: GUYS! You’re so nice to me with all these comments and asks!! You keep me going! I hope you like this chapter. I didn’t mean for it to be the Guillermo slumber party chapter, but here we are.

Warnings: Reader described as short and plays roller derby, vampire/human relationships, blood drinking, smut (in other chapters), power differential

---

Nandor lays you down on the towels and picks up the tube of antibiotic cream on your nightstand. He wrinkles his nose as he unscrews the cap.

“This ointment is putrid,” he grumbles, but he squirts some out onto his fingers anyways and gently applies it to the wounds on your neck. 

Whatever remaining energy you had following the feeding seems to have bled away with your makeout session because you can barely keep your eyes open now. The antibiotic stings a bit but you’re grateful for the attention and feeling a little light-headed and delirious--which surely accounts for the way you nuzzle your face against Nandor’s forearm as he tends to the wound.

“There, all better,” he proclaims as he places a large band-aid on your neck. He sits there for a moment, fidgeting awkwardly with his cape before abruptly standing. “I will tell Guillermo to bring you some of your electrolyte drink.”

---

“It seems the human wants to do the sex with me,” Nandor leans into the camera conspiratorially. “I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised. Humans have always been attracted to my dark power but…”

He grimaces in distaste and shakes his head, “I’ve never seen the appeal. Vampire/Human relationships? I mean...why? They die--either you eat them or they get old and gross…”

Nandor pauses at a muffled question from behind the camera.

He shrugs and knits his brows together, “Why would it be different with this human?”

“[Unintelligible]...out of your way not to kill her…”

“Yes, because of her virgin blood!” Nandor exclaims, enunciating his words condescendingly. “Why would I do the sex with her? Then she wouldn’t taste good anymore. Sex with humans is more trouble than it’s worth. They’re weak...fragile...they have to breathe. Where is the fun?”

Nandor reaches the bottom of the stairs and pauses to call out, “Guillermo!”

“Yes, master?” Guillermo pops out of his closet-bedroom and goes to the vampire’s side at once.

“I’ve just fed from the mortal. Bring her the Gatorade beverage and a snack. She’s very weak,” Nandor commands.

“Right away, master,” Guillermo does a little half bow and turns to leave.

Nandor puts out a hand to stop him, “She likes the blue flavor. Make sure you get the right one.”

Guillermo shoots a shocked look directly into the camera. When was the last time Nandor ever recalled a little detail like that about him?

Guillermo scurries away and Nandor rearranges his cape, making ready to leave for the evening. He catches the camera guy staring at him with a knowing smirk.

“What?!”

---

“Thanks, Guillermo,” you murmur after a sip of Gatorade. You have no idea what the proper treatment for blood loss is, but a snack is always nice. Maybe you should start taking iron supplements? 

Guillermo goes to leave but you stop him.

“Will you...stay with me for a little while?” you ask feeling unaccountably timid. “I feel gross and I don’t want to be by myself…”

Guillermo looks like he’s torn but he finally sighs and walks back over to you, perching awkwardly beside you on the bed.

“Sure, I’ll stay for a bit,” he says and you give him a toothy grin.

You turn on your side to face him, snuggling up under the covers and giving yourself some major slumber party vibes. You’re finally going to bond with Guillermo! He’s sitting rigidly up against the headboard and you have to swallow a laugh.

“Thanks, Guillermo,” you try to imbue your sincere gratitude into the words. “And...I’m sorry if you feel like I’m coming between you and Nandor. I don’t mean to…”

Guillermo lets out a long sigh, “It’s not your fault. He’s always been distant with me and I’m just...surprised to see him being so nice to another human.”

“Nice?” you laugh. “I’m still not convinced he isn’t planning on draining me dry one of these nights…”

Guillermo scoffs and shakes his head, “I don’t think so, Smash. I mean...he seems to care about you?”

The thought gives you a secret thrill that you try to ignore. Having feelings for a vampire--that’s pretty much the closest thing to a death wish you can imagine. But you find yourself raising your fingers to your lips and recalling the press of his mouth on yours. You look up to see the sad look on Guillermo’s face and it squeezes your heart.

“Hey… I’m sure Nandor cares about you, too,” you offer. You’re trying to come up with something to say to cheer him up when your brain backtracks and processes his words, “Hey! Did you just call me my derby name!?”

Guillermo blushes adorably and stammers, “Oh--uh, yeah? Is that okay? Or is it only for other skaters to use?”

You can’t help it, he’s such a teddy bear, you reach out and squeeze his arm in a hug.

“No, it’s great! Oh my god, Guillermo, we’re really gonna be friends, aren’t we!?” you gush.

“I guess so…hey, can I ask you something?” Guillermo scoots down the bed so that he’s laying on the pillow next to yours and facing you. Slumber party vibes!

“Shoot,” you reply.

“What’s it like?” he pauses and darts his eyes away from yours before looking back at you. “When he bites you?”

Your lips twist into a crooked smile and your turn your face into the pillow to hide with an embarrassed squeak. The bite and the making out are all jumbled together in your stupid human brain. Was it painful? Sexy? Hot? Horrifying? All of that, yes.

“It’s…” you struggle for words. “Intimate. You’re very close and he wraps his arms around you. He’s so strong, you couldn’t struggle away from him if you tried. But you don’t...try. Because his eyes are so dark and intense and...gorgeous and they’re focused just on you. And then he puts his mouth on your neck and for a second it’s like a kiss but then he bites and it hurts. But his lips are still on you and his hands. He puts his hand on your head to support you and you feel kind of...taken care of? While he’s--uh--you know, drinking your blood. You worry that he’ll go too far and forget to stop but then you’re floating and happy and you don’t care anymore if he stops or not. But he does. And his lips are red with your blood but they still look so soft and--and...uh. And, uh, that’s pretty much it.”

Guillermo’s staring at you with his eyes narrowed in suspicion, “Have you--did you two--? Smash!”

You’re burning with embarrassment and you stumble over your words, “What? No! We haven’t...well--not much. But--would it be bad if we did?”

In this moment Guillermo looks like nothing so much as a concerned older brother and you want to melt a little. 

“It’s...I don’t know?” he shrugs but his eyes are a little frantic. “Vampires are very, very...sexual beings. And you’re a virgin--which they love for, uh, other reasons but...I’m just a little worried you might be in over your head.”

You sigh and try to suppress your natural instinct to be defensive. You are in over your head. You’re living in a vampire house as a live-in blood donor. 

“So, you and Nandor have never…?” it’s a question you’ve been asking yourself since you first met Guillermo.

He smiles slightly and shakes his head, “No. We’re not--that’s not what our relationship is about. I care about Nandor, of course. And there was a time that I felt more but...I’ve let it go.”

You frown at his answer, “Are you sure? Because I don’t want to cause any drama…”

“Really, Smash. Nandor’s my... friend--even if he has a funny way of showing it most of the time. That’s all.”

Your eyes are feeling heavy and you yawn into your elbow before you answer, “Alright...if you’re sure.”

“But are you sure?” he quips, arching one brow. 

You let out a long sigh and shrug your shoulders.

“Hey...you want me to tell you what’s it like kissing Nandor?”

He giggles and rolls his eyes, “You shouldn’t kiss and tell.”

“What’s the fun in that?!”

