#so I'm not 'seeing right' on that side either and that is even more disorienting

[achilles-rage]

Return the Favour

summary: after buck saves reader when her apartment building goes up in flames, they run into each other at a bar. buck's on an awful first date, and reader decides to help him get out of it.

word count: 5.6k

request: I was wondering if i could request a story about Evan Buckley saving a plus size reader for like a fire or some dangerous situation and they're both attracted to each other but neither of them acts on. A few weeks later or so Buck is actually saved by reader while he's on a bad date he's trying to get out of and (like she makes up an excuse for him or plays along with something he says) and he ends up asking her out.

A/N: i'm sorry this took so long but it's finally out and i may have gotten carried away! this was my first buck request, and it was really fun! and i'm so used to writing good luck charm now that i had to search "evan" and change them all to "buck" at the end LOL also i threw in some abby shade, can you find it?? hehe. anyway, enjoy <3

warnings: reader is caught in a fire, no use of y/n, plus size!reader, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader

You wake up in the middle of the night to the fire alarm in your building echoing off the walls of your apartment. You’re immediately disoriented, as the booming sound makes your ears ring and your head spin. You jump out of bed and make your way out to your living room, and your breath catches in your throat when you see the smoke quickly filling the room. You make your way to your front door, but jump back in pain as the flat surface burns the back of your hand.

Dread fills your belly as you look around the room frantically. You see your cat cowering under your kitchen table, and you quickly run to grab her before she hides under anything where you won’t be able to reach her. You grab her and she lets out a loud meow, but you keep her squirmy body in your arms as you make your way to your window.

You’re four storeys up, and your landlord has still not fixed your fire escape, although you’ve been asking for months. Either way, you throw open your window, hoping to get some fresh air as smoke fills your lungs and burns your throat. 

You run to your room and grab your phone, quickly dialing 9-1-1 as tears form in your eyes.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” the operator asks.

“3246 Weston St. My apartment building’s on fire.” you tell her frantically, phone pressed between your ear and shoulder as you struggle to get onto the fire escape with your cat still in your arms.

“Yes, we know about that. I see fire escapes on the outside of the building. Can you get down?” she asks you calmly, and you feel an odd sense of calm fill your body as her voice fills your ears.

“It’s broken, there’s no ladder. My landlord won’t fix it.” you tell her softly, squeezing your cat to your chest as more tears start to fall.

“What’s your name?” You answer her, sniffling softly.

“Hi, I’m Maddie. We’re gonna get through this together, okay? There’s already firefighter’s on the scene. Can you tell me what side of the building you’re on?” You shake your head, but then reply quickly, knowing she can’t see you.

“I don’t see any. I’m on the back side of the building, on the fire escape. On the fourth floor.” She mumbles an “okay” as she types on her computer. 

“Alright, I’m sending a team over to you, they’ll be right there. Is it just you in your apartment?”

“Just me and my cat.” you mumble, feeling a little silly at your response. The smoke is starting to waft out onto the fire escape, and it makes you cough loudly.

“I’m gonna stay right here with you, okay? We’re gonna get you down. The firefighters should be there now. Do you see them?” You wait for a moment as you look down at the ground, and your heart drops once you see the bright lights turn the corner.

“I see them.” you whisper, holding your cat tighter as the sirens spook her. You barely even hear Maddie’s response as your heart hammers in your chest. You make your way to the railing of the fire escape, watching as the aerial ladder is extended up to you.

You let out a sigh of relief once two very attractive firefighters are almost up to you on the ladder. You can’t help the embarrassment filling your body as you look down at your oversized shirt, with no bra, just long enough to cover your short spandex shorts, but you’re too happy to finally get off of your fire escape that you don’t care. 

“Eddie, you get the cat, I’ll get her.” one of them speaks, and the other one, Eddie, nods as he holds out his arms towards you.

You let out a soft sigh before you hand your cat to him, watching nervously as he starts making his way down the ladder with your cat twisting around in his arms. Buck takes this moment to trail his eyes down your figure, taking in your thick thighs and soft tummy. You’re absolutely gorgeous, but there’s no time for that.

“Alright, let’s get you down.” Buck tells you, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours. You cross your arms instinctively as your eyes trail down the ladder. He senses your fear, and holds his hands out.

“I’m Buck. What’s your name?” he asks when you don’t make a move to the ladder. He sees the gears turning in your head as you mumble your name, and he smiles softly, rolling it around on his tongue, committing it to memory.

“It’s okay, I’ll be right behind you the whole time.” he says softly, trying to coax you out onto the ladder. Your eyes move to his hands before going back up to his face, and you nod slowly. You put your hands on the railing, ready to hoist yourself over the railing and onto the ladder.

“Alright, I’m gonna hold onto you to keep you steady. Is that okay?” he asks, and you nod as nerves fill your belly. He grabs onto your plush hips firmly as you swing one leg over the railing, and he helps guide your other leg over the ladder until your bare feet are on the ladder. 

“There you go, I got you.” he whispers once you’re pressed against him. He moves one hand off your hip and grips the railing of the ladder, then urges you to start making your way down backwards, with him going down first behind you. 

You close your eyes for a moment and let out a shaky breath, then start to move once you open your eyes again. He keeps one hand on your hip the whole way down, keeping his body tense in case you slip. He tries to keep his eyes respectfully on the back of your head, but he can’t help it when his eyes trail down to your ass, just barely covered by your shorts as your shirt rides up.

“You’re doing so good. Just a few more steps.” he speaks once you’re almost to the bottom of the ladder. You smile softly at his words, despite the way your heart is pounding out of your chest. His presence calms you.

Once you’re finally down on the ground, you turn to him with a shy smile. 

“Thank you.” you say softly, looking up at him.

“Of course. You should get checked out. Make sure you didn’t inhale too much smoke.” he tells you, returning your smile. Now that he has the chance, he studies your face. If he was still the old Buck, he would ask you out, loving your sweet voice, pretty face, and gorgeous body. But he doesn’t date people he meets on the job anymore, and he’s cursing himself for that rule right about now.

You let him take you over to the ambulance, and you’re surprised when he stays there with you. The fire is for the most part out, as a few other stations were also called, so he doesn’t feel bad staying with you. He stands in front of you as Hen checks you out, taking your cat from Eddie while he waits.

He can’t help but strike up a conversation as he pets your cat, desperate to know more about you. He asks where you’re from, and what you do, and even manages to ask if you’re single. He doesn’t flat out ask that question, but after asking about your apartment, he learns that you don’t often have people spending the night, and he’s relieved.

You learn more about him too. You learn that his sister is the operator that you spoke to on the phone, and that he’s from Pennsylvania. He tells you a little about his travels before he landed in LA, but there’s not much time to go into detail, as Hen finishes looking you over quickly.

He hands you back your cat, and your hands brush each other’s as you take her back. You both freeze at the small contact, lingering for a moment too long.

“Well it was nice to meet you. Thanks again.” you trail off as you look up at him. You want to see him again, but you’re sure he’s just this nice with everyone while on the job.

“Yeah, it was nice meeting you too. Do you have somewhere to go tonight?” His voice has a hint of concern, thinking about you having nowhere to go. He lets out a relieved sigh as he sees you nod.

“My friend lives a few blocks away. I can get an Uber over there.” you reply.

“We’ll wait with you. Don’t want you alone out here.” Your smile widens at his kindness, and you can feel your cheeks heating up at his insistence, although you’re sure it’s probably just protocol. You feel butterflies in your tummy at the idea of him wanting to stay, regardless of the reason. 

In reality, he just wants to spend more time with you. He’s on the verge of asking you out, but as your Uber pulls up, he decides he shouldn’t. Maybe it’s better this way, he thinks.

You thank him once again before you get into the Uber, also thanking Eddie and Hen quickly, who are standing back and watching you and Buck with raised brows.

Once you’re in the car and it’s finally out of sight, Hen and Eddie can’t help but laugh. Buck turns to them with furrowed brows, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

“What?” he asks as he fights back a smile, still thinking about you.

“For a second I thought you were gonna invite her to go home with you.” Hen teases him, bumping her shoulder with his as they walk back towards the front of the ambulance, which is right behind the fire truck.

“I don’t date people I meet on the job anymore; you know that.” he says with a soft laugh, shaking his head.

“That’s a shame. You two were really hitting it off.” Eddie adds onto Hen’s teasing, smirking as they all walk side by side.

“Yeah, I know.” Buck murmurs, getting slightly upset. He’s starting to regret not asking for your number; he’s already desperate to see you again. 

He’s forced to push it aside quickly, however, as he hears Bobby’s voice over the radio calling the three of them to the front of the building for triage.

A few weeks later, you’re still staying with your friend, Jordan. You’re lucky, the fire had only gotten to a small part of your apartment, and most of your things were left untouched, but you still aren’t allowed back in your apartment. You immediately told her all about the cute firefighter, of course, and she was almost as upset as you were that you didn’t try to ask him out. 

You can’t help but think about him still; he’s the most attractive guy you think you’ve ever seen, and he’s kind, and funny. Either way, you were way too nervous at the time, and he was on the job. Even if you didn’t meet while he was working, you don’t think you would’ve said anything anyway. And he hadn’t said anything either, so you try your best to forget about him.

Buck spends the next few weeks thinking about you too. He even tried a dating app or two, hoping your photo would pop up on his screen, but to no avail. He thinks about your pretty face often, but his mind also seems to wander to your soft curves, and how your thick thighs were on full display for him to take in in your shorts.

He finally agreed to go out with another girl he met on an app, deciding he should just move on rather than driving himself crazy. He knows he could ask Maddie to pull up the call log and he could get your number, but he knows that would be weird. And a little bit creepy.

He’s sitting in a small bar close to his apartment, a small, absent-minded smile on his face as he stares across the table at his date. This is the longest date he thinks he’s ever had. It was very clear as soon as his date started talking that she has no interest in actually getting to know him, the first give away being that she chose the dimly lit dive bar. While he wouldn’t necessarily say no to it, that’s not really what he’s looking for anymore. 

He’s listening to a story of when she went on vacation to Colombia when he hears a soft laugh coming from the bar. His eyes trail over and see you standing there, talking to what he assumes is two of your friends.

His throat goes dry as he takes in your figure, studying your soft curves and slightly revealing outfit. He can hardly hear the woman across from him now, studying your every move and expression.

He tears his eyes away from you after a moment and refocuses on his date, not wanting to seem rude. He keeps his eye on you out of the corner of his eye, however, ready to run after you if you leave before his date ends.

He keeps listening to his date, who has barely let him get a word in, but he looks very clearly bored. He can’t help it; he tries to reply every time she pauses, but his heart is pounding. He finally found you, and it was a complete coincidence. Like fate.

You don’t notice Buck right away; you’re so wrapped up in your little girls night out to even look around the bar. It’s not until your friend Jordan points to him, saying how hot he is, that your eyes finally land on him.

You can’t help the smile that breaks onto your face, and your eyes are trained on him for a few seconds until Jordan’s voice finally breaks through your haze.

“What?” she asks with a small laugh, and her smile fades when she sees the way you look over at her with a dazed expression

“It’s him. The firefighter.” you tell her, biting your lip as you look back over at him.

“You have to go talk to him. Before you lose him again.” Jordan tells you with a gasp as your other friend, Alyssa, asks what the hell you two are talking about.

Jordan explains to Alyssa while you think her words over. You don’t think you have it in you to go over. Maybe if you were much more drunk than you are right now, but currently, you wouldn’t be able to will your feet to move. 

“He’s on a date. I can’t just interrupt them. And what would I even say?” you argue softly once she’s finished explaining, looking over at Jordan. You chew the inside of your cheek nervously. The girl he’s with is gorgeous, and you begin to think that he was definitely just being so nice to you because he was working.

“Look at him. He looks so bored. He definitely doesn’t want to be there. Go save him.” Alyssa chimes in after she’s caught up, eyes glancing between you and him.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t.” you mumble, turning back to the bar and ordering a cocktail once you flag down the bartender. 

“Actually, we’ll just get 4 shots.” Alyssa says, smirking as she looks at you sideways. “You just need a shot or two in you, then you’ve gotta get over there. Before it’s too late. You’re gonna regret it if you don’t.” she tells you once the bartender walks away to get the bottle. 

You sigh, shaking your head. But before you can speak, the bartender puts the shots down on the table in front of you. Jordan immediately puts a shot in your hand and lifts it to your lips. You begrudgingly swallow it, letting in a sharp inhale as you feel it burning your throat. 

Your friends then each grab a shot and throw them back, then Alyssa grabs the last shot and holds it out to you.

“Come on, you just need some courage.” she teases, and you roll your eyes again before you take the shot. You were planning on drinking tonight anyway, and whether or not you’re going to go up to him, you figure you might as well take the shots. 

A little while later, you can feel the alcohol coursing through your veins. You’ve been swaying softly to the music as you talk to your friends, but your eyes never stray far from Buck. You always end up looking at each other at different times, so neither of you know that the other person knows of each other's presence. 

“I think now is your chance. He looks ready to kill himself.” Jordan tells you over the music, and all three of you look over at Buck’s table. He has a smile on his face, but his eyes lack any real emotion. 

You take a deep breath, and before you can even think, you let out a soft “okay.” Your friends smile widely, both taking turns to fix various parts of your appearance to make sure you look perfect. Jordan smooths down your top while Alyssa fixes your necklace, and then they both look up into your eyes.

“Go get him. Your ass looks great in those jeans, he’s gonna love it.” You feel your cheeks heating up at Alyssa’s words and you laugh softly. You can feel your hands shaking, but you quickly push your nerves aside and finally make your way over to him. He saved you once, and now it’s time for you to return the favour, although this situation is much lower stakes. 

“Oh my God, Buck! Hey!” you say once you reach his table, a large smile on your face. His eyes are on you in an instant, and he smiles widely, unable to stop his eyes trailing down to your cleavage peeking out of your top.

You open your arms, and he stands up quickly, wrapping his arms around your waist while you loop yours around his neck. 

“Do you want help getting out of this date?” you whisper in his ear, and you smirk as you feel his slight nod against your skin. “Follow my lead.”

You pull back, barely even looking at his date as you continue to speak. You’re glad he said yes, or else this would be really awkward.

“I haven’t seen you in forever! How have you been?” You don’t even give him the chance to reply before you turn to the girl.

“How do you know my ex-boyfriend? He’s a handful, I’ll tell you that. Good luck.” you tell her with a smirk. You turn back to Buck and look at him with as much desire in your eyes as you can muster, not that it’s hard, and he matches your expression immediately. 

You know this will work; most girls don’t want to have to deal with a guy that’s still so close with their ex. You see the girl’s face fall slightly from the corner of your eye, and you look back to her, waiting for her answer.

“Oh, um, we don’t really know each other that well.” she replies with a small smile, and you can see the way she tenses slightly, starting to feel a little awkward.

“Lucky you.” you tell her with a soft laugh, looking back up at Buck, whose arm has found its way around your waist. Even still, he keeps his hand hovering over your skin, just close enough for no one else to notice, not wanting to make you uncomfortable just in case you came over just to be nice. 

“I’m sorry. I should let you get back to your date.” you tell her, an apologetic look on your face, although your eyes have no hint of remorse. “Oh, and Buck, are you still coming over tomorrow night? My roommate’s going out of town.” you tell him, licking your lips. He nods, in a daze. He knows you’re not being serious, but he can’t fight the images that his mind is creating. 

“Actually, it’s getting pretty late. I should probably go.” she mutters, standing up from the table and putting her purse over her shoulder. “It was nice to meet you. I’ll text you.” she tells Buck softly, but all three of you know she doesn’t really mean it. 

Once she’s out of sight, you turn to Buck, suddenly feeling your brain catching up to your actions. He senses your quick flip, and removes his arm from your waist, mumbling a quick “sorry.” 

“No, you’re good. I just don’t normally do stuff like this, and I’m just now realizing that. I’m sorry, maybe I had too much to drink.” you admit sheepishly, your face growing hot once again as you feel yourself rambling.

“No, I appreciate it. Honestly, I’ve been thinking about you since we met. I was gonna ask you out, but I sort of have this rule that I don’t date people I meet on the job.” he tells you, smiling down at you. He licks his lips as his eyes trace your face, studying it, memorizing it. Your eyes widen slightly in surprise. He wanted to ask you out? The thought makes your stomach flip in excitement, and it causes a new wave of confidence to flow through you. 

“Well, you’re not working right now, right?” you tease him softly, a hopeful look on your face. 

“Yeah, I guess not. How about I buy you a drink?” he replies, his smile morphing to a smirk. You nod slowly, so focused on him that you don’t even think about your friends watching you from across the bar. 

You decide on something without alcohol instead once you get to the bar, not wanting to risk a hangover the next day. Your friends realize quickly that you aren’t coming back to hang out with them, and they’re happy for you. They keep an eye on you for an hour or so, but when they realize how into each other you are, they decide to leave.

You talk for hours, talking about anything and everything, until the bartender does final call, and you both realize how long you’ve been talking. 

“I guess I should get home.” you say with a sigh. Your cheeks hurt from laughing and smiling so much, and you’ve drifted so close together over the last few hours that you don’t even notice his leg has settled between yours as you sit on the bar stools. You wouldn’t have to lean very far to connect your lips, you think to yourself.

“Or, you could come back to mine?” he asks with hope in his eyes. He knows he shouldn’t be asking you this; he wants to take you on a proper date first, but with the way you’re looking at him, he can’t stop the words that slip from his mouth. You bite your lip as you fight back a smile, but nod after a moment.

“Okay.” you murmur, and that’s all it takes for him to grab your hand and drag you to his jeep, but not before slamming some cash on the bar counter. You laugh as he drags you outside, amused by his eagerness. Once he gets to his jeep he pushes you against it, meeting your lips in a passionate kiss. 

A soft noise escapes the back of your throat as your back hits the door, but you happily kiss him back. Your arms make their way around his neck again and one hand lands in his hair, your fingers weaving through it. He keeps his hands on your hips, but he’s itching to touch you everywhere. 

He pulls back after a moment and opens the door, his pupils blown and his jeans getting tighter. You smile up at him and then get into the jeep, watching him dreamily as he makes his way to the driver’s side. 

He keeps his hand on your thigh the whole way home, rubbing your inner thigh with his thumb. He squeezes your flesh every now and then, smiling over at you each time, and once he pulls into his building parking lot, he’s quick to jump out of the car and jog over to your side. 

He keeps his hands on you the entire way up to his apartment, trailing up your sides, and once you walk into his apartment, he pushes you against the wall and meets your lips again in a dizzying kiss. 

He slides his tongue into your mouth, and both of your hands are clawing at each other, eager for more. His hands travel down to the back of your thighs, and he whispers “jump” against your lips. You hesitate for a moment, nervous about him lifting you up. He picks up on your hesitancy and pulls back for a moment with a smirk. He grabs the back of your thighs hard and lifts you up, pinning your back to the wall once again.

His lips are immediately back on you, kissing and nipping down your neck to your collarbone. You’re so focused on his lips on you that you barely have time to react to his strength. You’re not used to being lifted like this, and it makes desire pool between your legs. 

He pulls back from your neck and pulls you off the wall, keeping his hands under your thighs as he moves to the stairs. You look over your shoulder at where he’s heading, and your arms tighten around his neck as you laugh softly. Your head is spinning as he walks up the stairs; he lifts you up so effortlessly, and you can’t wait to see how else he puts his strength to use. 

He throws you onto his bed, staring down at you as you sit up on your elbows, chest rising and falling rapidly as lust overtakes every sense. He smirks as he takes in your body sprawled out on his bed. He looks down your body, taking in your chest, and your plush belly, and your thick thighs, and he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” he mumbles before he grabs your ankles and pulls you towards the end of the bed, making you squeal softly.

The next morning, you wake up naked in a room you don’t recognize, as you were too focused on Buck last night to notice anything around you. The events from last night flood your mind as you feel an arm firmly draped across your waist, and you can’t help the smile that breaks onto your face. 

You can hear his steady breathing from behind you, and you know he’s still asleep. It’s probably early, you think, as the hint of light coming in from the bedroom window looks like the sun hasn’t quite broken over the horizon.

You try to move his arm slowly, seeing his bathroom door connected to his bedroom. As you do, you feel his grip tighten, and he pulls you tighter against him.

“Where do you think you’re going? I just found you again, I’m not letting you go this soon.” he teases in a raspy voice, just barely above a whisper. You laugh softly and turn in his grip to face him, smiling as you take in his sleepy eyes and soft smile.

“I’m just going to the bathroom.” you whisper back, as if trying not to ruin the calmness surrounding you both. He groans, and finally releases you after a moment, but not before he leans in for a soft kiss. He turns to lay on his back, folding his arms behind his head to watch you walk to the bathroom. He smirks as his eyes observe your bare figure, licking his lips.

Once you’re done in the bathroom, you go back to bed, laying on your side beside him and resting your cheek on his chest. He grabs your thigh as you drape your leg across his hips, humming softly as he feels your soft skin. 

“You want some breakfast?” he asks after a little while, giving you both some time to wake up. You raise your head and rest your chin on his chest as you look up at him, nodding. He smiles as his eyes glance across your face, admiring the way the sun is hitting your face, having finally breached the horizon. 

He then leans down to give you a soft kiss, his hand moving from your thigh to your cheek. Once he pulls away, you keep your eyes closed for a moment, reveling in his touch and warm gaze.

“What kind of breakfast?” you whisper once you open your eyes. He shrugs before he speaks, still trying not to disrupt the comfortable quiet surrounding you.

“Anything you want. Eggs, waffles. I’m pretty skilled in the kitchen.” he teases, winking. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. How is he still single? Cute, kind, smart, and a good cook? You can’t believe it.

“Do you have strawberries and blueberries?” you ask softly, smiling once he nods. “Let’s make waffles.” 

He nods at your words, sighing loudly and stretching before he sits up slowly. You move off of him and watch as he gets up and puts on some grey sweatpants, and your eyes wander down his body quickly, making him chuckle. 

You get up and find your bra and panties on his floor, putting them on quickly. You debate on putting back on your jeans and top from last night, afraid Buck’s shirt wouldn’t fit you in a cute oversized way, but you decide against it. It’s too early for jeans, and with the way he was worshiping your body last night, you don’t think he’d turn down the opportunity of watching you walking around his kitchen so exposed.

He pulls you into another kiss once you’re semi-dressed, his hands making their way to your cheeks. You smile against his lips, and bite your lip gently once you pull back, and he keeps his eyes closed for a moment. 

“Jump.” he whispers after a moment, and you oblige this time, letting him lift you in his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist as he makes his way to the stairs.

“You really don’t have to carry me everywhere, you know.” you say with a soft laugh. You turn your head to watch where he’s going, arms tightening around his neck instinctively as he reaches the stairs.

“Nuh uh, come on. I saw your face last night. Don’t lie, you love it.” he teases you, squeezing your thighs. You shake your head and your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you realize that he noticed. 

Once you get to the kitchen he sets you down on the counter, his hands lingering on your hips as he tries to memorize the sight of you, almost naked on his kitchen counter, your soft belly on full display for him. He backs away slowly as he takes one final look, then turns and starts grabbing ingredients from the pantry and fridge. 

