#the first time i watching the Descent i could not sleep for weeks

[american-maryy]

Me: oh wow, i unlocked this archon quest called "Yaksha's Wish," lemme do it for a quick moment *doing the Nameless Yaksha quest without really thinking much of it*

Me at the end:

[gilbirda]

Friendly neighborhood vigilante. Chapter 26

BatmanxDP crossover. JasonxJazz

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]

Based on this post

First chapter || << Previous chapter || Next chapter >>

---

The rest of the visit at the Wayne Manor was more relaxed, or at least Jason thought so. He wouldn’t forget Jazz’s tense shoulders while they listened to Danny’s explanation of Jazz’s actual role in the Infinite Realms.

Was she tense because she hated being an executioner? Because she found that dreadful?

He wasn’t sure, and the doubt was capable of consuming him — did she really understand him, what he tried to do for Gotham, or was she projecting her own insecurities in him and wanted him to “reform” like she seemed to be doing with herself? Because it didn’t escape him how she went from such a violence-heavy role to completely focusing on reforming Gotham rogues.

If all Jazz could see in him was a pet project to “fix” in any way, he knew it would completely crush him. After all they’ve been through, there was still doubt that any of this was real. That what they had was real.

No. He had to try. To believe.

He still felt shaken after the rapidfire revelations one after the other — Jazz was the Crown Princess of another dimension, the Spirit of Gotham was Bruce’s mom, Jazz’s actual job was scarily close to his, and the personification of fear wanted to marry his girlfriend. He knew he would be thinking about all of this, and come back to every little detail, that night while he was supposed to sleep.

He just knew.

Especially because when he closed his eyes, he could see Danny’s haunted eyes when he pulled him aside to talk.

He expected a shovel talk, he expected vague threats from a caring brother, or maybe a rundown of what it means to consort a Princess.

He didn’t expect what actually happened.

“My sister… Please keep an eye on her. I wasn’t kidding when I said she takes the bad stuff and deals with it on her own,” he smirked, acknowledging that he knew the couple had been eavesdropping, “but what I didn’t say is how she disregards her own wellbeing.”

“I’ve noticed.”

He shook his head. “You don’t understand. Jazz self-destructs, she… It’s almost as if she punishes herself for wanting more. Maybe, I don’t know, maybe I’m reading too much into it; but she is always so quick to accept the worst and plans for it without thinking that things could just… Work out. It doesn’t help that things have been hard for us for so long – self fulfilled prophecy?” He chuckled. “I’m more aware of things than she gives me credit for.”

Jason kept his gaze straight ahead, watching the rest play in the backyard, a tiny green dog — Cujo — running around and imprinting on Damian almost immediately.

“She loves you.”

“I know.”

“She lied to me for you.” Danny looked at him funny. “I’m not saying it's your fault or anything. Just observing. She was ready to face the Justice League over a misunderstanding rather than telling the truth.”

Danny hummed, storing the new piece of information.

“She would make rivers of blood to protect you.”

Danny stayed quiet, so quiet that Jason assumed the conversation was over.

“She already has.” Danny’s voice was small. “One time, she was sent with an entourage as a political representative to an ambivalent community, to negotiate their alliance. Or find out if they would support Vlad. She came back a few weeks later, alone, and covered in blood. She only said that we didn’t need to worry about those people anymore.

Her wounds were fatal, and we don’t know how she not only survived but made the trip back. The funny part? I think that incident marks the beginning of her descent into the executioner role she finally took. It was almost as if— She was changed. I could see it. My worries were confirmed when I got word that the city she had visited had been burned to the ground. No one ever found any remains, of either faction. Just blood and rubble.”

“Darling?”

“Hmm?”

He looked down, finding the teal eyes of his girlfriend. It was the same face, the same eyes, the same worried expression.

A few weeks ago, she was the woman he was so scared to reveal himself to. Now, she was so much more. It felt silly to worry about what she would think about his other life, how she went from “just” being the girl he was interested in to whatever they were now.

He couldn’t see her in the same way. Not after learning what he knew now.

“Are you okay?” Her cold hand was on his cheek. When did she move? “You’ve been quiet.”

He kicked himself in his mind for worrying her. It’s just… After saying their goodbyes and getting on the road back to their apartment building, he started to let his mind wander and hadn’t come back to the present yet.

They were in front of her door, the fluorescent lights illuminating Jazz’s face looking up at him.

“Sorry.”

She bit her lip. “Don’t say sorry. No blood, no fault.”

“Har har,” he smirked, leaning down for a quick kiss. “Smart-ass.”

She giggled. All thoughts and doubts left him as he let himself bask in the moment.

He leaned in for a kiss, smiling when she got on the tip of her toes to meet him halfway, her arms sneaking around his neck to keep him there.

Her kiss was the same. Her smell was the same. Her touch, and the way his hands fit on her waist, was the same.

She was the same person, he reminded himself. Even if every answer he got only opened more questions, Jazz was still here with him, and she still wanted him.

The door opened behind Jazz, and Jason had to quickly grab the door frame to prevent the pair from falling to the ground.

“Time to sleep.” Danny was there, arms crossed, a small smirk on his face. He enjoyed his sister’s grumble and annoyance. The little shit.

“Yeah, yeah.” She sighed, turning to look at her boyfriend. “Talk to you tomorrow?”

She looked so uncertain and hopeful. Did she think he would run?

“Of course.” He gave her another quick kiss, smiling when she giggled.

He nodded at Danny as they parted. He nodded back, his smirk turning something more dangerous for a second, but back to a normal smile when Jazz passed by as she went inside the apartment.

Jason stayed an extra second, waiting to see what Danny had to say.

“Goodnight, Jason.”

He arched an eyebrow, expecting anything but that. He took it anyway. “Goodnight.”

With that, Danny almost slammed the door shut in his face. Jason scoffed and went back to his own apartment, still reeling from everything that happened.

He only turned on the kitchen light, got some coffee started — if he wasn’t going to sleep, why the hell not — and opened the fridge to see what leftovers he could quickly reheat for dinner.

With a warm cup and some food, he sat down on his shitty couch and turned on the TV to have background noise to think and organize his thoughts. It was some stupid procedural show, mainly focused on criminal psychology, something he knew Jazz would love.

He chuckled, sighed and put the half eaten leftovers on the coffee table.

He wasn’t that hungry anymore.

Why did he feel like this? It didn’t make sense — it wasn’t like it was the first time he was involved with people with superhuman abilities and a complicated past. Back when he was Robin, he had gone with Bruce to the Watchtower more than once and met enough members of the Justice League. And after his resurrection he had been involved with the Al Ghuls, who were irreversibly affected by the Lazarus Pits.

No. This was different.

Jazz was… She was supposed to be a civilian. The one normal thing in his life. He agonized over telling her about his other life, but deep down he wanted to have something that made him feel less like he was adrift in life, drowning, feeling like his only purpose had become vigilantism.

He wasn’t stupid. Jazz’s status as a meta was something he knew early on, and the way she had been hinting at some kind of hero's life was ironic, but he could handle it.

I couldn’t give you normal even if I tried.

She warned him. She told him she wasn’t sure that their relationship should happen at all. She told him she risked a lot to be involved with him, and that it wasn’t in her plans at all to love him.

He’s different. We clicked.

She told Danny that what they had was different, and he believed her.

Crown Princess of the Infinite Realms. Warrior. Executioner.

Jazz had no place playing human in Gotham, making friends, enduring shitty bosses, having a human boyfriend.

What he understood from what the siblings explained, her actual life was a fantasy story like the ones from his childhood books – with Kings and dragons and magic and insane stakes.

A tiny part of him resented her, he discovered.

Jason leaned forward and put his head between his hands, the stupid show on TV forgotten.

Why did she involve him in this? She knew the kind of burden she would put on anybody she dated, at least anybody she was interested enough to involve in her true life. How could she think she could just give him hopes and love him and then… then what? Did she plan on leaving without an explanation when her internship ended? Was she okay with breaking up, making up a shitty excuse to feed him hoping he eventually forgot about her?

She said she planned on telling him, but how much really? How much would she have told him if Bruce didn’t poke things he wasn’t supposed to?

He refused to feel grateful about what the old man did, he still treated Jazz poorly and jeopardized a lot of people’s existence in Gotham; but it was difficult to let go of the thought that if Barbara hadn’t looked, if Bruce hadn’t confronted her like he had been too much of a coward to do… That Jazz would have fed him half truths and lies by omission to protect Danny up until the day they parted ways.

His eyes felt a little damp. He blinked the moisture away and pressed the palm of his hands against his eyes until he saw stars.

No. This is ridiculous.

Jazz was very smart in many ways — she guessed everyone’s secret identities after all — but she could be so dumb about so many things too. He remembered their fight, how her voice changed when she admitted she didn’t know why or how she loved him. He thought about how she could remain oblivious to a guy crushing on her for years. He thought about Danny’s admission that Jazz tended to be too harsh on herself and set unnecessary hard limits.

He could believe that Jazz’s living in Gotham was a little experiment, a game of pretend that she was going to eventually end no matter who was hurt in the process, or…

Or he could believe that she was winging it so hard she contradicted herself all the time. That she was used to putting others above herself so much that she didn’t consider the possibility she didn’t have to end things. That there was no game, no further motives, no plan.

That the Princess of the Ghosts loved him, and she felt as lost as he did.

He breathed in, trying to calm down his racing thoughts.

It was useless to ponder and guess what her motives were, if she had them at all. They said they’d enjoy what they had while they still could, and going by what they learned that day, Danny gave the OK for them to be together — in a very strange and convoluted way, that is. And from what he overheard, Danny was this all powerful entity that made the rules.

A loud thud interrupted his thoughts, followed by his girlfriend’s voice screaming Danny’s name.

He smiled, picking up his food and considering finishing the rest of it. It was probably cold, so he decided not to. Instead, he picked up his coffee and the remote and decided to change channels, looking for something that didn’t require a lot of brainpower and maybe fall asleep to.

It didn’t help that everything either reminded him of Jazz, or thought it was something she’d enjoy.

***

Sunday was uneventful.

He decided to sleep in, pushing away the thought that sleeping alone never felt so cold before. He was being ridiculous. Everything about the situation was ridiculous.

He stayed in bed as long as his hungry stomach allowed him to, going over every conversation, every touch, every look. Trying to organize the new information and memorize every piece of detail, unsure of when exactly he’d have another opportunity to gather so much about the siblings’ secrets.

He allowed himself a few moments to burn the visual of Jazz wearing her armor in his memory. She looked comfortable in it, powerful, and very inhuman. Nobody brought it up at the moment, but she glowed when she wore it. It was subtle under the daylight, and next to the living light bulb that was Danny in his King form she didn’t stand out; but he had been distracted by the way everything about her had a bit of supernatural glow that separated her from the humans in the room.

It was different knowing all he knew and seeing it for himself.

Liminality. He wondered what else he still had to learn about her. What else he had to learn about himself, too. Going by how much information the Fentons gave him and after… After Jazz gave him pure ectoplasm, he was sure to expect some kind of change.

He hoped he found time to talk to Danny about the topic, and maybe coordinate a visit to these yetis they kept talking about.

The situation was ridiculous, but might as well embrace it. He had been The Chosen One for a secret sect of warriors oathbound to rid the world of an ancient evil — he could take whatever The Infinite Realms threw at him.

The rest of the day was relatively quiet, if you take into consideration the noises coming from his neighbor’s apartment — seriously, what were the walls made of? Paper? — and Jazz and Danny’s voices when they left in the afternoon for dinner. Jazz texted him a few times asking how he was and sending a few pictures of stray cats she saw while out with Danny. It was cute.

But he also had messages from his goons that they had some information about the Black Clovers gang. Finally.

He informed them that he would be around the base to discuss what they found. They better have something good, because he really needed to get these guys out of his turf. They threatened Jazz. Well, not her specifically, but they were looking for a redhead woman that helped Red Hood, with the vague description those guys Jazz fought a few months ago gave.

So long had changed since that fateful day. For starters, it was imperative he stopped these guys from going after his girlfriend.

And he couldn’t tell her.

Jazz was dead set on trying to be normal. She came to Gotham deadset (heh) on living a normal civilian life, and she got involved in this mess because of him. She didn't need to worry about something like this, especially since he was going to make sure the Black Clovers never had a chance to find her if he could help it.

He ate a quick dinner and got ready for tonight, geared up and jumped out of the window to the adjacent rooftop — he spared a glance at the place from where he had watched Jazz like a creep for a whole afternoon. What an idiot he had been, suspecting her like that. He shook his head.

He looked down at the street when he heard approaching voices, finding Jazz and Danny walking towards the apartment, probably coming back from their dinner.

Jazz looked happy as she listened to her brother talk, nodding along his story and a small smile curving her lips. This was a side he hadn’t seen yet — how she carried herself differently than when she was alone, how she kept one eye in every dark corner, every shadow. She was Danny’s protector, even if the other probably didn’t need such protection.

Both stopped walking once they reached the entrance of the building, but instead of getting inside, the siblings looked up – looked at him — at the same time with the same eerie eyes reflecting the street lights like a cat’s.

He chuckled, waving a hand at both. Danny rolled his eyes and Jazz waved back with a big smile, her cheeks slightly red. Cute.

With a slight nod, he turned back to continue his way to his base, and did his best to not look back and check she was still looking at him.

***

Jazz held her gaze on the rooftop, waiting to see if he turned back, but he never did.

She sighed.

“You are ridiculous.”

She rolled her eyes at her brother. “Oh, shut up.”

“This is worse to watch than the thing with Johnny.”

“Johnny happened so long ago, don’t be an idiot.” Danny opened his mouth to protest. “Eh, eh, eh. I was sixteen. You can’t judge me.”

“And you judged me for Paulina.”

She lifted her chin. “Deserved it~”

Danny scoffed, but didn’t add anything else.

The walk to the elevator was quiet. Jazz played with her keys, wondering where Jason was going, and if she could wait up and see if she could glimpse the vigilante passing by on his patrol route. Maybe she was being ridiculous, feeling this giddy about her boyfriend.

“Jazz.”

She looked at her brother, humming in question.

He looked back with serious eyes. “We need to talk.” She blinked, not really knowing what warranted this. “You have to tell me what happened with Batman.”

She froze, but tried to play it cool. She made time walking out of the elevator when they got to her floor, and continued towards her apartment without saying anything.

“Jazz. You know you have to.”

“There’s not a lot to say — he found some documents and I tried to fill in the blanks as best as I could.”

Danny grabbed her hand when she pulled out her keys to open the door. “Bullshit.” She wasn’t sure what kind of face she was making, but Danny’s expression softened. “I need to know, Jazz. As your brother and as the King.”

She closed her eyes and nodded.

He let her go and open the door, walking in after her. Neither bothered with the light switch, allowing the soft light of the full moon coming from the curtainless window to be enough for their conversation.

Jazz felt a sensation of déjà vu when she sat down on her couch and Danny pulled a chair to sit across the coffee table. It was another apartment, another situation; but she still had to give explanations about roughly the same things.

When would this nightmare end?

She licked her lips and got ready to talk.

“It started last week. Jason and I went on a date — our first official date —” she smiled when her brother made a face “and it was in the middle of a massive Arkham breakout.”

Danny nodded. “Unsurprising.”

“Yeah. So, he needed to go back to the fight and our date was interrupted. I waited up — no, shut up, let me finish — and he finally showed up. He was half dead and losing it and I really thought he was done for.”

“And you used your vials.”

“I did, and he got better.” She nodded. “But Batman wasn’t that far behind. He found us, and he found out I knew about them, and we… we kind of had a fight.”

“You fought Batman?” Danny was amused.

“No… Not really. I managed to kick him out without an actual fight, but he just,” she pulled her hair back, frustrated, “he couldn’t let things go. Apparently, he and Oracle — yeah, that Oracle —” she nodded “joined forces and researched us. All of it, Danny. I don’t know how the Ancients they managed to get some of that stuff, I’m positive Tucker had tight security.”

Danny’s back straightened. “He does. He was.” He narrowed his eyes. This was a huge breach of security. Both knew that measurements will be taken about this. “Tell me everything.”

She leaned forward, placing her arms on her knees, looking down and avoiding her brother’s eyes.

“Batman — Bruce waited for me, and found me at Arkham, when I would be alone, and ambushed me with two more of their colony accompanying him.”

Danny’s eyes were glowing bright green when she looked up. She swallowed. After such a nice weekend she had to relive all that happened earlier in the week, and she feared his reaction.

“Go on. And spare no detail.”

---

First chapter || << Previous chapter || Next chapter >>

Back to Main Archive

Back to Danny Phantom Archive

Just a normal link to support me (if you want)

[heavenlyakin]

Island Time - Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader

wc: ~3k

cw: established relationship, use of sex toys (vibrator), oral (m. receiving), vaginal sex.

Description: Modern AU where Reiner was a star football player who's now retired and spoiling his wife on a vacation for her birthday.

This was a commission. If you’re interested in commissioning me, DM me!

--

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for flying with us today. We will be making our descent soon. We’re expected to land in about 15 minutes. Please remain in your seats and enjoy the rest of the flight.” The pilot’s voice rings through the airplane.

You squeeze your husband’s hand, and he smiles at you. Reiner has been on planes more times than you can imagine. With his football career he had to fly to different states often, and most the time with all his friends, making it comfortable for him. However, this is your first out of the country flight, so you’ve been nervous.

“Are you okay,” he asks, bringing your hand to his mouth and kissing it lightly.

“Just tired, I couldn’t sleep.” You tell him, a yawn creeping up and exaggerating the point for you.

He checks his phone, looking to see if it’s already adjusted to the new time zone. “We have plenty of time before our reservations tonight if you want to rest. I could use a nap as well,” he admits, and you giggle. He rarely admits when he’s tired, but after a 12-hour flight, you’re both worn down.

As you get off the plane, you see the ocean just off the horizon and you smile. The warmth of the island hits you then, bringing you an unbelievable amount of joy. After all the snow back home on the farm, this is just what you needed for your birthday week.

“God, I could remarry you right at this moment,” you tell him as you walk to the black sedan waiting for you both.

“Save that for our future vow renewal,” he jokes, kissing your temple and guiding you to the car.