---

“Nandor! Hey--come here you big donkey!” Nadja hisses from the upstairs hallway. 

She draws him over to your bedroom doorway and pokes her head inside, “Look at these adorable, baby humans, Nandor!”

You and Guillermo are asleep, curled up like shrimp side-by-side on your bed. Guillermo’s glasses are askew on his face and there’s a pool of drool on your pillow beneath your open mouth.

“Aren’t they precious?” Nadja croons. “I just want to chomp their little limbs right off.”

Nandor’s eyes flick from you to Guillermo and he stays in the doorway long after Nadja drifts back downstairs.

“Sweet dreams, my humans,” he whispers.

---

“Attention, everyone! I have some very exciting news to share this evening,” Nandor stands by the fireplace with Guillermo flanking him on his right brandishing a postcard-sized piece of mail in his hands.

You’re sitting sandwiched between Nadja and Laszlo on the long couch and Colin Robinson is sitting in an armchair with a newspaper folded on his lap. Nadja takes your hand in both of hers and holds it on her lap and you let your head fall on her shoulder. You’ve enjoyed falling into friendship with her even if you’re pretty sure she sometimes thinks of you as some kind of human baby doll to play with. 

“Nadja!” Nandor exclaims with a stamp of his heavy-booted foot. “How many times do I tell you to leave my human alone?”

“Nandor!” you shout in annoyance. “Nadja’s like my vampire mommy. Leave her alone!”

Guillermo’s eyes are wide with anxiety and he flicks his gaze from his Master to Nadja.

“Yes, Nandor. I’m her dear mama,” Nadja taunts and makes a show of baring her fangs and clawing her fingers over your head as if she’s about to bite you. “Chill out, donkey brain.”

Nandor presses his lips together in annoyance. Rather than reply to Nadja he turns on you, “You’re being very disrespectful to me, human. And I’m noting it. It’s being noted!”

Maybe it’s Nadja’s presence that boosts your confidence or maybe it’s the memory of Guillermo telling you you’d be out of your depth with a vampire lover. But you want to prove that you can play on their level. You smile up at Nandor and bat your eyes.

“I guess you’ll have to punish me then…” you say with false innocence. You catch Guillermo’s expression in the corner of your eyes and he looks like he’s having a coronary. 

“Oh, you saucy minx!” Nadja praises.

“Shall I get the cat’o’nine tails from the attic?” Laszlo pipes in.

Nandor looks totally unamused. He narrows his eyes at you with a storm cloud gathering on his brow.

“Enough foolishness! I have an announcement. Guillermo, the letter,” Nandor turns to his Familiar and takes the paper from his hands. “We have been invited…to a vampire rave!”

“Oh, goody!” Nadja claps her hands together.

“Drug blood!” Laszlo cries in exultation. 

Even Colin Robinson perks up.

“What’s a vampire rave?” you ask smiling in curiosity. You’re getting excited just from the others’ enthusiasm.

Laszlo answers, “It’s like a human rave only with vampires. We feed off the humans and get high ourselves. It’s great fun.”

“Uh, okay, but we all remember what happened the last time you guys drank drug blood,” Guillermo’s warns.

“Oh, shut up, Guillermo!,” Nandor flicks his wrist at him. “It would have been fine if you were a little more careful.”

Guillermo looks like he’s about to make a retort but Nandor talks over him, “It’s tomorrow night at an abandoned Circuit City across town! We’re all going to have a great time! Except...for you.”

Nandor looks down his nose at you and you whine, “Me!? Why can’t I go?”

Nadja joins your cause, “Nandor, why can’t we take the little human with us? She will be fine. If any vampire tries to attack her she will do the hip-check on them.”

“You’ve disrespected me in front of the other roommates!” Nandor admonishes. “This is the consequence. You can’t come. You’re not invited.”

You stand, walking up to Nandor and poking your finger in his chest as you proclaim, “You’re being very mean to me. And I’m noting it!”

You storm out before he can respond. You hear Laszlo’s voice as you jog up the stairs.

“Are you going to let her get away with that kind of behavior!?”

Nandor holds out his hands helplessly, “She’s gone! She’s gotten away with it!”

---

“Human!” Nadja hisses a whisper as she creeps into your bedroom later that night. “Human! Wake up!”

You roll over in bed to find her looming above you. You can see her wickedly sharp fangs to full affect and you gulp down the instinct to shriek.

“Nadja?” your voice comes out full of gravel.

“Don’t worry my little roller warrior. I’m taking you to the vampire rave tomorrow! We can’t let that stupid piece of snake ruin our fun!”

---

A/N: Is my Nadja crush showing???

Tags-- let me know if you’d like to be added to the tags!

@festering-queen​ @glitterportrait​ @kandomeresbitch​ @scuzmunkie​ @redwoodshadows​

[niksixx]

New Generation: Meet the Kids

I know many of you have been waiting patiently for anything New Generation related, and I am happy to say I have finally completed a list of the NG kids! I hope you enjoy reading about my little characters, and I can’t wait to write a few little stories about them. 

A few shoutouts first. To all of you who have contributed to the characters’ personalities by sending in messages to my inbox, thank you. You have all made this series possible. I did my best to incorporate my own vision of the NG kids as well as your ideas to create something fun for us all. Second, a big shoutout to @pepeu-stuff for inspiring me. They have gone out of their way to draw a few characters (Farrah, Ezra, etc.) with their own interpretation and have inspired some of the traits for my characters. I truly cherish all of you, and I hope you enjoy the NG kids as much as I do.

A/N: Also, this is just a fanfiction. I tried my best to incorporate Crüe’s and GNR’s personalities into their ‘children’ but we all know kids can 100% be completely different from their parents. 🤗

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meet the Sixx Kids

Nash Sixx 

Nash Sixx is the nineteen-year-old son of Nikki Sixx. He has dark hair and blue eyes with specks of green and a jawline most men would kill for. Like his father, he has an outgoing personality and a killer smirk that’s manipulated people into giving him what he wants more than once. He’s a college student that is studying music education, as he would like to be a music teacher. One of his best friends is Declan Rose, and he’s taught Declan a few tips and tricks when it comes to schmoozing the ladies. He’s also a big partier, and loves having his friends and cousins over to his college apartment. Nash’s favorite pastime though is sitting around the bonfire, glass of whiskey in his hand, while his father tells him stories of life on the road with Mötley Crüe.  

Harlow Sixx 

Harlow Sixx is the six-year-old daughter of Nikki Sixx. She has dark brown hair with clear blue eyes and free-spirited energy. Harlow and Penelope Lee are a package deal and will go nowhere without each other. She’s creative by nature, and sometimes will paint during rainy days. For a six year-old, Harlow is ridiculously intelligent. And just like her father, she has interests in photography and art.

Colby Sixx

Colby Sixx is the two-year-old son of Nikki Sixx. He has Nikki’s natural light brown hair and light blue-gray eyes. He loves finger painting with his sister, playing with toy cars, and putting together puzzles. 