You notice he’s making waffles from scratch, and your heart swells at the thought of him putting in so much effort. You try to tell him you can help, but he cuts you off, insisting that all he wants you to do is to “sit there and look pretty,” which makes you giggle. You can’t help feeling giddy around him; you feel like a lovesick teenager.

Once he’s finished with breakfast, you slide off the counter and make your way to the kitchen table. He brings the berries, the maple syrup, and some whipped cream over, and you both dig in.

He waits to see your reaction, and grins widely when he sees you moan softly in contentment, closing your eyes. You look over at him as he admires you, and you look down, smiling softly, not used to this kind of attention. 

“Can I take you out?” he asks you halfway through breakfast. He chuckles softly as you look up at him with a raised brow, and he reaches up to wipe a bit of whipped cream off your upper lip. 

“You already took me out.” you reply softly, licking your lips after his thumb brushes over them.

“That doesn’t count, we just happened to be there at the same time. I want to take you out for real. A nice dinner, maybe a walk or something after, get some ice cream. What do you say?” he corrects you, giving you a wink. You smile, nodding as you mumble a soft “okay.” 

Once you’re finished with breakfast, he leads you to the couch and wraps a blanket around both of you. You’re leaning against his chest and his arm is draped on the back of the couch behind you, which makes your stomach flip.

He turns on a movie, but you’re too busy talking and laughing with each other to really pay attention. As he looks down at your pretty face, his smile stays plastered to his face. He’s so glad he agreed to that God awful date, and that you were willing to help him out of it, because now that he has you, he never wants to let you go.

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

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[piracytheorist]

Twilight Eyes Project: "Secure a Wife" (part 2)

First part here

Naturally, "Twilight eyes" stay on during his side mission with Franky. Then he bursts into Camilla's party, wounded and disoriented enough to mess up his introduction.

And thus... slightly different expressions from manga to anime.

In the manga, it's full-on Twilight eyes. Brow going downward to the center, focused and narrowed eyes. The anime has the first two, though as of focused eyes... they make use of animation to show he's so shaken he can't focus his eyes on one place. His slip-up does look funnier when he's trying to present himself as Very Put Together™ as he does in the manga, but I think it's funny either way. Also, I appreciate the small extra whump bone from the anime.

Continuing on the humorous aspect, he switches all the way to reassuring Loid eyes as he tells everyone how absolutely, definitely normal his situation is. No biggie. Just a head flesh wound. He sleeps those right off.

"Loid eyes" stay on as he continues his ploy. Nothing to see here, please continue, are you having fun, my dear wife whom I definitely did not meet just a couple days ago?

Those eyes keep up until Camilla tries to embarrass Yor in front of everyone with details about her "past job"... and here goes.

Loid eyes. He will show everyone how proud he is of his wife.

But then, slowly, his eyes don't look so strained anymore...

... until they're outright sad eyes.

The direct proof (along with the short flashback) that what Twilight says there is the truth for him: he doesn't judge Yor, instead, he honestly supports and praises her for her dedication and her strength.

And when he finishes his praise, he looks towards the others... and the audience doesn't get to see his eyes.

Yor does.

And the truth she sees in his eyes is enough to not only bring tears to her eyes, but to also stay with her and give her strength multiple chapters/episodes later.

This smile isn't the one he actually gave her. But it's the one she remembers.

(Wrong angle in the anime, but we can forgive that)

They leave Camilla's party, get attacked by the smuggling ring, Twilight knocks a few of them out and tells Yor to run for it, Twilight eyes on as he keeps himself alert for any possible attack.

Yor voices her worries about the well-being of his "patients"... and what else can he do but put on the Loid eyes. Which I'm actually sure weren't necessary with her, lol.

Unstoppable force (Yor believing everything she sees and hears) meets immovable object (Twilight suspecting everything and everyone).

Subtle Twilight eyes as he starts to question... well, his own judgment, at this point 😆

They get attacked, and Yor kicks a guy into another dimension before he can hurt Loid. And!

I would just really like to know what his thought process here was. This look is on the verge between "Loid eyes" and "real eyes". But this next panel/shot feels like it's closer to "real eyes".

He was actually amused by how far she kicked that guy, huh 😆

They kick a few more guys' asses, then Yor drops the "why don't we get married" question. Twilight is, understandably, shocked and confused. It's actually something he'd planned for, but it came unexpectedly and just so freely and willingly from Yor.

When his mind picks up from the shock, he puts on the thought process.

And we get investigative eyes.

Twilight accepts, gives her the best marriage proposal to ever grace a screen, starts with Loid voice for "Even in sickness, or in sadness," and switches to Twilight voice for "No matter what hardships await us, let us be there for each other."

Twilight eyes as he finishes his vows,

And... this, as he thinks "Until my mission do us part"

I want to make it clear that I completely doubt he'd already grown any feelings for Yor already. Probably the only thing he'd feel for her at that point was that he sympathized with her mental fortitude and willingness to sacrifice herself in order to protect and support someone she cared about. The pleasant face he has at the end could be merely his expression of relief that the mission was going smoothly.

But then, isn't that what becomes the foundation of the feelings he'll grow later? The relief that she is the kind of person who will protect the peace he fights so hard to maintain himself? A relief that will grow strong enough to lead him into revealing true parts of himself to her?

There's definitely a lot to take away just from the way Twilight's eyes are drawn, in any case.

(anime only fan here, don't spoil me for the manga)

[signanothername]

same anon who dropped the 'what if Nightmare was the first one to find Dream when he became not stone', I really love seeing your takes on all the different characters!

I was mainly curious about if Nightmare might try to hurt Dream, or try to use him while keeping him close, or leave Dream with someone else who might not, try try and quell the one or both parts of him(the one that cares and the sadistic glee part), especially because of how malleable I think 6 y/o Dream would be at that moment and just in general too, so the sadism part might try to take advantage of that, while it quells the other and keeps him close, but seeing how you wrote his corrupt affecting them was awesome!

I also love how you actually talk about how both twins are traumatized, because a lot of the time, I've seen people either show one or the other, never really both, so it's nice seeing you represent how they are all messed up.

May I recommend a DreamTale Rewrite called Apuldor Psalter? I'm not sure if I spelled it right, but it's a DreamTale Rewrite created by summona, and it's fantastic. Nightmare's a lot nicer, but the world building and indepth of the abuse affecting them, as all the details like with Neil the Cat being there(even if only for a moment before he dies) is really awesome, and I hope you like it!

The ask Anon is referring to <3

Thank youuuuuu <3333

And ooooh boi, when I referred to Nightmare and Dream’s meeting after Dream is set free and how it was poor, i was heavily implying that yes, Nightmare hurts Dream, badly even

Think of it as Nightmare’s madness taking over him a second time when he saw Dream and just letting himself indulge in his sadistic desires

But even then, without the madness aspect, Nightmare’s corrupted sadistic side is still much much stronger than his caring side, and so his corrupted would still win and he’ll just want to kill Dream and take the last apple for himself, only whoopsie!! Dream escapes his grasp and Nightmare’s unable to get his hands on him for years after (Nightmare regrets his violent approach later, both cause he’s a bitch that he thinks he should’ve taken advantage of Dream’s naivety as a child but it’s also that tiny part of him that cares that sometimes pokes at his soul about the fact Dream is a mere confused disoriented child thst just got out of his prison)

Dream makes it out alive, but he’s now even more traumatized (and injured) and is genuinely too scared to be caught so he just hides from Nightmare, then it advances and he’s now on the run trying to survive for years, only for that survival mode to stick with him till adulthood, Dream doesn’t know what “living life” means, he only knows survival

During his first few years while on the run he still gathers the courage (as much as a child could) to find Nightmare to try and talk him out of his corruption, which would never work, but Dream is literally still a child mentally and physically and is fresh on trauma, he won’t realize the fact there’s no going back to the way it used to, that there’s no getting Nightmare back to how he used to be for years

And each encounter with Nightmare only further increases Dream’s fear of Nightmare (and it feels so wrong to be scared of his own brother), even when Dream reaches adulthood and his mind matures? His fear of his own brother is still strong inside, it eats away at him sometimes

But Dream’s love is still stronger, and his love for Nightmare is what makes Dream lock that fear inside his chest and to put on a courageous face and a big smile

So yeah the twins both have so much to work through, not only within themselves but even when it comes to their relationship (too bad both of them are just so bad at it dhdhhdhdhdh)

And aaaah thank you!!! No like i agree, I always see people just talking about their trauma but only one of them without the other, and i’m here like “nooooo you’re missing the point!!! They’re both extremely traumatized and their traumas are super interconnected with one another!!”

I unfortunately see a big preference for Nightmare when it comes to the twins’ trauma, and people unfortunately using Dream as a scapegoat for a “bad guy” and how Nightmare is this absolute kind victim and how it’s Dream that just doesn’t understand and how he’s secretly the “evil” one (or people reducing Dream to “i’m gonna save you Night!!!” When Nightmare “doesn’t need saving” and how Nightmare’s happy with his found family)

And y’know i wouldn’t be too opposed to it tbh if people didn’t butcher Dream’s character just to make Nightmare look good, like you can put Nightmare in a good light without having to pull the “Dream is actually the bad one” card or the “Nightmare is actually the kind one and not Dream” card dhhdhdhdhhdhd

Like my point is that you can write a kind considerate Nightmare without having to make Dream a bad brother in the process chhcchhchc, which I always get confused cause if Nightmare is written as gentle and kind how the hell does every story of him being kind still have the twins as enemies???? Dream isn’t stupid he’ll recognize that his brother is kind and he’ll go for a truce immediately cause Dream definitely wouldn’t wanna keep fighting Nightmare (oh wait that’s right people write Dream as the kinda guy who assumes Nightmare is only going to Aus to hurt people)

It’s like…ok good point but you’re doing it wrong, it’s neither of them that’s really “bad” or “evil”, cause as far as I see it? Both the twins are victims of abuse, both of them are traumatized, and both of them are just too engrossed in their own pain to truly realize when they make mistakes or do anything that might hurt others, with only one of them actually caring and getting upset by the prospect of hurting others (hint: it’s not Nightmare)

You can have Nightmare caring for the balance (which I actually love to see), you can have Dream making BIG FUCKING MISTAKES that leaves many hurt, and you can have Dream be the “imma save you Night!” Guy without having Dream be the “secret bad guy” or an inconsiderate bitch, or someone who assumes the worst of his corrupted brother, you can instead tie it to his trauma and how it’s just Dream being unable to truly keep up with the 500 years he missed of his life

But alas I shall be here all day if I keep talking about how Dream is extremely butchered within the fandom shhdhdhdhs (god i love you Dream i’m so sorry you’ve become a scapegoat)

But oooh thank you for the recommendation!

I looked for it and found it, here’s the main post for it for anyone who’s intrigued to read this rewrite

And it’s made by sunnemona (their art is so fucking pretty omg <333333)

I’ve yet to read the post, but I’ll definitely check this rewrite out! :D

[aettuddae]

business matter — chapter 89.

↳ synopsis: two of the most important kpop companies covet a partnership with a huge global brand, only to be surprised when the deal is extended to both labels. fearing potential sabotage and cynical strategies to secure exclusivity for just one of them, both CEOs resort to desperate measures. in a bid to maintain trust and prevent betrayal before the signing, they come up with a pact: forcing a fake relationship between the leaders of their star girlgroups. if one side attempted to fail the other, they threaten to expose it all to the conservative south korea.

masterlist | prev | next

[written chapter]

the sound of the intercom came on and serim, who was in the kitchen preparing her dinner, turned her head to look at the screen to see who was downstairs. she found the image of karina, distracted, not even looking at the camera, just waiting for it to open. she walked over, hung up the phone so the noise would stop and then pressed the button that unlocked the door. she paid no more attention to it and went back to what she was preparing at the bar.

the door opened, letting in a jimin who looked lost, dazed. she closed it behind her, pushing it shut with her body, her back resting against the wood. her gaze wandered around the room, bland, with nothing in those eyes. she stood there in silence while the owner of the place checked her out of the corner of her eye, disoriented, and then went back to her task.

"did something happen?" asked serim after realizing she wouldn't move from there, without taking her attention away from the meal she was making.

"yes." the word came out almost in a whisper, on the verge of being inaudible, the tone almost as somber as her entire act.

jang raised her head quickly, alerted by the response, she kept her calm without moving, but now she was interested in understanding where the newcomer's behavior was coming from. she frowned wordlessly, waiting for further development. jimin turned her head, fixing her eyes on serim who returned the contact, perturbed. as soon as they met, the younger girl's expression changed to one of helplessness, sadness.

"jongin cheated on me." she admitted, the volume of her voice as low as the one she had used before.

the elder could hear the sentence clearly, processed the words and thought of something to say, but could only find adequate a dry chuckle. "i told you so." she returned her gaze to the vegetables she was chopping.

"really?" she detached her head away from the material she was leaning against, turning her face to pure disbelief. "that's all you'll say?" she raised her voice, vexed.

"i have nothing more to say." she denied. "i told you so." she shrugged. "didn't i?"

"yes, you did." she assured. "but is that really all that matters to you now?" she broke away from the door and walked over to where the woman stood.

"it's not the only thing that matters to me." she held up the board with vegetables. "i just don't have anything else to say." with the help of the knife she pushed what she had just cut causing it to fall into the pot that was not yet lit.

"i came here expecting you to comfort me." she put her body in front of serim as she was returning to the place where she was cooking, blocking her way.

"forgive me if it doesn't bloom in me to comfort you when you've been toying with my emotions for almost two weeks." she set the board and knife down on the table, then faced her.

"i explained to you why i'm doing it." the wistful hint returned to her. "you know i don't want to, but i can't do anything else."

"then i can't do anything else for you now either." she returned, looking straight into her brown orbs, so close to each other that there was almost no space in between. "you should have gone with ryujin." she opined.

jimin dropped her head, now her gaze on the ground, she didn't know how to continue that conversation, maybe serim was right and she had been wrong to go there. the latter took her slumped position as a sign that there was nothing more to discuss and intended to go around her to continue what she was doing before she arrived, but as soon as she wanted to take a step, yu's hand rested on the side of her body, stopping her, bringing her back to where she was.

"can you at least hug me?" she asked, vulnerable, defeated, her voice fighting to get out of her throat.

serim was angry with her, of course she was, she knew she didn't deserve how she had been being treated by the girl, but not even all the turmoil of thoughts she had been having during those weeks when the contrary had been avoiding her could cease the longing and despair that seeing her in that state generated within. no matter how much she wanted to or tried, she couldn't allow herself to know she was suffering and not help to stop it.

so she raised her arms and taking advantage of the closeness between them, she easily wrapped her between these, one encircling her torso, with her open hand resting flat on her lower back and the other on the back of her head, running her fingers through her hair as a sign that she was there for her. jimin's arms were trapped between their bodies so she took serim's shirt between her fingers, making sure she was holding her close in some way.

"please, take care of me." the blackhaired requested with fragility exposing in the way she spoke.

hearing her plea, the oldest moved back her head which was resting against the opposite's, creating space for her to catch a glimpse of jimin's face, noticing the tears in her eyes. she brought her touch from the back of her neck to her cheek, running her thumb over karina's porcelain skin, caressing it, then sliding it to where the teardrops were and wiping them away carefully. as soon as serim removed her hand and let it drop to the side of her waist, they both looked at each other without saying a word.

there was a lot to say, but that wasn't what mattered at the moment, it wasn't what summoned them there.

karina leaned in quickly, without serim noticing her movements, and left a peck on her lips, a brush, nothing more than that, to wait after for how the girl would react. she hadn't been able to hold it back, she no longer knew how to keep control around the woman and had completely forgotten how she did it before. she only wanted serim's affection, especially when emotions got the better of her.

serim sighed, taking a moment to decide if she should pull away, looking at karina's lips, then into her eyes, her fingers still on her back playing with the shirt she was wearing, a product of anxiety. but she couldn't deny to herself what the girl made her feel either, so she threw her body over the other, kissing her restlessly, turbulently. tasting her mouth hungrily as if she'd never done it before.

when karina spoke of comfort, this was exactly the comfort she was referring to.

jang exerted pressure on the youngest's body, guiding her through the kitchen, eventually leaning her against the counter where she was cooking before. without interrupting the session, she stretched out her arm and tried to move things that might be a nuisance on the counter, then put both hands on the younger's waist, grabbing her securely and lifting her to help her sit on the marble, then positioned herself between her legs.

[visceravalentines]

sugar stuck in your teeth

They're grimy and tired and Benson's neck is sore. Randy gives him a shoulder rub and thinks hard about the allure of being a biological organism.

2.5k words. canon divergence, boys on the run. established relationship. implied sexual content, nothing explicit. sweat and oil and general nasty. sharing of a toothbrush. so fluffy i'm spinning it up and putting it on a stick and selling it at a carnival. read on ao3 here if that's more your speed.

They spend a full day on the road. Seven hours across Texas through scrub and sand. Nothing to see. No end in sight. Randy falls asleep in the dead-eyed sun of mid-afternoon and wakes up in the dark, dry air whipping through the car from Benson's window rolled all the way down. 

"Hey." Randy sits up, disoriented, mouth gummy and tasting of bygone Mountain Dew, bladder fit to burst. "Why didn't you wake me up? You've been driving for hours."

"Didn't want to stop." Benson's voice is rough. Randy can read the exhaustion in his posture, the way he grips the wheel with both hands. "Besides, you looked like you could use it."

Randy shifts in his seat. He hasn't slept well all week. "Well…it's my turn now. Let me take over."

"Nah." Benson rolls his neck slowly. "Town's up here in like ten minutes. Figure we stop for the night."

Randy peers through the bug-splattered windshield and sees lights in the near distance. "You wanna find a motel?"

"I'd fucking love a motel. Gimme that lukewarm shower and a box spring mattress. Fucking luxury."

As it turns out, they get none of that. The only place in town has a sign that says Closed and no lights on in the lobby. Doors all locked, despite Benson's best efforts to rattle them open. 

He doesn't say a word, doesn't even curse, just slumps defeated back to the car with Randy in tow. "You want the backseat or the front?"

"Benson, I slept for hours, I can–"

"There's not another town for forty miles and if I spend one more second on that fucking highway I'm gonna peel the skin off my face."

Randy doesn't argue. "I'll take the front."

"You sure?" Benson tosses a weary look at him over his shoulder. He squeezes the back of his neck and winces. 

Randy nods. "Yeah, I'm sure." 

The front sucks. You either have to fold your legs to fit around the steering wheel, or risk nailing the thing with your arm or your head. One time he hit the horn with his knee and scared them both so bad they ended up packing up and driving through the night because neither one could fall back asleep. 

He's had plenty of rest. Benson should get the back. 

They leave the car parked in the rear lot of the motel and pick their way through the scrub in the dark to take a piss, elbow-to-elbow. Randy barely feels self-conscious anymore. At the start he used to walk ten paces away and make Benson turn around. But that seems silly now. Benson's seen and touched every inch of him. This is nothing.

Benson zips up and takes off down the sidewalk with a haphazard sense of purpose. Randy has to jog a little to catch up. Benson holds out his arm and he ducks beneath it, the weight comfortable across his shoulders. By now Randy feels like he belongs there, pinned against his side. 

He reeks. They both do. It's been three, almost four days since they last had a shower, been making do with baby wipes and clean underwear since they left Tennessee. Randy almost can't stand it. Back home, he showered every day, sometimes twice a day if work was rough. Right now, he could scrape the grime off himself with a fingernail. 

He's adjusting to this level of awareness of his own body, like he's just now cognizant of the way his skin fits. It makes him sort of anxious. But he's coping. He doesn't really have a choice. 

And it's funny–Randy doesn't mind Benson's stench at all. He's uncomfortable with his own stink, but he actually thinks Benson smells kind of…good, maybe. In a gross kind of way. It's such a foreign concept that he keeps inhaling a little too deep at this distance just to prove it to himself. 

"What're you doing later?" Benson asks, oblivious. 

Randy clears his throat. "Um…not much." 

"Oh. Huh." Benson squints down the road towards the distant light of a gas station, the only thing in town that looks alive besides the two of them. "Well, how about I take you to dinner?" 

A smile steals its way onto Randy's lips. He hooks his pinkie into Benson's pocket. "That might be nice." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

Benson takes a deep, thoughtful breath. "There's this place…Seven-Eleven?" He casts a dramatic sidelong glance in Randy's direction. "You heard of it?" 

"Yeah, I…I think so." 

"It's just fantastic. The beer list? Unbelievable. And the atmosphere, well…there's really nothing like it." He's talking with his hands, throwing them off balance. Randy stumbles happily along with him. 

"I don't know, um…I've heard they don't have Pringles. Like, the big can. Just the little ones." 

Benson scoffs. "Well, now, don't you worry your pretty little head about that. You can get two of the little ones if you want. It's on me." 

"Wow." 

"I know." 

"That's–that's really generous." 

"Well, you're gonna have to put out." 

Randy coughs out a laugh, looks at his shoes to hide the heat in his face. "Sounds, um…sounds fair." 

"Randy, come on." Benson laughs, gives his shoulder a shake. "You're giving it up for two cans of Pringles? You gotta know your worth, man." 

He'd give it up for less, but that's beside the point. "Maybe toss in some peach rings and we have a deal." 

Benson gives him a squeeze. "Fuck yeah, alright. Now we're talkin'." 

They pick their way through the snack aisles of the gas station, select a few staples they aren't sick of yet. Benson salutes the clerk behind the counter like he's an American hero. They make their way back down the road to the motel in silence save for the crunching of chips and cellophane. 

It's a beautiful night, still warm from the sun, everything orange beneath the sodium streetlights. Not a soul in sight save for them. This town looks like every other one and Randy likes that, likes that it's starting to feel like coming home when they stop for the night in a new place with a single stoplight. 

They lean against the trunk of the Chrysler and pass the Big Gulp back and forth. It's too late for caffeine so they got root beer, extra ice, because Benson likes to fish it out and chew on it. There's too many streetlights to really see the stars, but that doesn't stop Randy from trying. He sucks the sour off a peach ring and feels a little bit nauseous and a lot filthy and an overall, bone-deep sense of contentment. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Benson twist his head, trying to roll out his neck again. It's not the sharp jerk of his familiar tic, not quite, but it makes Randy nervous. He's been doing it all night. He wonders if it was something he said, something he did. He still doesn't know what exactly he's trying to shrug off every time, but he knows enough to tread that ground lightly.

"You okay?" he asks, tries to make it casual. He swallows the peach ring whole and has to fight it all the way down his esophagus. 

"Yeah." Benson nods, winces slightly. "Yeah. Just sore." He grips the back of his neck and stretches, lips hitched in a grimace. 

Randy can imagine. Slumped in a car days on end, cracking the damn thing all the time. He sets the Big Gulp on the trunk, thinks, hesitates. Commits. 

"Would you, um…would you want me to rub it out for you?" 

Benson looks at him warily as he considers the offer. He's slow to answer, but Randy is patient. Doesn't push it. Lets him think about it. 

Finally he nods. "Sure. Why not." 

Randy clambers up on the trunk and sits behind him. Benson leans back between his legs, rests his elbows on Randy's knees, hangs his head forward. The space between them is awkward all of the sudden. Too close, not close enough. Too many clothes on. Too much skin exposed. 