The air conditioning gives you chills, your skin already adjusted to the hot air outside. Reiner checks his phone again, probably looking to see if everything back home is running smoothly. You asked a few friends to watch over the house and farm for the week while you’re away celebrating. You take the time to check yours, letting your friends and family know you landed who knew about this trip and checking your socials. Most of them are private now, due to being with Reiner and his fame from his years in the football league, growing your own following substantially and making you uncomfortable. So now, it’s just you and your close friends who have access to it.

As the car starts to move, you put down your phone, wanting to take in the views of the island as you make it to the resort you’re staying at. The scenery nearly makes you choke up. It’s been so long since you’ve been on a vacation with just Reiner, and the fact he planned this all for you makes it all the better.

You look over to him, and he’s staring at you, a smile on his face. You lean in, kissing him softly and whispering a thank you against his lips. He smiles against yours and pulls you closer to him.

“I’d do anything for you, baby,” he kisses your cheeks, one at a time slowly, and then your nose.

--

The next few hours become hazy memories of the sun reflecting off the ocean, soft white sheets, and the smell of fresh fruit from the welcome basket in your suite. You get some sleep, however, so you feel fine once you make it to dinner. Reiner surprised you with a new dress, a beautiful lavender fabric with iridescent shine in it that flatters your curves.

He wanted to tear it off you when you emerged from the bathroom wearing it, immediately grabbing and squeezing you while kissing your neck. You proactively had to tear him off you, reminding him you had reservations; despite the warmth between your thighs, begging you to stay in tonight. Now you’re sat on the beach front looking at the moon reflecting off the ocean.

“I’m surprised it’s so crowded tonight,” you comment, looking around at the other tables.

Reiner shrugs, “I guess everyone here had someone special to celebrate.” He smiles, leaning forward and taking your hand on the table. “Have you decided on what you want to eat yet?”

“Pick for me,” you squeeze his hand and put the menu down. “You’ve been here before, so you know what’s good.” One of his old teammates had a birthday celebration here a few years ago that Reiner went to, probably giving him the idea to bring you.

“Alright,” he squeezes your hand back.

Turning to look at the ocean, you dig your feet further into the sand, loving how warm it still is despite the sun setting just a bit ago. It’s only been a few hours and you know this is going to be a trip you never forget.

The waiter comes and takes your order then disappears again. Reiner talks about the plans he has for you tomorrow, a trip on a boat to a private beach and then lunch served on the boat. It all sounds unreal, and you can’t help but feel your heart swell more and more. Once the food comes, you’re surprised by the sheer amount of food they bring. Reiner ordered enough for a week.

“I just wanted to try everything,” he shrugs, and you laugh not minding at all. It’s vacation after all, who cares if we splurge a little?

It all looks delicious and tastes amazing. Everything here is truly divine, and you can’t believe you’re actually here experiencing it all with the love of your life. After you’ve both stuffed yourselves, you take one last look at the ocean.

“I guess we better head back,” Reiner says exactly what you’re thinking. “We have dessert back in the room.”

“Honey, there’s no way I can-“

Reiner wiggles his brows at you, and you stop mid-sentence, your cheeks heating from the thought of being his dessert.

“Oh,” you say quietly, still flustered.

He takes your hand, leading you through the restaurant and out to the car already waiting on you both. The resort is a short drive away, luckily. You’ve worked yourself up with the thoughts of Reiner’s tongue between your thighs. Once you see the resort in view, you unbuckle your seatbelt, and you hear him chuckle beside you.

“Eager?” He asks and you turn to him and grin.

“Perhaps,” you smile sweetly. “I’m so tired, I just need to hit the bed,” you lie.

“Have a good night, you two,” the driver who you’ve paid no mind to this trip wishes you both goodbye.

“Thank you!” You chime, giving him a polite smile before sliding out of the car.

Reiner’s warm hand on your lower back guides you through the resort, taking you towards your rooms. It’s on the first floor, giving you a beautiful view of the ocean and beach. As soon as you’re in the room you’re kicking off your heels and running to cover that beautiful view with the curtains on either side of the windows and sliding door.

As you turn towards the bed, you see Reiner’s already unbuttoned his shirt and is starting to take his belt off. You walk towards him and take his hands in yours.

“Let me,” you tell him, kissing his chest a few times softly and unbuckling his belt.

He lets out a breath of air as you start to move down, dropping to your knees and kissing his stomach, no longer as toned as it once was but softened and flat from years of training gone to lighter work on the farm. The hair from his happy trail tickles your nose as you trail a few kisses down it until you reach the top of his black dress slacks, pulling them down along with his boxers.

He's half hard already, precum leaking from the tip of his cock. You take it in your hand and look up at him, sticking your tongue out and placing the head of his cock on your tongue. He moans as your lips close around it, his head tilting back and facing the ceiling. You swirl your tongue around his cockhead, tasting the precum and moaning around him.

How long has it been since you’ve just pleasured him? You can’t remember. He’s always such a giver and wants to go down on you or just bend you over the table and go at it that you’ve lost track. After everything he’s planned for you, he’s more than deserving of it.

You reach up and cup his balls, massaging them softly the way he likes, and he lets out a long breathy groan. You take more of his cock in your mouth, the head prodding at the back of your throat. He’s so large you struggle to take him all without gagging, but you do your best just for him.

He grabs the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair and holding you against him until your eyes start to water.

“That’s my good girl,” he groans watching you take him so well.

You start to gag, and he lets you go, smiling down at you as the drool leaves a trail from your lips to his cock. He cups your face in his hand, pulling you up towards him and kissing you deeply. His tongue tastes sweet from the wine from earlier, lingering still on him. You groan as he pushes you pack against the bed, your legs bumping into the frame.

“If you want to keep this dress, tell me how to take it off. Quickly,” he tells you, his voice husky.

“Zipper on the side,” you say turning and lifting up your arm so he can unzip it for you.

The dress pools around your ankles seconds later, leaving you in the matching purple lingerie you purchased just for this night. Reiner’s fingers drag across your skin, to the bra straps and snapping it on your skin.

“You look so beautiful, baby,” he kisses you again; more urgent and needy. Your back hits the bed before you know it and Reiner is hovering over you, his eyes feasting on you. “I could stare at you all night, ya know?”

You smile, pulling him into you and kissing him. “I love you,” you tell him, and he whispers it back.

His lips are warm as they kiss you from your neck to your navel. His fingers trail up your right thigh, landing on the fabric just above your clit. He circles his fingers lightly around it and you buck your hips trying to get more friction.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Reiner stops you with his hand, pushing your hips down on the bed. “Stay still and let me have my fun.” He smiles, pushing himself up so he’s on his knees on the bed.

He reaches over to the bedside table and opens the drawer. He pulls out a dark blue vibrator you’ve never seen. He brings it to the outside of your lacy thong, pressing it against your clit and turning it on.

“Get yourself off on it,” he smiles, looking at you with wild eyes full of desire.

You lift your hips, the vibration sending shivers through your body as it hits your clit. You moan and close your eyes, feeling the pressure increase as Reiner rubs your cunt with it. Even through the lace, it feels so good and so hot. You’ve not used toys in bed for a while so this is a real treat, you think to yourself.

“Daddy,” you whimper out, already reduced to whines. “Need more to cum,” you tell him.

“Just ask, sweetie,” he tells you, leaning down and kissing your neck.

His lips begin to suck and his teeth bite gently into your skin and you moan louder. He slips the vibrator past your thong and against your wet pussy, the vibrations now against your bare clit. He circles it slowly, teasing you and drawing out a mixture of whines and moans. He loves to tease and you’re not going to fight him on it tonight. You just want to enjoy and savor every moment with him.

Just as you feel the familiar knot in your lower stomach about to come undone, Reiner pulls the vibrator away and laughs.

Laughs.

“Daddy!” You whine drawing out the last syllable.

“Shh,” he kisses your forehead and tosses the vibrator off to the side of the bed. “Don’t you want more?”

You smile and nod, sitting up on your elbows to kiss him deeply. “I always want more of you.”

He chuckles, pushing you back down and pushing your legs up so they’re on his chest with your feet on his shoulders. He pushes into you, his cock stretching and filling you as he does. Your toes curl and his fingers dig into your thighs as he slowly starts to thrust into you.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, kissing your ankle and starting to fuck into you faster.

His trusts are so deep and precise they leave you breathless. You whimpers turn to moans and babbling of different phrases that even you lose track of what you’re saying. He moves your legs so they’re wrapping around his waist as he moves to missionary to have access to your lips. This angle lets him inside you even deeper and closer.

“Oh god,” you whine, as he begins fucking you harder, your feet bouncing off of his back from where you’re wrapped around him. “Daddy, I’m close,” you tell him as that familiar knot reaches its undoing.

“Hold on for me, yeah?” He asks, his hazel eyes leaning darker now with lust.

You nod, not so sure you can do it; but you’ll try. You’d do anything for him, you realize.

Reiner pulls out of you, and you whimper, but he’s just manhandling you onto your stomach and pulling you back so he can fuck you against the bed. He pushes inside of you and that familiar stretch is all it takes to make you cum around him.

“Fuck,” you whimper, “I’m so sorry.”

He chuckles, leaning down and kissing you between your shoulder blades. “Don’t apologize.” He kisses you there again. “You have no idea how good it feels to have you squeezing around my cock when you cum.”

Your face heats up and you whimper, letting your face fall into the cool comforter on the bed. He slowly pumps in and out of you, his hands on your ass, squeeze and spanking you periodically. It’s not long before he’s fucking you so hard the bed is shaking. You grip the sheets, feeling that build up in your stomach once again.

“Fuck, daddy,” you whine into the bed, it muffling the sound even for you.

“You take my cock so well, baby, always so fucking good for me,” he moans, his thrusts becoming more and more uncontrolled.

You feel his cock twitch in you before you hear him mumble he’s about to cum. The warmth from it fills you up, spilling out from around his cock, dripping onto your thighs. You cum with him, squeezing around his cock and your thighs start to shake. As he pulls out, you let your body collapse completely into the mattress. Reiner drops onto the bed beside you, facing up towards the ceiling.

Managing with what strength you have after the mind-numbing fuck; you crawl up next to him on the bed and lay your head on his chest. He wraps his arms around you, lifting his head up to kiss your head a few times. You sigh, loving every moment of his warm skin against your body.

“We need new bedding,” he says casually, and you laugh.

“I’m sure we can manage tonight until housekeeping comes tomorrow. It’s not like we haven’t slept with cum on our bed before.” You roll your eyes and giggle.

“Yeah, but it’s different when it’s your own bed and its that much.” He tells you, letting his arms fall to the bed instead of around you. “But I don’t want to be a bother. Maybe I can clean it up.”

“Why are you so worried about it?” You ask, laughing and sitting up, feeling even more drip out of you and onto the mattress.

“I don’t know,” he laughs, leaning against the headboard of the bed, the pillows “I didn’t nap when you did. Maybe I’m delirious.”

You laugh and agree. “Probably.”

You get off the bed to use the restroom then come back and change into a set of silky pajamas for the night.  Reiner is in the bathroom when you crawl into bed and you wait for him before turning the lights off, mostly because you don’t want to get back up.

He comes into the bedroom, turning the lights off as he walks by the switches and crawls into bed with you. He snuggles up, his head in the crook of your neck and strong arms wrapped around you.

“I’d love to have every night be like this with you,” he tells you, his eyes still closed. “you deserve to be spoiled every single night.”

You smile, playing with his blonde hair, “Every night does feel like this when I’m with you.”

[whatajezebelle]

The Woods

Suguru x F!Reader

Mature Content

Y/N has taken a break from dating for a while but questions that decision when she meets Suguru on a camping trip with her friends.

(A/N: I will adjust tags as I go. There will be smut, though. This is my first story in a long time so let me know what you think!)

Chapter 1

Nature getaway

You flop onto your temporary bed for the next couple of weeks and look at the spectacular view of the forest from the large windows of your room. You were lucky enough to beat traffic so you got there before your friends did. Part of you is anxious about this trip but after blowing off every invite for the past half a year, you couldn't avoid your friends any longer. Well, you could but it was likely that they'd break down the door to your apartment and kidnap you. You take a deep breath and close your eyes for a moment. When you open them back up it's clear a moment turned into a couple of hours. The sun was beginning to set and you could hear your friends making their way through the door. Since you have the only room on the bottom floor it ensures that at the very least early mornings will be quiet and to yourself. The nights not so much but you're kind of nocturnal anyway so that doesn't matter much. You walk out and one drops their stuff to run to you for a bear hug. The other holds onto her stuff with a smile.

“Y/N! I'm so happy you decided to come!” Utahime wraps you in a hug with a huge smile on her face. She's been the most adamant that you come with them for this trip.

“Yeah, I figured some time with friends out in nature couldn't hurt.” You hug her back and give her a small smile.

“You getting enough sleep kid? Ieiri asks, her voice a lot more calm. She still has her things in hand as she maneuvers through the living room of the admittedly spacious cabin. She's slowly inching her way to the stairs as if she doesn't want to get caught.

“Um,, maybe but what exactly are you doing?” She keeps moving as you speak. “Also don't call me kid, we're the same age.” you grumble under your breath.

“What do you mean? No clue what you're talking about.” Utahime is quicker to figure it out than you are.

“Don't you dare! I told you I'm taking that back room!” Utahime lets go of you, almost pushing you over, and rushes to grab her stuff as Ieiri sprints off.

They race and fight each other for a while. You watch for a bit, slightly amused. They fight more than anyone I've ever seen and it's clear that it's cause they like each other and this is the only way they can get that close without “making things weird”. After a bit you get bored so you head outside. There's more stuff in the SUV they drove up in so you go to grab as much as you can. It's likely that they will be too tired to do much after their death match and you wouldn't dare let any food go to waste.

The air is so clear out here. You take a moment to appreciate the sounds and the way the light hits the trees as it slowly begins it's daily descent. Filled with a type of peace you haven't felt in a really long time. You close your eyes tilting your head back to better feel the wind on your face and take a deep breath. The peace ended very quickly when you hear footsteps coming from behind you.

“Can I help you?” You turn and speak with clear irritation in your voice and your meanest mug when the steps are a movement away from being too close for comfort. You turn to see a man with long dark hair and warm but analytical eyes. He smiles softly, as if to calm you and you realize just how handsome he is. A different version of you would have been excited to see someone as beautiful as him but current you has dealt with the consequences of that version of you's bad decision making.

“Hey, I was just checking on all of you. I'm in the cabin next door with some friends so feel free to come by later. We're cooking and there's more than enough for everyone.” he looks at you as if he's staring into your soul. His eyes moving across your face really taking in your features.

“And you are...?” He's speaking as if you should know already but you can confidently say that you've never seen him before.

“Suguru! Hey, dummy.” Ieiri calls out to him. She's empty handed and her hair is messy from the brawl.

“Why do you look like you've been fighting the squirrels, Shoko?” He speaks marginally louder than he was to you a moment ago and you can hear the bass in his voice more clearly. Like a rumble in his chest. You try to ignore the goosebumps that pop up because of it.

“Utahime and I had a little disagreement about who deserved the best room in the cabin. I won of course.” she smiles smug.

“It's because you cheated! There's no biting and you know that!” Utahime comes storming out of the door looking twice as disheveled.

This triggers more bickering from them and you sigh as you realize this may be the entire trip. You hope somebody brought some pre-rolls cause you don't think this is an experience that sobriety can hold up to.

For a moment, you forget there was someone behind you so you jump when you hear his low chuckle. You turn to him and he's a bit closer than before. You're now on high alert, not because of fear or danger but because he smells so fucking good. You start to feel his body heat rolling off of him, he gets so close. Maybe a normal person who gets laid on a regular basis wouldn't notice that but you've been... touch starved, for lack of a better word. You joined team celibacy a long time ago, too long by the looks of things, so, obviously proximity to a man that has innate sex appeal coming out of every pore is enough to make you question your life choices.

“You're the friend that Ieiri told me about,” You look over at him as you speak. He moves to stand next to you to spectate the show your friends are putting on. He looks just as used to it as you are. The realization of just how tall he is hits you as you have to look up higher than expected with him so close to see his face. ”The one that owns the property here? Thanks for letting us stay. Or rather allowing me to come since you don't know me.”

You avoid looking at his face but since he isn't looking at yours, more interested in the fighting happening in front of you both, you take the opportunity to look him over. Just glancing you wouldn't notice the very defined muscles he's got going under that baggy shirt but after looking for more than a second it's very clear he spends a lot of time in the gym. He's folded his arms which showcases just how nice his biceps are. You rake your eyes further up and notice how strong his shoulders look and how strong his jawline is. You take subtle steadying breaths and pull your eyes away before you're caught.

“I am and it's not a problem. Really. Any friend of Shoko and Utahime is a friend of mine. You're Y/N, right?” He's now looking at your face but by that time you've moved your focus back on the argument so hopefully he hadn't noticed the salivating.

“I am. Nice to meet you.” You awkwardly nod your head toward him still avoiding eye contact. Your chest fills with that familiar feeling of anxiety. From what you've heard from your friends over the last couple of years, Suguru is pretty laid back about people but it's always nerve wracking to talk to someone new. Not everyone understands or cares for how socially awkward you can be.

The bickering turns into another all out brawl and this time you feel the need to step in. You trudge your way over and try to avoid the swinging arms and kicking feet. Finally you're able to separate the two. Grabbing the collars of their shirts like you're scruffing two cats.

“Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you two? Either fuck or leave other each alone. The childish flirting is driving me insane.” You scold them and set them down. “Can you behave? Please? For me?”

They cross their arms and pout refusing to look at each other like children and grumble. Two others have joined the spectacle, walking in from the trail that presumably connects the two cabins although you can't see the other one through the thicket of trees from here.

They're all three standing together now and your heart is pounding out of your chest. How the fuck do they all look like that? Birds of a feather really do flock together, even the pretty ones. The blonde one has strong masculine features and a stoic demeanor. He looks friendly enough but definitely is more of a no nonsense type of person. His eyes dark and vigilant, the crinkle they form when he smiles shows that he's kind despite how he holds himself. The white haired one has softer features but not in an androgynous why, more like in a pretty boy way. His eyes are the most vibrant blue you have ever seen and they're so warm it's almost like they're liquid encased in his eye. He looks like he ain't shit if you're being honest but damn is he nice to look at.

They're trying to hide their laugh at the interaction going on in front of them. You can't really blame them if you were the one watching it'd be pretty funny to you, too.