Meet the Lee Kids 

Penelope ‘Penny’ Lee

Penelope ‘Penny’ Lee is the five-year-old daughter of Tommy Lee. She’s a little girl with wavy brown hair (usually in pigtails with little bows attached), big brown eyes, a love for bright pink tutus, and has a bubbly, outgoing personality. She’s the spitting image of her father, and she has him wrapped around her tiny little finger. Penny Lee enjoys her dolls, her teddy bears, and tea parties. She’s been raised to be an independent child and loves exploring nature and making pretty flower bouquets. Penelope can be friends with anyone, and at five-years-old, she’s already shutting down the bullies who make fun of the other kids at preschool.

Meet the Mars Kids

Dillion Mars 

Dillon Mars is the seventeen-year-old son of Mick Mars. He’s tall, lanky, with soft brown hair, blue eyes, and a sarcastic attitude. He’s not as quiet as his father, but he has his moments. Dillion tries not to take life too seriously, which is why he and Isaac Stradlin get along extremely well. Dillion has no interest in school, although he’s extremely smart in math and science. He’s president of his school’s mathletes club though he was pressured by his teachers and hates disappointing others. Most of his time is spent on the living room aimlessly playing his guitar,  Luckily, Dillon did not inherit his father’s bone disease, but he is a huge vodka drinker and occasionally will smoke cigarettes with the Stradlin twins and Ryan McKagan.

Meet the Neil Kids 

Katerina ‘Kat’ Neil 

Katerina ‘Kat’ Neil is the eighteen-year-old daughter of Vince Neil. Kat’s thin blonde hair is usually styled straight or into two space buns on the top of her head with a few pieces framing her face. Green eyes the color of emeralds, she’s the chick every girl wants to be, and the girl every guy wants to be with. Katerina is friendly to all, but she’ll never let anyone take advantage of her kindness. As a senior in high school, she takes pride in being the captain of the cheerleading team, a lead choreographer in the dance club, and the president of the drama club. While the most popular girl in high school could have any boy she wanted, there’s only one boy that Katerina has ever been interested in. Unfortunately, that boy is Declan Rose, the son of her father’s arch enemy, Axl Rose. 