Randy is nervous and he's not sure why. He thinks fleetingly of their first time, his first time, and the way Benson's hands hovered an inch over his skin and shook a little bit. This isn't that, but it feels kind of the same. "You can…tell me to stop if you want. Whatever you want. It's okay." 

"How about you start and then we'll see." 

Randy brushes the curls at the base of Benson's neck hesitantly with his thumb before he wraps his hand around the muscle of his shoulder, gives an experimental squeeze. "Right…there?" 

"Higher." 

He moves his hand up and tries again. "There?" 

Benson hisses through his teeth, cringes. "Yeah. Fuck." 

Randy sets his hands on either side of his neck and squeezes gently. 

"Yeah. Right there."

Benson's all tension beneath the skin, stiff and warm under his cold fingers. Randy thinks about the color of his muscles, the white of bone underneath them. He's pretty sure he's never touched anyone like this before, not even Benson, not like this. Not friendly or sexual, just…intimate. 

"If you want me to stop, just–just say so, okay?" 

Benson grunts an affirmative. His skin is oily and his muscles are taut as bowstrings, so riddled with knots it feels like buckshot lodged in his flesh. Randy presses his thumbs in deep and pushes up along his spine, again and again, feels a flush of satisfaction as Benson melts back against the car. 

"Fuck," he moans. 

"Hurts?" 

"Yeah. Don't stop." 

Randy's nothing if not good at taking orders. He falls into a rhythm, slow and steady, works over his neck and shoulders and back again. Benson swears up a storm and lets out a low whimper whenever he hits a sore spot. 

"Sorry," Randy murmurs every time. 

Benson never replies, but that's okay. He doesn't tell him to stop either.

At first his hands are balled into fists against Randy's knees, but after a while they go slack. He relaxes, finally, allows Randy and the car to support his weight. It's a selfish thought, but Randy hopes he's the first person to do this for him, or at least the first in a long, long time. Benson doesn't have a lot of firsts left. He wants this one. 

Before long, his hands are cramping and he worries he's going to rub his neck raw but doesn't want to stop touching him, doesn't want to forfeit this new familiarity with his body. So he eases up, cheats a little bit, combs his fingers through his greasy hair and scratches at his scalp. It makes his chest feel tight, the way Benson leans into his touch with his eyes closed and groans under his breath. 

When he finally pulls away, Randy tries to subdue his disappointment, until he turns around and reaches up to hook a hand behind Randy's head. 

"C'mere," Benson mumbles, tugging him close and meeting him halfway for a kiss that tastes like peach rings and root beer. Randy grips his forearm and for a second, in his mind's eye, everything drops out and disappears into the void, save for them and the car and the stars. 

When he breaks the kiss Benson doesn't let him go, holds him in place with their foreheads pressed together. Neither of them speak. Randy focuses so hard on Benson's breathing he forgets to breathe himself. There are words, but they creep by in silence like animals in the dark. 

"We still got water in the back?" Benson says at last. 

"Mmhm." 

"I'm gonna brush my teeth. Change into my jammies." His jammies are a pair of basketball shorts made of more holes than fabric. 

"Okay," Randy says. 

Neither one of them moves. The crickets chat amongst themselves in the brush. 

"You still want the front?" Benson asks. 

"Sure." 

"Thanks." 

"No problem." 

Benson sighs softly through his nose. He lets go of him and steps back, shuffles from one foot to the other and stares at Randy for a long time, hair sticking up in all directions. Finally he goes to dig through the backseat for the water jug. 

"Looks like a bunch of fuckin' raccoons live in here," he mutters. 

Randy chuckles, looks at his hands palm-up on his lap. He's got Benson's skin beneath his nails, his sweat and oil worked into the whorls of his fingerprints. He's never been so close to another person. Spent his whole life maintaining a safe distance from everyone around him, treating his body like a blast zone. Now the idea of distance is laughable. They share everything but toothbrushes. Hell, he's been inside him. Randy always figured he would never reach that level of connection with anybody. 

He brings his hand to his face and hesitates for just a second before he sticks his thumb in his mouth. The salt of Benson's sweat is familiar on his tongue. He tastes his skin on his skin. He knows him. He knows him. And Benson knows him right back. 

He's craved this sort of intimacy his whole life. Laid awake alone countless nights and ached for it, mourned bitterly for what he never had and assumed he never would. But now he lies awake with Benson beside him and basks in how wrong he was. In how real he feels in his arms, wearing a second skin of grit and spit and whatever else. 

He doesn't want to sleep in the front. 

Randy twists to call over his shoulder. "Hey…um, Benson?" 

"Yeah?" he says around his toothbrush. 

"You think we could…both fit in the back?" 

Benson spits on the asphalt. "No." 

"Well…could we try?" 

Benson snorts. "Fuckin' clingy, huh?" he says, but he sounds amused. Randy feels those dark eyes appraising him like a pair of hands fumbling at his clothes. He tugs absentmindedly at the collar of his shirt. Well, Benson's shirt. "Yeah. We can try." 

Randy hops off the trunk and joins him in the evening routine, bumping shoulders, bumping elbows, their voices small and close in the night. 

"Gonna sweat to death together back there," Benson says. 

"That's okay." 

"If you say so. Think I might skip the jammies. That cool?" 

"That's–that's fine, yeah. That's good. Hey…is that my toothbrush?" 

"No, yours is green."

"That is green." 

"No it's not." 

"Yes it is, the light makes it look weird." 

Benson looks at the thing again. "Oh. Whoops. Does it really matter?"

Randy gives this serious consideration, thinks about his mouth and everywhere it's been. Thinks about the state of the rest of him. Thinks about pressing his body to Benson's in the backseat, sticky with sweat, breath on his neck. 

He wants to say yes, it matters, but he doesn't feel it. He tastes salt on his tongue instead.

"I guess not," he shrugs.

Benson hands it to him. 

"Your turn, then." 

[imagine-you]

These Wolves Keep On Scratching At My Heart [Isaac Lahey/Reader] (1/?)

Summary: Growing up as a human in the Hale pack wasn't easy, but you wouldn't have traded it for anything. When you're twelve, a fire takes away most of your family, except for your father and two of your cousins. You're adopted by a kind deputy and officially become a part of the Stilinski family since your father can't care for you and your cousins have fled town. You think life can't possibly get any more complicated until you're eighteen and your brother's best friend gets bitten by a rogue alpha out in the preserve. Word Count: 3.9k Notes: Reader is Peter's daughter (I'm pretty sure Malia won't exist in this fic) and there's a lot of story to tell here, so please be patient with me! I promise I will explain everything. If you like this, letting me know would make my day! Read on AO3 The splintering of wood and the roar of the flames was deafening. Smoke had engulfed the house, leaving everything hazy and disorienting.  

You didn't know how the fire started or where everyone went, but there was only one person you had on your mind as you stumbled towards your bedroom door.  

"Dad? Dad?!" You called, panic leaking into your voice.  

Everything felt like it was abruptly tilted to the side and you didn't realize that you were falling until you hit the floor.  

"I've got you. You'll be alright," you heard a voice say before arms scooped you up off the floor. You were cradled against someone's chest as you coughed, attempting to take a breath. "You'll be alright," the person repeated, attempting to reassure you, even though their voice was fearful and strangled.  

The next thing you heard was the sound of breaking glass before you felt like you were flying. You let out a cry of anguish when you felt yourself fall, the sight of your father's face watching you from the window the last thing you saw before you hit the ground.  

"Y/N! Y/N, c'mon, wake up. You're having that dream again." 

You jolted awake, the smell of smoke seemingly lingering in your room before you focused on your brother.  

"What?" You groaned, attempting to shake off the nightmare and focus on Stiles.  

"You were screaming in your sleep," he told you, his expression a mix of worry and dismay. "Again." 

That didn't really surprise you. Whenever you dreamt of the fire, it always brought up memories and feelings you wished would stay buried. But since the fire had swept away your whole life, leaving you to rise from the ashes and start over, it was hard to ignore the effect it had on you.  

"I'll be alright," you assured Stiles, unknowingly echoing the last words you ever heard your father speak. "What are you doing up right now? Isn't it late?" 

"I was going to Scott's, since Dad's on a call and you were asleep. I was on my way out when I heard you."  

Even in the dark of your bedroom, you could see Stiles fidgeting. Either he was nervous about something or he was up to something. Knowing your brother, it was probably a bit of both.  

"Why are you going to Scott's so late? You do remember school starts back up tomorrow, right?" 

Stiles rolled his eyes before flopping down onto your bed, ignoring your grunt of protest. "Yeah, but winter break was boring, and I've got something fun and adventurous in mind for tonight." 

You narrowed your eyes at Stiles, knowing that whatever he had in mind was likely something that would get him into trouble. "What is it?" 

"Nothing," Stiles denied, tone light and mischievous. "Want to come with me? See for yourself that I'm going to be an upstanding citizen and simply have some fun with my best bud?" 

You knew Stiles was up to no good, but you also hoped that if Scott was along for the ride, then he would keep your brother out of trouble.  

"Go," you sighed, settling back into bed. "At least one of us should be well-rested for tomorrow." 

"That's why you're the genius of the family," Stiles told you, barely avoiding the pillow you aimed at his head, before he was rolling off your bed. You heard him groan as he hit the floor before he bounded up, shooting you a grin. "See you later," he said before he hurried towards your bedroom door. He paused just before he reached it and turned to look at you. "Maybe it's time you go visit your dad again," he offered, his voice low and cautious. "You were calling for him in your sleep." 

"Yeah," you agreed, trying to keep the longing out of your voice for Stiles' sake. "I'll go after school tomorrow." 

"Good," Stiles said before nodding at you, as if he was giving you his seal of approval, and then left your room.  

You closed your eyes, attempting for a few minutes to go back to sleep, but you knew it was useless. Sleep would elude you until you quieted the maelstrom of memories and fears that plagued you from when you were only twelve years old.  

You didn't remember much about the fire. It seemed like one night you went to bed and by the time you woke up, you lost a family and were on your way to gaining a new one. You remembered waking up to smoke and flames, before trying to get to your bedroom door to look for your dad. All you wanted in that moment was your dad, because you knew he would make it all okay.  

Once the police and firefighters arrived, you were found half-hidden in a pile of debris and leaves, knocked out with a broken arm. No one could figure out how you ended up outside the house or why no one else tried to leave. Most of your family had been found in the basement, and you knew they must have been going for the tunnels, but it didn't make sense to you why they couldn't get out. Nothing about the fire made any kind of sense and you knew there were mysteries to unlock.  

The only other survivor of the fire was your father, but he was in no position to take care of you. He was currently in a care facility, since his injuries from the fire were so extensive. You tried to visit him at least once a week, but it didn't make it any easier on you to see him like that when you remembered the man who had taken care of you your whole life. He never spoke about your mom, but from what you gathered, you were better off without her.  

When Derek and Laura fled town, not even bothering to tell you goodbye, you didn't realize it was the last time you would hear from them. You were never sure if they were running from something dangerous or if they simply couldn't handle living in the same town that had robbed them of their pack, but you never quite forgave them for practically abandoning you.  

The kind deputy who found you shivering and lost amongst the debris had taken pity on you that night. After realizing you lost most of your family in the fire and had no one else to care for you, he decided to make you a part of his family. You supposed there might have been another pack out there who respected your aunt enough to take you in, but you wouldn't have wanted to leave Beacon Hills. Not as long as your dad was still there.  

The Stilinskis had made you feel like a part of their family from day one and you couldn't have been more grateful for them.  

Over the past six years, the fire and events surrounding it had weighed heavy on your mind. None of it made any sense to you and even though people wanted to dismiss it as a tragic accident, you knew it wasn't anything as simple as an electrical fire.  

The only person who seemed to really agree with you was Mr. Stilinski and while he tried his best to hide the evidence from you, you knew he was still trying to force the pieces back together so he could finally see the whole picture.  

But you had a feeling he would never see the whole picture. Not unless he discovered all the supernatural ties that were holding Beacon Hills together.  

You didn't even realize you had managed to finally doze off before you were woken by the sound of your dad berating Stiles.  

"What the hell did you think you were doing going out in the woods by yourself at this time of night? At least you had the sense not to drag Scott into it. Really, what kind of kid hears there's a body in the woods and then decides to go looking for it?" 

"I was just trying to help you and the force out! I mean, it's a big preserve! It really could've been anywhere." 

"Nice try," you heard your dad sigh. "Just get to bed, alright? You've got school tomorrow and I'm not letting you skip because you're too tired." 

"I would never," Stiles scoffed before you heard his bedroom door close.  

You waited until you heard your dad's door close before you got out of bed, keeping your steps light as you crossed your room. You opened your bedroom door, poking your head out cautiously, making sure the hallway was actually empty, before you stepped out of your room. You made your way to your brother's room, barging in before quickly closing the door behind you.  

"Y/N? What the hell?" Stiles exclaimed, turning quickly in his computer chair to face you. "I could've been doing something that would have been incredibly traumatizing for both of us if you witnessed it!" 

"Please," you sighed, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. "You're shameless, but you at least manage to lock the door if you're going to do something like that." 

"Fine," Stiles groaned, reclining back in his chair. "Weren't you going back to sleep?" 

"I was," you admitted, giving Stiles an unimpressed look. "Weren't you going to hang out with Scott and respect the law or something?" 

"I was," Stiles argued, affecting an innocent tone. "I totally respected the law and didn't get into trouble at all."  

"You went looking for a dead body in the woods," you reminded him. 

 “Oh," Stiles scoffed, trying to wave it off. "You heard about that, huh?" 

"It's a little hard to ignore when our dad is berating you for something like that. What the hell were you thinking? You could have been hurt or killed or any number of terrible things." Stiles didn't know about the things that could be found out in the preserve, but you certainly did. You remembered the lectures from your dad when you were just a kid, telling you it wasn't safe for a human out alone in the woods at night. "And what about Scott, huh? What happened to him?" 

"He might still be out there, actually," Stiles admitted with a sheepish shrug of his shoulders. "But he's a smart kid. He'll be fine." 

"Fuck," you hissed, standing up. "Call him. Now," you told Stiles. "See if he's alright." 

Stiles groaned before pulling out his phone, typing away a text instead of bothering to call his best friend to see if he was alive. After a few moments, he made a sound of triumph before waving his phone at you. "He made it out! He's totally fine." 

"Okay," you sighed, choosing to trust your brother. "Just...next time you decide to go out into the woods, tell me, alright? I'll go with you." 

"Got it," Stiles agreed, focused on his phone yet again.  

You rolled your eyes, before reaching forward to pat Stiles on the shoulder. "Good talk," you told him before leaving his room. You were still worried about Scott, but you knew that Stiles would never let anything bad happen to his best friend. So, you went back to your room and climbed into bed, hoping that sleep would claim you soon.  

When you woke in the morning, you were less than excited to start the last semester of your high school career. Stiles would be starting the second half of his junior year, but once June hit, you would be done with high school. You would have to figure out where you wanted to go to college and what you wanted to do with your life and the thought of that opened up a deep pit of dread and anxiety in your gut.  

You groaned as you rolled out of bed, mindlessly going through your usual morning routine of styling your hair, putting on your clothes, eating breakfast, and then brushing your teeth.  

Stiles' jeep was already gone by the time you walked outside. You were sure he had already left to pick up Scott, which gave you more hope that Scott was actually okay and not currently wandering around the preserve.  

You climbed into your own jeep, a newer model than Stiles' with half the sentimental value. You got the car when you were sixteen and a lawyer contacted Mr. Stilinski to let him know that your dad had set aside a fund for you to be able to get your dream car when you got your license.  

When you were a kid, you had wanted any and every flashy car that would let you go fast. Your dream car changed at least once a month and your dad had promised you that he would buy you whatever you wanted as soon as you got your license.  

It hit you pretty hard when you realized your father had made preparations for your care in the event that he wasn't around to see you grow up. Even though you were grateful he was still alive, it still hurt that he couldn't speak and couldn't respond to anything you told him. You wondered if it hurt him too to watch you grow up and get older and live a whole life without him.  

You didn't think much of the night before until you got to school and noticed Scott and Stiles standing outside. Stiles was in the middle of his usual fruitless attempt to get Lydia Martin's attention as you approached the pair. Scott seemed worried about something, which prompted you to sling an arm around his shoulders and ruffle his hair.  

"What's with the long face, McCall?" 

"He's freaking out about some animal that bit him last night," Stiles said, waving it off as if it wasn't a big deal. "There's not even a mark on him. It was probably a mosquito." 

You tried to keep the alarm off your face, because it really could have been nothing. But curiosity would always get the best of you and you couldn't help but fish for more information. "Animal? What did it look like?" 

"I didn't get a good look," Scott admitted with a shrug of his shoulders. "It was big and had red eyes. It bit me and I ran away. I think it was a wolf?" Scott's voice went high and confused on the last word as he sent an unsure look at Stiles.  

"Bud, I told you, there are no wolves here. It was probably a rabid rabbit or something," Stiles dismissed, urging you and Scott towards the building. "Now, c'mon, let's go get this shitshow over with." 

Your mind was spinning as you tried to get through your classes. All you could think about was a rogue alpha out in the preserve, biting people and leaving behind a trail of confused omegas in its wake. Beacon Hills had been relatively quiet on the supernatural front since the fire. The only thing even remotely supernatural around town was your dad, but he hadn't left the care facility in years. You supposed Deaton counted, but if Deaton posed a threat, then you supposed you did as well.  

Halfway through your anatomy class, you pulled out your phone, shooting a text to Deaton.  

'We've got to talk. It's important.'

Knowing Deaton, you wouldn't hear from him until it was a little too late, so you had to do something before the situation got completely out of control.  

You thought the day couldn't get any worse until word about the new girl started floating around school. 

"She's so pretty. Think she'll go out with me?" 

"Her family moves around a lot. Maybe her dad's in the military." 

"I heard her last name is Argent. I wonder if she's French."

All anyone seemed to want to talk about was the new girl including Scott and Stiles.  

"Look, she's already been sucked into Lydia's orbit," Stiles pointed out with a groan. "You have no chance, buddy," he told Scott, giving him a consoling pat on the back.  

"Well, Y/N's friends with Jackson, right? Can't you put in a good word for me?" Scott wondered, turning to you with a hopeful grin.  

You shook your head, watching Allison, wary of any move she might make. "No," you answered Scott, finally tearing your gaze away from the new girl. "You should stay away from her."  

"But--" Scott tried to object, but you were already walking away. You didn't have a good explanation for why Scott shouldn't go near Allison and you certainly couldn't figure out how to tell Scott he was probably a werewolf.  

You passed Allison, Lydia, and Jackson, ignoring Jackson's nod of acknowledgement in your direction. You didn't have the energy to deal with Jackson, even though you would hear all about how you ignored him later. There were just too many things going wrong in too short amount of time and you were starting to feel like you couldn't breathe.  

You opted to skip your last class of the day and head right for the care facility. The nurses knew you by now and most took the time to smile at you and ask how you were doing as you passed them.  

Seeing your dad helpless and catatonic never got any easier, but you couldn't deny it helped knowing he was still there for you.  

"A lot has happened since last week," you started, taking a seat in front of his chair. You reached out to take his hand, glad for the physical assurance that your dad was still with you.  

When you were younger, the doctors and nurses explained to you that talking to your dad on a regular basis might help with his overall recovery, so you made sure to visit him as often as you could. "I started the last semester of my senior year today. I should be graduating in June." You glanced down, unsure how to continue. You didn't want to say anything that would worry your dad, but the only other person you could talk to was Deaton and that was bound to be more annoying than helpful.  

"So, I've talked about Stiles and I've mentioned his best friend Scott. His mom works in the hospital and he's like a brother to me too." You let out an incredulous laugh, not even sure you could believe what you were about to tell your dad. "Last night, Stiles and Scott went looking for a dead body in the preserve. I don't know if they ever found it, but something did find Scott. I think...," you trailed off, wondering if there was any possibility where you could be wrong. Maybe it was a rabid animal and Scott simply needed a series of shots. But no, your life had never given you much luck, so it wasn't about to start now. "I think he was bitten by an alpha." 

You weren't sure if it was just wishful thinking, but you could have sworn that your dad's hand twitched in yours. You glanced down at it, but it was still and unmoving as usual, filling you with a guilty disappointment.  

"And now I've got to worry about my brother's best friend turning into a werewolf, but I've also got to worry about the new girl. She's an Argent," you explained with a wince. "Why are there hunters in town? Are they looking for the alpha or are they trying to settle down here? I don't like any of this," you sighed, trying to fight the tears that wanted to fall. You didn't know how to fix any of the messes that had sprung up just in the past day. If you were still part of the Hale pack, then your aunt would have taken Scott in and showed him the ropes. She would have hunted down the rogue alpha and sorted them out before hunters could converge on your territory. None of this was anything you were capable of fixing alone and you suddenly felt so lonely that you couldn't stand it.  

"Dad," you pleaded, your voice breaking on the word. "I don't know what to do." 

Your phone buzzed with an incoming text just as a tear escaped down your cheek. You hastily wiped it away before pulling your phone from your pocket.  

'Want to help me and Scott search for his inhaler in the woods? Doofus dropped it last night running from Thumper.'

"Shit," you groaned, moving to stand up. You let your dad's hand slip from yours, trying to fight off the usual guilt you felt whenever you left him. "I have to go. I'll see you later," you told him as you stood. You gave him a kiss on the cheek and grabbed your bag, not letting yourself look back at him all alone in his room, since you knew it always broke your heart to leave him.  

Stiles had sent you the location where he parked his jeep, and it wasn't long before you pulling up next to his car.  

Scott gave you a wave when he saw you and it hit you all at once that loveable, dorky Scott was likely turning into a werewolf.  

"Hey, guys," you said, joining Stiles and Scott near the hood of Stiles' jeep. "What happened to your spare inhaler?" You asked Scott, watching his expression fall. 

"That was my spare inhaler and mom's gonna kill me if I lose it. You know how expensive those things are?" 

"Well, no one wants to make Melissa mad," you mused, thinking of the last time she really got pissed off with Scott and your brother. Her anger had nearly boiled over until it hit you and you would do just about anything to avoid Melissa McCall's wrath. "Let's get this over with," you sighed. "I don't want to be out here once it gets dark." 

"Yeah," Stiles laughed, bumping companionably into Scott's side. "Wouldn't want to run into whatever took an imaginary bite out of Scott. Although, I have some theories about that, y'know. Wolves and bites and howling and all that." 

"What? What are you talking about?" Scott's voice went high and panicked, but you knew your brother all too well.  

"You've got a disease, Scotty," Stiles started, turning a grim look towards Scott. "It's called lycanthropy." 

"What is that? Is it bad? Am I gonna die?" 

"No, not bad," Stiles said, shooting you a grin. "Just comes around once a month...during the full moon." Stiles threw his head back and howled before giving way to laughter. "Lycanthropy, Scott. It means you're turning into a werewolf." 

Even though you knew your brother was kidding, hearing the words coming from him still sent a shiver down your spine. If only he knew the danger was all too real and you were quickly running out of time before Scott became a huge problem.  

"Stiles, come on, this is serious," Scott groaned, kicking aside some leaves in an attempt to find his inhaler. "What if I have rabies or something? What if I've got an infection?" 

"Scotty, you're fine. If it was something serious, you would've been in the hospital by now." 