“Utahime, you cryin?” The white haired one says, not at all trying to hide his laughter. In fact, he points as he laughs.

“Fuck you, Gojo!” She yells at him. You raise your eyebrows, she normally keeps it together with anyone other than Ieiri and you're pretty sure that's because she has a crush on her. You archive that for later.

“Too late, babe, you already did.” She sputters and gets up grabbing stuff from the passenger seat of their car and stomping her way inside. Your jaw drops and eyebrows raise til they're damn near in your hairline. No need to ponder on it later, suspicion confirmed.

“Well damn.” You say as you hold your hands up as if in surrender and move out of her way as she passes you. You hope that coming here was the right choice, cause so far it's looking like a bunch of temptation and drama. Is it kinda funny drama? Yes. But still drama nonetheless.

“Nice going, Idiot.” Suguru says to him eyebrow raised in irritation and his mouth set in disappointment.

“What? She did!” The blonde one smacks him upside the head. He doesn't say anything he just gives what could be best described as the disappointed dad look.

“Could you at least try to behave yourself in front of our new friend?” Suguru turns to you as Shoko gets up from the ground and dusts herself off before wrapping an arm around you. “Satoru,” he turns to the white haired one, “Kento,” Then to the blonde, “This is Y/N.”

All eyes are on you and you want to crawl back to your room and hide under the blankets until everyone went away.

“Hey... what's crackin'?” You say uncomfortably and avoid eye contact with any of them.

“You're pretty.” Satoru purrs at you with a very charming smile, his eyes roaming everywhere but your face. And if you were still in a hoe phase that would have had the kitty meowing but, unfortunately, you are not so it just irritates you.

“I'm aware.” you say deadpan with your patented bitch face. You know it's rude but it's the most likely to get him to back off the quickest.

“Ohhhhh, feisty, I like that.” he smiles even bigger. You scoff and roll your eyes. Suguru pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly annoyed with his friends antics.

“Please don't mind him, it's nice to meet you.” Kento comes up and shakes your hand with a firm but gentle grasp.

“And you.” You smile at him genuinely unbothered by his presence. “Hopefully, I'm not being too rude but I have a feeling if I don't finish emptying out this car it won't get done tonight.

“Hey, I'd help!” Ieiri sounds off next you. You fix her with a “bitch please” look. She laughs it off. “Yeah, you're right.” She lets go of your shoulder and grabs the rest of her stuff before going inside.

“Let us help.” Suguru is already grabbing things and handing them to the others before you can say anything. They grab the heaviest of it and go inside to help put things away.

----------

It's completely dark outside and the weather has cooled just the tiniest bit. Enough that having a bonfire isn't an entirely ridiculous idea. Watching Kento and Suguru chase down Satoru to take the lighter fluid and matches away is nothing short of comedy gold.

“Yeah, get him!” Utahime yells with her full chest. She's five seconds away from an evil cackle when the two more responsible men tackle Satoru.

Satoru pouts but accepts his defeat. He goes to mess around with the music instead. Suguru prepares the fire pit and you watch his every move in silence. Your eyes are so glued to him that you don't notice your friends sharing a look and looking back at you.

“Take a picture it might last longer.”

“What are you talking about, Uta?” You sound guilty as fuck as you not so subtly tear your eyes away and look at anything else when Suguru makes eye contact with you hearing Utahime tease you.

“Oh that was real smooth. Not noticeable at all.” Ieiri chuckles next to you.

You give them the finger, “Sit on it and rotate, bitch.” This only makes them cackle even louder.

“What's so funny, ladies?” Suguru makes his way over. As you were getting teased he managed to get the fire going. He stops a couple of feet in front you.

“We were just talking about Y'N's possible interest in photography. We think she might have a good eye for it.”

Your head slowly turns to Ieiri and while your mouth says nothing your face says everything. Like, 'Bitch, please shut the fuck up, for the love of all that is holy.' for example.

He smiles again, dimples prominently on display and it all but destroys you, “Oh yeah? I'd love to see what's caught your eye.”

Your face goes hot and you pop up of the chair you were inhabiting and slowly make your way inside their cabin to get a drink. Alcohol will be needed for tonight, that much is clear.

“Yeah, I'll definitely let you know. Ya know, if I uh do that...” You bump into another one of the chairs and Suguru raising his eyebrows and tries to hide his smile. He clearly wants to laugh, finding your awkwardness cute.

“I'll hold you to that then.”

You spend dinner time avoiding participating in conversation. You don't want to stumble into any anxiety inducing conversation and the best way to do that is to not speak. You feel Suguru's eyes on you all throughout the meal but to be fair Satoru isn't doing much better. Luckily you're sat next to Kento and he is much quieter and doesn't feel the need to bore a hole in your head with his eyes. There's a level of camaraderie you feel with him purely because he lets you be but is still considerate and nice to you. You'll do your best to stick by his side during activities on this trip.

After everyone eats, there's a group effort to clear the table and make sure dishes are clean. Since there are six of you it takes no time at all. Everyone grabs their preferred drink and heads closer to the bonfire. Satoru is self assigned DJ and he's actually pretty good. Ieiri convinces Kento to dance and Utahime and Suguru join.

You sit near the fire on one of the nice outdoor sofas set to the side of the guy's cabin. You watch everyone talk, dance and reminisce on old times. Pre-rolls were brought along, and it looks like there's enough to supply a whole compound so you won't run out. You don't smoke as much as everyone else so that you could find your way back you the cabin without an accidental adventure into the woods. Knowing your dumb ass you'd get too caught up watching the stars to pay attention to where you're going.

You nurse the drink that Ieiri mixed for you. It mostly tastes like juice but you know there is a ton of tequila in it since you watched her make it. You're lost in thought staring into the fire when someone sits next to you, close enough to touch.

“You don't seem like you're having very much fun.” You look over to Suguru and he's watching you with intense eyes. That warm sweet smile on his face.

“I am, I just... sometimes I'm quiet. I like just being around the fun.” You avoid eye contact still, staring into your cup like it has the secrets of the universe in it. You may need a refill, you notice your cup is almost empty. Which makes you realize you're a bit tipsy. It's not bad, it actually helps a bit.

“A true introvert then, hm? Nothing wrong with that. So if this isn't really your thing, what is?” His voice is low and gentle. You look over at him making full eye contact possibly for the first time and see genuine interest in his dark eyes. It takes you a little off guard.

“Uh, well, I mostly stay home and work with computers. I like taking them apart and putting them together. I also game a lot.” You realize how shy you're acting. Like a school girl with a crush. Get it the fuck together, you tell yourself.

“Oh? Gamer girl. Nice. What you play COD or something?” his smile turns into a toothy grin.

“No, I'm not built for that community. I'd get banned for talking shit all the time. I like a lot of single player horror and sometimes I'll dabble in Valo, or League or Genshin, depending on my mood. I also like cozy games” Your body starts to relax as you talk about something familiar to you. You turn your body so your facing him and lean against the back of the sofa with your head resting on your hand. He mimics your body language and leans in a bit closer to hear you better. If there wasn't alcohol in your system you'd be an anxious mess at the proximity but this way you're able to relax a bit more.

“I don't think I could see you saying something so bad that you'd get banned for it.” his voice goes a bit lower as he speaks to you. “You seem too sweet for that. Maybe just a little shy.”

“Yeah, I could see that. I've been nothing but awkward today. But honestly...I'm kind of a bitch.” he laughs at this and you're wrapped up in the sound. “No, seriously. I can handle myself if I need to and I'm way less shy online than I am in person.”

“Hmm, I guess that makes sense. I almost forgot about how you handled Satoru earlier. That was great by the way I don't think he's ever been rejected like that.”

“Yeah, well, I didn't want him thinking he even remotely had a chance.” You wrinkle your nose in disgust and take that moment to sip from your cup. If there were a Redder flag they'd have to rename the color.

“And what about me? Do I have a chance?” thankfully you don't sputter and choke on your drink but your eyes go big as you look at him.

“Huh?” obviously, you heard him but you didn't know what else to say. He laughs and bites his lip before he answers when it's clear you needed him to repeat himself.

“Do I have a chance?” he repeats, “I mean you haven't told me to fuck off, yet.” He looks deeply into your eyes. It feels like he can see every part of you and he wants to see more. Greedy for your attention. It's in this moment you realize just how close your bodies are. That his hand has been resting on your thigh for a while now. His thumb rubbing circles into your exposed skin due to the shorts you're wearing.

“Oh well... I, uh-”

“Y/N! Come dance with us! You haven't gotten up since we ate. Come come!” Utahime calls for you and you have never been so grateful for her friendship in all your life.

“Yep! Coming!” You yell back and get up without saying a word to him.

“Not yet, you aren't.” you hear him mutter as you walk away. You choose not to acknowledge the statement, going with the calm, cool, and collected facade but internally you're screaming, crying and falling to your knees.

There's generic pop music playing along with a few club edits in the playlist. You take another shot to loosen up just a bit more and join your friends on the makeshift dance floor. You wouldn't consider your self a dancer but you aren't bad. You sway your hips to the music and get lost in it for a few songs before you feel eyes on you. You look over and notice Suguru still sitting on his own on the sofa, watching you over his cup as he takes a sip. His eyes shift up from your ass, he must of realized he was caught. He smirks and licks his lips. You turn away and keep dancing for a while.

“What's up with you two?” Ieiri asks from next to you as you both keep moving.

“What do you mean?”

“He's been eye fucking you all day and you aren't any better. If you weren't into it you would have cursed him out already.”

“What? He's not paying attention to me like that.” You don't know if you're trying to convince your self or her. But either way it's not working.

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that and maybe it'll be more believable one day.” She lets you be and focuses on dancing instead, opting to fluster Utahime by putting her hands on her hips. You pay no mind to them and their flirting. Hopefully, they get together on this trip and quit acting like tsundere weirdos.

You feel light and enjoy the feeling of the heat coming from the fire and the burn in your muscles from moving for so long. There's a small smile on your face as you decide to call it quits for the night. Everyone groaned when you told them that you were going to call it a night and asked you to stay but you're tipsy and tired.

“Let me walk you back.” Suguru pops up next to you from what feels like no where. You look at him and then the dark trail that leads back to the cabin and back at him. You're not so drunk that you think you'd get lost but it's dark and a little scary to walk alone.

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

You walk in silence for the first few steps. The further away you get the more the sound and light fades until eventually the trail is only illuminated by moonlight.

“So...” He starts but doesn't finish.

“So?”

He licks his lips and shakes his head almost like he's decided against speaking his original mind.

“The cabin you're in doesn't have a computer but mine does. If you want a break from everyone while we're here you can use it.”

“That's nice of you. Thank you.” the shyness comes back now that you're alone. “Why do you need a computer out here? Isn't the point to get away and focus on nature?”

“Satoru, Kento and I run a security agency and sometimes if there's an emergency that needs to be handled by one of us, we have to use it.”

“Are you sure you want me using it for gaming then? Seems like a pretty important piece of equipment for you.” he huffs a small laugh in response.

“It's fine, I promise.” he reassures you.

The rest of the walk is in silence. It's not awkward but there is a tension that makes you a bit nervous. But then again what doesn't.

“Thank you for walking me. I probably would have been fine but I still appreciate the company.” He grabs your wrist and turns you to stand facing him once you get close to the Cabin.

He slowly moves closer and lets go of your wrist to give you the option to move away if you'd like. His forehead rests on yours and your breath mingles with his.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers. You pause, speechless. You decide not to think and nod yes.

He closes the gap, putting one hand on your hip while the other cups your face. The kiss is gentle, his lips soft as they move against yours. It starts pretty chaste but as it continues and the heat in your tummy grows the kiss gets sloppier. He bites your lip which makes you gasp and he takes that moment to run his tongue over yours. He moans into you, which makes your whimper back. He uses his hand on your hip to pull your body flush to his, he gets a good squeeze. Enjoying how curvy you are his hand moves to grip your ass. His mouth moves to your jaw then right below your ear and slowly down your neck. Your eyes roll back feeling the small nips against your favorite spot and you wonder how he knew you would like that so much. He lowers himself a bit grabbing your thighs from the back and using the grip to separate your legs and pick you up, your legs instinctually wrap around him as he gently pushes your back into the front door of the cabin and grinds into you. With that movement, you feel exactly how big and how hard he is and it surprises you so much that it gives you a moment of clarity. Your eyes pop open and your breath hitches.

You push against his chest a bit and he immediately lowers you to the ground, removes his hands and detaches.

“Did I do something wrong?” He looks at you brows furrowed with worry.

“No, I just think we should stop there. I don't want things getting too complicated on this trip.”

He bites his kiss swollen lip, a habit you figure he has, and looks you over as he considers your words.

“Of course.” he doesn't seem upset at all, in fact his eyes stay soft and gentle as does his smile. He takes a good step back to make sure you have space and feel safe.

You nod and give him a small smile. You turn and walk into the cabin and he watches to make sure you make it in before he heads back.

[shawnflowers]

noooo i totally didnt post this earlier whattttt … anywho this has been in my head for a while now i think it’s so sweet. this is gonna take place after wm12 bc emo 🤌🏼 anyway enjoy have fun *nose boops*

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ content: fluff <3

it was 1am by the time the show was over. you were tired, you had a long day the next day, but sleep was absolutely the last thing on your mind.

you watched wrestlemania by yourself, saving yourself the embarrassment of screaming in glee when your boyfriend won his match.

shawn is now the wwf champion, an achievement that was once a dream. how could you not be excited for him? you only wish you could be there for him in person but it just couldn’t work out with your schedule.

so, no, you weren’t in the same time zone and your anxiety festered on for the little sleep you would be getting but it just didn’t matter. what mattered was when he would eventually call you. he’ll probably be on his way to an afterparty very soon, which is fine, you just hope he hasn’t forgotten about you. you just want to hear his voice.

time kept ticking away without the shrill of your phone filling your ears. you got changed into more comfortable clothing, slipping on one of his t-shirts that landed just below your butt. after fifteen minutes of no calls, you made sure to sit right next to the phone as you continued to watch tv. however, your eyes began to droop shut and your body started it’s descent into heaviness as your brain traveled to dreamland.

but then your phone rang.

you sprang up, reaching for the receiver and nearly knocking over your lamp in the process.

“hello?”

there was a beat of silence. “hi, baby.”

“congratulations! i’m so proud of you.” you tried your best not to scream as to not wake your brother up, but it was damn hard. “you’ve always been the champ in my eyes.”

you could hear him chuckle through the line. he probably had his best shit-eating grin on, which, normally you couldn’t stand because it always came with him being cocky, but right now you couldn’t care. who cares about a grin when he’s the new champion?

“thank you. what time is it, are you tired?”

“oh, me? no don’t worry about me i’m fine. so, tell me about it, tell me how you felt.”

“it was incredible, exhilarating, unbelievable, and so many other words i can’t even think of right now. i always thought i looked good wrapped up in gold, but this… this is something else.”

you smiled at that. “that’s good, honey. do you think i can wear it one time?”

“sure, next time i see you. when… is that again?”

“next week. friday to be exact and i won’t be leaving your side for a while,” you hummed, twisting the phone cord around your finger.

“i’m counting on it.”

“are you, though? i don’t think you’re prepared for what i have in store for you.”

“oh? and what’s that, baby?”

you giggled, feeling your cheeks begin to heat. you’re never this brash on the phone but you’ve missed him and all pent up energy is finally coming out. “well, first-”

you heard some rustling on his end of the phone, followed by muffled voices. you heard the voices come a bit closer, determining one of them to be hunter. “shawn?”

after a brief moment of silence, you could hear shawn groan before he eventually spoke again. “shit, sorry. i’ve gotta go, we’ll continue this conversation tomorrow, okay? i’ll make it up to you.”

you faked a sigh, almost as if you were disappointed. but in reality, you knew this moment would be coming. “okay. just one last thing you should know, i’m not wearing any underwear beneath your shirt. have fun!”

“what—” and then you hung up, giggling to yourself, imagining his jaw being slack in disbelief. you’re sure you’ll have to hear about this tomorrow, but for now you sleep, dreaming of him.

[qosbaez]

Hiii, was wondering if you could write a Christmas fluff for damian x rhea or poly!judgment day 🫶🏻

Free time || Rhea Ripley x Damian Priest

Summary: Rhea and Damian have no idea how to spend their time off.

A/N: This came out so cute wtf.

Rhea and Damian had been immersed in the world of wrestling for years, schedules packed tight with matches, tours, and appearances. The holidays had always been a blur, fleeting moments stolen between the chaos of their demanding careers. But this year was different. For the first time in what felt like forever, they found themselves with a rare gift: Christmas week off.

Initially, the prospect of unfilled days seemed daunting. Both Rhea and Damian were accustomed to constant movement, always on the go, always pushing themselves. But as the reality sank in, they realized they had no idea how to actually spend this newfound leisure time.

"I feel like we should do something special," Rhea said, scratching the ears of one of their dogs.

Damian nodded in agreement, a bemused expression on his face. "Yeah, but what? We've never had this much free time together."

After some contemplation and a brief brainstorming session that involved considering everything from elaborate adventures to grand parties, they settled on something simpler. They opted to spend the day at home, just the two of them, with their furry companions.

The morning sun streamed through the windows as they brewed some coffee and exchanged lazy smiles. They wrapped themselves in blankets and settled onto the couch, creating a cozy nest among the pillows. The dogs, sensing a day of relaxation, happily joined them, claiming their spots on either side.

They scrolled through countless movie options, unable to settle on just one. Action movies, romantic comedies, even some holiday classics—they went through a whole spectrum of genres, enjoying the freedom to pick and choose without time constraints.

Snuggled together, Rhea's head found its place on Damian's shoulder, his arm draped comfortably around her. The dogs curled up at their feet, occasionally nudging for attention or stealing a popcorn kernel when they could.

Between movies, they shared stories from their past, reminisced about their wrestling journeys, and dreamed about the future. They talked about the places they wanted to visit, the matches they hoped to have, and the moments they cherished the most in their careers.

As the day progressed and the sun began its descent, they realized that they hadn't really done anything extravagant, yet it felt like the most fulfilling Christmas they'd had in years. The simplicity of being together, without the pressures of the outside world, was a gift in itself.