Carson Neil

Carson Neil is the fifteen-year-old son of Vince Neil. Carson’s shoulder length blonde hair resembles his father’s, and he was gifted with a singing voice that could cure the world’s problems. He’s mature for his age, which is why most of his friends are a few years older than him. Carson can be a bit stuck up though and a bit of a prima donna. When he’s not busy rehearsing lines for his school's theater productions, Carson is confined to his room blasting Aerosmith, Ozzy Osborne, and writing his own lyrics to songs he’ll never share. 

~~~

Meet the Rose Kids

Declan Rose 

Declan Rose is the eighteen-year-old son of Axl Rose. He’s the spitting image of his father, except with shorter ginger hair with longer pieces framing his freckled face. Declan is unique in the fact that he refuses to follow in his father’s footsteps. While he enjoys listening to rock and his father’s old vinyl collection, Declan prefers hip-hop and rap music, much to his father’s dismay. Like Axl, Declan is extremely intelligent, and would decide to major in philosophy or psychology in college. He also does have his father’s temper, and while sometimes his father was misunderstood, Declan is lucky to have Katerina Neil around. She calms him down and supports his true personality, even if they have to keep their relationship hidden from their parents. 

Easton Rose 

Easton Rose is the eight-year-old son of Axl Rose. Easton was lucky enough to inherit his father’s hair color, but instead of the long locks, Easton’s hair is shorter and usually styled with gel. The eight-year-old is as stubborn as they come with a hyper and fiery personality to match his hair. He’s an athletic young boy who is also extremely personable and will talk to anyone. He’s impatient, especially when he wants his older brother Declan to help him with homework or play baseball in the backyard with his best friends Logan Adler and Hunter McKagan. Easton is a little flirt and has no problem charming ladies of any age. Easton also has a big crush on his brother’s girlfriend, Kat. 

Calla Rose 

Calla Rose is the five-year-old daughter of Axl Rose, and she is the queen of the household. Calla is the only child with blonde hair, but every now and again Axl dyes pieces of her pink (with temporary spray on hair color of course) to match the large gemstone on the tiara she wears around the house. Calla Rose is quite shy around other people, and it takes her a good twenty minutes before she’s able to muster up the courage to play with other children in preschool. Axl Rose is fully wrapped around his daughter’s finger, and it’s not shocking to catch them in the midst of coloring, ballet dancing, or playing with dolls. 

Willa Rose 

Willa Rose is the four-month-old daughter of Axl Rose. She’s a chubby baby with ginger hair and big hazel eyes. She loves making faces at her big sister and listening to her daddy as he sings her to sleep at night. 

Meet the McKagan Kids 

Ryan McKagan 

Ryan McKagan is the sixteen-year-old son of Duff McKagan. If teenage girls could use one word to describe this boy, it’s this: heartthrob. He’s tall with wavy blonde hair and a welcoming smile, it’s no wonder the girls in high school drool over him. Ryan can be found exercising (as he’s a hockey player) or running around his neighborhood five days out of the week. Ryan does smoke cigarettes and drinks on occasion, much to his father’s disapproval. Ryan tries not to take life too seriously and would have definitely picked up on some of his dad’s lame jokes. Around his neck is the letter ‘F’ attached to a gold chain as it’s the first initial of his girlfriend’s name, Farrah. Even if they have a rough relationship (thanks to Ryan being a typical flirt around other girls) he’s confident Farrah is the girl for him, so he never takes the necklace off. While Ryan didn’t necessarily inherit many of his father’s traits, what he did receive is the ability to sing. His father has taught him how to play guitar, and they’ll sit on the porch outside in the fall, singing and strumming to Guns N’ Roses old songs.

Hunter McKagan

Hunter is the seven-year-old son of Duff McKagan. Hunter’s hair is darker than his older brother’s, but lightens up in the sun. The seven-year-old boy loves to swim and skateboard (lessons are provided for free by Dillon Mars, Issac Stradlin, and Ezra Hudson), and he’s an absolute terror when he chases his family around the house shooting Nerf gun darts at them. He’s also the reason Duff cannot find his cowboy hats, as Hunter will usually steal them and wear them throughout the day. 

Meet the Hudson Kids 

Ezra Hudson 

Ezra Hudson is the eighteen-year-old son of Saul ‘Slash’ Hudson. Ezra is a bit shorter than his father, and yet could be his brother. Ezra was blessed with the most beautiful curls, and unlike his father he usually keeps them out of his face with headbands or ponytails. Ezra doesn’t have just one style, either. Somedays, he’ll dress head to toe in leather. Other days he prefers flannels and jeans, or button ups and khakis. Ezra is definitely a gamer. He also enjoys hiking, fishing, and hunting. He’s also into music, but is still learning how to play acoustic guitar. College is not in the cards for Ezra, as his dream is to form his own band. As for Ezra’s love life, he’s a total chick magnet. Unfortunately, he’s invisible to the only girl he wants: Isabel Stradlin. 

Mali Hudson 

Mali is the six-year-old daughter of Saul ‘Slash’ Hudson. She and her sister Maya were also blessed with their father’s glorious curly hair, and they’re damn proud of it. Mali’s hair is only to her shoulders, which is how you can tell twin from twin. At just six-years-old, little Mali has a plethora of hobbies such as origami, bracelet making, and flower pressing. Many of her crafts are given to either her parents or Farrah Adler. 

Maya Hudson

Maya is the six-year-old daughter (also the oldest twin between herself and Mali) of Saul ‘Slash’ Hudson. Maya has no problem wearing identical outfits with her sister, but their personalities couldn’t be more opposite. Maya loves to wrestle with her older brother and cousins (especially Declan who refuses to wrestle back for fear of hurting her) as well as having interests in dinosaurs, rock climbing, karate, and reptiles (she convinced her family to adopt two snakes and a lizard). 

Meet the Stradlin Kids 

Isaac Stradlin 

Issac Stradlin is the seventeen-year-old son of Izzy Stradlin. With dark shaggy hair, bright eyes, sharp jaw and toned body, Isaac comes off as intimidating at first glance. He can be intense about the things he is passionate about (music, poetry, history) but more often than not Isaac is laidback and easygoing. Isaac’s musical knowledge comes from what his father has taught him through the years, and he’s incredibly talented when it comes to playing instruments such as guitar, drums, keyboard, flute, and trumpet. He doesn’t particularly enjoy his father’s dark and gloomy style of dress that includes black jeans, black button ups, and even black hats, as he feels more comfortable in sweatpants and tank tops. As Isaac is the only boy that doesn’t mind babysitting and playing with the little girls, he has accidentally found himself a fan club whose members consist of Penny Lee, Calla Rose, Harlow Sixx, and twins Mali and Maya Hudson. 

Isabel Stradlin 

Isabel Stradlin is the seventeen-year-old daughter of Izzy Stradlin and the younger of the two between her and her twin brother, Isaac. Isabel marches to the beat of her own drum and has what most would call a ‘bone to pick with the world’ attitude. Isabel has had many different styles, but her current wardrobe is grunge. Isabel considers herself a humanitarian, constantly joining in protests while simultaneously volunteering at homeless shelters and soup kitchens. Because of her compassionate heart, it’s no secret that she and Farrah Adler are inseparable. Isabel would inherit her father’s artistic ability, but her art would range from pottery to graffiti portraits. 

Meet the Adler Kids 

Farrah Adler 

Farrah Adler is the sixteen-year-old daughter of Steven Adler. Her blonde hair is mostly straight with a few layers here and there, and she has the same vibrant and playful eyes as her father. Farrah’s style is mostly hippie influenced (but on occasion she can rock a leather jacket and bandana), and she has more of a laid back personality, something she absolutely did NOT get from her dad. As someone who treasures the beauty of the Earth and its creatures, Farrah would join in rallies such as ‘save the sea turtles’ and volunteer at animal hospitals, where she discovered her calling as a veterinarian. Oh, and she’s 100% vegetarian. Farrah has a peaceful aura, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise that she enjoys yoga, astrology, essential oils, journaling, and smoking weed. She also has an on-again-off-again relationship with Ryan McKagan, who she drags to many wildlife rallies.

Logan Adler 

Logan Adler is the nine-year-old son of Steven Adler. He has wavy blonde hair past his neck, playful gray eyes, and a love for drumming. Logan inherited his father’s happy-go-lucky spirit, and loves to meddle into his sister’s business when he’s not playing sports or building legos. He definitely is the class clown and loves being the center of attention, which usually results in him being sent to the principal’s office. He’s a jokester, a prankster, and loves getting into trouble.

[rpf-bat]

I Choose Defeat