Scott started arguing with Stiles, but you noticed an eerie stillness fall over the little pocket of forest you were standing in. You didn't realize you were being watched until you looked up and saw him for the first time in six years. A whole host of emotions fell over you, ranging from anger to betrayal to longing to happiness, before settling on confused.  

"Derek," you found yourself muttering, your tone fused with disbelief.  

What the hell was he doing back in Beacon Hills? 

[ask-bad-end-sunny]

Hello Sunny. Good to think that the knife is still mostly a way to transition between places for you and Omori. By the way, I bet your sister will be absolutely fine! I'm sorry you had to see this. Also, did you end up getting the violin? Its likely either in your or Mari's inventory now!

"..."

"...I...I'm sorry...I want to talk to you guys but...I just..."

"..."

"...J...just give me...some time...I feel...feel so disoriented right now...my head is spinning...I...I don't..."

"...Sunny?"

"..."

"Sunny? Oh...please tell me that you can see me clearly now. I don't want to scare you even more, I know all of that was a lot...you were asleep for almost a full day!"

"Are you ok, little brother?"

"...Little brother?"

"Sun--"

"...!!"

"..."

"...Oh...oh, Sunny..."

"Shh...it's alright. Don't worry, I'm here with you now...right by your side. It's just us."

"Let out your tears, little brother. It's good for you..."

"(What a huge relief...I think he's able to see me normally! Let's hope it stays that way...)"

"(Oh, and, the violin should be with Sunny. Whenever he decides to fall back asleep, he should have it with him.)"

"(He's gone through so much recently...but, he stuck with it...I'm so proud of him.)

[[Mari and Sunny are both on the hospital rooftop!! Looks like they're available for questions...AND SIBLING HUG YEAAAH]]

[dreamties]

there's nothing really wrong with me; i'm just choking almost constantly || Polyam! Ghostface x GN! Reader

title from Twinkle Lights by The Sonder Bombs

Reader is dealing with the aftermath of their sexual assault, to which they still haven't told Billy and Stu that it was even a thing that happened. After a particularly rough night, the boys comfort them.

1st person POV

TRIGGER WARNINGS: there is reference to past SA, but it's not too graphic. the reader talks about it and there's like, references about it through out the text- and I know it can be really traumatic for some to read it so PLEASE be careful and read at your own risk. panic attacks, nightmares, i believe that's it !! let me know if I need to add more warnings!!

I blink awake, filled with an erratic, heart-pounding panic. It takes a moment to realize where I am- home, in my bed, by myself. I'm not at the trailer and I can't feel his breath down my neck anymore. 

I let out a shaky breath and sit up slowly, trying not to shock my body anymore.

My body feels unstable and wrong as I walk through the house. My mind and body caught in a fuzzy sort of dream state. 

I dial Stu's phone number, because I know he'll ask less questions than Billy- and that's what I needed right now. Just a distraction.

I school my voice to properly fake that sort of "I'm fine, nothing bad has ever happened to me" tone.

I clear my throat. "Stuey? I know it's a little late, but-"

"Nah, it's okay, baby. Whaddya need?"

I laugh- of course Stu sounds so chipper, he was likely up looking at Play Boys or watching total torture porn (aka a load of trash). 

"Could you pick me up? It'd be nice to stay at your place tonight." 

I can practically hear him grin on the other line. "Ab-so-LUTE-ly!"

I kind of half-giggle and thank him. I pull on an extra-long hoodie and grab the handmade Michael Myers plush my friend gave me off my bed. I wait out on the front porch for him to arrive. 

I settle into Stu's bed, and he hurriedly puts his magazines and other items under his bed, careless to the minor scrumpling to his merchandise. 

“Hey baby,” he kisses the top of my head and I try not to shrink away too much when he does so. I know it’s Stu, I know I’m safe- I can still feel his touch around my body, his hands at my throat, though. It’s so hard not to think he’s there with me, in bed next to Stu and I.

I smile at him and let him turn his lamp off even if the darkness and the looming shadows in his room are wholly disorienting.

I can feel a light tickle against the shell of my ear, like someone is whispering, “I won't be able to stop myself.” I shake him off of me and turn to my other side.

Just leave me alone, please.

I probably toss in my sleep the whole night, but Stu doesn’t seem bothered when we wake in the morning. My eyes are bleary and blinking back tears, hoping he doesn’t see. 

I should know better than to think Stu could keep any secret from Billy. I'm still surprised, however, that Billy jostles into the Macher's kitchen at 9am, already with a prickled attitude.

I drop the spoon into my bowl of cereal, milk splashing up and over onto the counter. I try to school my expression into something more neutral, so my surprise doesn’t hurt him. 

“Billy,” I greet. 

He replies back with my name, which I can only half-hear through the fuzzy, distant feeling in my body. 

Billy sits on a stool next to me, moving my bowl a little further from my reach. “Why were you up so late?”

I half-laugh, still tired, still groggy. “What, I’m not allowed to stay up?” I tease. And the hurt sick feeling settles in my throat. 

Billy shakes his head and sighs- he’s clearly frustrated. 

Stupid. Stop teasing him, he’s- I physically shake the thought off. Trying desperately to repel the negative energy like water to oil. Get it together.

“C’mon,” Billy tries again. He seems abnormally pissy, and I wonder what Stu told him on the phone. It’s no way that either of them could have figured it out, but the lump in my throat still grows at the possibility. 

“Just- missed Stu. That’s all.”

“You brought along your plushy,” he says, like that’s supposed to prove anything. “And that big hoodie of yours that you only wear when you’re sad.”

“Did Stu tell you that?” I try not to sound too antsy or annoyed. I know they’re only worried. Of course they’re worried- of course they know my tells like the back of their hands. I should have just stayed home, even if that meant waking up with the feeling of him pressed against my body. 

He nods. “You always tell us what’s wrong,” and he whispers my name in that hard-soft tone he gets when he’s anxious. I shiver.

“Nothing’s. . . nothing’s wrong.” I try and I know it’s bullshit. It’s a dumb attempt and Billy sees right through it. “Nothing that you can fix.” 

And I know Billy takes it as a personal attack- that I think he can’t take care of me. That his comfort isn’t enough, that he isn’t enough. I don’t know how to tell him that’s not what I meant, though, without telling him what happened. It feels hard to breathe, I take a shaky, sharp breath in. It doesn’t help. 

I don’t even know what’s going on, my eyes teary and blurred. My ears are ringing out. My body feels so fuzzy and too soft at the edges. My thoughts muddle in my brain and I don’t know if I'm breathing or talking or breathing or- I gasp out. 

Stu’s hands hold my shoulders tightly, trying to ground me. He’s done it a hundred times before, and it works nearly every time. 

My breath is labored, heavy and quick. Too quick. I still can’t feel myself breathing.

Billy and Stu both try to reassure me- I think. Their voices still unclear through the fog. 

“‘M sorry, ‘m sorry, sorry, sorry,” I repeat, till the word feels unsafe and garbled through my lips. “Shouldn't have to- shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have to. Have to- have to worry.”

My voice sounds so far away, like I’m speaking into a dying microphone, to the clashing, screaming crowd before me. Feeling so unheard, so unseen, even at center stage. 

The fog fades around Billy’s voice. “Hey, hey, it’s fine. Just- stop apologizing,” my name is slow on his tongue. “Can you hear me? C’mon, baby, you’re worrying Stu.” 

And I should respond. But everything just feels so- off. I’m not even sure what I’d say. I don’t want to explain myself. 

When the fog finally finally cuts through, I can breathe again. I’m sitting on the tiled floor of the Macher kitchen, with my knees pulled up against my chest. Billy and Stu sit on either side of me, their hands tentatively retracted from my body. 

I can finally breathe in the clearing. I could cry, if feeling my feelings didn’t hurt so much. If everything didn’t hurt. 

My breath takes a while to steady, and when it does, Billy takes this as a sign to pounce on me again. 

“What happened, baby?” And he sounds so . . . concerned. It hurts to know I’m hurting him. My body aches with every pound of my heart against my chest. 

“I think I had a panic attack,” I managed. 

Stu lets out an awkward laugh, and I don’t freak out this time when he touches my shoulder. “No shit!” 

He murmurs an apology and repeats himself, quieter now. It was sweet. Stu was so sweet and I can’t get over myself to just- live and not cause all this . . . all this angst and trial and tribulations between us. Billy would remind me- if I vocalized this ache - in my own words, that having tough emotions aren’t a burden. It feels like it is though. 

“I’m sorry,” I try and Billy shushes me. He seems annoyed still, I know it’s just the look he has when he’s scared, though.

Fuck, he’s scared. Get yourself together.

I swallow down the lump in my throat.

“Okay, fine. I can’t apologize, I get it.” I realize now that my voice croaks out, like I'd been crying. 

My eyes still feel hazy around the edges and they still struggle to focus on anything properly. 

“What can I say then?” I teasingly ask, and I feel sick to my stomach. 

Please don’t ask me why. Please don’t ask why. Please don’t ask why. Please.

“What’s up with you?” Billy asks. I’m not sure if that’s any better of a question though. 

“I- I can’t tell you.”

Billy rolls his eyes. “We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s wrong.”

Stu sighs, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. His fingers tense when he speaks. “Please? We won’t- Stu glances at Billy and then back at myself- I won’t ask any other questions, I promise.” 

I give a humorless laugh in response. “Real assuring.”

“C’mon, I can’t control what Billy does,” he whines.

And there it is again. The lump in my throat. His breath tickling against my face. “I just can’t control myself around you.”

The attempts to shake off his incessant greed seem to only be in vain.

“Just- just get off of me, please,” I have to wrench the words out of my throat. “Please, ‘m sorry for- I’m sorry- just. Let go.”

Stu quickly winds his hand from my shoulder and puts his hands up, in defense. He looks at me all confused, his eyes wide and his brows furrowed. 

He lowers his hands and gives me those stupid, big blue puppy eyes.  “What’s wrong?” And he says it so gently. His voice felt warm and comforting.

“Just- I. Give me a moment.” 

“Okay,” both boys reply. 

“I- I think I was sexually assaulted.” My voice comes out in a tight whisper, lodged somewhere between my throat and the tension of the kitchen conversation. “I thought- I thought it was my fault or maybe it didn’t- it didn’t happen. Or- or maybe I misremembered it but-”

My voice gets caught and I let out a measly sob. 

“Woah,” Billy carefully reaches a hand out towards me, but doesn’t touch me. “Woah, woah. Baby,” he whispers. “What- who did this to you?”

I sniffle. I didn’t want to tell them.

It felt so much more real speaking it aloud. 

His voice feels dirty against my body, and I just want to get away from him. But he’s in the walls, he’s in my dreams. And I can’t escape. He’s sitting with me as my boyfriend’s try to comfort me. 

“I know better than that. I should have known better than that and-” my throat feels all funny, like I can’t breathe again. A sharp intake in, a shaky breath out. “And I still let him put his grubby hands all over me.”

“Woah, baby,” Billy’s voice is impossibly quiet and calm. He appears more apologetic and concerned with how I am, than the dark, revengefulness that usually seeps out of him when someone hurts me. “Baby, look at me, okay?”

I keep my head snuggled at the top of my knees, straining my eyes to look in his direction. I hum, not trusting myself to speak without crying. 

“It’s not- it’s not your fault. Whatever happened, it’s-”

My mouth seems to be on its own agenda. And my head feels impossibly fuzzy again. Everything is so . . . so disconnected. I tap my fingers against my shins, and they don’t feel like they’re really there at all. No matter how many times I tap them in the same familiar pattern. 

Nothing feels right. 

“I shouldn't have been such a tease. I- he told me to stop, said he wouldn’t be able to control himself if- and, and I didn’t listen, Billy. Was so confused, didn’t know where I was, Stuey and- and he- I told him that. But I should’ve listened. He w-warned me and I should have- I’m sorry.”

“Hey, shh,” Billy tries once more. “It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s not your fault, baby. Whatever- whoever it was, who convinced you . . . it doesn’t matter, okay? He doesn’t- you didn’t make him do anything. You-” even Billy struggles with it. 

He sighs, “what do you need from us? Just right now- what do you need at this moment, okay?”

Stu tries, as well. Learning from his previous mistake. 

“Is it okay to hug you or touch your shoulder right now?”

I shake my head. His hands at my throat, his voice tickled against my face. 

His hands at my throat, telling me to behave. 

Taking my “i’m fine”s and “okay”s out of context, blatant ignorance of my confusion.

“Could we just- could we sit on the couch maybe?”

It felt better, safer, in the openness of the living room. 

Like I wasn't going to suffocate and, like, explode or something. 

Stu's hanging his limbs off one end of the couch, and Billy tentatively perches on a couch arm. I assume Billy is sitting strangely to give me space- Stu's position is natural though. He always sits weird, and does things weird, which I love. I love him. I love Billy, and I'm just. I'm hurting them- I'm sitting in the middle of the couch, shaky and strange, and hurting them.

“What can we do?” Billy sounds gentle. He sounds sincere. I think . . . he is. The whole situation is strange and terrifying. I want to go back to sleep and hope when I wake that the past few months were some fever dream instead. 

I let out a shaky, heaving sigh. 

“I don’t- I don’t know.”

“That’s- that's okay. Baby,” his voice is sturdy, despite the uncertainty bleeding in.

“Yeah!” Stu smiles at me, and it feels sort of warm. It feels almost good. 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with someone so damaged.” I stare at my feet and my hands fidgeting absently in my lap. Tears pricking, stinging at my eyes.

I stumble over and retract apologies in my head. Trying to justify what he had done to me, to pin what he said, to pin his hands around my neck and push me down, as my own fault. As my own actions. 

I can’t tell Billy that. Not to him, not to Stu.

Billy has this restrained look in his eyes, and his face is twisted into an almost scowl. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I know I shouldn’t have said that. Because Billy thinks he’s broken, all the time.

He’s told me or alluded to his mom’s disappearance, to his asshole father. About the disconnect between himself and his own thoughts, his hands and his actions. He’s told us why he’s only ever felt safe and trusting in the arms of his lovers. 

And that he’s so afraid that one day, we’ll up and leave him, too. 

That he’s too damaged, too broken, to be loved. 

And I go and fuck it up again. I only know how to hurt.

“That’s, wait- that’s not. I’m sorry, Billy. I-”

And his voice is uncharacteristically sweet. It’s calm and low, and I can’t hear held back anger.

“It’s okay.”

“What?” My voice is small and squeaks out, unsure. 

“It’s okay. Baby," Billy says my name with my name with care. “You’re not- you will never be too fucked up to be loved by us.”

Stu smiles, protective. “I- we will never let that happen to you again.”

They offer physical comforts, they lean closer but not close enough to touch me. 

Maybe I shouldn’t be so trusting. He had promised to never hurt me and I followed him blindly. But Billy & Stu aren’t him. And I should be allowed to put my faith into others, without fearing I'll be hurt again.

I lean into Billy's touch, allowing him to encase me in his strong arms. Stu leans against us, bringing his long, sweater-clad arms around the huddled mess of us. 

Maybe it's against my better judgements.

Maybe it's a mistake.

But maybe, too, this is safety. This is love.

[misc-obeyme]

For the 1k prompt (which btw congrats) i would want to request that MC luck saves their life by axcidently summoning Michael

Hello there, anon!

So okay, this is just remnants of my 500 follower event lol. I haven't started the 1k event yet so I guess this is just a pre-event? Anyway...

I know I said any character aside from Mephisto, Raphael, and Thirteen, but I honestly did not even think about Michael. I wasn't expecting anyone to request him. I was going to say that I won't write for him, either, but then I changed my mind.

The thing about the other three is that we have some information on them and I feel like I know their characters fairly well except for how they are when they're being romanced. So I'm just waiting until they become dateable to start writing about them.

But Michael? We have very little info on him, just enough to get a glimpse into his character.

So I wrote this based entirely on my own headcanon of what I think he's like based on what we've seen so far. I described him, too, but again, that's entirely my own headcanon since we don't have an official design for him yet.

This takes place in the human world because I think if he showed up in the Devildom it would likely cause some problems. It also ended up almost twice as long as most of these little blurbs, but that's because I felt like I had to describe more than usual.

Anyway, I hope this is close to what you were looking for. I actually had a lot of fun writing it because I was able to take so many artistic liberties lol.

Thanks for the request!

GN!MC x Michael with prompt Luck

Warnings: well MC almost dies, but doesn't actually die so do with that what you will, also I would say a lot of making up stuff for Michael

You had returned to the human world for a little time away, to see your family and friends, to experience sunlight again. It was just a short time that you would be there, but you made sure to make the most of it.

And so you had decided to go on a little hike in a nature area nearby where you lived. It was a beautiful day and the sun was shining brightly that morning. It wasn't too hot out, so it was the perfect time to go enjoy the nature of the human world for a little bit.

You spent time in the Devildom flora, too, of course. But it wasn't quite the same as the familiar trees and plants of the human world. The sunlight streamed through a handful of white puffy clouds as you went, listening to the cheerful bird song, hearing the sound of a nearby stream. You pulled in a lungful of fresh air, thinking about how next time you might invite your favorite demon to come back to the human world with you. How nice it would be to walk this path with him side-by-side. To show him where you lived before you came to stay in the House of Lamentation.

You reached the edge of a tall cliff that overlooked a beautiful stretch of forest. Beneath you, you could see the tops of trees and the sparkle of a distant river. You took one step closer to the edge, wanting to see as much as you could, taking in the sight of the blue sky stretching out above you.

There was a hole in the ground right where you stepped and your ankle rolled. You felt yourself unable to stay standing, falling as the pain shot through your leg. You hoped to at least catch yourself on your hands when you hit the ground, reaching out desperately. But you were too close to the edge, the momentum of your body was too strong, and you felt yourself go over. Your fingers scraped the edge of the cliff as you went, still trying in those last seconds to stop yourself.

And then you were free falling. The wind was rushing past you, pushing on you, as you plummeted. Your mind was in complete panic, full on terror screaming through it, and you thought you might be screaming with your voice, too, but you were too disoriented to tell. You could sense a burning on your finger, so hot it made you shake your hand as an automatic response. But you still didn't register that fully as the fear overcame you.

You closed your eyes, prepared to hit the ground, prepared for pain at the very least and death at the very worst.

But you never hit the ground.

Instead, you stopped. It felt like you were suspended in midair. Your heart was still racing, your mind still screaming, but you could also feel arms around your waist and the still burning sensation around one of your fingers.

You opened your eyes and found yourself looking back at a man with large white wings that had an opalescent sheen to them. His arms were what you could feel around you. You could barely see his face because he was glowing so brightly - an almost blinding light. You looked down at your burning finger and saw a similar light radiating from the Ring of Light.

With a great flap of those mighty wings, you were propelled back upward. You felt your feet touch the ground, a little ways off from the edge of the cliff you had just fallen from.

The light dispersed from your ring, your finger no longer felt like it was being burned. The man who still held you lost his glow as well and suddenly you could make him out.

There was no doubt that you were looking at an angel. His eyes were like the eyes of all the other angels you knew, blue with a distinct halo shape inside it. But where normally there was gold, here you saw a prismatic shine of rainbow colors. His hair was long, cascading down his back in bright golden blond waves. His white garment was gathered at one shoulder, held there by a clasp made of opal and glass. His other shoulder was bare, half of his chest visible to you. A single gold chain hung around his neck. His wings spread out behind him, the pearly sheen of them glimmering in the sun.

You were mesmerized by this figure before you, but you were also still dealing with the adrenaline and fear of having almost lost your life. You found that at some point you had begun to grip the arms that were around your waist.

"Who…?" you managed to ask.

The angel smiled and you nearly fainted at the way it transformed his face, from concern to something that could only be described as beautiful.

"You know me," he said. "I'm Michael. You inadvertently summoned me as you were falling from the cliff. The Ring of Light let me know that you were in danger. It's lucky that I was able to leave the Celestial Realm in time to catch you."

Michael? The Michael? Well, it wasn't like this was the first time he had saved your life.

"Th-thank you," you said weakly.

"Are you going to be all right?" Michael asked.

You took several deep breaths before letting go of his arms and stepping away from him. "Yes," you said firmly. "I'm going to be fine. Thank you for saving me… again."

Michael chuckled. "I know you have no reason to trust me, MC," he said. "But I can often tell when you're in danger and I will intervene if I need to. My former brothers care for you very much. Please try to be more careful."

You nodded, still too overwhelmed with everything that had happened to form a real coherent thought.

Michael surprised you by reaching out to brush your cheek with his fingertips, his expression going soft. "I'm really beginning to understand what it is they see in you."

You stared at him, eyes wide, but you didn't have a chance to respond.

He smiled again, stepping back. "Farewell, MC. Until we meet again."

You had to shield your eyes as he began to glow again. He flapped his wings once, lifting into the sky, before simply disappearing in a glimmer of light.

You stared at the blue sky for some time before deciding you would go home earlier than you had anticipated. The fear of having almost fallen to your death was still fresh in your mind. And the feeling of that angel's arms around you persisted. You looked down at the ring on your finger and wondered just how much luck had been involved.

the original prompt list

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[doyouknowthemossinman]

After stumbling unwillingly through a lantern and experiencing life in hels for themself, Fin develops an inferiority complex so strong it sends her spiraling into a quest to prove that she's really the stronger half between her and Eight.

(Working title: i put Hallownest in minecraft)

[This has to be worth it. I have to prove myself.]

[I don't know where I am.]

Things being Fin's size for once was actually pretty disorienting. After years of coping with larger-than-life appliances and structures in her daily life, she wasn't prepared for the whiplash of finding buildings that were already bug-sized. The fall into the little world wasn't pleasant, but the cozy town in the middle of the wastes was something.

Down the well, the Elderbug had told them. All the adventurers disappeared down the well. All but one, anyway.

Below Dirtmouth, the allegedly once-sprawling kingdom was in ruins. Zombie-like husks shambled in repetitive paths, but did not seem to acknowledge Fin as they crept past. Something about the orange glow behind their dead eyes drew her near them, until someone yanked her out of the husk's grasp.

"That was close!" the pillbug exclaimed, poorly hiding his anxiety behind a laugh. The corpse shambled on as he continued pulling Fin out of its way, backward toward a large temple. "Those are husks, they're not exactly friendly! Though, now that I think about it, they didn't seem particularly keen on attacking you," he continued.

Fin took his distraction as an opportunity to free her arm from his hold. He stared at her for a moment as if trying to remember something, then seemed to snap out of his stupor. "Apologies. I'm Quirrel. What brings you all the way to this old kingdom?"

Fin didn't know how to answer. "I fell, and now I'm here. I'm... looking for a challenge, I guess."

"Ah, I've already met many adventurers who seek the Colosseum in this kingdom. I believe it's on the edge of the City of Tears. That seems to be the direction that many of them were traveling, anyway. I wish you luck in your quest!"

"And you in yours," Fin replied, giving a slight bow before Quirrel turned and became engrossed in the temple's heavy door.

This Colosseum could be their way to develop their skills beyond what was available in their home world. Beyond what was available in hels, even. (Seeing how difficult it was for a helsmet like Eight to survive in hels had shaken their own sense of capability. Eight was happy in that hellhole. Eight sold jewelry to get buy instead of anything useful like weaponry or armor. Eight had friends. My hels is happy, and I'm not.)