As evening settled in, they decided on one final movie—a classic holiday film that never failed to warm their hearts. Wrapped in each other's arms, they watched the movie, occasionally wiping away tears or sharing a chuckle at familiar scenes.

When the credits rolled, they exchanged a contented glance, the joy of spending this quiet day together evident in their smiles. Christmas lights twinkled around the room, casting a warm glow as they nestled closer, feeling grateful for the chance to simply be with each other.

As the night deepened, they retired to bed, the dogs following close behind. Rhea and Damian drifted off to sleep, wrapped in a cocoon of love, grateful for the serenity and the simple joy of spending Christmas in each other's company.

[myriadof-fandoms]

harringrove week - day 2 - this boy's too young to be singing the blues

prompt: How Many Candles on the Birthday Cake: 18 years old

ao3

Billy Hargrove is 18 years old. 

He has been, for just about 24 hours now. No one’s mentioned it. 

He’s watching how the minutes go by, like he did last night too. Seven minutes to midnight, seven minutes until he’ll really be entirely forgotten.  

It’s quiet around him, in the middle of fucking nowhere. No one is out at this time since everyone in Hawkins is in bed by 10 and even if they aren’t they surely aren’t sitting at the fucking Quarry. 

Billy likes it only because of the water. And maybe a little bit because it reminds him that he could always just jump. 

He’s not actively suicidal, he knows he’s gonna go back home and climb into his room through the window and hope that his dad doesn’t hear. Billy’s gonna go to bed and sleep the same fitful sleep he always has. Everything is gonna stay exactly how it is.

But for a moment the possibility is comforting. 

The edge of the descent down to the water is an adrenaline high. The same high that he gets here only by pushing his car to the highest speed right before a curve. 

Billy misses the way his lungs used to feel like they were about to burst when he stayed underwater too long. That was the best of them all, better than any drug or danger, that moment when he pushed himself until everything in him was screaming to dive back up, to get some oxygen. 

Nothing in Hawkins compares to the ocean. At least the Quarry is a body of water too though.

His mom used to take him surfing for his birthday. She used to get him cake too. At first there were presents as well, he remembers a small party even. 

His dad always said birthdays aren’t important though. Certainly not important enough to remember at all. 

At least last year Billy got a black eye. Today Neil didn’t acknowledge him even once and somehow that’s worse.

He spent the day like any other, breakfast in tense silence only interrupted by Susan trying to lift the tension, driving to school and watching Max disappear to her weird little friends, one useless class that’s teaching shit he already had in San Diego after the other, ignoring whatever shit Tommy and the other assholes said during break, beating everyone at basketball, not looking at Harrington in the shower, picking up Max, going home, working out until his body aches and tense dinner. Absolutely nothing of consequence happened. 

Billy curses when he feels his eyes tear up at the thought. 

Distracted by his own failings and the sound of his voice he doesn’t hear the car at first. The headlights he notices first, cutting through the trees and illuminating the Camaro. 

With bated breath Billy waits until he can make out the car. Of course it’s the fucking BMW.

He turns back around and waits.

“What are you doing?” Harrington asks when he’s still walking up to Billy at the edge. He doesn’t come up next to him entirely, choosing to stay two steps away from the cliff.

“Celebrating.” Billy’s a fucking idiot. 

Harrington remains a mystery to him.

They’ve settled into no man’s land since Billy beat him up last fall. After Max had him fucking apologise to Harrington he became- almost friendly. 

Billy doesn’t do “friends”. Which is most likely why there’s no one to remember his fucking birthday. 

Harrington is nice to him is the thing. Occasionally they talk, like when they both drop off the brats at the Arcade or when Harrington finds him in the middle of the night at the Quarry. 

And then sometimes Harrington stares at Billy way too long in the locker room. 

“What are you celebrating at the edge of certain death?” 

There’s a little edge to his voice, and a part of Billy is entirely too pleased to know enough of Steve’s tells to realise it. 

“I’m sure I could survive this.” 

There’s a scoff he receives in response, “Yeah, sure you could, big guy, now get away from there, alright?”

Billy takes another look at the black water below and turns around to look at Harrington. 

His hair is messy, like he already went to bed and got up again when he couldn’t sleep. His attire supports that theory, sweats and a T-shirt that’s all rumpled. 

He wastes a thought to consider if Steve sleeps without a shirt and only grabbed this one on his way out. 

“My birthday.”

Harrington is too busy looking relieved that Billy’s next to him now and away from the edge to pay attention, “What?”

“I’m celebrating my birthday, Harrington.”

“You- today?”

Now Billy gets to scoff. Then he checks his watch, “For another minute, King Steve, yes.”

“Shit, man, happy birthday,” He looks like a kicked puppy. Harrington looks actually upset at not having known. Somehow he also looks a little calculating. 

“Did you get anything nice?”

It’s such a stupidly Harrington thing to ask. Billy doesn’t feel like lying and laughs a little, “No, not really.”

For a second Billy thinks he’s about to get beaten up when Harrington moves closer. But instead of a fist connecting with his cheek there are hands cradling his face. And another heartbeat later there are lips on his own.

Steve all but crashes into him, moving against Billy with vigor and like he’s starving for it. Billy responds without thinking - because maybe he did jump after all? Maybe he’s dead and the cosmos is playing a gigantic joke because this feels awfully close to heaven and there’s no way Billy’s ever going to get there.

As quickly as he’d been there Steve steps back, “Fuck, sorry, I-”

This time Billy is the one to hold Steve’s face. Not for long though, as soon as he’s got his mouth back on Steve’s his hands are moving to his hair. That fucking hair he’s had to hear so much about. 

It feels even better between his fingers than he thought it would.

Steve sighs against his lips and Billy is filthy and rotten and he’s waited to long for this, he’s overthought everytime he caught Steve looking at his lips too much, to not use the chance and lick into Steve’s mouth.

This time he moans. 

It must be true then, Billy’s dead and in heaven. 

When Steve starts pushing him backwards, towards the Camaro, and then against its hood, Billy doesn’t think a lot. There is the passing thought though that his birthday had turned out surprisingly well after all. 

[wisteria-blooms]

miss black (f.w. & reader) (1/2)

CHAPTER: [1] [2]

PAIRING: Fred Weasley & You

REQUEST:

Hey, I was wondering if you could write some friends to lovers with Fred. The reader is Sirius’ daughter and is like a sister to Harry. Instead of them spending the summer at the burrow they all (Weasleys + Harry + Hermione) go to Grimmauld Place. :)

SUMMARY: Your summer is instantaneously made better when Fred Weasley and his family show up at Grimmauld Place. As you try to weather through your newfound lineage, Harry's trial, the Order, and growing pains in general, Fred shows you that love can be found even in the coldest of places - within the walls of Grimmauld Place. (3.0k words)

A/N: @nojamsonmytoast I think I owe you an apology for this super-delayed request. I swear I have all this stuff written out then I get in my head to try to make it better then I take a break and yeah... But I loved the summer they spent at Grimmauld Place, like sure the place was inhospitable but it just felt so cozy, especially with the twins apparating everywhere. Definitely a highlight in the OoTP! To be honest, I loved this request so much that it’ll be split in two parts to get everything you wanted in it.

Tags: Friends-to-lovers, fluff, comfort, Y/N is Sirius's daughter!!

MISS BLACK: CHAPTER 1

Drip. Drip. Drip.

You perfunctorily watched your morning coffee drip and pool into the glass vessel under the filter. It was early morning at 12 Grimmauld Place and there was barely a stir in the house except for the pitter-patter of Kreacher’s feet and his grumblings. There really wasn’t anything to do here. Any other summer you would’ve gone home and enjoyed yourself a nice vacation in muggle England, splaying your limbs out on a field somewhere under the sun or spending a day out in the city streets shopping. But this summer was different for many reasons.

“Morning.”

“Morning,” you responded, jolting upwards from your slouched position. You held up an empty mug and asked, “Coffee?”

“Sounds lovely,” Sirius responded, seating himself down at the long table in the kitchen and picking up the morning paper. “Didn’t really sleep well last night.”

Your eyes followed Sirius. It was a peculiar feeling, watching the man you discovered was your blood father. You’d first seen him over a year ago when you were trapped in the Shrieking Shack with him, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Remus, and Snape. There was some instant familiarity when his eyes met yours, but everything happened too fast for you to say anything. Before he left the school grounds, Professor Lupin had admitted he had his suspicions, but didn’t want to prematurely act on it until he had evidence. But he figured at the end of the school year, he could make a direct link – the history matched up. You couldn’t believe it, but looking at Sirius’s face as he sifted through the morning papers, it was hard to deny: your face basically mirrored his.

What was even more shocking was that he wasn’t just any normal wizard. He, and you by extension, was a descent of the Black family. The infamous House of Black. You decided you needed more time with him because the fact that he was your father wasn’t sinking in, like an emulsion of oil in water. So, you volunteered to spend the whole summer with him at Grimmauld Place despite all the reasons you didn’t want to. Firstly, you longed to see Harry, who you would meet whenever you could when were both in muggle England. He lived, by some happenstance, only a few streets down. And when he could escape the latches of Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, you often got up to great fun. Harry was perhaps the most excited to learn you were Sirius’s daughter. He hollered, much to Hermione’s chagrin, in your train compartment back to King’s Cross Station. It felt like it was fate that you were best friends – and perhaps it was because your fathers were back in their day, too.

Secondly, you often paid a visit for a week or two to the Weasleys. This was a trip often extended. You’d known them as long as Harry had, and they were the picture-perfect example of a loving family you’d yearned to have for the longest time. You knew Ron well through Harry, but you found you got along with his brothers better. In particularly, Fred Weasley had always taken a liking to you. You were more than willing to break a few rules with him and join in on his pranks with him, often posing as look-out at school. After the revelation of Sirius being your father, you braced for a disappointed reaction, but Fred being Fred, reacted differently. He was elated that he now knew where your mischievous streak came from. You were glad, because over the years, your world had begun to rely on his approval.

Lastly and overarching, it was hard to see your father in this state. The more you learned about him, the worse your heart broke for him. You felt awful that even you thought of him as a mass-murderer before you knew any better; it was libel what the Ministry of Magic was spewing. The way he gazed at you with such adoration and love made that impossible to believe.

“So,” you said as you set a cup of hot coffee down on the table. “When can we see Harry?”

Sirius laughed and leaned back into his chair.

“Is there a day you haven’t asked me this?”

“Nope,” you responded bluntly. “I’m just hoping your answer changes.”

“Well, my love, it’s the same today, but,” Sirius set his coffee down, “I’ve got your second-best option.”

“Yeah?” you perked up from the other side of the table. “What is it?”

“You’ll find out later today,” he said with a smile.

“You’re no fun.”

“I’d rather watch you be surprised.” He said with a shrug and picked up the news again. “So, what are you up to today?”

“Going to try to clean the house,” you murmured, stretching out your arms. “It seems every time I try, it ends up dirty again.”

You heard a faint sound coming down from the hall. Both you and Sirius turned towards the door. You glared at the shadow of the House Elf murmuring to himself as he passed through the corridor. “You don’t reckon Kreacher’s setting me up for failure?”

“Highly likely,” Sirius scoffed. “Never liked him.”

Your eyes followed Kreacher as he trundled slowly down the dark hallway. You could’ve sworn he looked back at you, plotting another day of undoing your hard work. “Filthy blood traitors, scum of the earth,” he continued to ramble. “What would my master think of…”

“Okay, see you later, then. Maybe I’ll outsmart Kreacher.”

You gave Sirius a hug from behind, feeling the act get a little more comfortable each time you did it.

By the time afternoon had settled in, you were worn out. You were tired of fighting doxies alone. Some extra hands wouldn’t be bad to have. Luckily, you had your own room to relax in. It was spacious and furnished from corner to corner, but felt empty due to the lack of friends. Sirius had also given you his old bedroom to do whatever you desired with it, stating he didn’t care much for what happened to it. You rolled around your bed and picked up a letter you kept in the first drawer of your nightstand. This one in particular made your heart flutter every time you read it. The penmanship was nearly illegible, but you loved it because you knew who wrote it: Fred Weasley.

                                                                                                                        July 03, 1995

(Y/N),

How’s summer without me? I’ll bet it’s boring. Even mum whines about the lack of girls in the house and you not being here. Not my fault she had six sons. 

Miss that pretty face of yours.

Fred

You weren’t sure of exactly when he’d started littering flirtatious phrases in his conversations, but it wasn’t unwelcome. Your cheeks felt warm at the thought of Fred finding you pretty. You just hoped he meant it and that it wasn’t a line he dropped on every girl.

Remus’s voice from downstairs snapped you out of your lovesick trance. The sharp sound of shattering glass consequently followed and you figured Tonks would be there too. Quickly stuffing Fred’s letter back in the drawer, you scurried downstairs, particularly parched for human interaction.

“Hi, Tonks!” you greeted as walked down the stairs.

“Wotcher, (Y/N),” Tonks responded, leaning on the rails and looking at the ajar door. The purple-haired wizard was like an older sister to you. Given her age, she was the easiest to get along with.

“What are they discussing in there?” you asked as you peered into the kitchen. You could make out figures shuffling and pacing, but they kept their voices low.

“Order affairs,” she responded.

“Order?” you asked.

“Er,” Tonks began to clarify, “work.”

“Alright.” You eyed her suspiciously. “Well, I’m going in.”

“Wait, (Y/N)—,” Tonks said as she stretched her arm out. You figured she was stationed here to stop you from going in, but you were helplessly curious about these meetings that occurred in your own home that you weren’t privy to.  

“Hi dad,” you interrupted, marching in like a delinquent. “What’s going on?”

Both Sirius and Remus stopped talking and abruptly turned around.

“You’re just in time, (Y/N),” Sirius said.

A puzzled look crossed your face. “What for?”

“A surprise.” Sirius explained. “He’s about this tall, if I recall correctly,” he said, approximating some height close to him with his hand. “Got a nice mop of bright hair.”

“Okay?”

“And standing right there.”

You whipped back around to face the door.

“Oh!” you gasped. You saw an entourage of people; Fred; George; Ron; Ginny; Molly and Arthur; Hermione. You ran over to Hermione first and embraced her and Ginny together. Not only were they your closest friends, but you were grateful for another girl or two in the house.  

“Hermione! Ginny!” you exclaimed, a giddy expression overtaking your face at the sight of your best friends. You took them both in your arms.

“(Y/N)!” Hermione responded, hugging you as hard as you hugged her. “How you’ve been? I’ve terribly sorry we couldn’t get here earlier.”

“Really awful without you, ‘Mione, and you too, Gin,” you admitted. “Besides Tonks, there’s a lack of female presence in this place.”

“Couldn’t have been great without me either,” piped up Ron from beside her.

“You, I can manage a couple of weeks without,” you teased, watching Ron’s face drop. “I’m kidding. I missed you, too.” You gave him a quick hug, but your gaze naturally flittered over to where two older redheads stood.

“Hi, George,” you greeted, giving him a quick hug as well.

Then you turned to Fred. If anyone was watching closely, they’d notice the little jump you launched yourself with before you latched onto him with alacrity, pouring weeks of his absence into his hug. You missed him the most: his smile, his touch, his scent, his affection, his attention, his damn entire being. His skin was warm and freshly freckled, his clothes soft like they’d been left to dry on a line in the summer heat. To you, Fred signified the beginning of summer.

“Easy, darling,” he whispered in your ear, letting you down. He kept his embrace for a few seconds longer than the others had. “You make it seem I’m the only one in the room.”

You grinned at him and whispered back, “because you are.”

Fred simply winked at you.

“Are you visiting for the evening, Mr. Weasley?” you asked Arthur, secretly hoping they’d stay for at least day.

Molly strolled in the kitchen after greeting Tonks at the door. She opened a cupboard and turned to your father. “Goodness, the kitchen’s empty. We’ve barely got enough food to last through tomorrow’s lunch. Sirius, are you ensuring (Y/N) is eating well?”

As Molly continued to reassure herself of your welfare, Arthur turned back to you. “We’ll be here indefinitely.”

“Oh, brilliant,” you responded.

“One problem with being here indefinitely,” murmured George beside you. “We need a place to send out orders for the shop.”

“That’s still a thing?” you whispered back. “I thought your mum put a stop to it.”

“We’re operating under subterfuge,” clarified Fred. “Need to keep it shielded from mum’s eyes, or she’ll have a fit again.”

You bit your lip in thought. “Just use dad’s old room,” you suggested. “It’s basically mine now. I’m been trying to make it more liveable.”

“Shall we apparate there or do it in the more conventional way?” George asked Fred.

“I say apparate,” responded Fred. “Meet you at the stairs, (Y/N).”

“What?”

Before you could implore further, Fred and George disappeared with a cackle. Molly’s shrill cry followed immediately as she whipped around from the cupboards to scold her sons.

“They’ve been doing this all summer,” Ron explained with a roll of his eyes beside you. “Apparating and doing magic just because they’re of age now. Mum hates it.”

“That’s convenient,” you murmured, wishing you were caught up in age and skill to do it. “I’ll be back in a second.”

You excused yourself, walked out the kitchen, and turned around to the staircase. The mottling undersides of it were laced with cobwebs that you swore you dusted off just this morning. You gazed up the dark and narrow flight of stairs, your eyes trailing upwards from two pairs of feet beside two sets of luggage up to two smug, almost identical faces. 

“After you, Miss Black,” said Fred with a bow as you approached him.

You paused. “What did you just call me?”

“Miss Black?” Fred repeated. “Or do you prefer Mademoiselle Black? Or Madame Black, if your heart is so rightfully taken.”  

“I-I don’t care for either of them, really,” you stated, continuing up the stairs with Fred behind you.

“He doesn’t call you that?” Fred asked in surprise, referring to a trudging Kreacher who was passing by below you.

“His favourite name for me is ‘scum of the earth’,” you corrected, earning a stifled laugh from George.

“Now, why would he call you that?” George chuckled as he trailed before Fred. “You hold a much higher title than him.”

“Ugly name for a pretty girl,” added Fred with a hum, the bass notes of his voice ricocheting the walls of the townhouse. Your skin prickled pleasantly, and you turned away to hide the awful blush threatening to surface on your face.

“You can just call me by my name,” you clarified. “It’ll take the entire summer for me to get used to it.”

After another few winding sets of stairs, the three of you arrived on the top floor, where Sirius’s bedroom was. You didn���t bother with the other door belong to your late uncle, Regulus.