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Genre: Angst, Drama

Summary: Written for Gothtober 2020, Day 5. Prompt: “Killing Romance.”

When Gerard makes the decision to ‘kill’ My Chemical Romance, your hidden feelings for him, turn to despair. You’re crushed by the reality that he’s no longer your bandmate, but you try your best to move on. Four years later, you have a quiet life in New Jersey - and a child that isn’t is. But, when you get a call in the middle of the night, asking you to get the band back together, you find yourself jumping at the chance. 

You and the other members of My Chemical Romance, sat around a coffee table, at Reprise Records headquarters. You sipped from your mug anxiously, unsure why Gerard had called this meeting. 

Is this about the new studio space?, you wondered. He did say he wanted to build a new recording spot, on his property, so that we’ll have an easier time, putting together the rest of the new album. 

But, something in his melancholy expression, told you that he wasn’t here, to show off blueprints. His hazel eyes seemed to stare right through you.

You glanced at Frank on your right, and Ray and Mikey on your left. They seemed nervous, too, as they waited for Gerard to speak. The silence in the room was deafening. 

“So,” Gerard said finally, “I’ve decided I quit.” 

“What?” you blinked. 

“I no longer want to be the vocalist of My Chemical Romance,” Gerard spelled out. “I’m out.” 

Four jaws dropped in unison. The mug nearly fell right out of your hand. 

“That means that My Chemical Romance is….over with,” Mikey realized. “I mean, there’s no way in hell that we could continue the band without you.” 

This much was obvious - Gerard was the group’s leader. It’s visionary. A drummer, such as yourself? Potentially replaceable. But the vocalist, lyricist, and frontman? No way. If he was done, his departure would be a bullet between My Chemical Romance’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Gerard sighed. “I’ve been trying, to act like everything’s fine, and keep working on new songs with you guys. But….my heart’s just not in it anymore.” 

“What about the new album?!” Frank interjected. “The demos we’ve been working on so far….I thought those songs really had potential!” 

“The guitar parts you wrote were good, Frankie,” Gerard admitted. “If you want to take those melodies, and recycle them into a new project, at some point? You definitely have my blessing to do that.” 

“Frank might be fine forming some new band, with new people,” you said, tears forming in your eyes, “but, what about me? What am I supposed to do?” 

You had dropped out of school, years ago, when Gerard asked you to drum for his band. And the truth was, that you had nothing to fall back on. You’d spent the last decade of your life, focused on nothing, but being in My Chem. Now, that career was just….gone. 

“I was talking to Andy Hurley the other day,” Gerard said calmly. “He said, that when Fall Out Boy broke up, he became a touring drummer, for some other bands. Like, I think he went on the road with Earth Crisis for a while.” 

“Oh, so you just have all the answers, is that it?” you snapped. You didn’t think, he’d really given that much thought, to how this would affect you, at all. 

“Y/N, come on,” Ray intervened, putting a hand on your shoulder. “You have to admit….the last tour, was really hard on all of us.”

“He’s right,” Mikey sighed. “We were constantly jet lagged. I was eating No-Doz like candy, just to stay awake, during some of our shows.” 

“I...I never said being in this band was easy,” you stammered, “but that doesn’t mean you just give up!”

“I can’t force it, if the passion’s just not there anymore!” Gerard insisted. “Do you remember the last show we played?”

“Yeah, what about it?” you demanded. 

“I wasn’t even looking at the fucking crowd,” Gerard confessed. “Or at my mic. My head was somewhere completely else. I was looking at the sea, in the distance. I didn’t want to be on that stage. And I know that our performance suffered, because of that. It wasn’t my best work. If I can’t give the fans the show they deserve, I’d rather not do any more shows, at all.” 

“You didn’t feel happy at all, when you were playing with us?” you realized. 

“No,” Gerard said bluntly. “I felt nothing.” 

Your chest hurt, and your eyes welled up with tears. Nothing?

Being onstage with Gerard, watching him sing, from behind your drum kit, was euphoria to you. A high that no drug could match. Listening to the crowd sing along with him, as you played your heart out....those were always the best nights of your life. But, clearly, he didn’t feel the same way, that you did. 

You always thought you’d have more time with him. Whether it was in the studio, or on tour….you’d taken for granted, that you would have another opportunity, to tell him how you really felt. 

You’d had feelings for him, for a long time. To put it frankly, you were in love with him. 

I told myself, that as soon as we finished the record, I would confess my feelings to him, you recalled, your hands shaking. I didn’t want it to affect the work we were doing in the studio, so I was going to wait. But now the fifth MCR album, is never going to exist! 

Even if your fantasies of dating him never materialized, you thought you would always have him, as a bandmate. Even if we never became boyfriend and girlfriend….we would still travel the world together, as singer and drummer. That was something I thought I could always rely on! 

Now, everything you thought you’d have, was up in smoke. It was like the rug had been pulled out from under you. 

“Gerard, how could you?!” you cried, unable to stop the tears, from falling from your eyes. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to be in any band, if it’s not with you!” 

“Y/N, I’m sorry…,” Gerard began, seeming taken aback, by how deeply, his words had wounded you. 

“Save it!” you barked. “I don’t want to hear it!” 

You grabbed your keys, and stormed out of the room. 

“Y/N! Wait!” Gerard cried. 

His voice didn’t stop you. If nothing was what he felt, sharing the stage with you….then, nothing was exactly what you would be to each other, from this day on. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

FOUR YEARS LATER

You’d moved back to New Jersey, after the band broke up. Los Angeles held nothing for you anymore, but memories. All you wanted was to forget. 

You’d tried to fill the void in your heart, by blowing money on vinyls. You thought maybe, if you turned the volume all the way up, and made the whole house shake with sound, you wouldn’t be able to hear Gerard’s voice, in the back of your head. I felt nothing. 

Your time together had been special to you….but, clearly, you thought, it hadn’t been special to him. So, when the guy at the record store, had asked for your number, you’d given it to him. 

You thought you could get over Gerard, by jumping into bed with someone else. Patrick certainly wasn’t unattractive. And, he was never unkind to you. When he told you that he loved you, you said it back. 

But…..you didn’t mean it. Deep down in your heart, you knew you were still in love with Gerard. And the worst part was, Patrick knew it, too. So, the relationship failed. Of course it did.

But, it had left you with one good thing: a child. You loved your daughter, even though you didn’t love her father. Motherhood had given you a reason to get out of bed every day. Even if you felt like your life was in shambles, you still had a responsibility, to be there for her. 

She looked up at you, with innocent blue eyes, as you tucked her into bed. 

“Mommy need hug?” she asked, holding her teddy bear tightly. 

“No, sweetheart,” you sighed, ashamed that your mental state was so obvious, even to a toddler. “Mommy’s okay.”

You thought to yourself, as you kissed her goodnight, that she might be the only person in this world, to ever truly love you unconditionally. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You were sitting at the kitchen table, alone with your thoughts, and a glass of Pinot, when the phone rang. You wondered who it could be, at this hour. 

“Hey, Y/N,” said a familiar voice, when you picked up. 

“Frank?” you blinked. “What’s up?” 

“How are you doing?” your former bandmate asked gently. 

“Pretty good,” you lied. “It’s been a while.” 

“It has,” Frank admitted. “I just got done with a tour, not too long ago.” 

Right, you remembered. He’s got his own little solo project now. 

“What are you calling yourselves these days?” you asked. “The Cellabration?”

“No, it’s The Patience now,” Frank corrected. “Man, I really wish I could have convinced you to join us. You know you were my first pick, for a drummer.” 

“You found a better one,” you shrugged. “I bought a copy of your CD. It sounds like Matt Olsson is doing a hell of a job.” 

“I’ll tell him you said that,” Frank chuckled. “You been up to much, music wise?” 

“Nah,” you confessed. “I mean, I did a little production stuff, for an indie label, here in town. But mostly, I’ve just been living off royalties, and child support.” 

“Fair enough,” Frank replied. “How’s the little one doing?” 

“Lena‘s doing great,” you smiled. “She’s full of energy, like most three year olds are.” 

You heard Frank laughing. 

“What?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“I still can’t believe,” Frank snickered, “that you named your daughter Helena.” 

“Of course I did,” you said wistfully. “Of all the songs we ever composed together, I think that was my favorite.” 