---

They met another bug searching for the Colosseum while in the aptly-named City of Tears. Though his hood was soaked, the water rolled right off his carapace as he spoke, full of bravado. Fin felt more jealous of his waterproof-ness more than anything else. "It's near here, I'm sure of it. Somewhere between the City and the Kingdom's edge. I don't need your help to find it." He drew himself up slightly and left, headed in the direction that it planned to go.

Fin watched him go and scoffed to themself. An ego that large wouldn't get him far, even if he did find the Colosseum.

[Your ego won't get you far, either.]

Something told them not to follow after him, a nagging feeling in its chest that pulled them in the opposite direction. They'd already seen and considered the statue of the so-called Hollow Knight, but followed the pull anyway, all the way to the other side of the city.

Good thing, because they found a fellow nailsmith (for swords were nails in this kingdom, however odd the terminology felt on their tongue) who offered to sell them some armor for a few hundred geo.

"This is very discounted compared to what I would regularly charge," the Nailsmith informed her. "Though I suppose there aren't many of you left to buy my wares anyway."

Fin couldn't think of anything to say. Everyone in this kingdom was on the edge of a metaphorical and literal precipice, living post-apocalypse with no hope and no way out but to leave and brave the wastes. Even Fin couldn't get out the way it came in, not with their torn wing. They simply bowed their head in thanks, donned their new helm, and retraced their steps.

There was a small, peculiar bug at the foot of the statue when Fin returned. It stared up at the Hollow Knight blankly, clearly not capable of expression behind its mask. It turned its gaze on Fin as they approached and flinched backward.

The two stared at each other for a long moment before Fin gestured toward the vacant buildings in front of them. "Care to speak with me somewhere drier?" The little bug nodded and followed behind Fin.

"I'm looking for the Colosseum," Fin stated, taking off their helmet and shaking as much water off it as she could. "Do you know where it's at?"

A map appeared in the bug's hands, and it was soon spreading it out on a nearby table and pointing to a doorway near a large lift that connected the City to the Crossroads. It drew one little pointer finger down a long hallway, ending in a drawing of what could only be the gaping maw of a large, dead, grub-like bug.

[Oh, perfect. A Colosseum built into a corpse. I'm sure it smells great.]

Fin did their best to bite down the complaint in front of their guide. "Thank you, fair Knight. I wish you well on your journey."

The bug seemed to try to blink at them, but their mask remained stiff and unchanged despite the welcoming air about them. Fin placed their helm back over their head and gripped the hilt of their nail as they walked. Their resolve wavered.

[I have to do this. I love doing this! I haven't fought in a long time. This is what makes me happy. I...

I just want to be happy again.]

---

The lift didn't stop at the ledge that Fin needed it to, and pulling the lever to send it upward shut the doors on them. Without flight, they opted to climb atop the lift itself (who put spikes on the roof of a lift??) and scale the chain that pulled it upward. Their forewings and cloak helped it glide to the platform, and it was only a straight shot to the Colosseum from there.

It was indeed located in the corpse of a massive bug.

"Oho, another warrior enters!" A tiny pillbug hung upside down, bound in chains, greeted Fin as she entered. The sounds of battle could be heard further down the hall, and several corpses hung similarly behind the pillbug. "Ours is the final destination for all seeking trials of intense and deadly combat," he continued.

"How do I enter the tournament?" Fin asked plainly.

"All one has to do is place their mark upon their Trial Board of choice and lo! The arena's gate will open," the bug answered. "There's a small fee attached to each trial, but I'm sure as skilled a combatant as yourself will have accrued a wealth of Geo.

"Now, before you draw your nail and rush eagerly to battle, I'll offer one quick word of advice. There's a warriors' pit just below here, where others like yourself await their own trials. I'd strongly advise using it to rest up before placing your mark." Fin nodded in response.

"Oh, and have no doubt, I'm a fearsome warrior myself. Don't go judging me by my size, or my current… errr… constraint. The Colosseum beckons us both! I'll be back in battle soon."

[Mhm. Sure.]

They left 100 geo with the bug and made their way to the pit. It was filled with snoring warriors, all large and clad in six-eyed armor much sturdier than the crafted shell that Fin wore. Another twinge of doubt twisted in their chest. Their eyes landed on the ant from long before, hunched over on the lone bench and eyes lidded in something like focus.

"Oh, soft thing. You've made it as well. I hope you're prepared, because if you last long enough, you'll face me, and then..." he trailed off meaningfully.

[I'll show you soft.]

The Trial of the Warrior was easy enough. The spike floor was unexpected, and the floating platforms tested her balance but Fin made it through without much fuss.

After the Trial of the Conqueror, they felt like they were still covered in the sickly orange venom that all these bugs seemed to carry with them. Poking around the warriors' pit, Fin found a hot spring that seemed to heal their wounds and ease their mind without feeling like they were getting dunked in water. She lingered in the spring, letting it work whatever magic it was.

The two trials had been... exhilarating. But fun? Would they call the trials fun? Would anyone be jealous of their position at this rate?

There was only one trial left. They had to finish this.

They paused when they read the name of the final trial on the board.

The Trial of the Fool.

Fin certainly felt like a fool toward the end of the trial. She was exhausted. This wasn't fun anymore. Was it ever to begin with? What were they trying to prove anymore? They were just jealous of Eight's happiness, that's what sent them down this awful path. Who were they, to stoop to jealousy? Of a helsmet, no less? How pathetic.

There was a break in the waves, for a single, brief, beautiful moment. No more, no more, I want to go home, I'm so tired. I'm such a fool.

The ground shook.

The gate opened.

A little roach on the back of a large Beast entered the arena to the fanfare of the crowd. Fin had almost forgotten the crowd was there, so lost in the battle.

The God Tamer, she was called.

She leapt off her beast and readied her weapon, and Fin did the same, despite the exhaustion weighing on its limbs. Dodging the beast's rolls and acid spitting was easy enough, but the God Tamer fought with more precision, coordinating her strikes with her steed's.

If they died here, their corpse would be thrown out the back with the others and fall, down into the windy wasteland of the kingdom's edge, until it was either reanimated by the Infection or dissolved in a pit of acid.

Lighten up, they thought, and it sounded like Eight's voice. You're so dour! Then she'd say something like, Come sit with me, I can't finish this muffin by myself and I won't have any more customers until after the battle.

Something like yearning flared in Fin's chest, growing and eating them alive from the inside. She just wanted to be safe and happy now. Where was all of this getting her? They parried another blow from the God Tamer and dodged to the side of the Beast.

The glow of the lanterns caught their eye. Something like yearning. Something like hope.

These lanterns were not made the same as the ones in the Overworld, or even the ones in Hels, but it could work. With enough determination, pure want and will, perhaps Fin could go home.

They hesitated only a moment, gathering themself, before throwing their body at one of the lanterns in the arena.

She barely heard the crowd gasp before they were sailing over Eight's counter and into the middle of the street. A lizard-shaped helsmet stopped short, momentarily blocking anyone from stepping on them, and then Eight was speaking and helping them up and around the back of their normal-sized stall. Back in the world of giants. Back in Hels.

Fin could tell that Eight wanted details, wanted to have a long talk, and Fin wanted to have that talk now too, but they were still exhausted from the last trial. For now, she accepted care from her helsmet, closed her eyes, and breathed.

[rene-hl-trashcan]

what were the gremlins reactions to meeting their S/O (Mildred meeting Omi, Sylvan meeting Poppy etc etc)

The First Meeting

I took a long time mulling this ask over because how they react is legitimately soooo mundane and boring. Thought I could polish their reaction to be more interesting, but meh....I'm just gonna stick to the initial ideas I had in mind for them.

P/s : Also, anon....if you're who I think you are, you can always DM me for a quicker response 🤣🤣

Sylvan

Sylvan first 'met' Poppy, like how it canonically goes in the game, is during the first Beast Class. Before that, he never interacted with her even though they did have classes together. His initial reaction to Poppy is of intrigue. He thought she was surprisingly reckless despite her sweet and innocent first impression—a judgement he made after he saw how she treated Gerald. Then, she took him to meet Highwing right after class, and Sylvan's interest meter shot off the roof. He appreciates it when his perspective/opinion/judgement is challenged (or even better, proven wrong) because this boy has a high trust in how he makes judgement and decisions, so something that subverts his expectations would hook him right in. Here's this tiny classmate who is agreed by their schoolmates and teachers alike as the sweetest and loveliest sunshine yet Poppy subverts his expectations entirely, becoming a subject of his devoted intrigue the more they spend time together. The more she showed herself to be the opposite of what everyone thought she was, the more Sylvan's intrigue and interest grew. The morbid, slightly concerning comments she casually dropped while they were on that mission to return the dragon's egg; the reckless yet admirable courage she showed whenever she roped him into dangerous missions; the utterly chill (and dare he say it, amused tone) she displayed whenever he used any of the Dark Arts; as well as the barely hidden glee and delight in her eyes whenever they terrorised poacher camps together—Sylvan sees another facet of Hogwarts' sweet angel. He sees the unhinged side of Poppy and he is absolutely loving it. 🤣

Sylvia

Sylvia's initial reaction to Avania is of indifference—at least for the first half of their first day being introduced to each other. After being literally kidnapped and dragged by Mildred to jump universes (when she was already sleep-deprived to boot) to be Riz's wingwomen has put Sylvia in a disoriented state of mind, even after taking the much-needed nap to soothe her headache. Throughout the 'debate', she only saw Avania as Riz's girlfriend's best friend whom she and Mildred were supposed to persuade for the stamp of approval for their boy, and that's it. That quickly changed once Mildred pushed her and Avania to hang out together as the de facto 'big sisters' to Riz and Cariad respectively. They made their way to Hogsmeade and Sylvia was instantly terrified at how at ease and comfortable she felt socialising with Avania. Sylvia has always been a social disaster. Usually, without either Sylvan or Mildred to be a distraction (or Riz as her shield) in social situations, she often shuts down and would awkwardly tries to escape the situation. However, she and Avania share so much in common, down to the physical looks of their wand, thus conversations came terrifyingly easy and natural for them. It's easy and comfortable, and even when they ran out of things to talk about on that first trip together to Hogsmeade, the silence was not suffocating at all. Sylvia was at ease, comfy, and felt very safe throughout the whole trip despite having to socialise on her own, which is a miracle to start the rest of the miracles following their growing bond. 🥹

Riz

Riz's first reaction to Cariad is either a) something is terribly wrong that he ends up hallucinating or b) Sylvan finally gets the Polyjuice potion right and uses human hair this time. When he confirmed that Cariad was not his hallucination or she was the result of Sylvan being concerningly chaotic again, his second reaction was of amusement and wonder on how exactly someone could be so tiny. He was in awe the whole time Cariad took care of his injuries, genuinely captivated by the sheer simplicity of seeing someone so recklessly kind and caring. Here he was, a stranger practically intruding her private space and she showed no obvious sign of wariness or suspicion. A tiny part of him was mildly concerned for her apparent lack of self-preservation senses, but that concern was then overwhelmed by the overall pleasant surprise he was feeling as Cariad tended to him. Riz was so used to selfish people from his childhood (or the cautiously guarded ones like his current close multiverse friends) so Cariad's behaviour intrigued and concerned him from the moment he registered that she was a real person. Since this is the first meeting, once he gets over how oddly refreshing it was to see her gentle kindness (despite the lack of sense of stranger danger), he resorted to his default state of being generally indifferent inside, yet polite and charming outside. He probably would find her cute, but that is in no way different than when he thought a puffskein to be cute—physical looks mean so little to him since Riz requires rapport and emotional connection first to catch feelings. The initial chain of emotions he felt when meeting her was the extent of his first reaction.

Mildred

Similar to Sylvan, Mildred first 'met' Ominis was like how it canonically goes in the game, which is during the Undercroft exit incident. Her first reaction was panik as she calculated the possibility of her bolting past him and leaving Sebastian to deal with the aftermath. After all, prior to the incident, she never interacted with him despite having classes together and she didn't want his first impression on her to be bad. She would've bolted in silence but her courteous upbringing made her halt her escape attempts. Mildred felt it was not nice to the poor blind boy if she just ignored him and escaped as she calculated. She felt guilty at first since she understood that she just intruded on the secret place that was most likely his source of comfort, but when Ominis went berserk, she thought of him as unnecessarily rude and dramatic, especially when he pulled the "mY faTHeR iS CLosE wItH tHE prInCIpAl" card. She called him out on the unnecessary dramatics (and definitely rolled her eyes at him a couple of times) but then decided to be the bigger person and apologised since she did wrong him in the first place. Once she had some time to mull the situation over, her annoyance switched back to guilt and slight pity. She concluded that the Undercroft must have been the place where Ominis felt the safest, and to have a stranger like her intrude on that safe place was the reason he lashed out. She shelved this conclusion in her mind and decided to be understanding and nicer to him if they ever interacted after this encounter meeting.

[gh0st-eaterr]

4, 13, 18 for the (one or more) sylvari occupying your brainspace lately

(my main three are always rotating in my brain like rotisserie chicken, so wheeee)

popping this under the cut because this will be Long(tm)

Will be answering for my sylvari Abhartach (Av), Oiliphéist (Ophie), and Rhynn

4. How was their awakening? Did something particular happen? What's their first memory?

None of them had particularly eventful awakenings as such, though Av distinctly recalls coming-to and going 'Hm. Body does not match gender, the fuck's up with that?' lmfao.

Ophie is/was a Valiant, i.e 'has a Wyld Hunt', so for him awakening was mostly just...disorienting. 'What do you MEAN I have bullshit responsibilities already, I crawled into this world an hour ago!'

Rhynn remembers the first hours of his awakening and realizing that he...fundamentally had no ability to empathetically connect to other sylvari. A lot of sylvari have this uncanny ability to get a read on each other pretty well, perceive emotions a lot more readily through a shared connection to the Dream -- Rhynn didn't have this. If you asked him nowadays, he'd also tell you he doesn't remember what he dreamt, either.

13. How do they feel about death? Does it make them curious or scared? Do they wish to understand it or do they simply accept it?

Av has a...very complicated relationship with the concept of death -- not even because he's a scholar of necromancy. He's been alive for some 24 years, and dealt with a lot of shit; death, for him, used to feel like it would be a matter of 'sooner rather than later'. Now, years after making a pact of protection with a lesser deity of Grenth himself, he's afraid of not being able to die. He's functionally immortal. There were some...oversights, when that pact was made.

Ophie accepts death for what it is; if it's his time, it's his time, so long as he goes out swinging. It's something he made peace with a long time ago, after he managed to escape the Nightmare Court; if fighting back against them becomes his end, then he takes solace in the fact he went out fighting the good fight. He's had a few close-calls in the past, but the fear wasn't dying as such, it was more 'I'm not done here, yet'.

Rhynn's the sort of egotistical maniac who hasn't really given much pause to the idea of death -- he's under (wrongful) assumption that nothing could match him, let alone best him. With the backing of some of the worst kinds of power the Nightmare has to offer, he thinks of himself as nothing short of a god. There's no curiosity or fear of it, nor understanding or acceptance -- he denies death as something that can (and will) happen to him.

18. [Free space for 3 pieces of trivia about your sylvari!]

Av

He's Soundless, and takes far more solace in revering the human gods than the Tenets of Ventari and the Pale Tree...if you could call his attitude towards the gods 'reverence', even. Dream or Nightmare, he sees both sides as the same set of shackles that people cling to far too much.

He's left-handed! Though dependent on the task, he's just as capable with his right hand as the left. Can only really write with his left hand, though.

Adores cats. He has a sylvan cat by the name of 'Missy', short for Mischief. She's a sylvan cat specifically because he's very allergic to regular cats.

Ophie

He's one of a rare number of people born (or, I guess awoke) without an innate ability to use magic. At all. Which is especially strange and rare for a sylvari, whose entire being is practically saturated in magic. (In our canon we call it being 'Null' or 'null of magic'). It causes Problems.

He did actually used to be in the Nightmare Court. Canon says once you go to the NC there's no coming back, homebrew canon says 'nah' to that notion. Current hypotheses on how this is actually possible boil down to 'being a valiant' or the aforementioned 'utterly fucked and nonexistent connection to magic' making this less of a dire issue.

He's an environmental 'subtype' of sylvari that makes him particularly inclined to wetlands environments. He can hold his breath for a damn long time underwater.

Rhynn

He's something we've dubbed a 'Nightmare aspect holder' -- he embodies a particular facet of the Nightmare itself. Not unlike how Kryptis can be facets/aspects of emotions. Though, we came up with this well before we knew SotO would be a thing (by about a year or two).

He's also something we've dubbed as a 'Shade' -- a particular attunement to shadow magick. It's my take on the Specter class ingame.

(And now for something completely different!) For some reason, my brain decided he's a violinist. Couldn't tell you why, maybe it's that thing of 'asshole villain plays violin' or whatever.

[peanut-tyrug]

SatBK Fanfic: A Sacred Old Soul

Sonic discovers that there's more to Caliburn than he lets on... an unseen past that only he and the other Round Table knights know of.

—

This idea spawned from an old SatBK AU I had. I'm not gonna elaborate on it, as the general idea of the AU is in the fic (also it'd be spoilery and I want the reader to see it for themselves).

—

TRIGGER WARNING: This fic contains depictions of gore/blood, bisection, a corpse, loss of family/loved ones, threats toward characters, illusions/hallucinations, and swords. If you aren’t comfortable with these things, please don’t read this.

It hadn't been too long since Sonic and his talking Sacred Sword Caliburn had saved the kingdom of Camelot from certain destruction. Only a day or two.

Sonic was beginning to prepare for his journey back to his world, spending some time to get to know the other knights of the Round Table before he left. He had swiftly realized how similar they all were to the counterparts from his home... it gave the hedgehog an odd sense of deja vu.

After having spent a bit with Merlina, who was now ready to send Sonic home, Sonic wanted spend a while with Caliburn.

Like the Round Table knights and Merlina, Sonic never really had the time to get to know Caliburn. The sword had been at Sonic's side for most of his adventure through the land of King Arthur, and despite that, he barely got to see the side of Caliburn that was more... genuine. The side of Caliburn that wasn’t an uptight mentor in swordsmanship.

And Sonic felt a nice run through some of the kingdom’s scenery would be a good way to get relax with the Sacred Sword.

Around the half way point of Sonic’s journey through the kingdom, the pair had finally entered the Shrouded Forest.

The pair glanced upon the fantastical forest as Sonic steadily sped through it. The crystalline snow on the ground was swiftly crushed under Sonic’s speedy feet. The flowers of the forest shone in beautiful yet eerie shades of blue, violet, and pink. A few bugs flew around the forest, appearing to be uncaring for the hedgehog and sentient weapon…

“Be careful, Sonic.” Says Caliburn. “The butterflies here are not what you think.”

“You sure?” Sonic asks. “They look fine to me.”

“They can get at your head, make you see things that are not actually there.” Caliburn informs. “I’d suggest you keep them away.”

“…Oh, they’re little tricksters, huh?” Sonic asks again. “We can handle that, right, Caliburn?”

“We have faced more threatening terrors than insects, Sonic.” Says Caliburn with a stern tone of voice. “Little butterflies are no problem for either of us.”

“I’d imagine that.” Says Sonic. “Unless you want your blade getting slathered in bug guts.” He says jokingly.

Caliburn swiftly appears appalled at the comment, looking as if he’s sick to his stomach at the thought… he didn’t actually have organs, did he?

“Sonic!” Says a disgusted Caliburn. “D-do not speak of such things!”

Sonic chuckles slightly. “You know I’m just messin' with ya!” He says. “And if you ever get dirtied up, I’m sure I can find someone to get your blade polished up.”

“…I-I appreciate the gesture.” Says Caliburn, who still sounded disgusted.

…Sonic just wanted to throw a quip at the sword, just like he did during their adventure through the kingdom. It was the last time he’d have the time to hang out with the sword, and he wanted to make it worth while.

They had greatly bonded, both of them knew that. And both of them appreciated each other… even if Caliburn didn’t fully understand Sonic’s quips. The sword knew Sonic was just messing around, and didn’t mean it… that didn’t prevent him from taking them to heart for a moment though.

Suddenly, a few butterflies cross the hedgehog’s path.

“Woah!” Sonic exclaims. As he runs, he holds Caliburn up and swings the insects away, his movements lacking elegance and poise.

Caliburn is swiftly disoriented by the action, slowly trying to regain an ornate head. “Sonic!” Caliburn criticizes. “Don’t swing me around so recklessly! I’m certain you are aware that I am not some fly swatter?”

“Sorry.” Sonic apologizes. “Just had to get those bugs out of the way.”

Sonic continues his run, not caring for the sudden ambush. It isn’t long before even more butterflies cloud Sonic’s eyes.

Sonic halts with a quick yelp. Caliburn then falls out of Sonic’s grip, as he is no longer paying attention to the blade, trying to swat the insects away.

“Caliburn!?” Sonic cries out. He tries to reach for his blade, not noticing that it had fallen to the ground.

Caliburn eventually gets up on his own, now standing on his point. “Sonic!” He shouts, now racing toward the struggling hedgehog.

Before Caliburn can reach Sonic however, a hoard of butterflies race toward the sword’s face, completely obscuring his vision, and causing him to quickly shout.

“Get away from me, foul things!” Says Caliburn. “Away! Away with you!”

The issue is that Caliburn can’t sway away the bugs on his own, he needs Sonic’s assistance.

“Caliburn!” Sonic calls out. “Where are you?”

“Where are you!?” Caliburn asks back. “I cannot see!”

The two then appear to bump into each other, causing them both to fall back, still struggling with the bugs.

“Shoot!” Says Sonic. “These things are such a pain!”

“Hurry!” Says Caliburn. “Find me, and pick me back—!”

*WHOOSH!*

“…Up…?”

It takes a moment for Caliburn to adjust to his new and sudden surroundings. All he can see is what appears to be nothing; a completely white, blank void.

Caliburn attempts to get up… and yet, he doesn’t struggle to get on his point, not like he usually did. It was normally a small struggle for him to get up if he ever landed on the back of his blade, since he never had a spine…

Or, at least, he hadn’t had one… not for a time, as he recalled.

“…Strange.” Says Caliburn.

He only looks forward at the void before him… then he looks down…

“…W-what!?” Caliburn shouts. “What in the unholy trickery—!?”

…Caliburn had a body. A human body… something that felt so foreign, yet so familiar…

“…I-I don’t— I don’t understand…” Says Caliburn, panic rising in his voice. “No, this isn’t—!”

“Christopher!?” A feminine voice calls out. “Where are you? Where did you go!?”

Caliburn looks upward at the void again… he hadn’t been called that in ages…

He hadn’t heard that voice in ages…

Caliburn appeared simply awestruck at the voice. All he focused on what the single other person that seemed to be there with him…

“…A-Angeline?” Caliburn calls out, slowly and steadily rising to his feet. He struggles a bit though, trembling a bit where he stands.

“…Christopher?” The voice calls out again. “Is that you?”

Caliburn appears even more shocked as a figure comes into view from the void.

“…Angeline?” Caliburn calls out again. “M-my sweet Angel, why— How—!?”

“Christopher!?” The voice calls again as it became more clear.