“Did you do any work before we got here?” asked Fred, wiping grime off the wall with a finger.

“Of course I did,” you stated with a huff, looking at the walls you cleaned just yesterday afternoon. You imagined Kreacher cackling, painting slime over the walls as you slept peacefully downstairs. “It’s impossible with just me doing it.” You pointed to a basket overflowing with dirty rags and Doxy spray hanging off the handles that blocked Regulus’s room.

“You know what you need?” asked Fred.

“An actual house elf?” you suggested.

“No,” he corrected quickly. “You need someone who’ll listen to you. To be at your every beck and call whenever you need.”

“And where might I find that?” you asked.

“Right here,” he stated, pointing his thumb towards himself with a boastful smile.

You shook your head and rolled your eyes. “You would never in a million years help me clean this place.”

“People can change,” he interjected, following close behind you. “Why don’t you give me a chance?”

“We’ll see how you fare tomorrow.”

You pushed the door to Sirius’s old room open. Fred and George’s eyes widened at all the space you were providing them. Velvet curtains draped the windows so the room was dark, but other than the king-sized bed, the nightstand, and the drawer, it was clean and ready to be used as a workspace. You’d crammed everything else into the drawers: old photos, ticket stubs, guitar picks, empty ink bottles, and textbooks.

“I changed all the sheets in here so you can have a nap if you wear out your genius minds…” You trailed off when you realize where Fred’s eyes were traveling. They land on the semi-nude woman on the wall, the winner of some summer muggle bikini competition. “I can’t quite seem to take that poster off. It’s permanently enchanted to the wall.”

“I don’t think he minds it,” snickered George.

“Anyway, the space is yours,” you continued. “I doubt your mother will come up here. And I believe Orion sound-proofed this room when dad picked up the electric guitar.”

Fred rubbed his hands together. “This is excellent, really excellent, (Y/N).”

“We’ll start setting up,” George agreed as he unzipped his suitcase, letting a load of demonstrative products fall out onto the floor.  

“Forget work for a day,” you suggested. “Let’s do something fun on your first night here.”

“Such as?” prodded George.

“Swing by the guest room after dinner. The girls and Ron will be there, and we’ll have a bit of a party.”

“Trusty (Y/N),” Fred remarked. “Always the purveyor of fun.”

“I learn from the best,” you responded. When you saw Fred perk up, thinking you were lauding him, you quickly corrected him, “The best being George, of course.”

Fred offered you a pout, and you winked at him, holding onto your statement.

“Take it back, (Y/N),” he warned.

“I’m just going to leave you two lovebirds alone,” George said, making a disgusted face. “Save me from this lovers’ quarrel.” With that, he apparated away. The crack was quickly followed by Molly’s shrill cry from downstairs.

When it was just you and Fred in the room, you grew a little more courageous. A small smirk appeared on your face. “I still stand by it. I think George’s more fun than you.”

Fred stepped closer to you until he was inches near your face.  His tone was more intimidating this time, and your heart skipped a beat. “I said, take it back, (Y/N).”

“No.”

That was the last straw. Fred’s fingers darted out and launched an attack on your waist—somewhere he knew you were ticklish. You shrieked and tried to pry his hands off, but he was too much strong for you.

“Fine, fine!” you surrendered through laughs. “It’s you! You’re the most fun.”

“That’s more like it,” Fred said as he stopped. Suddenly, he’d scooped you up in his arms. You let your legs wrap around his waist as he hoisted you up. He held you firm and steady. You looked down at him, his brown eyes lucid and his touch palpable. Half of you couldn’t believe he was here with you like you’d been dreaming about the past couple weeks.

Then your eyes trailed down to his lips and you wondered if there was any chance you’d kiss them this summer like you’d wanted to for the past four summers. You’d be damned if you didn’t at least try.  

>>NEXT CHAPTER

[alphacrone]

trick or treat!

happy halloween! this was the intro to a sequel to heaven or hell or somewhere in between that i never got around to writing

-

Lucy was starting to miss reckless Lockwood. 

Don’t get her wrong—she was over the moon that he’d finally started being cautious. Even if his motives weren’t what Lucy wanted, she could rest easy knowing he wasn’t going to die on her watch. 

However, he was starting to get ridiculous. 

First was the health food. Lucy wanted to blame their new assistant, Holly Munro, for Lockwood’s descent into the world of salads and fish oil supplements, but that wouldn’t be fair. Lockwood had already lost his mind a bit before hiring Holly. The first time he passed over his turn in the biscuit rotation, George nearly had a conniption fit.  “We could all do with fewer sweets,” Lockwood had told George with a good-natured grin. The things George had said in response Lucy wasn’t keen to repeat. 

Next were the morning jogs. Even Holly seemed a bit baffled by these, as they were often followed by hours of rapier training. “It seems a bit unnecessary,” she told Lucy over breakfast one day, shaking her head. “I worry he’ll hurt himself like that.” Lucy had responded in Lockwood’s defense—rather rudely, she would admit—but secretly agreed. Perhaps it would be for the best if he put himself out of action for a few weeks. His period of bedrest after being in the hospital had been the most peaceful of Lucy’s life. 

The final and most concerning thing, however, was his new bedtime routine. Gone were the days of Lockwood being the last to bed and first to rise. As soon as they returned from a job, Lockwood would begin brewing chamomile tea. After a shower, he’d then take an odd and concerning number of supplements, then listen to a tape of meditations he found in his mother’s belongings, shutting himself away in his room to trick himself into eight hours of sleep. Lucy supposed it should be a happy thing that Lockwood was taking steps towards curing his insomnia, but the intensity of it gave her pause. 

“He still looks tired,” she told George one evening as they enjoyed a good Earl Grey and array of donuts after a successful job. 

“The idiot’s going to kill himself faster this way,” George agreed with a roll of his eyes. “And, by extension, you. Where will that leave me? Left out, as always.” 

Lucy kicked him under the table. “I didn’t ask to be his soulmate.” 

“You know, you’re not much better than he is,” George said, pulling his legs out of kicking distance. “It goes both ways.” 

She had thought about that, thank you very much. Lucy didn’t need George reminding her that every stupid decision she made could kill Lockwood. “I hope Bobby Vernon’s your soulmate,” she hissed. 

“At least I don’t have to worry about him getting shot,” George hissed back.

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

I Didn't Know You Were Keeping Count — Part VII: Sparrow

ao3

masterlist

first | previous | next

I apologize for the long wait for this chapter. I've had a lot of schoolwork I had to prioritize. Not to mention falling down the Rosewing (Leara/Odahviing) rabbit hole. But here we are! Chapter Seven at last! It's another long one, but at this point, I don't think I'll be splitting any more chapters unless it runs upward of 12-14k words or something.

Please, someone, try and find the (obvious) DC reference and (less than obvious) Hobbit and Star Wars references I put in this chapter!

Taglist: @ravenmind2001 @incorrectskyrimquotes @uwuthrad @dark-brohood @owl-screeches @binaominagata @dakatmew @constantfyre

@kurakumi @stormbeyondreality

@blktooth @singleteapot @aardvark-123 @blossom-adventures @hungryswampdweller @argisthebulwark @inkysqueed @average-crazy-fangirl

Content Warnings: Leara is struggling, and for once it's not all Bishop's fault (but most of it is); self-doubt, gaslighting, non-graphic physical injury, disturbing dreams, non-consensual somnophilia.

#######

         Snow crunched underfoot as Leara made the ascent.

         A light snowfall dusted her path, drifting from a lace blanket across the sky. She couldn’t see the world below for the cloud banks brushing against the highest peaks of the Throat of the World. Overhead and higher than the mountaintop, clouds of ice crept back after her Shout displaced them to the winds. Leara kept a watchful eye on the weather. Far above the world, cradled by the snow and sky, she made her way back to the old dragon and the next step in her destiny.

On her back, the golden casement of the Elder Scroll pulled at her shoulders, heavy and as light as air all at once. It hadn’t left her side since she emerged from Blackreach, blinking at the too-bright rays of Magnus reaching down to brush her face. At the touch of sunlight, the magic in her veins relaxed, relieved of a tension she hadn’t realized was holding her since the descent into Alftand. Here, traversing the rim of the sky, she felt that same warm touch from the sun, its rays soothing her soul. Alone, under Magnus’ light, the weight of the Elder Scroll felt bearable.

It wasn’t always so.

Late at night, she would sleep with the artifact in her arms, back to the fire. Bishop would scoff at how protective she was of the scroll, but she brushed him off. He didn’t understand how important it was and what she needed to do. Sometimes, listening to him talk, she thought Bishop didn’t understand what it meant for her to be Dragonborn. She couldn’t blame him, though. She wondered if anyone aside from the Blades and the Greybeards truly understood the significance of the Dragonborn. Remembering the awe of the guards at Whiterun when she’d slain Mirmulnir, Leara knew she was right. The last of the Septims died so long ago . . . the Dragonborn was truly a figure of legend. All anyone knew about them were stories, and if Bishop, who renounced the Divines, saw the power of the Dragonborn as nothing more than a fairytale, even after spending weeks with the Last Dragonborn, how could Leara ever hope to change his mind? What if defeating Alduin was the only way to do so?

As she cleared the gathering clouds from the path, her mind turned to what was about to happen. To this next step. Paarthurnax told her that to learn Dragonrend, she needed to see through time, through the Time Wound where Alduin was originally defeated, and for that, she would need the Elder Scroll. Now she had it. Now she was about to approach the Time Wound. What then? What did she do after she learned Dragonrend?

What did she do if she didn’t learn it?

Nerves twisted in her stomach as she rounded the final corner. Leara arrived at the summit.

Atop the crumbling Word Wall perched Paarthurnax. At the crunch of her boots in the snow, the old white dragon looked up. He seemed deep in thought before, but now his dark eyes were alight with an anticipation Leara felt eating at her insides. With a rumbling hum, Paarthurnax fluttered his wings as Leara made her way to his perch. To her surprise, the old dragon appeared almost excited that she was there. Despite herself, Leara offered up a smile, full and nervous all at once.

“Hello, Paarthurnax,” Leara said.

Craning his neck down, Paarthurnax brought his horned head almost level with Leara’s. His warm breath rolled over her, comforting. “Drem Yol Lok, Dovahkiin. Ven lovaas do hi. The wind spoke of your coming.”

“I think that was my Clear Skies Shout you heard.”

Smoke curled from Paarthurnax’s nostrils, a snort rumbling from his throat. The levity in his eyes faded to resignation as his attention turned to the Elder Scroll peaking from behind Leara’s shoulder.

“You have it. The Kel, the Elder Scroll. Tiid kreh . . . qalos. Time shudders at its touch.” He closed his eyes, his head bowed. “There is no question. You are doom-driven. Kogaan Akatosh. The very bones of the earth are at your disposal.”

The Elder Scroll pulled at her back, crushing her spine as if she carried the weight of the world on her back. And she did. Leara’s stomach writhed, though whether it was from anticipation or nerves, she wasn’t sure.

Paarthurnax watched her, knowing. “Go then,” he said. “Fulfill your destiny. Take the Scroll to the Time-Wound. Do not delay. Alduin will be coming. He cannot miss the signs."

Leara stopped, her hands frozen with the Elder Scroll halfway off her back. “Alduin is coming?”

Raising his eyes to the sky, Paarthurnax faced the late morning sun. “Dez los ahst haal. He will come.”

Alduin was coming. A strange calm settled over Leara as she turned the realization over in her mind. Of course, he was coming. This was the natural progression of her destiny. Alduin would want to head her off before she, the Dragonborn, knew the secret to his defeat. Her grip hardened on the casement. The World-Eater would be too late. She would learn Dragonrend.

She must.

The Time Wound ahead, the watchful gaze of Paarthurnax behind, Leara slipped the Elder Scroll from its casement. Her steps were steady and her nerves were quiet, but the doom drum was pounding in her chest with the force of a storm. Her hands did not shake as she stepped into the wavering slip of space where the air crumpled like translucent foil. There was no sound as she unrolled the parchment from the scroll.

         Runes spun and curled around the parchment. Leara blinked, but the runes didn’t fade. They were in her head. Their light was in her mind, bleeding across her senses. Leara blinked again. The runes were gone, but in their wake, the world was changed. She saw it as if through a dim mirror. Noise came to her muffled as if from a distance.

         Red fire bled across the clouds, curling with smoke. Shouting rang in the distance, the battle cries of dragons and men filling the air. Leara blinked again, the glow of the runes creeping across her vision. A man bathed in red light stood before a towering dragon, a battle-axe hefted before him. On the howling wind, she almost heard the scathing words of the dragon, hissing about Alduin and the death that the World-Eater would soon rain down on rebellious man. She blinked, and then a woman was there, her war cry high in the air as she ran to face the dragon head-on.

         “For Skyrim!”

         “Know that it was Gormlaith Lindsdatter who sent you down to death!”

         The world swirled with runes and fire. The dragon was dead. The man stood beside Gormlaith as she crowed over her victory. “Have you no thought beyond the blood on your blade?”

         “What else is there?”

         The man gripped her arm. Smoke choked the horizon. “The battle below grows ill. If Alduin does not answer our challenge, I fear all will be lost.”

         Laughter vibrated through the air. “You always worry so, brother! Alduin will come and victory will be ours!”

         An old man appeared from the smoke, passing like shadow through the glare at the edge of her sight. At his approach, Gormlaith and her brother turned. “Felldir! Why does Alduin hang back? We've staked everything on this plan of yours.”

Felldir sighed, “He will come. He cannot ignore our defiance.”

         Thunder shook the skies, the fire in the clouds blazing brighter. The three stood there, Paarthurnax’s old friends, in the moments before their moment of triumph. She could taste the song of destiny screaming in the wind.

“None have yet stood against Alduin himself . . .”

"They did not have Dragonrend.” Gormlaith twirled her sword, a bleeding swath against the rusty snow.

"You do not understand.” Felldir’s voice was urgent. “Alduin cannot be slain like a lesser dragon. He is beyond our strength. Which is why I brought the Elder Scroll."

Then he held up the Elder Scroll, a bright jewel in the dim haze of the world. Hakon was dismayed. “We agreed not to use it!”

Felldir’s laugh was dry and brittle, cracking and burnt. “I never agreed, and if you are right, I will not need it.”

         Thunder rumbled and with it, the smoke hazing the world thickened, pressing down from the sky like a choking wave. The three turned. Leara could not. But she heard the coming just the same. A noise like a hurricane coming out of the east. The pines on the mountain creaked and cracked on the hot, dry wind. It was the World-Eater. Alduin was coming.

         His shadow passed overhead, black and encompassing the entire world. A trill of terror struck her veins. Familiar terror. It took hold of her when Alduin destroyed Helgen – only Ralof’s quick thinking pulled her away to safety – and it reasserted itself when Alduin called her out at Kynesgrove. Leara . . . did not like to think of Kynesgrove: Delphine, hiding in the bushes, telling her to prove herself; Alduin, laughing at her, declaring she could not, would never be Dragonborn. The frozen fear that curled inside her then was a boiling, rolling sea of nerves now as Alduin’s shadow dominated her vision. How could she fight him? How could she hope to win?

         “JOOR ZAH FRUL!”

         Dragonrend was not directed at her, but it slammed into her soul as if she were dead center in the crosshairs. It blazed a trail through her skin, piercing her soul with grasping, groping fingers. The knowledge of the words etched itself into her insides, stinging like poison running through her veins. Mortal. Finite. Temporary.

         Dying. Death. Dissolved.

         Burning, burning, burning – and then Alduin was before her, parrying words with the three heroes. Alduin’s voice was glass, shredding her skin. Her head was swimming, clouded with smoke.

         Gormlaith was dead.

         Felldir unrolled the Scroll, the runes twisting across the parchment in streams of fire. “Hold, Alduin on the Wing! Sister Hawk, grant us your sacred breath to make this contract heard! Begone, World-Eater! By words with older bones than your own, we break your perch on this age and send you out! You are banished! Alduin, we Shout you out from all our endings unto the last!”

         Alduin was screaming, or was Leara? The world was dying, dissolving into ash. Time was dead. Time was alive. The winds were screaming.

         Leara was cold.

         She blinked, and the world was itself again. She was cold, blissfully cold. Snowflakes fluttered over her, caressing her face, and Leara realized she was on her back in the snow. Her limbs were stiff, but still, she managed to get to her feet, one foot at a time. A glance around found the Elder Scroll off to the side, wound up as if she’d never read it.

         But she had. Dragonrend was seared into her soul like a scar.

         “Paarthurnax,” she gasped.

         Darkness gathered overhead as thunder rumbled, beating closer and closer like the approach of an army. But Leara knew the sounds of an army, and this was worse. This was Alduin, and he was coming for her.

         The black shadow swept over her, deeper and more horrible than it was in the vision. Her legs were stone, her blood was ice. This was it. Her destiny had come.

         Drawing her katana, Leara stood to face it with grace, her jaw set and her eyes bright. The nerves twisting her insides stilled as the world came into hyperfocus. So poised, she looked to the skies.

         Alduin swept overhead, his wings a void of night against the daylight. His maw was aglow with unreleased fire as he spoke, his blood-ruby eyes fixed on her from high in the sky. “Bahloki nahkip sillesejoor. My belly is full of the souls of your fellow mortals, Dovahkiin!” With a Shout she could not comprehend, Alduin vanished from the blue-white patchwork of daylight and ice clouds. Dark smoke billowed across the sky, bursting and popping here and there with the promise of falling fire. Then he looked at her. “Die now and await your fate in Sovngarde!”

         “Like Oblivion I will,” Leara muttered, her katana raised across her front as she tracked the World-Eater’s flight.

         “Lost funt. You are too late, Alduin!” Paarthurnax cried, launching himself from his perch to avoid Alduin’s fire. Circling the mountain peak, he stood in stark contrast against Alduin in both size and color. Alduin’s void dark form eclipsed the slight sheen of Paarthurnax as the old dragon evaded the snapping jaws of the World-Eater. “Dovahkiin! Use Dragonrend, if you know it!”

         Alduin’s laughter was the rumbling of an erupting volcano as he chased Paarthurnax across the skies, twisting and somersaulting through the air in an erratic dance Leara could only just follow. Her head was spinning. Her mouth was dry. This was it. She would use Dragonrend and Alduin would land, and she would slay him. Certainly, she could slay him when the three ancient heroes could not because she was Dragonborn when they were not. That was it. This would all be over soon.