“Honestly, it’s one of my favorites, too,” Frank confessed.

“How are Lily and Cherry?” you asked. “And Miles?” 

“The twins just had their seventh birthday,” Frank said proudly. “God, they’re getting so big. And Miles just started kindergarten, he loves it.” 

“That’s great,” you smiled. “Lena and I, should come over and visit you guys soon.” 

“I’d really like that,” Frank agreed. “I mean, you’re right down the road, after all.”

It was true - Frank, was the only other former band member, who had returned to New Jersey, after things went south. 

“....That’s actually part of, what I wanted to talk to you about,” Frank said, after a moment. 

“What do you mean?” you wondered. 

“So….you and I, still hang out all the time,” Frank began. 

“...Yeah?” you nodded. Where was he going with this? 

“But, you also visited Ray not too long ago, right?” he asked. 

“Uh, yeah, last fall,” you recalled. “He invited me down to his house in California. He wanted me to play drums, for a track on Remember The Laughter.” 

It had been nice to see him again - and even nicer, to get out of the East Coast snow. 

“But, while you were in LA, you also hung out with Mikey, right?” Frank asked. 

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “He asked me to go to a Dodgers game with him, while I was in town. It was pretty fun. He was asking me for parenting advice the whole time, because Kristin was pregnant with Rowan.” 

All of the former members of My Chemical Romance were parents now….except one. But, you didn’t want to talk about him. To your chagrin, this was the exact person, whom Frank asked about next. 

“What about Gerard?” he demanded. 

“What about him?” you scoffed. Even after all this time, thinking about him, still hurt. 

“I was texting Gee last night,” Frank explained. “Y/N….he told me that you haven’t gone and seen him, even once, since the day the band broke up.” 

“It’s true,” you admitted. 

“Shit, man,” Frank swore. “It’s been four years. Do you really hate him, that much?” 

“I don’t hate him,” you said softly. 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Frank tutted. “Was it really necessary, to block his number?” 

“It was,” you insisted. “I have nothing to say to him.” 

“Well,” Frank revealed, “he had something, that he wanted me to say to you.” 

Your eyes widened. 

“What is it?!” you demanded. 

“Damn,” Frank teased. “You sound pretty eager, for someone who refuses to speak to him directly. For the record, it’s kinda childish, if you ask me! You and I are both in our thirties now - and he just turned fuckin’ forty. And I still have to be a go-between, for you two?” 

“Just tell me what he said, already,” you said impatiently. 

“Fine, fine,” Frank sighed. “I’ll get to the point.” 

“Well, what is it?” What could he possibly have to say, after all this time?

“He asked me,” Frank whispered, “if you would be interested, in getting the band back together.”

You dropped the phone in shock. It hit the tile floor, with a crash. You were lucky, that the noise didn’t wake Lena. You bit your lip. You wanted to scream, but you couldn’t. 

Was this real?! you thought, your hands shaking. Oh, god, please let it be real. 

You’d wanted to hear those words for so long. Despite all your anger and resentment towards Gerard….you wanted him, to miss you. You wanted him, to want to get onstage with you again. Because deep down….you still wanted, that, too. 

You picked the phone up off the floor, and pressed it to your ear again. 

“Damn, Y/N, what was that?” Frank gaped. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “I can hear you now. So….tell me again? Exactly what he said?”

“He said he wants to get all five of us in a room together,” Frank explained. “Just...try and jam for a little bit, and see where it goes from there.” 

“Where?” you asked. “LA, I’m guessing?” 

“Yeah….”

“Ok, when?” you interrupted. “I can try and find a sitter, to watch Lena for a weekend, so….” 

“Slow down!” Frank urged. “What the fuck, Y/N?” 

“What do you mean, what the fuck?” you asked, eyes narrowing. 

“You just told me, you haven’t said two words to Gerard, since 2013!” Frank reminded. “Now, all of a sudden, you’re chomping at the bit, to get on a plane, and go see him?” 

He had a point. You hated yourself for this. You’d spent the last four years, trying desperately to forget about Gerard. Now, as soon as he dangled the possibility of a reunion in front of you, you were wagging your tail like a dog for him. 

He still has me in the palm of your hand, you realized, cheeks burning. I hate it. 

“We weren’t sure,” Frank confessed, “if you would want to be part of the reunion at all. You guys didn’t leave things on the best of terms. Like...when you see him again, what the hell are you gonna say to him?” 

“I….I don’t know,” you realized. You thought about it for a moment. 

“One thing’s for sure,” you decided. “If My Chemical Romance is having a reunion, you’re sure as hell, not gonna have it without me.” 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You hesitated in the studio doorway, your hand shaking on the door handle. 

Come on, you told yourself. You’ve come all this way. The flight from La Guardia to LAX was seven hours long. You had all that time, to talk yourself out of doing this. But, you’re here now. You’ve decided this is what you want. 

Steeling yourself, you turned the knob, and entered the room. 

He was there, as soon as you walked in. His hair was a natural brown now - not the short blonde it had been, the last time you’d seen him. It had become streaked with grey - but, then again, so had yours. Despite the lines of middle age, that had now begun to crease his face, he was still so, breathtakingly handsome. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Gerard said, his voice melting you like butter. “You look great.”

You didn’t say so do you - even though it was true. 

“H-how you have been?” you asked, trying to hide your shakes. 

“I’ve been well,” Gerard smiled. “How’s Patrick?” 

“We’re divorced,” you said dryly. 

“....Oh,” Gerard gasped. “Oh, fuck, Y/N, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You would, if you shot me an email, once in a while,” you snapped, remembering that you were supposed to ‘hate’ him. 

“Oh, so my number’s blocked, but an email’s fine with you?” Gerard huffed. “How am I supposed to know that? The telephone works both ways, you know.” 

“Guys!” interrupted the voice of the reason. “Can you not? Please?” 

“Ray!” you gasped, turning to face your frizzy-haired friend. “How are you? It’s so good to see you!” 

“It’s good to see you, too, Y/N,” Ray smiled. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you guys, too,” said another familiar voice, as Mikey entered the room. 

“Hey!” you smiled, walking over to greet him. “How’s the baby doing?”

“She’s beautiful,” Mikey said proudly. “How’s Helena?”

“Little Lena is getting bigger every day,” you smiled. “She’s adorable.” 

“You can compare baby pictures later,” joked another voice. “I’d win that contest, anyway. I have three cuties at home.” 

“Hi, Frank!” Mikey grinned. “How have you been, dude?” 

“Pretty good,” Frank smiled, setting down his guitar case. “Looks like the gang’s all here.”  

You looked around the room, scarcely believing it was true. But, you didn’t have to pinch yourself. It was real- all five members of My Chemical Romance, were together again.

“Are you ready to jam?” Ray grinned. 

“Absolutely,” you said, surprising yourself. 

“What should we play first?” Frank asked, taking his guitar out of its case, and hooking the strap over his shoulder. 

“Good question,” Gerard shrugged, walking over to the microphone stand, and adjusting it to his height. 

“What about ‘Helena’?” Mikey suggested, tuning his bass. 

“Sounds good to me,” you replied. You sat down, behind the drum kit, that the studio space owned. You still had your original kit - with the Danger Days “Exterminate” drum cover - in your basement, back home. 

You picked up your sticks. It had been so long, but holding them in your hands, felt so right, in a way that you couldn’t describe. 

“Ray, you wanna start us off?” Gerard asked. 

“Alright,” Ray nodded. “One, two, three, four…”

He began to play the opening notes, that you knew so well. 

“Long ago,” Gerard crooned, “just like the hearse you, died to get in again…”

Your cymbals joined him - and at just the right time, too. Like muscle memory coming back. 

“We are,” Gerard sang, “so far from you!”

Mikey and Frank’s parts kicked in, and you felt a wave of adrenaline, that hit you so fast, it almost made you miss the beat. 

“Burning on…,” Gerard continued, surprisingly in-key. 

“Just like a match you strike to incineraaaaate!” Ray harmonized, “the lives of everyone you knoooow!”

The two men sounded incredible together, given that the last time they’d performed this song, was 2012. It was like riding a bike, you realized. You guys had played this one together, so many times, that it only took being next to each other, to unlock it all again. 

You felt a wave of nostalgia, as the song continued:

And what's the worst you take (worst you take)

From every heart you break (heart you break)

And like the blade you stain (blade you stain)

Well, I've been holding on tonight

What's the worst that I can say?

Things are better if I stay

So long and goodnight

So long not goodnight

“....Fuck, that sounded so good!” Gerard grinned, stopping after the chorus. “I thought we’d be really rusty!” 

“I know, right?” Ray laughed. 