From the void, a woman adorned in an elegant dress, colored in blue and gold with silver Celtic designs covering it, approached the confused Caliburn. Despite there being no wind, her mid-length brunette hair followed serenely, making her give off a poise and elegant aura.

“Angeline?” Caliburn calls out again, standing rooted to his spot.

“Christopher?” Angeline calls out again, now rushing to him.

Angeline then finally reaches Caliburn, and tightly embraces him, while Caliburn remains still in his confused headspace.

“Where have you been!?” Angeline asks. “I’ve looked everywhere for you!”

“…I don’t understand.” Says Caliburn. “You already know.”

Angeline then grasps onto Caliburn’s shoulders. She leans in close to him. “That doesn’t matter now.” She says. “We are both here, together.”

…Caliburn doesn’t smile, he only stares at the woman… before his expression descends into that of anger.

“…No.” Says Caliburn. “This is not real…”

“…What?” Angeline asks.

“…This is not real… it’s a trick!” Says Caliburn. “I will not fall prey to your illusions, foul beasts! How dare you sully her name!?”

“What!?” Angeline questions again. “Christopher, I am real!”

“No! You are not her!” Says Caliburn. “My mind has been twisted against my will to fall for the likes of those pests! I will not give in!”

“Caliburn! Snap out of it!” Angeline exclaims… almost sounding as if another familiar, snarky voice was speaking through her… and yet, Caliburn doesn’t hear it.

“Get out of my head!” Says Caliburn.

“Caliburn!!” A voice shouts.

Caliburn’s eyes then shoot open, as if he had been suddenly awakened from a deep sleep.

“—Wha— what!?” Caliburn shouts. “What happened!?”

Sonic, who seemed to have been able to get the bugs away from him on his own, then grabs the grip of Caliburn’s hilt and lifts him up. He looks him dead in the eyes before speaking. “Those bugs got to ya, Caliburn.”

Caliburn then appears to be ashamed of himself… Sonic could tell that he didn’t feel good about those bugs getting the best of him… but there seemed to be something else lingering on the sword’s mind. Same for Sonic’s.

“What was all that about, anyway?” Sonic asks. “Who was that lady you were talking about?”

A sudden surge of panic slaps itself onto Caliburn’s face... just how much of that did he hear?

“…I-it was nothing. She is no one.” He says.

“…And I thought a Sacred Sword like you would never tell a lie!” Sonic says slyly.

“Why I never! I would never do such a—!” Caliburn begins, before getting cut off.

“Yes you would, and you’re doing it right now!” Says Sonic, sounded irritated. “You can tell me!”

…Caliburn then sighs, feeling defeated. “You are the king, and my closest friend. You of all people should have my permission to know this…” Says Caliburn. “…C-can you keep a secret?”

“Of course I can! If it’s for a friend!” Says Sonic. “Spill the beans!”

“…What?” Caliburn asks. He doesn’t understand Sonic’s modern slang.

“What’s your secret?” Asks Sonic.

“Before that,” Caliburn begins. “Let us leave this place. It is best that we don’t get caught off guard by the butterflies again.”

“Roger that.” Says Sonic.

The blue hedgehog then begins to speed out of the Shrouded Forest with his Sacred Sword in tow. Silence crosses the both of them as Sonic approaches the Deep Woods.

—

Sonic comes to a halt near one of the many groves of trees in the Deep Woods, just nearby where he had first fought Sir Lancelot. Small crystals reflect the Sun’s peering light onto the ground, lighting up the grove a bit.

Sonic leans Caliburn against a tree, while the hedgehog sits next him with his legs crossed.

“You ready?” Sonic asks.

“…Yes.” Says Caliburn.

“What’cha got for me?” Sonic asks again.

“It’s fairly long.” Says Caliburn, as if warning Sonic that he may get bored of it.

“Ah, just make it interesting.” Says Sonic, smiling.

Caliburn chuckles a bit. “I like to think it is.” He says, as he begins to tell his tale…

“…Have you ever pondered how I am able to be sentient, Sonic?” Caliburn asks.”

“Magic?” Sonic asks. “That’s what I always thought.”

“You’d be correct.” Says Caliburn. “But the magic of it is what you don’t know… to be general, I was once organic…”

“You weren’t always a sword?” Sonic asks, sounding genuinely surprised.

“…Exactly.” Says Caliburn.

“But… how?” Sonic asks. “What about the lady?”

“…That is when this gets a bit long.” Says Caliburn.

~~~

'…I was orphaned at a young age. My family had passed in a storm…'

“…Mother? Father?” Calls a young Christopher Caliburn, son of a small peasant family. “Where have you gone?”

The child walks through a quiet and desolate forest, soaked head to toe in rain water. His sewn-up rags were tearing at the seams from the rain. The child walks practically aimlessly, looking for his missing family.

'…They were never found, and my home had also been lost in the storm. I was left to roam that forest alone, no one to help me, and all I had other than my rags was what I knew I could do on my own…'

Christopher eventually weakly falls to his knees in the rain. He begins cry softly, only begging that his family was somewhere in this storm, possibly looking for their son…

But he had been looking for so long, and there was no sign of them. No trace of them anywhere in those woods.

…They were dead, no matter how much Christopher didn’t want to admit it.

Despite that, he knew he couldn’t sit there and cry forever… he had to survive here. It was all he could do. It was what he had to do… whatever it took.

'For ages, leaking into my adult years, I remained in those woods. Surviving completely on my own. Killing animals to live, building shelters to live… it was all I could do.'

'It was the same thing all that time. It never changed, until it did…'

Christopher, now in his mid thirties, ventures the woods, dressed in a uniform from one of the various guards that had come upon the woods, but had never returned to Camelot… he didn’t like the idea of taking their clothes as his own, it didn’t feel morally right, but he needed them.

A hand-carved wooden spear remained in his hands. He glances around, looking for anything he could easily take down…

Before a sudden hissing is heard.

Christopher turns a heel, pointing his spear in front of him… then, again, the same hissing.

What was odd was that it wasn’t a familiar hissing, not like that of a snake… almost like some small beast that had yet to be named and discovered.

…It sounded just the slightest bit of ferocious, like a knight of the underworld…

The beasts of such kind haunted Christopher’s nightmares. He had known of them from tales his mother spoke of… even if they ended nicely, the thought of such beasts scared him, even though he was almost an adult.

Such imagery can frighten anyone, regardless of age.

Suddenly, the hissing is heard again… although, it’s much closer than before…

Christopher turns back… only to be met with a helmeted beast. A knight of the underworld, one with bat-like wings and fisk-like tail. Christopher shouts, startled. He holds his spear up, trying to fight the beast.

“Back!” Christopher exclaims. “Back, I say! Back!”

The creature shrieks in a thunderous fury, as if to call others of its kin. Christopher freezes for a moment, before turning a heel again and scurrying off… no way he could fight as many as it could summon with a rickety wooden spear.

As he runs, he can feel the presence of many other underworld creatures chasing after him. He was their prey, and it felt like nothing was going to save him from his predicament.

As he ran however, the ground below him seemed to suddenly disappear as he began to trip and fall. Christopher tumbled down a deep slope, rolling down the hill, until he suddenly landed in a pile of shrubs. The shrubs swiftly broke his fall, although, the pain he was in first fall had yet waver.

Christopher slowly rises from the shrubs with a pained grunt. As he recollects himself, his eyes quickly spot something before him…

His eyes go wide, and his mouth goes agape…

Christopher spots an elegant and pristine sword lodged into a stone covered in vines. A single ray of the Sun’s light peered through the trees and onto the blade, making it appear even more beautiful.

~~~

“Was that sword… you?” Sonic asks.

“Yes, it was.” Caliburn says softly, as if reminiscing. “I had not an inkling that the sword in that very stone was Excalibur itself… I actually remember finding it here, in the Deep Woods.”

“Huh, who knew?” Sonic asks himself in wonder. “But what happens after that?” He asks with a soft smile on his face.

“We’ll get there.” Says Caliburn, sounding as if he was trying calm an excited child.

~~~

Christopher steadily exits the pile of shrubs and heads to the stone. He slowly wraps his hands around the sword’s grip, and tugs…

The sword moves an inch upward…

Christopher tugs harder at the weapon, until it completely slides free from the stone. The sword feels heavy in Christopher’s grip, causing him to drop it slightly. He slowly picks it up again, allowing it to set itself in his hands.

Christopher looks ahead past the stone, gazing upon a grove up ahead. Rather than climb back up the steep hill, Christopher walks into the grove.

As he walks, he takes a look at the sword. It could practically be used as a mirror with how reflective it was.

As Christopher gazes upon the serene blade, a sudden shriek makes him come to halt… it didn’t sound like it came from a creature, but rather… a person.

Christopher then rushes forward, blade clutched tightly in his grasp, toward the sound of the shriek. He runs for what feels like miles… before suddenly bumping into something… someone.

“Oh, stars!” Says the stranger as she suddenly falls. She looks forward, and yelps at the person before them, a man dressed in a raggedy guard’s uniform and wielding a sword.

The lady moves backwards, afraid of what the man could do to her. “D-don’t hurt me!” She says. “I did no harm, Sir Knight!”

Christopher slowly rises to his bottom and looks to the woman in confusion. “…I’m sorry?” He asks. “I am not a knight.”

“…Then what of your sword?” Asks the lady.

“I found it, my lady.” Says Christopher.

Suddenly, another hiss is heard… a familiar sound…

“It’s still after me!” The lady said to herself. She then turns to Christopher. “You must help me, sir!”

“With ails you, my lady?” Asks Christopher.

“Underworld knights!” The lady says in a panic.

From behind the woman, a small hoard of underworld knights appears. The lady yelps and hides behind Christopher, hoping that he can help.

Christopher holds up his weapon to the knights, ready to strike… before then thrusting forward, taking a knight or two. He then swipes the sword to hit the rest… although, his movement is messy.

The knights disappear in puffs of smoke, dying just before his eyes. Christopher slowly lowers his weapon, breathing heavily. He then turns back to the woman, who was sitting on the ground…

…He never had a chance to properly look at her. Neither did she.

They stared at each other in complete awe… they were swiftly pulled to each other like magnets.

The lady was dressed in a small blue and gold gown, decorated with Celtic designs colored in silver. Her wonderfully put-together brunette hair stayed still as the woman looked up to Christopher… her face slightly red.

Christopher doesn’t initially realize that he was slightly red in the face too… until he realizes he’s staring. He clears his throat. “…I’m sorry.” He says.

“No, no… it’s alright.” Says the lady. “…B-but that was amazing!”

“…I need no compliments, my lady.” Says Christopher.

The lady then looks Christopher, as if wanting to speak again, before looking down… appearing worried by his raggedy and slightly torn outfit. “…How long have you resided here?” She asks.

“…Almost all of my life.” Says Christopher with a tinge of dread. “I have fought for my life in these woods.”

“I see…” Says the lady. “I could let you stay at my home for a time.”

“I need it not, my lady.” Says Christopher.

~~~

“Still as stubborn as ever.” Sonic says in a joking tone.

“Oh, hush up.” Says Caliburn, sounding as if he’s trying to repress a chuckle.

~~~

“Are you certain?” Asks the lady. “I’m certain it would be a nice change from the Deep Woods, wouldn’t it?”

Christopher wants to retort… but then he thinks about it… it would be a nice change from these woods. He had been here for almost his entire childhood, and hadn’t had a meal that wasn’t fish in months, as not many other animals resided in the Deep Woods other than the fish that reigned it’s lake. And his clothes, always ragged and in tatters, having to take cloth from those who had fallen…

Christopher then looks up to the lady with certain eyes. “I will accompany you.” He says. “…You are correct, your home would be a nice change from the Deep Woods.”

“Oh, thank you for allowing me to help… I am very thankful for your help as well.” Says the lady. “I go by Angeline, by the way.”

“…A wonderful name.” Says Christopher, smiling softly… his face also appearing a bit red again. “It suits you.”

Angeline blushes a bit. She hides her face a bit, but is simply unable to repress a smile. “Oh, stop!” She says. “What is your name, sir?”

“I am Christopher Caliburn, son of the late Colette and Alaric Caliburn.” Says Christopher. He then smiles softly. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Angeline.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Christopher.” Says Angeline. She then seems to have a realization of some kind… “…Your 'late' family?”

Christopher’s expression falters slightly. “…I lost them years ago, I wasn’t even in adolescence yet…” He says. “…I-it was a storm.”

“…Oh, stars.” Says Angeline. “I apologize for asking… I had no idea…”

“No, no, it’s alright.” Says Christopher. “The grief may live on within me… but I do not let it consume me. I am but too strong to fall to my grief…”

Angeline smiles. “I’m glad.” She says. “Come, I will lead you to my residence.”

~~~

“So you and this Angeline were buddy-buddy?” Asks Sonic.

“…What?” Caliburn asks, confused once again.

“Like, were you friends?” Sonic reiterates.

“…It started that way, somewhat.” Says Caliburn.

~~~

Angeline leads Christopher through her small village. As they walk, Christopher notices a few villagers eyeing him, appearing afraid…

They were likely intimated. None of these people knew who he was, and neither did he. He was also wielding a weapon… they were fearful of him attacking, he assumed.

With time, Angeline comes to a halt in front of a drab wooden door. She lets herself in, with Christopher following behind her.

Angeline’s home was a small cobblestone shack, decorated with organized shelves. It was cramped and desolate… and yet, it was home. Christopher didn’t have much either.

Christopher hums. “…A very neatly home.” He says as he sets his sword against a wall.

“Yes.” Says Angeline. “I try to keep everything together… I’ll find you something nicer to wear… how did you get that?”

“The uniform?” Asks Christopher.

Angeline confirms with a hum and nod as she enters another room.

“…I’d rather not say.” Says Christopher. “I am not proud of the method I used…”

“That’s alright.” Says Angeline. “I understand… you had to what had to do out in the Deep Woods, I would imagine.”

“…You could put it that way.” Says Christopher.

It was all he could do. What he had to do.

Angeline eventually steps out of the room she had been in, a fleece dress shirt and pants in her hands. “Try these. I hope they fit.”

“They shall suffice.” Says Christopher, studying to see if the clothes would fit.

“…I’ll get you something to eat, hold on a moment.” Angeline then hurries over to a small kitchen nearby, looking through a few cabinets that were filled to the brim with jars of ingredients he couldn’t name.

Christopher then heads to another room to change out of his rags.

—

Christopher, now dressed in the clothes Angeline lended him, sits in front a small wooden table. He waits patiently for his meal… daydreaming about what had recently transpired… before a small bowl clanks onto the table.

“Here.” Says Angeline. “I don’t have much, but I made an attempt.”

Christopher looks to the bowl and takes it… there appeared to be a kind of soup inside of it. He picks up the spoon within the bowl and lifts the soup his mouth…

It was hot, he swiftly realized… but not too hot, rather, it was warm. A pleasant yet unknown flavor lathered Christopher’s tongue.

“…What is in this?” Christopher asked.

“Oh! A few herbs and spices… meat I had gotten in a trade… what meat was it?” Angeline then begins to become deep in thought.

“Hm… it’s serpent meat…” Says Christopher.

“Pardon?” Angeline asks.

“There’s serpent meat in this…” Says Christopher.

“Have you had serpent before?” Angeline asks.

“Yes, but ages ago…” Says Christopher.

“Hm… they’ve been hunted down a lot recently…” Says Angeline.

Before Angeline can continue, her eyes fall upon the sword Christopher had found.

“…You know, I’ve never seen a sword like that before.” Says Angeline. “How did you come across it?”

“I found it in a stone.” Says Christopher, the soup bowl in hand. “I’ve never seen it either… although, it does bare a slight resemblance to Excalibur…”

“Maybe it was made in its image?” Angeline suggests.

“…Possibly.” Says Christopher as he eats.

A sudden shout from outside then knocks Christopher out of his head.

“Oh, dear…” Angeline says, her voice clouded in worry. “A robber… again.”

“Again?” Christopher asks.

“They have been very rampant recently.” Says Angeline. “They’re likely after our resources… the King hasn’t kept an eye on the kingdom’s resources for quite sometime…”

Suddenly, Christopher rises from his seat and grabs the sword. He swiftly opens the wooden door and rushes outside.

“Christopher!?” Angeline cries out from inside her home.

Christopher turns his head back to face Angeline. “I will only be a moment!” He then hurries away.

Christopher rushes into a more bustling part of the village and immediately spots a robber haggling a bag from a defenseless damsel.

“Just give me the bag, and you can go!” Says the robber.

“I am desperate, I beg you!” Says the damsel. “I need this!”

Christopher’s brows furrow and he hurries forward. He holds his sword out and makes his presence known.

“Halt!” Christopher exclaims. “Leave the woman be!”

The robber turns away from the woman to face Christopher. “Hah!” He bellows. “What’s a man in rags gonna do with a sword without a name?”

Christopher appears offended the comment as he turns a heel to the right and circles back to the robber. He collides with the thief, making him fall to the ground.

Christopher keeps the thief pinned to the ground, his sword held close to the other’s neck.

“Judge a sword not by its name, but the power it wields.” Says Christopher in a stern tone. “I may not be well versed in swordsmanship, but I am certain a single swipe of this blade could end you in but a second… let this woman go, give her back her possessions, and I will not harm you… be weary that if you don’t heed my word, my mercy for you will be smothered out in an instant.”

The robber then appears horrified at the comment… despite Christopher being a collected and reserved gentleman, he was still very intimidating when he needed to be… it was unnerving…

Before the robber can heed Christopher’s word, the sound of approaching armored steps is heard.

“Halt!” Says a voice. “In the name of the King, halt!”

Three different anthropomorphic knights come into view… a black hedgehog, a red echidna, and a violet feline, all of them adorned in armor and wielding swords of the own.

The hedgehog steps forward, holding his drawn sword out toward Christopher and the robber. “Cease your movement!” He says.

The robber suddenly hurries away from Christopher and to the knights, appearing panicked.

“Just take me away! Imprison me!” Says the robber. “Get me away from that man!”

The echidna then steps over to Christopher, appearing suspicious. “…You are a thief, aren’t you, scum?”

“…What?” Christopher asks, taken aback.

“You were stealing from that man, weren’t you!?” Asks the echidna. “You had him pinned!”

“…It was he that stole, Sir Knight.” Says Christopher.

“How dare you not know the name of Sir Gawain!?” Sir Gawain chastises.

“Gawain, wait.” Says the feline, who approaches the echidna’s side. She turns to face Christopher. “You said that man had stole?”

“Yes.” Christopher responds. “He had stolen a lady’s goods… I could not stand by and let him have what was rightfully hers.”

“Just take the bag back! Take it!” Says the robber as he chucks the bag to the ground. The feline catches it just as the damsel approaches her.

“Oh, thank you, Sir Percival!” Says the damsel. “I am forever grateful.”

“I need no thanks.” Says Sir Percival. “I am here for the kingdom and its people.”

The damsel nods. “Have a blessed day!” She says as she takes her leave.

“You as well.” Christopher replies.

Sir Percival then eyes the sword in Christopher’s grip. Even behind her visor, anyone could sense the suspicions drowning her features. “…Where did you find that sword, sir?” She asks. “Are you a knight as well?”

“No,” Christopher replies. “I found it within a stone in the Deep Woods… I do not believe it has a name.”

“…The resemblance to Excalibur is eye-catching…” Says Sir Percival.

“He must’ve stolen it!” Sir Gawain accused… he’s always had such a thick head…

Sir Percival can only eye Sir Gawain before the armored hedgehog approaches. “…How could someone such as a common man be worthy of such a pristine blade…” He asks. “Only a Sacred Sword would be gifted to such a warrior…”

“Then he possibly is a warrior, Sir Lancelot.” Says Sir Percival.

As the knights speak amongst each other, Christopher begins to recognize each of them…

“Forgive me, but, only now do I realize…” Christopher begins. “Are you all Round Table knights? King Arthur’s mightiest of swordsmen?”

The knights turn to face the man before them. “…Forgive my forgetfulness… where are my manners? …Yes, brave swordsman.” Says Sir Percival. “I am Sir Percival, Knight of the Grail. I am joined by Sirs Lancelot and Gawain, Knights of the Lake and Knight of the Sun respectively.” She points to the respective knights with a hand. “We are at your service, as your kingdom’s most courageous of knights.”

Christopher hums, indicating his understanding. “I am grateful for your service.” He says.

Sir Percival then eyes Christopher’s sword, then looks back to face him. “I believe it wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary to be given training in swordsmanship?” She asks.

“Hm…” Sir Lancelot hums, considering the idea. “Such a mighty blade should be wielded by proper hands…”

Christopher then appears flustered, taken aback… the same can be said for Sir Gawain.

“How can we trust him?” Asks Sir Gawain.

“I am certain we can hold out a trusting hand for him, Gawain.” Says Sir Percival. “He shall make a great knight… a Round Table knight even.”

Christopher still seems taken aback by the request. Before he can give his response, quick steps are heard pacing towards them.

“Christopher!” Angeline calls out. As she sees the knights, she skids to a halt and gets on one knee. “O, dearest Knights of the Round Table, forgive my intrusion…”

“You are alright, my lady.” Says Sir Percival.

Angeline then rises back up to her feet and faces Christopher. “Where is the robber? Did you assist the victim?”

“He was taken care of swiftly, Angeline.” Says Christopher. He then looks up to see the robber sitting in place not even daring to move and run off… the robber then seems notice the weapon-wielding man looking to him, causing him to avert his gaze in fear.

The knights also turn back to the robber… whatever Christopher done has worked… he was formidable.

Worthy of training in knighthood, gifted unto him from King Arthur’s greatest knights.

“…What do you say, sir… what is your name?” Asks Sir Percival.

“Christopher Caliburn.” Christopher responds.

“…Sir Christopher, would you take this opportunity from us to learn true knighthood?” Asks Sir Percival.

“…'Learn of true knighthood'?” Angeline questions.

Christopher, only for a moment, wants to retort… but he looks to his blade… then over to Angeline, and the rest of the small village…

…He wanted to protect them… this was his kingdom, just was it was theirs.

“I will take your words, and heed them well.” Says Christopher. “I accept your mentorship.”

“…Oh, my…” Says Angeline. “Mentorship from the Knights of the Round Table?”

“I want to be able to protect this kingdom, Angeline. It is my home, just as it is yours.” Says Christopher. “…I want to protect you.”

Christopher then finds himself looking into Angeline’s eyes… her bright brown eyes stare deep into his own ocean blue ones… her eyes were like a field, and his were like a fresh clean river… something you could never tired of looking upon…

They don’t even notice that either one of them was blushing slightly.

Christopher then blinks, coming to his senses. “…M-my apologies.” He says. “I didn’t realize I was—!”

“It’s alright.” Says Angeline. “I didn’t notice either.”

…Christopher couldn’t help but smile.

“We will begin your training today.” Says Sir Percival. “We will begin at Misty Lake.”

“…Y-you don’t mind if tag along, do you?” Asks Angeline. “I only wish to watch… and be at his side.”

…They both blush again…

“…As long as it is not a distraction for our student.” Says Sir Percival.

“I will be certain not to distract him.” Says Angeline.

“I will stay on guard.” Says Christopher.

“It is settled then.” Says Percival. “…But you need armor…”

“There is a blacksmith in the castle town, correct?” Asks Sir Gawain.

“Yes…” Says Sir Percival. “We shall start there.”

The five then head off to the castle town… a new chapter in Christopher’s life was swiftly blossoming.