         “JOOR ZAH FRUL!”

         Pain erupted through her soul, bursting under her skin like firecrackers. Dread unlike any she’d felt either under in the Dominion or while on the run or even under Alduin’s shadow gripped her soul, choking it so she couldn’t breathe. Leara couldn’t breathe. Everything was darkening—

         Shockwaves shook the ground. Leara tottered forward, her sword arm falling as Alduin’s giant form crashed into the snow. Steam rose, stinging Leara’s eyes as she peered through the mists at the howling form of the World-Eater. Why was she shaking? She needed to fight him. She needed to slay Alduin once and for all. What was wrong with her?

         Forced calm clawed at the terror holding her soul. Her hand tightening around her katana, Leara drew it back, holding the blade over her head as she held her off-hand in front of her, parallel with the katana. Ice magic caressed her things with familiar comfort, pooling in the palm of her glove and chilling the steam around her hand.

Alduin lifted his head, his ruby eyes a scorching blaze burning through the ice in hers. “My teeth to your neck, Dovahkiin!”

Twirling her katana, Leara smirked, “Bite me.”

“YOL TOR SHUL!”

Alduin was grounded, but he was no less deadly on the earth than he was in the skies. An inferno billowed from the black dragon’s snapping jaws. but Leara dodged, but only just as she ducked into a roll right under his massive neck and out of the fire’s path. The Throat of the World was frozen, but under Alduin it was boiling: The snow melted at such an alarming rate that Leara found herself slipping through the slush right under the shadow of one of Alduin’s wings and into a snowbank beyond.

With a grunt, Leara got to her feet just as the World-Eater rounded on her, his jaws like a viper’s. “You are no match for me, kiir! Hin zii los dii!”

The air around Leara sizzled and popped. Looking up, she flung herself back as a flaming meteor fell from the sky, dissolving the snowbank into a smoking crater. Leara spared it half a glance before facing Alduin – only to find him beating his wings, stirring up a tempest of smoke and steam as he tried to lift himself from the ground. No!

Paarthurnax circled above, high and clear of Alduin as he kept a watchful eye over the fight. “Hurt him while he is grounded!”

“JOOR—” Her soul was on fire. “—ZAH FRUL!”

Alduin’s legs buckled and his chest crashed into the ground. His wings fell, and Leara crumpled beneath their weight. Her chest heaved, struggling to breathe under the weight of the black wing and the force of Dragonrend tearing through her soul.

Mirmulnir. Sahloknir. Golzkreinyol. Venstrunbo – none of the dragons she’d slain before were this difficult. But none of the dragons she’d fought before were Alduin, the Firstborn and the Most Powerful. Defeating him would take all her strength. All she was.

A weed of doubt sprung up in her mind. What if it took her? What if she didn’t survive this fight? What if Alduin took her out with him?

Leara shivered, and then she realized she had her katana seized in a death grip. The wing pressing her into the ground heaved and Leara rolled to her side, drawing the katana to her. An idea poked at the edges of her mind, half-baked by Alduin’s smothering heat. Frost collected in her right hand, fathering around the hilt of her katana, inching its way up the steel blade, creaking and hissing. Leara brought her feet up, coiled like a spring. She stabbed upward.

“DOV AH KIIN! DOR LIZ JOT! You will pay for your defiance!”

Ice and blood shattered around her as Leara burst through a steaming, gaping, bleeding hole in Alduin’s wing. She clung to the membrane for dear life, stabbing her katana into it again as Alduin Shouted at her, his rage a storm of flames. Her stomach fell and her head swam as the wing flew up, holding her upside down over the ebony spines along Alduin’s back. It was only the iron grip both hands had on her katana and the foothold she had in the first wound that kept her from falling.

         Flap! Wind rushed through Leara’s ears, harmonized with her screams as the wing rushed back to the ground. Then up again, higher and higher. Leara’s boots slipped from where they’d hooked into the first wound and she found herself free-falling.

         All the air in her chest was knocked from her lungs as she collided with the surface of Alduin’s wing. He was yelling, Shouting at her again but her head was swimming and she couldn’t understand what he was saying. Her heart was beating out of her chest. Her fingers were slipping from the hilt of her katana.

         Gasping, Leara’s sword hand froze, freezing to the hilt and forming an icy seal. One moment. She caught her breath. The next she was falling, the blade cutting a bloody swatch down Alduin’s wing. She landed on his back just as he beat his wings, screaming and cursing as he ascended into the air.

         Someone was Shouting, “Dovahkiin!” but she did not know if it was Paarthurnax or Alduin. Ice still bound her hand to the hilt of her katana, notched in the bone of Alduin’s wing, but her feet were slipping.

         She was going to fall.

         Alduin was airborne. Her right arm was numb from the force of holding on to her sword as the World-Eater pumped his damaged wing. Fire consumed her joints. A scream tore through her throat as her feet scrambled at Alduin’s scales, unable to find purchase.

         “Ruth hi, Dovahkiin! I will crush you like vermin!” bellowed Alduin.

         Gritting her teeth, Leara brought one leg up, bracing her foot against the joint of Alduin’s wing. The vibrations jarred her ankle and Leara almost lost hold of her precarious position high above the Throat of the World. In her periphery she saw Paarthurnax swop below, calling to her, but Leara could not understand him for the blood pounding in her ears. She was not going to fall. She would not.

         Leara pushed up from the foot on Alduin’s beating wing and threw herself forward. Her left arm wrapped around one of his spikes just as her katana slid free of the ruined wing. Alduin was bellowing at her again, but Leara couldn’t understand that, either. Panting, she dragged herself to her feet, her arms wrapped around the spikes rising along Alduin’s spine. Feet planted on the ridges of the dragon’s back, Leara’s chest relaxed, her heartbeat evening. Carefully, she moved between the ebony bones toward the base of Alduin’s neck.

         The blood in her ears was cool, calming like the morning snowfall. She stood at the base of Alduin’s neck, her katana pointed down.

         “He is too strong on the wing! Use Dragonrend!” Paarthurnax’s voice came on the wind.

         Dragonrend. Dragonrend scored through her soul. But Alduin, Alduin would devour her if she didn’t fell him soon.

         “JOOR ZAH FRUL!”

         “RUTH HI, DOV AH KIIN!”

         Leara plunged her katana down between the black scales, collapsing against her blade as Alduin barreled toward the ground, shrieking in pain and fury as he tried to fight against the throws of Dragonrend. Oh Akatosh, if it burned her soul, then what was it doing to Alduin? What—

         Air rushed against her, cold and biting. There was nothing around her, nothing under her. A scream tore from Leara’s throat as she fell, down, down, down . . .

         Jaws caught her, jarring her within the shell of her armor. Her limbs were frozen, her blood was ice and the world was spinning. Her head pounding, Leara’s stomach rolled as she blinked furiously against the darkening sky. Where was the sun?

         No, it was Alduin. His dark shape rose like a specter to eclipse Magnus. “Hi los sahlo, Paarthurnax! Paarthurnax fin mey! Your Dovahkiin is strong! Mey joor kiir, but I will outlast her!”

         Outlast, outlast, outlast.

         She failed.

         Leara failed.

         Alduin winged his flight toward the east, gliding on the wind. Leara watched him fade into the distance, the sky clearing in his wake. Paarthurnax landed in the half-frozen ruins of the mountaintop and Leara slipped from the cradle of his teeth, only for her knees to buckle, her limbs coated in ice and her soul on fire. Leara fell, and the darkness rushed up to meet her.

·•★•·

         Something warm dabbed at her forehead.

         Leara’s eyelids were heavy. The touch was warm and damp. Blinking, bright light smeared across her vision. Oh, oh her head hurt!

         “Hn . . .”

         A near-silent, “Hmm,” hummed above her, and the cloth disappeared. Leara squeezed her eyes shut against the ache.

         There was a rustle of robes and a soft murmur in the hall. Then more rustling.

         “Dragonborn,” a voice whispered nearby.

         Leara frowned as a cool hand felt her forehead. Then slowly opening her eyes, Leara found the withered face of Master Arngeir above her, worry creasing the corners of his eyes. “My child, I am relieved you are awake.”

         “Wha’—” Akatosh, her throat burned, “—happened?”

         Master Arngeir’s mouth drew a grim line. “We heard the sounds of Dragonrend echo down from the peak. But,” the old Greybeard hesitated. Leara tried to lift her hand, her muscles aching. He patted her wrist, taking her hand in both of his. It was then Leara realized her arm was bandaged, wrapped to the elbow in linens. “When we saw Alduin fly east, we feared the worst. It was much for us to prevent your companion from making the climb to the Throat of the World in search of you.”

         Oh. Bishop. Her head twinged at the thought of him. “How’d I ge’ here?” she slurred, voice heavy.

         Master Arngeir settled her wrist back on top of the blankets. With a strength she did not know to expect from the old man, Master Arngeir helped prop her up on another pillow before raising a clay cup to her mouth. Once the first drops of water hit her tongue, Leara gulped it down, heedless of Master Arngeir’s soft admonishments for her to slow down. Once she’d drained the cup, he set it aside and continued: “It was Paarthurnax who brought you down from the mountain. He told us how you wrestled the World-Eater to the ground with Dragonrend, but though you scoured Alduin’s wing, you could not overcome him.”

         Shame bloomed anew in Leara’s chest, memories of the battle flaming to life in her mind. Oh, yes. That. “I’ve failed,” she whispered, hoarse.

         But Master Arngeir was shaking his head. “No, child, you have not. You have won a great victory against Alduin. Paarthurnax said as much himself. You defeated Alduin in open battle – more than that, you wounded him. The World-Eater will carry your mark unto the end of time, long after you have passed on.”

         But Leara was already shaking her head, despite the dull aches pinpricking up her neck and through her mind. “He’s still out there, though. He escaped. Alduin escaped . . .”

         “Hush now,” Master Arngeir reproofed, eyes serious though his tone remained soft. “You were never going to defeat Alduin on the mortal plain. He is too powerful for that. You will have to go to him.”

         Go to him? Go to him where? Aetherius – no, Sovngarde? “How?”

         He patted her hand again, gently. Still, the frostbitten skin tingled and pinched beneath the layers of linen wrap. “We can discuss that when you are well again. For now, you must rest. As Paarthurnax told it, you bathed in Alduin’s blood and formed for yourself a shell of ice before flying through the air.”

         Leara sank back into her pillows, eyes shut. “Yeah, that, that sounds right.”

         Body bandaged and tucked into a warm bed in High Hrothgar, the battle with Alduin felt oddly distant, as if it happened in a burning nightmare. Would it be? Scenes of the fire and her fall and the fury of Dragonrend circled through her mind, awakening the aches under her skin and in her bones. Would the memories follow her into sleep? She was so tired. Was she going to enter a realm of nightmares at any moment?

         “Dragonborn, if you are up for it, there is another matter I wish to discuss with you,” Master Arngeir said, his voice strangely hesitant.

         Muscles tensing in anticipation, Leara peaked out of one crystal eye at the old master. Suddenly, he did appear very old, almost stooped over. Worried, Leara frowned, blinking back sleep. “What’s wrong?”

         “It is a matter concerning your companion.”

         Her mouth soured. Bishop. “What’s he done now?”

         Master Arngeir appeared contemplative, deep in thought for a moment before he pressed on. “I cannot presume authority to admonish you for the company you keep, but in the time since you left to fight the World-Eater, he has been in a black mood. He stalks the halls at all hours and paces the courtyard. He is restless and agitated. It was only through Kyne’s keeping that he was not outside the monastery when Paarthurnax brought you to us.”

         Oh, Bishop was such a blockhead. “I’m sorry he’s been a, a bother—" she said, stifling a yawn. “Excuse me.”

         “His behavior is not your responsibility,” Master Arngeir sighed. “I simply question whether he is the wisest choice of companion for you.”

         The picture of Bishop’s body tumbling over the cliff in the force of her Shout wormed itself to the forefront of her mind. At once, Leara’s fall didn’t seem so horrific: She had Paarthurnax there to catch her. Down in Blackreach, Bishop had nothing. It was a miracle he was alive. Insufferable and handsy as ever, but still alive. She nearly killed him, but he forgave her. He didn’t care that he almost died so long as she was still alive. Leara squeezed her eyes shut against the light, against Master Arngeir’s questioning stare. Bishop wasn’t the best, but he was good in a pinch. Especially when she . . . was not.

         Jolting, her mind swirling with guilt and exhaustion, Leara realized Master Arngeir was awaiting an answer. “I owe it to him,” she settled on.

         The master’s face clouded. “I would take stock of my debts if I were you, Dragonborn. Men like him will overdraw until there is nothing left.” He rose to leave.

Akatosh, this was all too much. “Master Arngeir?”

“Yes, my child?”

“Why,” now she was hesitating, “why are you telling me this stuff now, after I just woke up?”

Master Arngeir looked at her, his sky-blue eyes troubled as if with the promise of rain. “I am telling you this because once he learns you are awake, I do not think I will have the opportunity to do so again.”

         What did that mean? Before she could ask, Master Arngeir patted her bandaged wrist and slipped out the door, shutting it behind him. Once he was gone and the room was quiet, her exhaustion pooled over her. Alduin, her failure, the Greybeards’ misgivings about Bishop . . . all things that could wait until after she woke up. If she dared to address them at all. That was . . . that was the Leara of tomorrow’s problem.

Yawning, Leara settled into her pillows. Yes, in the morning.     

·•★•·

(*)(*)(*)

Smoke swirled before her, shifting between the peaks of the mountain. Beyond the smokescreen, the world was blanketed in a darkness so thick, no stars were visible. The smoke slithered and spun around her as if lit by a dying fire. It stung her skin, hissing and snapping at her bandages. Her bandages?

She looked down, her right arm and both hands were wrapped with linen. She could smell the musty floral tang of a healing paste wafting off them. As she stared at them, the burning smoke snipped at the linen, singing it until it too was smoking. The linens fell away, and she saw her skin. Her fingers were pink as if flushed, but her skin was cold, so cold.

Was she recovering from frostbite?

The smoke lifted her chin, scorching her skin as it forced her to look up. She jerked her head back, but the smoke was behind her, too, wrapping around her so that its sting caressed her whole body.

Where was her nightgown? Had she been wearing one?

She moaned, shifting in discomfort. Despite how cold she was, it was too hot. The smoke was burning her. No, stop . . .

“Shh,” hissed the smoke, curling around her ear.

“I don’t . . .”

         Hot pain tingled over her shoulder, thawing her chilled skin so quickly that it burned. Oh, oh! “Please . . .”

         The smoke caressed her burn, slipping its way up her neck and to the underside of her jaw. To her ear.

         Another burn blistered below her ear, in the delicate place where a touch could drive her to her knees.

         Her face was freezing . . . was she crying? Oh, she was crying. Please, she didn’t want to, no more—

(*)(*)(*)

         It burned a trail down her chest, settling over her heart, slipping between her ribs, and worming its way into her lungs. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe. It was choking her – she couldn’t breathe—

         Leara shot up with a gasp. Her lungs seized and she spluttered, coughing into her hands.

         Soft . . . scratchy? Blinking back tears, Leara stared at the white bandages wrapped around her fingers. Frostbite. She dragged in a ragged breath, warm, clear, and soothing within her chest. It was a dream, just a dream. Wiping her tearstained cheeks on the clean bandages, her breathing evened out and her erratic heartbeat stilled.

Yes. It was a dream.

But why did it feel so real?

The creaking of the door drew her attention. A watery smile curled onto her face as Karnwyr slipped through the half-open door and padded over to her bed. He plopped his head on top of her covers, his large brown eyes gazing up at her as he whined. Reaching out, Leara stroked the wolf’s head, mindful of the tingling ache in her fingers. “I’m sorry to have worried you so much,” she soothed.

         Karnwyr grunted. He pushed his muzzle against her thigh. Warm, comforting . . . safe.

         Shuffling to the side, Leara patted the narrow strip of mattress. “C’mon, up you get.”

         Karnwyr clambered onto the bed and settled in the open space. His head was settled across her legs, but the rest of him dominated most of the small mattress. Leara didn’t mind. Karnwyr’s was a comforting presence, and she knew that as long as he was there, there would be no nightmares. No dreams of smoke and fire.

·•★•·

         She woke to Master Einarth’s knock. He entered, bearing a tray with a cup of hot tea and a bowl of porridge. Before allowing her to eat, Master Einarth unwrapped Leara’s hands. They were both flushed pink, but the tingling from before had lessened. The frostbite was healing, for which Leara was grateful. Still, it would be a few weeks before she dared cast ice magic again. Once she’d eaten, Master Einarth presented her with a healing paste – the same that was applied under her bandages. Leara knew enough about wounds to know that she needed to continue its application. She thanked the silent Greybeard, receiving a soft smile in return. Then Master Einarth left with her tray and Leara got out of bed.

         Karnwyr watched from the corner as she wobbled, her knees buckling. How long was she in bed? Leara made a mental note to ask Master Arngeir when she next spoke to him.

         After a few false starts, Leara shuffled over to her bag, left on a little chest at the end of the bed. Slowly, her bones aching, she stripped off her trousers and undershirt. Relief flooded her chest, strange and unexpected, as she did so. No one had changed her. Bishop hadn’t stripped her. Not to the skin, at least. But these clothes were ruined, she thought, fingering the frayed edges of the sleeves with a frown. Someone had cut the sleeves off, probably to free her arms.

         Leara’s stomach turned. She fell back on the bed, her old shirt clutched loosely in both hands. Her hands were encased in ice, they were coated in dragon’s blood. Her imagination swirled with how horrific her wounds must’ve looked when Paarthurnax brought her back to High Hrothgar. Only Restoration magic could have restored her flesh to health, and then only if applied quickly.

         The shirt slipped through her fingers. Leara touched the pink skin of her hands, new and healed on the surface. Underneath they were still healing. But they would heal.

         Her ribs seized. It took everything in Leara not to double over and cry. She couldn’t defeat Alduin, she couldn’t use Dragonrend, and to top it off, she nearly lost her hands because of her own reckless use of magic! Bitter laughter clawed its way out of her throat. Now that was the sort of tale Alec the Prince of Sycophants should spin into legend!