Suddenly, Gerard’s smile faded, as he turned back, and looked at you. “....Y/N?”

“What?” you asked. “I agree, that was decent.” 

“Y/N….you’re crying,” Gerard said softly. 

“Huh?” you blinked. You set your drumstick down, and touched your finger to your eye. It came away wet. 

Fuck, you realized, he’s right. You hadn’t even noticed. Despite the sharp words you’d exchanged, when you walked in the door, playing together, had made your true feelings plain. You had missed this. You had missed this so much. 

“I….I think I need a smoke break,” you stammered, and headed for the door. 

“Y/N! Wait!” Gerard called. It sounded just like deja vu. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

He found you outside, holding a cigarette in your shaking palm. You could barely see the lighter through your tears. The stupid flame wouldn’t catch. 

“You want me to get that?” Gerard offered. 

“No!” you sniffed. “Just, go away!” 

Ignoring you, Gerard took the lighter from your hand. 

“Here,” he said, and lit the cigarette for you. You took a drag. 

“....You want one?” you offered, awkwardly handing him the pack, as you wiped your eyes. 

“Nah,” Gerard shook his head. “I quit.”

“...Did you really?” you blinked, surprised. 

“Yeah, just this year,” Gerard nodded. “I figured, if we were gonna do this, I wanted to make sure, that my lungs were in good shape.” 

“....How long have you known, that you wanted to come back?” you wondered. 

“Not long,” Gerard confessed. “Honestly, I thought you would say no.”

“To you?” you laughed, bitterly. “Never.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gerard raised an eyebrow. “I thought you can’t stand me, these days.” 

“Gee,” you sighed. “Listen….I never hated you.” 

“Could’ve fooled me.” 

“It wasn’t hate, that kept me away,” you confessed. “It was love.” 

“Love?” Gerard repeated, confused. 

“You broke my heart,” you explained, “when you killed the band.”

“Yeah, all the guys were heartbroken, when I told them it was over,” Gerard acknowledged. 

“No,” you shook your head. “You don’t understand.” 

“Then, explain it to me!” Gerard demanded. “Nobody was happy with me with that day, but you’re the only one who cut off all contact afterwards! And I have spent every day, of the last four years, wondering why!” 

“Because I was in love with you, you idiot!” you cried. 

Gerard gasped, staring at you in shock. 

Fuck, you trembled. I can’t believe I said that out loud. 

“You….wanted to be with me?” Gerard asked, eyes wide. 

“Of course I did,” you said, beginning to cry again. “But, you didn’t even want me as a bandmate anymore - let alone a lover. You didn’t feel a thing - you gave up our life’s work, like it was nothing to you.” 

“Y/N, I was relapsing,” Gerard said softly, staring at his shoes. 

“You….you what?” 

“During the World Contamination Tour,” Gerard admitted, shame-faced. “The stress of being on the road, it was just too much for me. I was seven years sober, and I fell off the wagon. I hated myself for it. But I knew, if we started another album cycle, and went on another tour, after that….I was going to do it again.” 

“That’s why you wanted to quit the band?” you realized. “I never knew….” 

“You never let me explain myself!” Gerard reminded. “You just took off!” 

“B-but, I never noticed you drinking, when we were on tour….” you stammered. 

“I hid it well,” Gerard sighed. “I didn’t want to disappoint you. You thought I was such a great guy….I didn’t want you to see the truth about me.” 

“You are a great guy, Gee,” you assured him. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t gotten so angry at you, for making the choice you made, if I had known how badly you were struggling, on the inside….” 

“It was kill the band,” Gerard revealed, “or fall back into the bad habits, that were going to kill me.”

“I….I don’t want you to get killed, Gerard,” you sobbed. “I would never, ever want that. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, for how I’ve treated you, this whole time….”

“I’m sorry, too,” Gerard said, reaching a gentle hand up, to wipe the tear from your eye. “I’m sorry, that I was so self-absorbed, that I never realized, how you felt about me.”

“I hid that well, too,” you confessed. 

“I would never have wasted the last four years of my life like this,” Gerard sighed, “if I had known, that my feelings were reciprocated.”

“Re…Reciprocated?” you repeated. No….could he mean….?

“After you went back to Jersey,” Gerard bared his soul, “I felt like there was a hole in my heart. And I didn’t know why. By the time I figured it out - by the time I was sober, and mentally stable again, and the type of man you actually deserved - goddamnit, Y/N, you were married to someone else!” 

“I only accepted Patrick’s proposal, because I was pregnant,” you admitted, embarrassed. “And I only slept with him, in the first place, to try and convince myself, that I was capable of wanting, somebody who wasn’t you.” 

“But….you and Patrick split up,” Gerard realized. “Fuck. Y/N. If I had known, that you two weren’t still together….I would have been on a plane to New Jersey, months ago, begging you for another chance.” 

“I don’t want him,” you cried. “I want you, Gerard. I always did. I wished Lena was yours, because the wanting never stopped. I want you still!” 

“Then, be mine, damnit!” Gerard cried, and took you in his arms. He kissed your tear stained face, and your sobbing finally stopped, as his lips crashed into yours. 

He tasted so sweet….everything you’d wanted, and more. It was like a dream come true. 

“The guys are waiting inside,” you reminded, “for us to go back in there, and play some more songs with them.”

“Let then wait,” Gerard shushed you, pulling you in again. “I’ve waited four years for this.” 

He kissed you, and you felt as if you could fly. All was, finally, right with the world again. 

[babie-jeno]

no longer.

genre: fluff-ish, angst, non-idol, female reader, cupid au

warnings: prolly some inaccuracies in the origins of cupids, major character death, su/cide

word count: 2200

synopsis: Every baby born under the Venus bloodline were assigned a cupid and a soulmate. Cupids would care for the Venus babies and guide them to their soulmate. Once they fell in love with their soulmate, the cupid would have to bid their goodbyes and move on to the next Venus baby in line. Cupids are incapable of love. Despite being the epitome of love, they themselves are unlovable. Jeno has been a cupid caring for countless Venus bloodline babies since the beginning of their time. Jeno enjoyed all of his Venus bloodline babies he has cared for but he was always envious of his Venus babies. They would always grow up to live a happily, lovingly, and long life with their soulmate, something he longed for but was supposedly incapable of. Then he took care of you...

_______________________________________________

Since the beginning of their creation, Jeno has been a cupid caring for countless Venus bloodline babies. He enjoyed his time with all of those he was assigned, but he always nursed an envy of them. They would grow up to live a long happily loving life with their soulmate, something he longed for but was supposedly incapable of. Then he took care of you...

_______________________________________________

Jeno stood on a cliff stretching his beautiful long white wings and adjusted his crooked and dull gold halo. He was about to fly home after bidding goodbye to his Venus offspring named Chen, who had just hosted his wedding and was getting ready to go on his honeymoon with his pregnant soulmate. Jeno had spent 28 years preparing, planning, and perfecting Chen’s love story.

When he arrived home, he had expected the gods to give him a break, as he has been working back to back on Venus bloodline babies for quite some time. 127 years to be precise.

As usual, the gods summoned his presence and demanded his technical works to be put to use for the next Venus offspring. They informed him the offspring was a female. Jeno tilted his head, confused. He had worked with only a handful of female Venus offsprings. He was only assigned them once every blue moon because he specialized in males. The gods dramatically laughed at his confusion, “Trust us, you would not be our first choice either, but Wendy failed her mission with a female baby. Nature is replenishing herself, and Wendy is now sentenced to 145 years in the garden. No cupids are available, so you can take it, or you can leave it and serve the 145 years for Miss Wendy. You wouldn’t want that, though, am I right?” Jeno scoffed and glared at the gods.

“I’ll take it.”

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Your loud cries and your mother’s pants filled the labor room. “It’s a girl!” the doctor shouts. Jeno looked down on the room and smiled. You were absolutely precious.

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Every night, Jeno would watch your crib to protect you from any lurking danger. He would tuck you into bed after your mother left. Before that, though, your mother would tell you every night before you went to sleep, “Angels are watching over you.” Little did she know, she was correct.

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You were only 8 years old when you encountered your first bully. Jeno watched from afar, and his heart clenched at the sight of your glassy eyes threatening to spill. He had decided to take form of a younger boy to protect you. It was a risk for cupids to actually participate in their Venus baby’s life, but he simply couldn’t bear another moment in the presence of your sadness. He took into form, fought off the bullies, and comforted you. You felt so small in his arms; you felt right.