~~~

“No wonder you know so much about knights!” Says Sonic. “You were one!”

“I learned from the best.” Says Caliburn.

“And so did I.” Says Sonic.

Caliburn smiles softly. “I appreciate the comment, Sonic.”

“Don’t mention it.” Says Sonic. “…And I’m starting to think you and Angeline weren’t just friends.”

Caliburn fails to repress a small chuckle. “We’re getting there.” He says.

~~~

'I had spent months around the kingdom training with the Round Table knights… I had been everywhere… from Misty Lake, to Molten Mine, to Titanic Plain… there wasn’t any place where I hadn’t been anymore.'

'Each round of training ended with a battle with one of the knights themselves… With time, I learned all there was to each of their skill sets, and one by one… they were all defeated in my battles against them.'

'I was formidable, more than ever, they knew that now… especially Angeline.'

'The entire time, she was there, watching my every move… she asked if I could teach her what I learned. We didn’t get far, but we had fun… we grew closer. Bonded more than ever before…'

'…Our love had blossomed like that of Spring when Winter were to finally cease… we were close, and nothing were to tear us apart.'

'…Until I finally met the King…'

Within the training grounds of Camelot Castle, Christopher and Sir Lancelot stand in their battle positions, the other knights and Angeline watching.

“Let us see what you are capable of, Sir Christopher!” Sir Lancelot demands. “Give me everything you’ve got!”

“That is what I seek to achieve; O, Knight of the Lake!” Says Christopher.

Sir Lancelot smiles for a moment… a rare occurrence it was for a smirk to cross the mighty knight’s face… he was impressed.

Sir Lancelot then charges forward, so does Christopher. Their blades clang together, making the air around them ring. Slashes after slashes soon follow, before Sir Lancelot suddenly disappears in a flash…

“Chaos—!” Sir Lancelot exclaims, before getting got off.

“Punishment?” Christopher questions, now guarding as Arondight’s blade collided with his own.

Sir Lancelot scoffs slightly, before striking down with Arondight once more. The hedgehog disappears again, the reappears elsewhere, summoning Chaos Spears.

Christopher turns just in time to defend himself from the spears. Sir Lancelot strikes again… time feels like it’s going a mile a minute… until it suddenly wasn’t.

The winds swiftly pick up as the sounding of galloping horseshoes hit the ground… or, somehow, the air.

A dark horse adorned in armor appears before Sir Lancelot and Christopher, zipping past them in a flash. The horse eventually finds its way to the ground, allowing everyone there to see the man atop the steed.

A bulky figure adorned in heavy armor sits atop the horse, his brightly colored slits that were his eyes peering from the eyes holes in his helmet. Dark mist surrounds the figure, a vapor that made him appear not of high standing… but a demon from the very depths of Hell.

“King Arthur!” Sir Lancelot exclaims as he gets one knee before the king. The other knights follow suit… so do Christopher and Angeline, despite how unruly he appeared…

“My liege…” Says Angeline.

King Arthur then turns to face Christopher, squinting his eyes. “…Is that the knight-in-training you told me about?”

…Christopher doesn’t like his tone of voice at all… he said it so venomously…

“Yes, my liege.” Says Sir Percival. “We have trained him well… we would say that he is even up to par with us.”

King Arthur turns away from Sir Percival and back to Christopher… his gaze reeking of suspicion.

“…Then fight me, Sir Knight.” Says King Arthur. “Show me that you are capable of being among my grand knights.”

Christopher, although taken aback, draws his blade… “I shall prove myself to you, my King.” He says.

The knights and Angeline then appear shocked. “Sir Christopher! Wait!” Sir Percival shouts.

“Silence!” Says King Arthur as his eyes squint again, as if he was happy that the new knight was willing to prove himself. “If he wishes to prove himself, so be it…”

His steed then lifts itself into the air, and circles the area… before King Arthur comes back down, glowing in bright red aura, his large blade glowing a sinister orange.

Christopher is barely prepared for fast the King was returning, barely able to block the attack. Despite his barely successful block, the power of the attack sends him flying across the field. The others gasp in shock…

He was not ready.

Before Christopher can get back up and recover, King Arthur comes back down again, his blade still glowing. Christopher barely dodges, and gets to his feet, which tremble and struggle to keep him up.

“I thought my knights had trained you well! What is this?” King Arthur taunts.

Christopher doesn’t even retort back as he runs and stands before the king. The king then readies himself, his eyes still squinted in anticipation, before his sword glows again. Just as the king swings, Christopher swings back.

Their blades clash, again and again, before King Arthur is thrown off, finally giving Christopher room to attack. He slashes the King’s armor, seemingly hurting him… before the King suddenly grabs Christopher by the neck and holds him up to his face… he tucks his sword away and pulls out a small scabbard…

As Christopher struggles to breathe, a bright aura emanates around the king. “…I am immortal.” Says the King. “You cannot defeat me… no matter what you try.”

The King then throws Christopher off, causing both the swordsman and sword to hit the floor.

“Christopher!” Angeline cries as she rushes over to the swordsman.

As Angeline gets to her knees in front of Christopher, the other knights also at his side. King Arthur looks to the group with a stern glare.

“If you wish to fight again, find me in Faraway Avalon.” Says King Arthur, placing his sword away. “…Or, you can wallow in the pitiful mess that is your swordsmanship.”

The steed finds itself in the air again, and King Arthur sees himself off, just as Christopher rises up to his bottom.

“Are you alright?” Angeline asks.

“…I’m fine…” Says Christopher, sounding strained.

“But you were hit.” Says Sir Percival.

“…I am alright, Sir Percival.” Says Christopher. “If only I could hit him…”

“He has Excalibur’s scabbard.” Says Sir Lancelot. “He can’t be wounded.”

“…T-then how I am supposed to beat him again?” Christopher asks.

“…It would be ill advised.” Says Sir Percival. “It is not easy to win a fight against him… if anyone can anymore.”

“…It is oddly unfair of a knight like him… to cheat with a scabbard like that.” Says Christopher. “My mother told me of stories where he was wise and just… praised by all…”

“…He has changed, Sir Christopher.” Says Sir Percival. “…He isn’t who he used to be…”

“…And yet you don’t try to stop him?” Christopher asks. “Why?”

“The King’s orders are absolute.” Says Sir Lancelot.

“…Whether we like it or not.” Says Sir Gawain.

“Without loyalty to the King…” Sir Percival pauses. “We are nothing…”

…Christopher begins to ponder of the King… the tales he heard, and how untrue they felt… that was not the King of the kingdom of Camelot once knew…

“…What happened do the King?” Christopher asks.

“…We aren’t sure…” Says Sir Perceval. “He returned after a hearty battle he was injured from with Excalibur’s scabbard and…”

“He lost himself…” Says Sir Lancelot. “He summoned knights from the deepest reaches of Hell, and let them loose…”

“…If the scabbard had made him immortal…” Christopher began. “…Then was he corrupted by it?”

The knights then go silent… it was the only foreseeable option.

“…He is a threat to the kingdom, and yet you stand by? You say you are for the kingdom and it’s people when you act as underlings for a tyrant?”

“Sir Christopher, please—!” Sir Percival pleas, before getting cut off.

“How dare you!” Sir Gawain butts in, while Sir Lancelot only snarls at the swordsman.

“And yet you deny it… I am right, aren’t I not?” Christopher asks. “You have done nothing about the King, and for what? To keep your dignity? When other people, your people, are in danger because of the very man you’ve sworn your allegiance to? I thought there was more to being a knight than serving a King?”

The knights go silent again… and before any of them can throw a rebuttal, Christopher stands tall.

“…I wanted to learn from you to be able to protect my kingdom… my people… and I learned from tyrants…” Christopher begins. “I will fix your mistake… the King must be taken down…”

Everyone looks to the swordsman in an unanimous shock.

“We forbid you from doing such a thing!” Says Sir Gawain.

“…What about you?” Says Angeline, breaking her silence. “You’ll be despised… a slayer of Kings…”

Christopher turns back to Angeline, putting his sword under his arm, and takes her hands. “…It is what I must do, Angeline.” Says Christopher. “This kingdom still won’t be safe if I show him mercy. He will still be here, to lurk in the shadows, devise schemes against the kingdom… bring upon further destruction then he already has… I cannot stand by, and watch this man hurt my people… understand me when I say I’m doing this for the kingdom… and you.”

…Reluctantly, Angeline accepts… she knew it was what he had to do…

Like what he did in the woods, it was he had to do…

Their kingdom, their people, were all in danger… it had to be done, right?

Christopher turns back to face the knights. “Where is Faraway Avalon?” He asks.

“It is an island across Camelot Castle…” Says Angeline. “You would have to get there by boat.”

“You side with the traitor, Angeline?” Asks Sir Lancelot.

“It is necessary!” Says Angeline.

“…Admit it. You fear the losses he could face, just as much as we do. He’d be nothing if he committed this act.” Says Sir Lancelot.

“You speak of that as if I’d care.” Says Christopher, before Angeline could even retort.

Christopher then speeds past the knights, hurrying toward the nearest dock he can find.

“Wait!” Says Angeline, quickly following after Christopher. “Let me be alongside you!”

The knights follow suit… all of them rushing to the same place… the knights attempting to attack Christopher, but losing him in the chase…

—

'It was days before I had finally reached Avalon… but I got there…'

'The island was decorated with a castle hall-like structure, the late afternoon sun beaming against the hall’s pedestals. It was all that was between me and King Arthur…'

'Before she grabbed my hand…'

“Wait!” Angeline cries, grabbing Christopher’s hand.

“What?” Christopher questions as he turns back to face Angeline. “Angeline? How did—!”

“Let me be alongside you!” Says Angeline. “I want to be with you!”

“…You cannot watch me this time, Angeline.” Says Christopher. “Wait here. I shall return victorious.”

Christopher then leans in, and softly kisses Angeline on the cheek. Her face goes bright red as Christopher backs away.

“…I promise.” Says Christopher, smiling softly.

Before Christopher hurries off, Angeline tightly wraps her arms around the swordsman… Christopher hugs her back.

“Good luck. Be safe.” Says Angeline.

“I will.” Says Christopher, still smiling softly.

He then runs off into the castle hall of Faraway Avalon, ready for his rematch…

—

“King Arthur!” Christopher calls. “I am here for our rematch!”

King Arthur’s steed turns back to the swordsman. He bares the same barren yet eager look from before.

“I was waiting for you. I had an inkling you’d come here.” Says King Arthur. “It seems you feel not an ounce of self pity… that’s alright. It just makes it more sweeter to see you lose.”

“I am not losing.” Says Christopher. “Not again.”

King Arthur can only laugh in Christopher’s face as his steed gallops off.

“…An act of cowardice?” Christopher asks himself. He then hurries after the King…

Although, he’s too fast… he can’t keep up with him, no matter how hard he tries.

As Christopher stops, being out of breath, King Arthur suddenly comes flying back toward the swordsman. Christopher dodges, although barely. The King’s shadow then passes directly over Christopher, landing swiftly back onto the ground and rushing off again. Christopher gets back up and chases after the king again…

Although, he is suddenly paralyzed. Violet threads of electricity slam down onto the ground, a few of them striking Christopher in the process. Christopher then falls to the ground, breathing heavily… despite that, he still gets back up on his feet.

As he runs, a portal seems to appear in front of King Arthur’s steed… and another appear before Christopher as the King’s hand emerges from it, Deathcalibur in it’s grip. The deadly sword slashes around, barely hitting Christopher as he blocks the attack.

…Christopher continues his chase, until King Arthur summons spheres of his own essence… causing Christopher to halt and fall to the ground, out of breath and terribly weakened.

King Arthur then looks back to the knight… he almost felt bad for him. “…And we’ve only just started… I pity you. And so should you.” He says. “…Why don’t we make this a bit more fair?”

King Arthur then flies off of his steed and charges toward Christopher. Just as the King approaches, Christopher lifts his blade up to block the King’s attack. The two blades stay clashed together, King Arthur’s blade barely touching Christopher’s neck.

“…You simply do not know when to quit.” Says King Arthur. “Do you not know how the kingdom will view you once I’ve been slain by your nameless blade? …They will loathe you. You will chastised out of this kingdom. Your image will forever be tainted with my blood…”

“…I do not care about that… I care about my home!” Says Christopher.

“Then why do you persist?” Asks King Arthur. “Why do you keep this up, when you know what will happen to you!? When you know that you could lose everything!?”

“Because this is my home, and my people! If your very knights won’t keep them safe, then I shall do uphold peace for them!” Says Christopher. “This is what I must do! For my home! For my people! For my kingdom, that I will NOT LET YOU TAKE AWAY FROM ME!!”

Suddenly, a bright golden glow surrounds the area. King Arthur is flung away, while Christopher stays rooted to his spot in the ground, his eyes firmly shut.

Christopher peeks upon an eye just a smidge… to immediately see his blade surrounded in a beautiful pristine aura… one that would match the very power of Excalibur itself.

Christopher then becomes completely covered in a blinding white light… he opens his eyes to see pieces of fantastical golden armor surrounding him. The plates of metal slam themselves onto the silver armor that Christopher bore. And his blade, once again, becomes enveloped in an aura… transforming into something greater than anyone could expect.

The greatest of any Sacred Sword that resided in the kingdom of Camelot… Excalibur.

The blade began to settle in Christopher’s hands as his eyes settled upon the blade. A small crown sat upon the weapon’s crossguard, which was also spread out. Surrounding the blade itself was a golden Celtic pattern, centering the blade in all its glory.

The glow finally dissipates, allowing King Arthur to finally witness Excalibur’s might, a newfound motivation, a force of will, filling the swordsman… only for him to scoff at it.

“You can fight me with that blade all you wish,” King Arthur begins. “But you will never see my end!” The King then hops back onto his steed and hurries away.

“…Not unless I retrieve your scabbard.” Christopher says sternly.

Christopher then rushes toward the King, swiftly noticing his increased speed as he begins to levitate off the ground. As he begins to adjust to this new power, King Arthur launches over him again, to which Christopher responds by hovering to the right of the attack, successfully dodging.

“I now your tricks now, tyrant!” Christopher exclaims. “You cannot run away forever!”

“Try to best me all you like!” Says King Arthur. “Whether it be through your tongue or your blade, you shall not strike me down!”

“We’ll see about that now, won’t we?” Christopher questions slyly.

As King Arthur continues to hurry off, Christopher reaches his side… right where Excalibur’s scabbard lay.

Christopher puts a hand out, lifting up the visor of his armor to properly see it, trying to reach for the scabbard…

Although, he doesn’t notice that King Arthur has once again raised Deathcalibur…

Directly above Christopher’s waist.

As Christopher barely reaches for the scabbard, time seems to slow as he suddenly feels a sharp, deep pain directly over his waist.

…Christopher can only watch in utter horror as King Arthur victoriously glares down at his body as he and Excalibur slowly fall to the ground.

“…What did I tell you?” King Arthur asks. “You cannot defeat me… and you won’t even get to live to bask in my glory… a shame, really.”

Christopher can only stare at the victorious King, completely lost for words as his body falls to the ground with a loud clang…

As he can feel his life force fading from him… he sees King Arthur hurry off on his steed, and Excalibur slowly losing its golden luster.

…The silence takes over, and Christopher is left completely alone…. No one to spend his last moments with. No one to cling to as he dies in their arms.

Just as he had been before meeting Angeline… his dear Angel…

…Alone…

—

Angeline waits, a faded and uncertain smile on her face…

…Where was Christopher?

“Angeline!!” A voice calls. Angeline looks back.

She sees the Round Table knights, hurrying toward her. After a moment, they all finally approach the woman, questioning looks hidden by their visors.

“Where is Christopher?” Asks Sir Percival.

“Be weary, for if you fail to comply… you will be charged with treason, and sentenced to death.” Sir Gawain threatens.

Before Angeline can answer, the galloping of horseshoes is heard. The knights look up and bow, while Angeline only looks up in horror. King Arthur lands to the ground, and stares unto them before speaking.

“The traitor has lost.” Says King Arthur. “He is dead.”

Angeline sharply gasps and covers her mouth in fear, while the knights only repress their grief and shock… even if he turned against the knights and defied the King… they couldn’t help but silently grieve. They were his teachers… people he bonded with, until he learned the truth.

…Angeline, on the other hand, was completely overrun by her emotions. Tears formed in her eyes as she hurried into the walls of Avalon, desperately clinging to possibility that he was still there… that the King was lying.

Arthur doesn’t even stop her… as if he wanted to let her see him…

“Christopher!?” Angeline cries, her sobs leaking through her voice as she calls. “Christopher!?”

Angeline continues to call out the poor soul’s name… until she finally finds him…

Angeline can only stare at the sight in horror… all she sees of Christopher is a bisected armored corpse, laying limp and lifeless on the ground, blood having pooled next to him.

“…No…” Angeline begs. “No… this isn’t… this isn’t what was…”

Angeline approaches the corpse, only begging that this was just some horrifying nightmare. She gets to her knees and nudges the body, only to be met with the ice cold chill covering it…

The desperate lady begins to softly sob… which descends into a maddening cry from the deepest depths of Angeline’s sorrow.

All she can do is cry over her love’s body… all hope of him still being alive lost, and replaced with a heartbreaking, soul crushing despair…

—

An assumption of life after death is silence and darkness… a space with no depth, existence without noise… completely void of the life the soul once saw…

So bleak and depressing, although it wouldn’t make you cry… you’d wallow in it. Wallow in your sorrows until this existence faded with the rest of it.

The young swordsman believes life is over, and there is no returning to it…

Although… a small amount of will propels him forward…

~~~

…The sounds of bird’s chirping and wind blowing catches then suddenly enter swordsman’s senses… along with a feeling that his senses are no longer lost…

If he could just…

…Open his eyes…

Christopher opens his eyes, blinking for a moment before adjusting to the sudden brightness of Camelot’s Summer afternoon.

“…I-it’s so bright…” He says, his voice sounding raspy due to lack of use.

All he sees is a misty river just below what appears to be large cliff… he tries to get to his feet…

But he can’t.

He feels rooted to the ground, as if his boots were welded to the stone below him… he tried to move his limbs… yet it felt like he had none… all he could do was shimmy on the rock…

“…W-why— why can’t I move?” Christopher asks himself. “What—!”

“Welcome back.” Says a calm voice.

“Who is there!?” Christopher asks. “Why can’t I move? What kind of sick trick is this?”

Suddenly, a small reflecting pool appears before Christopher, revealing to him what had happened to him… he was swiftly caught off guard.

His limbs and body were completely gone… all of anything that remained of him was his face, now reduced to a pair of eyes and a mouth… the vessel he was now reigning was no longer human…

But rather… a sword… the very sword he had used in his last moments with the King.

“…I-I don’t— I don’t understand…” Says Christopher. “This is some illusion, I swear it!”

“It is all real, Sir Christopher.” Says the voice again, now standing next to the talking sword so he can see her… making her instantly recognizable.

A pink hedgehog dressed in a blue gown, among other teal and turquoise adornments.

“…T-The Lady of the Lake!?” Christopher exclaims. “What are you— what am I—!?”

“Everything will be alright.” Says the Lady of the Lake, Nimue. “I will explain.”

“…Forgive me for my words, but please do.” Says Christopher, desperation and confusion clouding his tone.

“…Your soul has guided you to this new vessel. Your strong will has allowed you another chance at living.” Says Nimue. “You are now a sentient weapon, the one to decide who is worthy of the crown…”

Christopher appears taken aback by the sudden news, but he tries to keep himself collected. “…Forgive me, but I do not understand… I am to choose the King? How?”

“Read them.” Says Nimue. “Their touch will allow you to read their souls. You will find the true King, I am certain.”

“…A replacement for Arthur?” Asks Christopher.

“Yes.” Says Nimue. “A King truly worthy of the crown. A knight of pure heart and courage.”

“…I am— I am honored, lady Nimue.” Says Christopher, still sounding shocked. “I will take this second chance with grace… and make you proud. It is for my kingdom… and I would do anything to protect it.”

“I am grateful.” Says Nimue. “And I wish good luck unto you.”

“I appreciate the gesture, my lady.” Says Christopher.

Just as Christopher finishes his sentence, Nimue disappears, leaving to take in his responsibility in solitude.

…It all felt so stressful… it put a lot of pressure on Christopher… to decide who is most worthy of the crown?

…Despite the odd anxiety of it all, he would take his duty to heart. He would follow it for however long it may take… he’d make this kingdom proud…

“…Oh, Christopher…” Said a new, familiar voice.

Before Christopher says a word, he takes a listen…

“…I truly wish you were here right now…” Says the voice. “I can only be grateful the King let me bury you at all… but… if only I could just… be given a sign that you were here…”

…It was Angeline… he had to call out to her…

“…Angeline.” Says Christopher, loud enough so that she could possibly hear him. “Angeline!”

Angeline turns head back to face the sword that lay within the eroding stones of the Misty Lake… it was when his training had first began. Where his journey to knighthood rooted back to… where else could she have put the sword as a tombstone, if not here, to honor his legacy as a knight… King Arthur wouldn’t let her place his grave in Avalon anyway.

“…Christopher?” Angeline asks, now looking to the sword.

“Angeline!” Says Christopher, shimmying in his spot a bit. “I am here!”

…Angeline then grows suspicious of the shimmying sword, but slowly approaches it.

“Grab my grip!” Says Christopher.

“…'Your' grip?” Asks Angeline.

“Yes!” Says Christopher. “Tug upward!”

Angeline looks down at the sword’s grip, appear in uncertain… what did Christopher have to do with any of this? Could it free him? …Bring him back?

…She grabs hold of the grip… and tugs. Tugs with as much strength as she can muster… but to no avail, as she is unable to pull the sword from the stone.

“…I don’t understand…” Says Christopher. “I’m certain she’d make a great ruler…”

Angeline looks back down at the sword… was it actually speaking?

She looks down at the sword’s front… and is swiftly met with ocean blue eyes staring back at her… she gasps and only looks on at the now startled sword.

“…Christopher?” Asks Angeline.

Christopher’s face eventually softens to a small smile. “I am here, my Angel.” He says.

Angeline’s mouth curls into a small smile before faltering, now appearing confused. “…What happened to you? Are you trapped in there? Do I need to get you out?”

“No, no! I’m alright.” Christopher says reassuringly. “…I am aware this will be confusing, but trust me!”

Angeline hums in confirmation… giving Christopher the permission he needed.

“…I saw the Lady of the Lake… she had said my soul, my will power, gave me another chance at life.” Says Christopher. “And now, I have a grand role to play… decide the one who shall replace King Arthur as the rightful King.”

“…Oh, my…” Says Angeline. “…That is a major responsibility… but I’m certain you could do it. A-and you saw the lady Nimue?”

“Indeed.” Says Christopher. “She was very polite.”

“…Hm…” Angeline then hums in thought. “If you are meant to find the true King, why don’t I gather some villagers from around the kingdom? Surely one of them must be the King!”

“…Possibly.” Says Christopher. “There are a lot of people in the kingdom. It’s worth a try.”

“…It very much is, Christopher.” Says Angeline.