         She emerged into the hallway several minutes later, eyes dry with her teacup in hand and Karnwyr at her heels. Her blanket was tucked around her shoulders, a ward against the ever-present chill permeating through the monastery. The stone corridor was silent as she and Karnwyr padded along. Outside the thin windows, white daylight leaked through, cutting bright lines across the floor. Stopping, Leara paused to peer out into the courtyard. Two of the Greybeards were out there, though she couldn’t tell if either was Master Arngeir or not. By the looks – and sounds – of it, they were practicing the Voice.

         “Sweetness, you’re finally up.”

         Arms engulfed Leara, jostling her arms and sloshing her tea. Weak protest fizzled out as Bishop held her from behind, his arms heavy on her waist as his hands pressed into her stomach. His chin stabbed into her thin shoulder, and he leaned his head against hers. She was trapped against his chest. Her eyes met Karnwyr’s, but the wolf only whined.

         “Bishop . . .”

         “Four days, sweetness. Four damn days in which those blasted old assholes wouldn’t let me near you.” He untangled himself from her. Her sigh of relief barely escaped before Bishop spun her around to face him. His eyes were wild, blown wide open as they roved over her face. Leara shrank in on herself, but it wasn’t enough to escape his eyes. It would never be enough.

         He took her chin between his forefinger and thumb, and Leara had no choice but to face him. “Four days, sweetness, and the only damn thing they would tell me is you fought Alduin the fricking World-Eater! And lost!”

         “I didn’t—”

         “Those old farts wouldn’t tell me anything! They wouldn’t even let me see you after they brought you down from the mountain! And what the Hell were you thinking, going up there alone to fight the biggest damn dragon in Skyrim?”

         “Please—”

         His hands were on her shoulders, stroking down to her elbows. The teacup in her hands was shaking so violently that the remaining tea inside threatened to spill. Tears were smearing at the corners of her eyes, but Bishop didn’t see. He didn’t see any of it.

         “What am I going to do with you?” he asked, removing a hand from her arm only to drag it roughly down his face.

         “I don’t know,” Leara whispered. She didn’t know what she was going to do with herself, much less what Bishop had planned.

         Bishop grunted. “Well then, now that you’re up, can we leave the frozen Hellhole for greener pastures?”

         Leara closed her eyes, sending a silent prayer to Kynareth for peace. This was fine. This was just how Bishop was. He was abrasive and reactionary. Sitting in High Hrothgar for the better half of a week would never be the ranger’s idea of fun, but if he could just be patient. She needed to talk to Master Arngeir again and figure out her next steps. She just needed a little patience from Bishop.

         And she was still recovering.

         “Bishop,” she began, “there are still a few things I need to discuss with Master Arngeir before we can just leave. And besides, I don’t know if I’m well enough to travel yet.”

         Bishop cast a dubious glance at her hands. “Your frostbite looks fine to me, darling. Are you sure it's not my presence that has you feeling weak at the knees?” he smirked at her.

         Leara frowned. “I thought you said—”

         “Ah, Dragonborn, you’re up and about!”

         Leara jolted back from Bishop as if burnt, to find Master Arngeir making his way down the hall to meet her. She gave the old Greybeard a shy smile, suddenly remembering his words concerning Bishop. She understood Master Arngeir’s trepidation. Just climbing the Seven Thousand Steps put Bishop on edge, but staying in High Hrothgar indefinitely? He hated High Hrothgar, and he held the Greybeards in crude disdain. Bishop was never going to keep his opinions to himself, and the Greybeards, already slow to trust outsiders, were never going to take the ranger’s animosity lightly. Leara was the only thing they all had in common, and already she could feel a pull from both sides as they tried to sway her against the other. Was it any different from the pull between the Greybeards and the Blades?

         At the thought of the Blades, a pang of homesickness shot through her. Leara missed the comforting familiarity of Cloud Ruler Temple and the Knight Brothers and Sisters as they worked and trained. Back then, she was nothing more than one of many watching for the return of the Dragonborn. Things were different then. Never could any of them have dreamed that quiet, studious Elanor was the Dragonborn they waited for. Not even Elanor herself. No, things were simple. Leara missed the smell of dust motes and old leather in the library, the gleam of polished katanas and Akaviri armor lining the armory, and the knowing portraits of the Septim Emperors lining the gallery. She missed her home.

         Bishop was glaring at Arngeir as he approached, but Leara didn’t see. Her mind was cast back to the Blades’ temple, to the faces of the Dragonborn rulers of old. Martin Septim’s eyes, painted blue like the noon waters of Lake Rumare, stared down at her, silent and watching. Weighing her destiny against his legacy. His mouth was drawn in a line. Wise, one of her Knight Brothers once said. Exhausted, sighed a Knight Sister. Judging, thought Leara. Judging her failure against his success.

         Martin Septim’s gaze still weighed down on her despite the decades and miles between the last time she saw that portrait and now. It was ashes now, that and the rest of the portraits and the temple and her order. The Septims were dead. There was no one left. By the grace of Akatosh, she was made Dragonborn, and she was wasting her energy on whatever measuring contest Bishop was trying to start with the Greybeards! If she didn’t focus, then the rest of the world would join Cloud Ruler Temple in the ashes.

         “Master Arngeir! Good morning!” she said, greeting the Greybeard with such a sudden exuberance that Bishop actually took a step back from her.

         Master Arngeir’s raincloud stare moved from Bishop to Leara, the crease between his brows smoothing. “Ah, you seem much improved today, my child.”

         “I feel better,” Leara smiled.

         “I see some of the color is returning to your complexion,” Master Arngeir nodded, pleased.

         Bishop scoffed. “She’s fine, no thanks to you old windbags.”

         The frown returned to Master Arngeir’s face. “Has it escaped you, young man,” he said, rounding on Bishop, his voice steel, “that you are a guest here at High Hrothgar and that it is only by the Dragonborn’s goodwill that you are permitted to remain here, despite your ill manners and foul attitude?”

         “As if I wanted to come here in the first place!” Bishop sneered. “If I had it my way—”

         Leara grabbed Bishop’s arm and yanked him back. She winced as the bone studs on the back of his bracer scraped at the still-tender skin of her fingers. “Now Bishop, let’s not antagonize our hosts when they’ve been so gracious to us.”

         Bishop growled. “Ladyship—”

         “Bishop. Stop.”

         For the first time, Bishop actually shut up – and it was without the aid of a muffle spell, too. He stared at her, his mouth drawn in a grimace as his pale eyes traced her features. Whatever he was looking for must have escaped him, because the next moment he was shaking his head. Then he was stalking away from her, his boots heavy on the stone.

         Leara stared after him, gobsmacked.

         “Well,” said Master Arngeir, “that was certainly something!”

·•★•·

         Karnwyr woofed in clear agreement.

         Leara sat across from Masters Arngeir and Wulfgar, a simple earthenware teapot between them. Steam wafted up from Leara’s cup, its warmth a balm to her hands. Master Einarth entered, setting a plate of flat biscuits down beside the tea tray. Leara smiled at the old monk, accepting one of the biscuits.

         “Where’s Master Borri?” she asked.

         “He is standing watch in the tower. There he can listen to the winds and what news Kyne may deign to whisper to him,” explained Master Arngeir. “After your victory against Alduin, the dragons will no doubt be in an uproar.”

         Swallowing her biscuit, Leara splayed her hands in her lap. “Master Arngeir, you told me before that I would have to pursue Alduin beyond the mortal plane. How?”

Master Wulfgar settled an old tome on the table. Flipping it open, he leafed through the pages until he reached what looked like a dark splotchy ink stain. Peering closer, Leara realized it was an illustration of a black dragon scoping up wispy, human-like figures in his maw. “The old tales tell that Alduin can travel to Sovngarde where he feasts on the souls of the dead.” Master Arngeir tapped the illustration, his finger landing on a particularly small spirit close to the World-Eater’s mouth. Leara’s heart clenched. “What they do not tell us is how he is able to do so.”

“But there is a way,” Leara said, looking from one Greybeard to another.

“Perhaps,” Master Arngeir said. “When Paarthurnax brought you down from the peak, he and I spoke briefly of what your next steps may be. He believes that it may be possible to persuade one of Alduin’s allies to betray him.”

Betray Alduin? Would any even dare? “How would I even go about that?”

Master Wulfgar turned to a different section in the book. There were no illustrations, but at the top of one page, an angular heading written in Old Nordic glared back at her. Master Wulfgar slid the book across the table to her/. Biting the inside of her lip, Leara tried to parse out the language. She recognized what she thought might be the name “Olaf,” but the rest of the title was foreign to her. She pushed the book back to Master Wulfgar. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head. “I think that’s the name Olaf, but I don’t understand the relation.”

         “My apologies, Dragonborn. Sometimes we forget you are not familiar with much of Skyrim’s older history,” Master Arngeir said.

A quiet laugh shook the ceiling, rattling dust from the rafters. Master Arngeir shot a look at Master Einarth, who only smiled, one wizened hand cupped over his mouth. Leara giggled.

Master Arngeir sighed. “It would not be a straightforward matter to convince one of Alduin’s allies to betray him, but if you could capture one of them, it may be possible to discover where Alduin has gone and through what means he went there.” At Leara’s stunned expression, Master Arngeir took the book from Master Wulfgar. “Dragonborn, are you familiar with the Jarl’s palace in Whiterun?”

Leaning back in her seat, Leara’s mouth twitched, repressing the urge to purse her lips. “I’ve visited there a number of times,” she answered. Numerous times. She spent much of the previous winter going in and out of Dragonsreach, taking bounties no one else was interested in. She never made enough to get very far, but she always had enough for the board at the inn and two square meals a day when she wasn’t out on the job. Any excess she squirreled away got drained by her first pilgrimage to High Hrothgar and the travel to Ustengrav and later Solitude, Still, it wasn’t a bad existence she led in Whiterun. Well, before she agreed to help the court wizard and Mirmulnir attacked.

“The palace was named Dragonsreach for more than its place high above the Whiterun plains. It was built to hold a captive dragon, and it is from that Dragonsreach received its name.” Master Arngeir traced the page of Master Wulfgar’s book, his eyes following the text. “It is written that it was Olaf One-Eye who captured a dragon and that Olaf built the palace to keep the dragon imprisoned.”

A captive dragon? Leara cast her mind back, thinking. “When was this?”

“Thousands of years ago,” said Master Arngeir, his eyes distant. “Dragons were still many in those days, living secluded in the remote mountains reaches. It was long before the Blades came and hunted them nearly to extinction.”

Ah, yes. The Akaviri Dragonguard. The original dragonslayers. Leara lightly cleared her throat. “Do you mean I should ask that Jarl of Whiterun if I can lure a dragon into his keep and hold that dragon prisoner there?”

Master Wulfgar nodded, nibbling on one of Master Einarth’s biscuits. Master Arngeir sighed, “That was Paarthurnax’s suggestion.”

Her mind was racing. Asking Balgruuf the Greater if she could use his keep to capture a dragon would sound like madness in the best of times, but Skyrim was in the throes of a civil war. While no large-scale skirmishes were being fought on the battlefield, Leara knew that things weren’t stagnated: Either side was watching the other, staking out positions and movements. Right now, things seemed primarily political. She knew from her time in Whiterun that a great deal hinged on which side Jarl Balgruuf took in the war – which brought her back to capturing a dragon in his palace. Up to now, Balgruuf successfully maintained neutrality despite the yammering of both sides for his allergens. Leara saw more than one Imperial or Stormcloak courier enter the city and beeline for Dragonsreach during her time there. Each time, the messenger was sent away with a clear denial. Balgruuf would not compromise the safety of his citizens for the sake of the war. But would he risk the, to capture a dragon?

Whatever views she imagined the Jarl of Whiterun taking concerning a captured dragon, Leara had a sinking feeling that he would be less receptive to the idea during a time of war than he might be in a time of peace. If she were to just march into Dragonsreach and ask to capture a dragon there, Jarl Balgruuf would likely laugh her straight to the dungeons. Leara couldn’t find it in herself to blame him if he did.

She told the Greybeards as much.

“It won’t be easy,” agreed Master Arngeir, “but you must trust in the rightness of your cause and the strength of your Voice.”

“It’s not my trust we need. It’s the Jarl’s,” Leara said. “Up to now, I’ve given him little reason to trust me and this isn’t going to change his mind.” Especially since the last time she saw Balgruuf the Greater, she laughed in his face and ran from Dragonsreach, Mirmulnir’s soul still thundering in her skull.

Across the table, Master Wulfgar gave Master Arngeir a look. Arngeir met Wulfgar’s eyes, humming silently to himself. “What do you propose, then, Dragonborn?

Leaning forward, Leara took a sip from her teacup, contemplating. “Jarl Balgruuf will not hear my request to capture a dragon in Dragonsreach, not while the war is on. He sits in a precarious position between the Imperials and Stormcloaks. There’s too much at risk for him if he agrees to this plan.” She paused, knowing that her suggestion may not go over well with the Greybeards’ insistence on isolation and peace. “It may be prudent,” she began, delicate, “to incentivize the Jarl with the promise of a ceasefire.”

But Master Arngeir was already shaking his head. “The Greybeards have never involved themselves in politics. We cannot broker a truce between the Imperials and the Stormcloaks.”

“You wouldn’t have to,” Leara said, pressing forward. “I can handle the peace talks, but neither side will agree to negotiate at all by my request alone. It’s the logical answer. Jarl Balgruuf will never agree to help me capture a dragon, not without a ceasefire, and there will be no ceasefire unless you agree to help me.” She looked from one Greybeard to the next, meeting eyes of cloud and sky and rain. “Both the Imperials and the Stormcloaks respect the Greybeards. If you call them, they will come and listen to what you have to say – even if I’m the one to say it.”

With a weary sigh, Master Arngeir held up a withered hand. “It is no use to deny you. Paarthurnax has made it plain that he will help you. It is his plan that you seek out one of Alduin’s allies, and if you cannot do so without our help, then who are the Greybeards to rebuke the winds of change?” He waved his hand, his face grim. “If the Jarl’s consent rests on the state of the war, then so be it. Tell Ulfric and General Tullius that the Greybeards would speak with them. We will see if they yet remember us.”

Master Wulfgar shut his book, the resolute thud a clear punctuation to the Greybeards’ resolution.

·•★•·

A weight settled over Leara’s shoulders after her meeting with the Greybeards. Every step she made seemed to put them out in some way. But this would work out. She was certain of it. Anyone who spent five minutes in Whiterun knew how cautious the Jarl was. If she had any hope of capturing a dragon, then she needed to reassure Balgruuf that every precaution was taken, up to and including the tensions strung across Skyrim by the civil war. Talking the Greybeards into hosting a peace conference was the only way she think of guaranteeing that short of entering the war herself. But who had time for that? Not her, not when Alduin was devouring souls and regaining his strength.

Leara paused, her hands frozen on the buckle of her war skirt as she fastened it over her greaves.

. . . and if she did join the war, whose side would she choose? The Empire who betrayed her order to the Aldmeri Dominion? Or the cause of the man whose torture she was complicit in during the war? Leara was no Imperial Saint herself, she knew how red her own history was. She knew the lines of sin and betrayal that stretched back decades into her past. She wasn’t the kind of person either side would want fighting for them. Not openly, at least.

No, this was the logical course of action.

“I’m not overthinking this,” she said, startling Karnwyr from his nap. The wolf only grunted.

Leara fastened her gauntlets on, loose around the bandages cradling her right arm.

“Everything is fine.”

Karnwyr ignored her.

“Ulfric wouldn’t want to see me again, anyway,” she continued, voice small. Not after she snubbed his letter. “But he has to.”

She picked up her katana, polished and safe within its scabbard. Master Arngeir said it was still attached to her hand when Paarthurnax brought her to the monastery. It took some time before they could melt the ice enough to free the blade without damaging her hand. The Greybeards never said anything about her carrying a Blades’ sword, for which she was grateful. There was enough tension in the air as it was.

There was a knock at her door.

“Come in,” Leara called over her shoulder as she hook the katana to her belt.

“We’re heading out, I take it?”

Leara looked up to find Bishop framed in the doorway. “Yeah, sorry I didn’t warn you.”

He shrugged, “Whatever. I’ve been ready to leave since we climbed the stairs.”

         Snorting a humorless laugh, Leara picked up her hood. Dark spots stained the leather. Bloodstains, from Alduin. Threading her braid through the bottom, Leara fixed the hood to her head. The stains hardly stood out.

         Looking up, she found Bishop watching her. “What is it?”

         “I don’t get you.”

         Leara blinked. “I’m sorry?”

         “You, what you do, why you do it. How you act. None of it makes sense,” Bishop said, waving his off-hand in agitation. “You were all over me after you got that Elder Scroll, and now you won’t even look at me! The only thing you care about is whatever those damn Greybeards tell you to do. Where’s that spitfire personality you had when I met you?”

         All over him? Is that what he called her acceptance of a single kiss in the Tower of Mzark? She should never have let him touch her. Not again. “I’m hardly a spitfire,” Leara murmured. “What do you want me to do?”

         “Who says I want you to do anything?”

         “You do, ever since I met you. You’ve made it more than clear to me what you think of my destiny as Dragonborn.”

         He laughed in her face. “Please, your ladyship. It doesn’t take a genius to see that you don’t know what you’re doing. You have no clue, much less any sense of self-preservation. You’re dancing around, trying to fight dragons with nothing but fancy parlor tricks and that toothpick you call a sword! You need someone to talk sense into you.” Bishop punctuated this with a smirk that was so self-assured that even a Kahjiit merchant would accept whatever deal he was offering.

         Leara couldn’t help but laugh. “I think you have the picture backward, Bishop. But whatever helps you sleep at night.”

         It spoke to Bishop’s intelligence (or lack thereof) when he zeroed in, not on her insult, but on the concept of sleeping: “I would sleep a whole lot better if you would finally agree to share my bedroll.”

         Shouldering her pack, Leara snorted. “No, thank you. I don’t want your fleas.”

         Naturally, Bishop protested the idea that he had fleas, but Leara ignored him, pushing past the whining ranger and into the hall beyond.

         It was going to be a long road to Whiterun. She could barely stomach the idea of travel to Windhelm and Solitude.

         “Remind me why I keep you around,” she said on a whim.