Jeno had only expected to protect you in the human boy form this one time, but you didn’t socialize much after getting bullied. So, he took it upon himself to be your companion because it would be easier to protect you, right? Changing his appearance to seem human took a lot of his cupid energy, but he endured it for you. You were so lovely and kind. He couldn’t understand why the humans didn’t fancy you, but the humankind was always confusing him, so he wasn’t surprised.

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You had invited him over for a movie marathon night at your house, a tradition that you guys have religiously done since you were 8. You had put on your pjs and were patiently waiting for Jeno to show up. You heard 5 hard rhythmic knocks, a code the two of you had created when you were 10. You ran to open the door to greet him and spent the night eating snacks and watching scary movies in his arms. Jeno watched as you fell asleep. He caressed your face and your nose scrunched at the sudden touch; he couldn’t help but giggle. You were so cute. He picked you up bridal style and tuck you into bed, just like he has every night since you were born.

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When you were 16 you experienced your first real crush named Chan. Jeno was petrified. He knew Chan was not your soulmate, as his halo didn’t glow brightly to indicate a Venus soulmate. He knew the moment you introduced Chan to him that there was potential for your heart to be broken. For years, Jeno had managed to subside small childish crushes, but you were gonna be an adult soon and your feelings were slipping through his fingers. His also knew his job was to protect you and guide you to your soulmate, so he demanded you to quit seeing this stupid waste of a crush.

“Y/n, are you out of your mind? He is no good for you! What do you gain from this stupid boy?!” he yelled at you.

You were greatly astounded by his harsh tone. He had never once used such tone towards you in your many years of wonderful friendship. Was this the same boy who protected you from bullies, babied you, cuddled and tucked you in all night every halloween? Your eyes became glassy, just like the first time you met him. Looking into your eyes, he realized how he had hurt you. How could he? He questioned himself. In that moment, he understood he wasn’t doing his job. Yes, he was trying to protect you, but you ignited this fire in him. You made him feel pain, in the sense of love? He had feelings for you. Impossible, he thought. Cupids were practically feelingless beings who provided the feelings. Then, he said the 3 words cupids were forbidden to say.

“I love you.”

The air was thick, and your glassy eyes softened. You took a big step towards him and pecked his lips. Jeno was alarmed but was distracted by your soft lips against his. You cannot love him; it was no good for you or for him. Your life would end short if you rejected your soulmate and loved another, especially a cupid. For Jeno, he would spend 100+ years in the garden, and the gods would torture him and strip his memories of the mission he failed. Which means he would forget you. He couldn’t risk that. He wants to remember you. Jeno pushed you off and stormed away.

You laid in bed that night sobbing. Jeno watched from above, waiting for you to sleep and tucking you in.

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Countless failed attempts of contacting Jeno lead to many missed calls and pathetic voicemails. You eventually gave up, and you never saw Jeno again. You went to your dream university that Jeno granted with the snap of his fingers. You lived comfortably, and every morning you went to the same coffee shop around the corner. You were standing in line when someone bumped into you, spilling their iced americano all over your white t-shirt. He panicked, “Omg, I’m sorry! Here’s my sweater”.

You only laughed. He was tall and extremely handsome. “It’s okay, my name is y/n,” you said and took his sweater.

“I’m Johnny,” he smiled. Jeno stood above, halo shining brightly. You had met your soulmate.

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Years into dating Johnny and you were beyond happy, but something in you still thought about Jeno. Jeno knew you still thought about him, but he still needed to accomplish his mission. You needed to marry and accept your soulmate. Johnny stood in the jewelry store looking for a new watch when he glanced at the wedding rings. Jeno took the chance to whisper little persuasive words in Johnny’s ear, “Do it.” Johnny blinked and bought a beautiful diamond ring. On his way to his car, he texted you. “Babe dust off that red dress. We’re going dancing”. You replied with “so sudden but ok babe lol”.

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You were in your red dress, slow dancing with Johnny. You were simply just enjoying the other’s presence, when Johnny got on one knee and proposed to you. Of course you said yes, Jeno made sure of it. He watched as his plan worked from above. Not his best delivery, but it succeeded. His time with you was running out.

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The day had finally come, and you were finally getting married. You looked at your reflection in the mirror, and you started to get the jitters. Do you want to marry Johnny? Are you ready? Why was Jeno on your mind; it’s been years? You panicked and started to pack your stuff. You grabbed a pen to write a letter to apologize to Johnny.

You weren’t the only frantic one. Jeno panicked and showed his true form. He grabbed your wrist before you could begin to write. You looked up and were taken back by his halo, his lack of clothes, and his huge wings. “J-jeno?” He cupped your chubby cheeks and looked dead into your glassy eyes. Oh was he was gonna miss those dazzling eyes. You were as gorgeous and beautiful as ever, he thought.

His eyes glowed a bright pink, and he began to compel you,

“I love you, but you need to marry Johnny. You won’t remember me. You fought your bullies alone, and every year you spend Halloween alone, your first crush Chan rejected you, and Jeno never existed, and you love Johnny so, so, so much. You’ll forget you tried to ran. You’re gonna walk down that aisle, get married, go on your honeymoon, have kids, and grow old with Johnny. I’m gonna kiss you and you’ll forget everything associated with me.” You were overwhelmed, and you were about to speak when Jeno kissed you and disappeared.

Your memories were wiped. You looked around. Why were your things packed? You could’ve sworn you had already unpacked. Why was there a pen in your hands? What were you gonna write down? One of your bridesmaids walked into the room, “You’ll be walking down in 10.” She looked at your lips and pointed at her own, “You have a little smear here.” You awkwardly laughed, looked in the mirror, and cleaned up. You could’ve sworn the smear wasn’t there a moment ago. Jeno watched and smiled at your confusion. Johnny is one lucky man.

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Again, he stood on the same cliff stretching his long white wings with a crooked and dull halo. Was this all to his life? Mission after mission with no love to share? He flew home and again the gods called for him. They were probably wondering why was he home early. His mission wasn’t finished until you said those 2 bonding words, but he couldn’t bear it anymore. Instead of going to the gods, he went to the garden, where they held prisoners and golden arrows. Cupids are immortals beings, but magic always has a loophole. Every cupid has their own golden arrow capable of taking their life. It’s what the gods used to threaten cupids into working in love labor. He grabbed his arrow when the guard was not looking and flew back to the cliff. Jeno opened a portal to watch you walk down the aisle and say your vows. God did he wish it was him you were marrying. The priest began to say his line,

"Do you, Y/n take Johnny Suh as your lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish until death do you part?"

“I do.”

You said those two words that bonded you to life with your Venus soulmate. Which meant Jeno had officially finished his mission.

“She no longer needs me,” Jeno spoke before he pierced his heart with his golden arrow.

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2 years after your wedding, you and Johnny began to try to start a family. You were happy to find out you were pregnant and that your due date was Halloween. You don’t really know when it began or why, but Halloween has always been your favorite holiday. You had expected for a baby girl, so you chose the name Yeeun.

Like clockwork, you began to go into labor Halloween morning. Johnny rushed you to the hospital. You were emitted to a labor room and gave birth. “It’s a boy!” the doctor shouted. You and Johnny were confused, since you had been expecting a girl.

“What would you like to name this baby boy?” the nurse asked. You were in deep thought.

“Oh we haven’t thought abou-.”

You interrupted Johnny with, “Jeno, J-Jeno, yeah Jeno his name is Jeno.” You don’t know what compelled you to say such an uncommon name, but it felt familiar, comfortable even.

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this was based off a dream I had so like dhjdfnnsdk