As Christopher hears his name again, he thinks to himself… is such a name worth being the title of sacred weapon? It just felt so… basic… what kind of sword had such a name?

“…Maybe I could go by a different name?” Asks Christopher. “‘Christopher' just doesn’t feel like a proper name befitting a Sacred Sword…”

“…Caliburn?” Angeline asks.

“My surname?” Christopher asks.

“Yes.” Says Angeline. “It represents you… it is you. I believe it would be important to keep a bit of yourself alive, right? You may be in a new body, but you are still you… it even sounds more befitting.”

Christopher then ponders over the name, and her reasoning behind it… and a small smile grows on his face. “…I like that name…” He says. “Caliburn…”

'After our initial exchange, Angeline went around finding those who were willing to have their hearts be tested. Many tried, but none achieved what they hoped… no matter how certain I felt they would be a perfect fit.'

'Even when the visits had died down, Angeline still came to visit. We would talk for hours, learn more about one another… but, suddenly, she stopped showing up…'

'…Then I remembered she had started to fall ill after the visits had mostly ceased, and that a new illness was in the air… I feared the worst when she had stopped coming by… and I never saw her step foot in the Misty Lake again after her most recent visit…'

'I remained in that stone for five years… a period that felt like an eternity, only to me…'

~~~

“And then I found you. And read your soul.” Says Caliburn.

“And?” Sonic asks… it felt there was more Caliburn wanted to say.

“…I was confused.” Says Caliburn. “I picked you, and you were nothing like I thought the true King would be. You were bashful, crass, snarky, and barely trained in swordsmanship, everything I felt a knightly King wasn’t… I just couldn’t see what I was missing for the longest time…”

“…What were you missing?” Sonic asks.

A small, soft smile crosses Caliburn’s face. “…I had an epiphany during your bout with Merlina.”

“…Yeah?” Sonic questions.

“…I didn’t take notice of your strong will.” Says Caliburn. “The very strength of your will is what rekindled Excalibur… despite how snarky and cocky you are, you still had what I had… you don’t care what others say about you. You don’t mind having to play the role of a bad person… you do what you believe is right for the sake of others.”

“Yep.” Says Sonic. “It’s just how I roll.”

“We share the same morals. Same goals.” Says Caliburn, still smiling. “Despite how uncertain I was, a part of me knew that you would make a wonderful King… You have much assisted me, Sonic. I don’t regret my time with you one bit.”

“…Yeah.” Says Sonic as he then smiles softly and turns to face Caliburn. “I don’t regret my time with you either.”

Silence then covers the Woods… before Sonic breaks it with a slight chuckle.

“…It’s kinda weird… Kinda like ya said, we both got our own rules, and they’re mostly the same…” Says Sonic. “It’s kinda like— like you’re my double in this world or somethin'.”

Caliburn hums. “…An odd thought… and yet, it doesn’t feel untrue.”

“Yeah.” Says Sonic.

As the sun passes over the Deep Woods and to the horizon, Sonic thinks over Caliburn’s story.

…It wouldn’t surprise him if Caliburn was in some way like his double in this storybook world... As he said, Sonic was like him. A lot like him, even if it wasn’t one to one. Caliburn was still a gentleman, Sonic was still crass… and despite that, in a sense, they were doubles. Two people sharing similar mindsets to one another…

…It kind of gave him an odd sense of deja vu when he thought about it…

As the last bit of sunlight fell over the Deep Woods, and Sonic had begun his return to the castle… he had new found knowledge of Caliburn. It wasn’t what he necessarily meant by 'getting to know him', but he took it nonetheless. Caliburn’s tale was a nice one anyway.

As Sonic rushes through the Woods, he spots a few leaves brush past him… it was odd, there was no change in the wind that he could feel.

…Although, Caliburn knew exactly what it was as he spots the leaves, which hovered over to his face.

“…Hello, Angeline…” Says Caliburn, quiet enough to where Sonic couldn’t hear him.

As the hedgehog and Sacred Sword exit the woods… Caliburn can hear a greeting returned back to him…

Even in death, they never part.

- END -

[allthelittlecreepycrawlies]

Time for another incredibly indulgent post on the incredibly indulgent blog and if you didn't see this crossover coming already, you haven't been here long.

Anyway. Awhile back, I mentioned in an ask response that one of the stupidly indulgent things I would love to do is rewrite an old request to more blatantly be a crossover (since the only outside-one-canon character that appeared was my player character, it didn't much count, because she was easy to disguise), so here's an extension of the concept! (Also, most of my followers on this blog are from the MDZS side, so my GW2 reference links are for them. Cool? Cool.)

Gorrik and Taimi (the two pipsqueaks on the right) with assistance from a very understanding Commander and Shade (my sylvari twin girls) venture into The Mists to see if there's anything left of Blish's golem body that can be recovered for a memorial. They find the right area, but it's super wrecked from when Kralkatorrik arrived. Gorrik insists on searching anyway, and the others aren't going to tell him no.

Because the Dragonbrand in Ascalon and Elona didn't just vanish when Kralkatorrik died, I'm assuming his magic has some ontological inertia, so a Brandstorm kicks up while the small group is searching. Gorrik and Taimi get separaed from the Sisters and wind up getting tossed by the winds through a small rift.

Dazed, disoriented, and possibly injured, the pair drag themselves out of the bushes they landed in, only to find they've landed next to a hunting camp inhabited by a bunch of humans who look and dress somewhat similar to Canthans.

(cut to spare dashboard scrolling)

Either by magic or by sheer luck, there's (barely) enough language similarity for Taimi to (sort of) tell these strangers that they're not monsters or looking for a fight, that there's been an accident and they just want to go home.

The humans confer amongst themselves before one is sent off to grab-

"Reinforcements?" "Just their leader... I think. I hope."

Meanwhile, Nie Huaisang has been having a very weird week thanks to reports of strange purple lights and lightning in otherwise cloudless skies. Given the particular colors, he's still contemplating whether or not to contact the Jiang sect about this when a messenger arrives from the camp on the southeast side of the mountains, saying that two weird small creatures fell out of one of the holes made by the purple lightning and are asking for parley... sort of.

Curious despite himself, Nie Huaisang saddles up a horse and follows him back.

Those are indeed small weird creatures. But he's willing to hear them out, since they waited without trying to flee or attack his disciples.

It takes a combo of talking, little tiny glowing pictures coming out of the creatures' gauntlets, and drawing pictures on paper, but he manages to work out most of the story.

And... well... if anyone can understand being a younger brother desperate to bring even the tiniest piece of his big brother home, it's Nie Huaisang.

An arrangement is made where, as long as they don't make trouble and help with the unwanted light shows, Gorrik and Taimi can stay in a little-used room of the Unclean Realms while they try to find their way home or wait for rescue, since they're adamant that the Sisters will not just leave them.

And their conviction proves accurate. Only two weeks later, two more strangers arrive at the gates of the Unclean Realms. One woman(?) resembles a flower vine and the other the aftermath of a forest fire, but their faces are identical down to a mirrored burn scar.

Taimi and Gorrik are overjoyed and relieved to see them, and introduce the Nies to their Commander (the forest fire) and Shade (the flower vine), Cloeme and Sinnigia, who were assisted in getting there by Aurene, who is waiting to bring everyone home.

Nie Huaisang is caught off guard when Cloeme (having been told by Taimi) mentions his brother and the fact that Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao's fierce corpses are still trapped together in the coffin under the rebuilt temple.

"Would you like me to guide them on their way?" she asks, or he thinks she asks, since her and her sister's accents are even more difficult to understand than the creatu- asuras'.

"You... can do that?"

"I would be willing to try. I have some experience with the unusual when it comes to death," she says with a smile, prompting a snort from her twin and winces from the asuras.

"That's extremely generous of you, isn't it?" Nie Huaisang notes, unable to keep himself from being wary.

"Not at all. Your kindness-" Hahaha, when was the last time anyone called him kind and not in the 'too stupid to know better' way? "-means that we have two less names to memorialize. Two souls for two souls, hm?"

Well...

Well, then.

He's not so sure he wants to let Jin Guangyao move on, but if the Commander's "unusual experience" and the oddities of Tyrian magic can solve the problem he's found no solution to, who is he to look a gift horse in the mouth?

He takes the offer.

[liminalpebble]

The Refugee: Chapter 19

(A/N: This is a very smutty chapter. You know the drill, 18+ readers only.) 

Masterlist

Lea began to toss, turn, and whimper in the silky sheets, until she screamed and sat bolt upright, propelled by her nightmare. Loki woke with a start and sat up by her side.

“Lenora, darling, come on, wake up. You're having a nightmare.”

With a sharp inhale and a few blinks, she looked around the room, disoriented. She began to heave quick ragged breaths. Loki sat up beside her, looping one arm behind her and settling one large palm over her chest, just below her collarbone.

With the most serene version of his silky voice that he could summon, he said, “Breathe in...deep breath...lift my hand. Good. Now exhale, all the way. Good girl.”

She looked to him as she came down to reality. “I'm sorry, Loki,” she said, looking mortified by her outburst.

“No no no. Don't be sorry. I'm glad I was here,” he said stroking her hair out of her face and cooling her hot skin with his hands. “You were dreaming of when you were fleeing?” He said, looking both concerned and guilty.

“Yes. I think working with the refugees yesterday affected me more than I realized.”

“It would get to anyone,” he said, rubbing little circles onto her back.

She nodded, grateful for his understanding. She realized it was late morning. She sank back down into the sea of bedclothes and Loki sank with her, perching on his elbow over her to watch her face. She couldn't take her eyes off of him. There was something especially magnetic about him today. His freshly cleaned hair hadn't yet been oiled back and hung in gentle waves, smelling faintly of his soap; mint and pine. His eyes were sleepy and red-ringed from the trying day before and being startled into waking life, accentuating the pale aquatic jade of his irises. He seemed transparent today; defenseless and strangely merciful. Magnus described Loki as loving and thoughtful in his youth. Until this moment, she could never quite reconcile that with the very damaged man before her. In this moment though, when his first impulse was to lead her patiently out of her nightmares, she could see it with astounding clarity.

She realized, with abrupt heart-aching intensity, that she wanted him close. Lea wondered if it was the storm of her nightmares and the safe harbor of his arms that lured her to him, or perhaps she had finally fallen under his spell like everyone and everything else. The fact remained, solid and immovable as bedrock. She wanted him, but she still didn't dare to move closer, wondering sensibly and cautiously which version of him she might get. She tried valiantly to think of something else, anything else. “Don't you need to prepare a royal address on the situation today?”

He seemed to snap out of his own dreamy reveries at her question. “Ah...I will, but not until this evening. The cabinet knows about the long night so many of us had, so they're letting all of us rest.”

She nodded, comforted that the situation, whatever it was, was at least manageable enough to let their emperor have a lie in. She tried to formulate more questions to avoid her lust and focus her mind. “Do you suspect new developments with the Heksejotun this time or....”

“Lea...” He turned her face to his. “I don't want to talk about that right now, and I don't think you do either.” He smiled knowingly and ran the satiny pads of his fingers idly along her collarbone.

“You are an obnoxiously perceptive man.”

“God...my love...god of mischief and lies. Which, conveniently lets me see the truth of things. And you, my sweet little empress, want me desperately.” He paused to reach out one of those enchanting fingers to gently tap her nose.“You have no idea how badly I've wanted to taste every inch of you again,” he growled low and sweet, dipping his head to begin kissing her neck, delicately but voraciously.

“You were unusually patient and selfless yesterday,” she admitted, breath hitching a little. “It's rather out of character, don't you think?”

“I would like to hope it's becoming a part of my character.” He looked at her seriously now, “I know you think no one really changes another person, but I think that a person...a really good, clever, brave, beautiful person can motivate someone to change themselves for the better.”

“Pretty words, God of Lies, but I'm in the long process of collecting evidence of that. It takes a lot to convince me.” This time she tapped his nose with her finger, then said sadly, “And she's not that clever and beautiful, and she can be a terrible coward.”

He felt the sting of remorse, and she was shocked to see it written plainly in his face. “I'm so sorry I called you that. What ugly things I've said and done to you.”

For a moment she was too dumbstruck by the genuine tone of his apology to formulate a response. “True. You were horrible. But you weren't wrong, Loki. That's what made it horrible...the kernel of truth. I am a coward.”

“I was wrong, Lenora. I was,” He said with a desperate sort of gravity. The words felt new and alien in his mouth. “It's not cowardice when you've had so many good reasons to be afraid, and I know I'm the biggest one of all.”

“I'm not afraid of you,” she said with a kind of forced bravado, meaning it almost as an insult, however it was true in this precise moment. For the first time, she really wasn't afraid of him.

He could read the truth in her words and it galvanized him with joy and longing for her like never before. Finally, she wasn't afraid. He said, breathless with desire, “Maybe you should be, my brave little empress, because I'm ravenous and I'm about to make a meal of you,” as he returned his starved lips to her warm neck. He roved over her skin, eager to bite and suck every edge of her buxom little form. He was delighted to hear her little gasps and sighs as he mouthed at the ample flesh of her breasts, nipped along her collarbone and the crest of her hips. He gathered her long nightdress up hastily and began to nip the tender skin of her inner thighs.

To her own surprise she stopped him, sitting up to reach over for the collar of his pajamas, pulling him sharply by the fabric to kiss her. He chuckled as their mouths met, intrigued and delighted by the pugnacious turn of events. Her little tongue flicked and curled around his. Her plush lips caught his in forceful sucks. That dark new urge crested and roiled inside her, a combative urge for power over him, tucked within her lust and the thrill of temporary fearlessness. She craved some small revenge for his cruelty. She whispered in his ear, “kneel, you bastard,” and he groaned loudly in delight.

He obliged, sitting back on his heels, eagerly awaiting her. She shoved his chest, pushing him off balance until he tumbled down beneath her, laying flat on his back. When she lowered her lips to the thick sanguine tip of his cock, kissing it, tasting the wetness there, making little laps of her tongue, she felt like a goddess dictating a mortal's every move. She ran her teeth lightly over the thick length of his incredibly sensitive skin and he hissed. She sucked hard and he clutched the sheets. As she circled the top or licked languidly up the back of it, he whimpered helplessly. She was looking forward to stopping abruptly and making him whine in frustration, but she felt his powerful hand begin to clench into her hair, and tug lightly with a growl; a harbinger of the changing tide of control. In a flash, her little wave of insubordination and fearlessness fled from her as quickly as it took her. She didn't have it in her to be actually cruel, but he certainly did. She realized he was about to gain the advantage and it made her suddenly nervous.

“Oh you are adorable when you try to conquer, little empress,” he purred out and then his voice lowered saying, “but you have no idea the fire you're playing with.” Her mouth was paradise and he was sorely tempted to be rough with her in this position. He had the urge to buck and push into her mouth forcefully, as he had always done with other lovers, but he was careful not to scare or hurt Lenora...his Lenora. He had never had a gentle lover before, nor had he been one in return, but she made him want to be. Even when she tried not to be, she was gentle, generous, loving. It charmed him. He cradled her face and pulled her away from him.

 “You're remarkable, so sweet and full of surprises.” He sat up to kiss her, relishing his own faint taste on her mouth.

She quipped with annoyance, “I wasn't trying to be sweet. I was trying to...”

“I know,” he said lightly. “but I loved it, and you liked that I loved it.”  

She huffed, “It's very unfair that you can read my mind, and I can't read yours.”

He shrugged. “Life's not fair, kitten,” he quipped back as he pushed her suddenly onto her back. He kissed just behind her ear, then whispered into it, in his silkiest tone, “admit it, darling, you love it when I win...when I conquer you.”

He slid his hand between her legs, swiftly pushing two long fingers inside as his thumb kneaded hard little circles on her clit. She arched up, gripping him on the inside.

“Now, are you going to pretend you're not desperate to have my cock inside of you? Because I'm not.”

“You arrogant...” her words were lost in an exhilarated gasp as a hard thrust of his cock filled her up with exactly the delicious aching pleasure she craved.

“Now I'm going to ravish you, and if you want to come, you're going to scream my name.”

He held her beneath him, hands over her wrists, bucking his hard length deftly inside of her.

“Say my name, little queen.”

“Loki....” She gasped.

“Louder, darling,” he teased.

“Loki!” she said, a little louder, eager to obey.  

“Again” he ordered.

“Ah. Loki! Lokiiii!” She moaned in a dulcet ecstatic tone.

“Let go, Lenora. Give me all of what's mine.”

They both tumbled over the precipice in a long satisfying rush. They stayed together, shuddering and pulsing out the gratifying quakes. Finally he said, panting, “Not even close to screaming, but we'll practice.”

“You insatiable fucking narcissist,” she said head collapsing back on the pillow, as they both laughed.

@peaches1958 @lokisgoodgirl @goblingirlsarah @gigglingtigger @sweetsigyn  @unlucky-number-13

(thank you all for reading along!)

[casspurrjoybell-17]

Heart’s Choice - Chapter 38 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Safe in John's arms, I dream.

Occasionally, like some creature of the deep surfacing for a breath of air, I glimpse the waking world before slipping back beneath heavy waves of sleep.

These brief glimpses, like a series of disconnected snapshots, tell a disjointed tale, John almost flying through the night as he carries me far from the scene of terror, a red pickup truck and familiar voices raised in concern, a frantic phone call and finally the safety and comfort of John's bed.

After that, the glimpses grow less frequent, until only quiet darkness remains.

An unknown time later, consciousness creeps back, slow as the brightening sky at dawn.

At last, I open my eyes and find myself lying in an enormous bed, staring at the ceiling of an equally enormous room, neither of which I've ever seen before.

It beats waking up in a hospital, which is what I'd have expected after getting shot and losing most of my blood but still disorienting.

Rousing myself, I take stock.

I'm naked to the waist, dressed only in a pair of silk boxers.

They're not mine and probably cost at least three times as much as any pair I own.

Interestingly and alarmingly they're not John's style, either.

Neither is the rest of the room, from the ornate bed frame to the fine art hanging on the walls.

A bandage wraps my chest and left shoulder and from the concavity of my abdomen and the sharp definition of my hips, it looks like I've lost some weight.

Wondering how long I've been asleep, I sit up a little.

A painful pinch alerts me to the presence of an IV line trailing from the inside of my right elbow and leading to a bag of clear liquid hanging from a stand.

It looks like a saline drip but I'm clearly not in a hospital and without knowing for sure, I'd rather not have strange liquids entering my veins.

I start to peel off the tape holding it in place, when a smooth, vaguely familiar voice speaks close at hand.

"Do leave that in place. It's only electrolytes and hydration. You have my word."

Whipping my head towards the other side of the bed so quickly I nearly snap my own neck, I see David's powerful form reclining in a large, leather-upholstered chair.

He remains seated, perhaps so as not to alarm me and regards me with a sharp, blue-eyed gaze and what he probably thinks is a reassuring smile.

"You do that every time you wake up, you know. It's quite troublesome."

"Where am I?" my voice sounds thin and raspy in my own ears, as if I haven't used it recently, and my throat is painfully dry.

"You are at my penthouse apartment in San Francisco. John brought you here."

I sit up a little more, the sheets falling in a silky pool at my waist.

"Where is he? Is he here? Is he alright?"

Memories flash through my mind: the possession, Rafael and Rexi's demise, John sinking sharp teeth into my flesh, the strange sensation of floating as my life drained away and the demon's parting gift.

David watches me with predatory keenness, not missing so much as the flicker of an eyelash.

"John is in seclusion. Though he survived the transformation with his humanity intact, it is not an easy transition. Fortunately, the first few days are the most difficult and he is past that now. Challenges remain, however."

Exploring the side of my neck with a tentative touch, I discover another, smaller bandage taped over the place where John bit me.

"What kind of challenges?"

David rests his elbow on the arm of the chair and his chin on his hand.

"In embracing a full turn, John has essentially given up one life for another. A period of adjustment... of mourning even... is to be expected. He is fortunate to have you to anchor him. You have been fortunate as well, the infection has taken hold and you have come through the worst of it. You will recover and become as John was... neither human nor vampire but something in between."

Feeling strangely shy beneath David's gaze, I pull the silk sheet up to the base of my ribs and cast my restless gaze over the spacious room.

"How long have I been here?"

"Three days," he replies.

Rising slowly, he pours water from a pitcher on the bedside table into a tall glass and holds it out to me.

"It is four since the events at the theater. John called me the moment he reached his house, and I came as quickly as I could. You were in a coma by the time I arrived."

"A coma?" I nearly choke on a sip of water, spilling a bit down my chin, and glance at the IV bag, wondering if I ought to be in a hospital, after all.

"Are you a doctor?"

"I was once... little of my medical 'knowledge' would still be considered useful, I fear. But rest assured, you are in good hands. The coma is but a natural defense as the infection takes hold."

"Infection?"

He nods.

"Yes. Perhaps you have heard that there are tales of 'vampires' in many cultures around the world?"

Vaguely recalling something to that effect, I nod.

"And have you heard of the term 'recurrent evolution?'"

He's got me there.

"Re... what?"

"Recurrent evolution is the phenomenon of the same trait evolving multiple times in the same lineage, often in response to a similar problem or 'pressure.' Stripes, flight, adaptations towards a certain diet, climate, or environment, for example."

"Okay... and?"

"And 'vampirism' has 'evolved' many times, and in many forms, throughout history. You will find that you have more in common with some vampires than with others. The particular variety with which I, and now you and John, are afflicted, carries more hallmarks of the traditional, 'Old World' lore than some of the newer strains. I will not burst into flames if touched by sunlight but I do suffer from painful photosensitivity, as now will John."

"Can you turn into a bat?"

He arches an elegant brow at me.

"No. I do, however, require human blood in order to regenerate my own cells... which will continue to regenerate ad infinitum, so long as I feed, thus making me effectively immortal."

I swallow.

"Okay and what else?"

'Besides a penchant for explaining things like Mr. Spock.'

David rises and approaches the bed.

It takes an effort of will not to shrink away from him and to hold still when he reaches for the bandage on the side of my neck and peels off the tape holding it in place.

"Speed, strength, rapid healing," he murmurs, most of his attention on his task.

"You will share these gifts as well, though to a lesser degree."

Setting the bandage aside, he places two fingers alongside my jaw and gently turns my head so he can inspect the wound.

"Ah and here is proof... not even a scar. Now, let us see the rest."

I do my best not to shiver as he unwraps the bandages encircling my chest with his cold, pale fingers.

He nods, apparently pleased with what he sees.

"You may have 'inherited' an even stronger gift from John than he did from me but I suppose that is to be expected. You and he already shared a bond."

Looking down at myself, I see nothing but a small area of pink, freshly healed skin where Rexi's bullet entered my shoulder.

I crane my neck and inspect the back but find no corresponding exit wound.

"Fortunately, I was able to remove the bullet," David says, confirming my suspicion.

"However, we almost lost you again in the process. It was 'touch and go' as they say. It is a good thing you and John share such a strong bond but as with all good things, there is... a cost."

"What kind of cost?"

David withdraws his hand and shrugs.

"Sometimes, the greater the advantage, the longer the shadow it casts. Enhanced vision and eyes that see well at night result in a greater sensitivity to light, for example. This is why many but not all, vampires adopt a more nocturnal lifestyle."

I flinch, imagining John and I sleeping side by side in matching caskets.

"Do I need to go coffin shopping?"