         She expected him to say he was protecting her from the Thalmor, or perhaps that he was guiding her around Skyrim. What she didn’t expect was the possessive hand that wrapped around her right forearm, burning through the bracer and bandage to burn into her bones. “Without me, you would be alone, and you don’t want that, do you, sweetness?”

         Leara’s lungs seized. No, no she didn’t.

[bansept]

The Child of God

Part 8

I took a little break from writing this fiction because of university work, but now things should be a bit smoother!

I finished part 5 of Jojo recently, maybe a week or two ago, and I really liked it. Giorno's character is interesting to learn about, and I really loved seeing both Jonathan and Dio in him. Ah, makes me wonder how he would have turned out under other circumstances…

This chapter comes the first of violence and not-good Dio moments, so be careful!

Giorno was running around in the garden, chasing after a boy around his age while another was cheering for him under the shade of an olive tree. The sun was high in the sky, slowly starting its descent, forcing the facade of the villa's master to be covered in shadows. The young boy was chuckling, sweat forming on his brows and passing through the back of the fabric of his pink short-sleeved shirt. Bruno called the children out, scolding them for taking their sport session more seriously. Giorno immediately stopped smiling to rush faster, surpassing the still-laughing dark-skinned boy.

Resting a cautious hand against the window's frame, Dio observed.

Those other two children had been allowed to be what resembled most classmates to Giorno for a day, in an effort for the master's son to learn more Italian from people around his age. One was pale and weak, with an annoyingly high voice and poor manners while the other was loud, tanned, and taller than the blonde boy. They were named Narancia and Mista. Both were older, but it never once posed a problem to Giorno, who stared at them until the two lowered their gazes on their first encounter. Dio was only allowing this farce to happen in the hopes Giorno would learn to psychologically dominate them, use them as his pawns, if they could ever grow to be of any use.

One of the women on the bed shifted sleepily, stretching out to notice her master wasn't sleeping. The other woman, blonde, was silently trying to catch her breath and calm down. True enough, rest would be during the day for Dio, but his immortal body could go without sleep for a month if need be, and he had done enough sleeping. Dio didn't look back at the woman, whose name didn't matter, and closed the blinds carefully, the thick curtains gulping down any natural light, leaving the room in the dark, except for a single candle by the side of the bed. The woman blinked a few times, trying to watch the vampire sit down on a richly decorated chair pushed against a wall. The walls were covered in artworks and libraries, yet the skull on a mahogany pedestal seemed to be the most precious of all.

"Master Dio? Might I talk to you?" The woman asked, her voice still sleepy from the short nap she managed to get after serving the vampire. Dio gazed at her, his head tilting to the side, the incandescence of his intense orange eyes making the woman start to shake. She didn't dare to open her mouth again.

"You might." He answered simply, his deep voice calmly compelling her.

"I... I wish to serve you the best way I can, Master." She started, her brown eyes shifting to the wooden floor while her naked form moved to crawl at his half-clothed form. He didn't move, visibly uninterested. "I see the way you look with pride at Master Giorno. How lucky he is to be the son of such a man. No, such a God." She licked her lips as she got closer, groveling at his feet and daring to stare into his eyes. "Master, let me give you another son. Let me serve you and be a best mother than that whore who was honored to birth Giorno but was too stupid to understand it. Please, Master, let me have the honor to give you a son."

Dio gazed at her, his hand going lower to cup her chin up. She wasn't ugly, otherwise, she wouldn't be here. She had served him very well, and he intended for her to keep serving him. But it seemed women were just fickle creatures, no matter the century.

"Ah, my dear, you do not need to waste any breath of yours or time of mine. Giorno will be my only son." Dio told her, his voice as smooth as honey as his fingers progressed to her neck. "It is possible another woman was given this... Honor, you speak of. Multiple women might have given birth to other children of mine. Yet, Giorno is my only true son."

The dark-haired woman shuddered when she felt the elegant fingers dip into her neck, choking her slightly, as Dio raised to two of them together, slowly, in a standing position. He leaned closer to her, his breath caressing her forehead as he murmured.

"It was fate, or rather gravity that brought Giorno to me. It was his fate to be with me, Dio, to be raised. The other children I might have are not part of this fate. They are not a part of this gravity. They are of no use to me." Dio's hold on her was unbreakable, yet he didn't snap her spine or drank the few liters of blood that remained in her tired body. Instead, he pressed his thumb to her mouth, the tip of his claw-like nail reading to slice her tongue. Her eyes widened with terror, her body frozen.

His hand loosened from her neck, dropping her on the floor without looking back at her retreating form. Dio raised his hand at the blonde woman on the bed. Her blue eyes had silently witnessed the exchange and she knew better than to interrupt her master. Dio felt a tired smile form on his lips. He called out for her and she immediately stood up to join him, bashfully taking his hand. Dio snarled at her, eyes shining an unnatural color as his hand suddenly plonged in her stomach, a grotesque sound of flesh tearing apart and bone cracking turning his smile into an amused chuckle. The blond before him screamed in shock before she started coughing up blood, a look of utter uncomprehension on her face. She couldn't help a single word out as Dio's other hand ripped her throat out carelessly, the woman's blood splurting on Dio's naked chest and on the ground, warm liquid and tissue.

The other woman was backed up in a corner, gripping a library defensively, as if it could even slow Dio had he wanted her to suffer the same fate. The blonde gurgled in front of him, impossible to plead for her life, the smell of the blood from her throat and stomach filling the air. Dio looked at her, his chuckle gone, a bored look on his beautiful face. He pushed his hand out of her, the body hitting the ground with a thud.

"I will send for you again. Tell the other women to dispose of this one." He spoke to the other woman in the room. "I trust I have made myself clear on your... Request."

.

.

.

The skull seemed to look at him. Day, night, over and over, the empty sockets drowned him in distant memories of summer days.

Days where he'd meet this cursed family. Their ridiculous kindness and chivalry. Their laughable honor and kindness.

A century, even more than that, had passed. This brother of his he killed, the ancestral home he burnt. He did not regret a single moment of it.

For a moment, Dio saw a clear blue light flash from the skull, just like Jonathan stared at him in opposition.

"I know you're not capable of hating me, Jojo. That is your weakness. That is why your skull is here: to remind me every day of how pathetically weak you were, and how little influence you had has faded." His claws pressed against the skull, dust landing on his fingers. "Your family will die. I will kill them all. That is my promise to you. And once every Joestar is gone, once I have butchered and burned their bodies, I will crush this sole reminder of you that exists."

The skull seemed to emit another light and an image of Giorno burned in Dio's mind. An insane grin crept on his lips.

"Giorno is my son. He will be raised as such, and if your low-lives descendants were to attempt to convince him of changing sides..." A bone-chilling chuckle boiled up his chest. "He will kill them himself, before bringing me their heads."

---

I do love Dio, but I don't intend to write him out of character. So he's gonna be un poco loco a little ehehe

Part 7 // Part 9

[pixel-percy]

🌻 Moving to a new town always takes some adjusting and Sunny isn’t about to mess up her fresh start in Hawkins... Even if there’s a cute boy in town. 🌻

🌻 Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 🌻 Word Count: 4.1k 🌻 Music Vibes: Sunflower, Vol. 6 by Harry Styles 🌻 Warning(s): Referenced infidelity & relationship trauma 🌻 A/N: Flirting, pet names, cuteness, y'know, setting things up~

The tease of Fall winds moved through Hawkins as discolored leaves began their descent from trees. The heat still felt sticky on the skin but more bearable than when Sunny and Anna had first arrived. It was closing in on around two months and there were still new experiences to be had. None of which involved boys if Sunny could help it.

Days passed –that turned into a few weeks– since she’d last run into the ever-so-charming, taken, Steve Harrington and the rest of the male population of Hawkins didn’t seem to draw her eye in the same way. At least when she entertained the thought of looking. A cute passerby here that flashed a sly smile, a lingering gaze there while picking up some flowers for someone else, or the occasional whistle from boys she ignored – unless it was about Anna. Then it was the quadruple middle finger as they walked away together.

Other than small-town nonsense and bored teens, everything was fine. More than Sunny had anticipated it to be. She was in such a good mood that she lightly smacked Anna’s knee with the book she’d been reading and told her to get dressed. It was movie night.

Without too much protest, her younger sister rolled off the couch and disappeared into her room, long brown hair trailing behind her. It took about fifteen minutes before they made it out of the door and climbed into Sunny’s Jeep, but then they were off. The sun was low in the sky, strands of violent and orange sherbert painting the canvas between the clouds. It was later in the evening and –unfamiliar with the rest of the town’s business schedule– she hoped the video store would be open by the time they got there. Thankfully it wasn’t too far, but she still hoped.

When they arrived, Sunny was thankful to see the open sign still present on the front door. A smile crept onto her lips and she turned off the car, Anna already out of the car.

“I wonder if they have any new horror movies!” Anna called, hand on the front door. Sunny followed close behind and chuckled.

“I don’t want to hear it when you have to sleep with your lamp on,” Sunny teased.

Anna ignored the comment, rushed into the store, looked around on her tip-toes, and b-lined for the horror section once she spotted it. There weren’t many people present and Sunny didn’t see any immediate workers, which surprised her, but she decided to roam off in a different direction than her sister.

The aisles were long and stacked with plenty of titles she’d yet to watch. Friday nights used to be Family Movie Night before everything turned into a blazing forest fire of drama and pain between her parents. She’d tried to carry on the tradition with her then-boyfriend, but he spent most of his time trying to stick his hands down the front of her pants and no time with his eyes actually on the screen. So she’d effectively given up on the tradition but today… Today she just wanted to pop some too-buttery popcorn into her mouth and enjoy her time with her sister.

Sunny’s fingers trailed over the cases of some action adventure movies, stopping on Karate Kid II momentarily to pick it up before she continued down the hall. Her steps were slow, eyes on anything and everything, nose inhaling the hint of caked-in must on the carpet, and enjoying the feeling of being outside of the trailer and the flower shop. She needed to get out more with Anna, for both their sakes.

The romance aisle was after the action section and she briefly stopped her perusing to take a copy of She’s Gotta Have It from the shelf. Her eyes skimmed over the back, interested in the plot for pure curiosity’s sake–

“I gotta say–” A familiar voice startles Sunny, video bumping against the rack it was perched on as her attention turned to… Steve. “–Romance? Not surprising. But, Karate Kid?” Steve leaned against the wall beside the rack she remained in front of. “Wouldn’t have guessed you were a connoisseur of the karate variety.”

Sunny raised an eyebrow, tucked the new selection into her arms with the other video, and turned fully to look at Steve. He donned a green vest that had the Family Video logo on one side and a large nametag on the other. She hadn’t expected that.

“Steve,” Sunny greeted.

“Sunny –the sunflower– herself.”

Cute, she thought. Even if it was unoriginal and the primary reason for her name, it sounded new and refreshing tumbling from his lips.

“The one and only,” she quipped and smiled up at him. A ridiculous grin was plastered on his face, one less flirty than she’d remembered, but his body language begged to differ. “And for your information, yes, I do enjoy the art of karate.” Sunny mocked his pronunciation of the word and held up a playful hand to pretend to chop him without actually making contact. 

Naturally –so naturally she should have expected it– he dramatically whisper-cried, grabbed at his arm, and feigned being wounded, a ridiculous pained expression on his face. She couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her lips. He straightened up a little bit before pointing his index finger at her.

“You’re ridiculous,” she chuckled and moved around him in an attempt to look at more of the videos. She was hyper-aware of how he followed right behind her.

“I prefer charming, thank you,” he countered. Sunny reached out to grab a random movie and pretended to be interested in the description on the back. “You planning a big movie marathon with someone tonight?” He gestured to the movies in her hand. “Or are those for a party of one?”

Steve’s question sounded laced with inquisition much deeper than surface-level curiosity. It was a smooth way to ask if she had a date tonight and it made her heart flutter ever so slightly. She couldn’t remember the last time someone was genuinely interested in her private life… But he was taken.

Without lifting her gaze at first she said, “Maybe. How’d the apology flowers go over?”

He obviously hadn’t expected that question because it took him a moment to respond. He let out a chuckle. Sunny turned her head to look at him as he ran a careful hand through his luscious-looking locks. The girls in this town must eat that up… Not that she could blame them.

“We broke up,” he answered, another laugh escaping his lips. Shit. “She was apparently allergic to roses so uh, I’m still cleaning petals out of my car.”

Sunny bit her bottom lip in an attempt to hold back a laugh of her own. That was hilarious but also dangerous for her, the only protection against his charms completely removed from the board. It’s not going to happen, it can’t. Steve looked down through his mess of eyelashes, warm brown eyes locked onto Sunny’s face.

“Are you… Are you laughing at me, sunflower?”

Again with the nickname. It was not lost on Sunny but she pushed the way it felt to the back of her mind. Normally she’d correct someone for trying to use a pet name on her –she had hated them when her ex used them as they were a notorious sign of his cheating– but the way he said it didn’t feel laced with poison and regret. Even despite his borderline playboy demeanor, something about him didn’t lend to the idea that he was all that bad. Not like the rest of the losers she’d encountered in her two months here in Hawkins.

“I did tell you roses are the worst.”

“Everyone loves roses,” he repeated.

“They’re so boring, Harrington.”

“Steve,” he corrected but in a lower, more definitive voice. It wasn’t mean or demanding but it was something Sunny hadn’t expected. She became hyper-aware of how hard her heart had been beating in her chest while she looked up at him. Before she could say anything a voice called her back to reality.

“Hey, Sunny they have the new Alien movie!” Anna’s voice made Sunny’s heart jolt and she took a step back from Steve at the same time he took one away from her. She hadn’t realized the slowly decreasing space between the two of them until they created a chasm. Sunny’s attention immediately swapped to her sister and she cleared her throat. Anna’s eyes squinted a little between the two.

“Are you sure, Anna?”

“Sunny,” Anna warned, eyes flicking to Steve. In response, Sunny raised her free hand in defeat and made her way to the end of the aisle.

“Okay,” she said. Over her shoulder, she added, “Mind ringing us up, Steve?”

Without a word, only an exhale, he followed suit but much further behind this time. Sunny beat him to the counter and placed the three different selections on top while Steve approached from the other side. He grabbed the boxes, popped them open, and looked for the corresponding boxes behind the counter.

“So, sister?” he asked.

Anna’s eyes felt like they were burning a hole into the side of Sunny’s head, even if it was just a simple gaze from the corner of her eye. She was starting to burn up.

“Yeah? And you are?” Anna asked before Sunny could answer him. He placed the first movie in the box and looked between them with an amused smile.

“Steve Harrington,” he answered. “Friend of your sister.”

“I haven’t heard of you,” Anna said plainly.

“Well, we met a couple of weeks ago and–” Sunny tried.

“She gave me some flowers that almost killed my ex-girlfriend,” he said, voice as teasing as his smile. Anna turned her head slowly to Sunny whose mouth had dropped.

“Sunny,” Anna said in a sing-song voice. “Move to a new city and suddenly you’re attempting murder?”

“Alright, alright,” Sunny said with a dismissive wave of her hand. The shared laugh between the three of them caught Sunny by surprise but in a good way. Her ex had left a bad impression on her younger sister too. It was difficult when he had no regard for how he spoke to Sunny in front of people she cared about and Anna had to hold her tongue on more than one occasion. This was a good sign in her opinion. Even if it was a fleeting one.

Steve finished packing up the videos and rang them up for the duo before he relayed the total. Once Sunny finished paying, he placed the odd collection into a plastic bag and slid them across the countertop.

“All set,” he said and leaned onto the counter. It was a simple gesture but it was one that made Sunny bite her lip a tiny bit with the way his upper arms flexed. An involuntary reaction on both of their parts. A smirk appeared on his lips this time around, brown eyes completely locked onto her face.

“Thank you,” Sunny said with a small lift of the bag. “See you around.”

“Anytime, sunflower.”

Again, she could feel Anna’s eyes on the back of her head. Sunny quickly turned around and left the store, avoiding all eye contact with her sister who she was sure wanted to say something. Thankfully she waited until they were both in the Jeep.

“Sunflower?” Anna asked, voice dripping with curiosity and teasing.

“Hush you,” Sunny responded, peering in the rearview as she pulled out onto the street. “He’s just a dumb boy… You know I’m not here for that.”

“Mmm,” was all Anna could muster and, thankfully, dropped it for now.

The rest of the night was filled with popcorn, ice cream, and movies, just like Sunny had wanted. They made it through Alien –which had Anna screeching for various reasons like Sunny thought it would– before Anna was passed out in her sister’s lap, soft snores drowned out by She’s Gotta Have It. Sunny felt her own eyes drooping from exhaustion and when she allowed herself to succumb to the feeling, she found a green vest-clad Steve Harrington painting the back of her eyelids…

Though it had been a slight battle to convince Anna –who very much wanted to spend the day at home– Sunny was triumphant. The local arcade was a hotspot from what Sunny understood and in her attempts to integrate themselves into Hawkins, she thought it would be fun. It was also Sunny’s slyest attempt to get Anna into more social situations to make possible friends and good memories. Anything to drown out the noise that remained from Indianapolis. Hopefully, Anna wouldn’t resent her for it.

The arcade itself stood out from the rest of the businesses along the road. Its big neon signs were striking and inviting even in the sunlight remaining in the day. There were people of all ages moving excitedly through the doors while some were perched outside along the walls chatting and smoking. 

Sunny pulled into a parking space and the two of them hopped out of the car, both in cute, comfortable outfits. Even if she didn’t want to go somewhere, Anna was always stylish in her own way. Sunny opted for a homemade tye-dye shirt that was tucked into a pair of cute jeans, and sneakers. Her hair was in a messy, low bun overflowing with curls, with loose curls that weren’t held back by the headband she donned.

“Busy spot,” Anna commented, playing with the edge of her hair that was slung over her shoulder. The neon reflected off of their glasses as they shared a look.

“Seems so,” Sunny said. A few eyes were on them but she didn’t care, hooking her arm into her sisters and leading them toward the door. “You ready to get your butt kicked?”

“Bring it on,” Anna challenged.

If there was one thing Sunny and Anna enjoyed, but never got enough of, it was video games. While Dungeons & Dragons was something Sunny found herself a bit less familiar with, she knew they could at least connect on this. Every time a new game cabinet opened up, they hopped onto it immediately. If it was a more competitive game, their interactions would garner a few looks from those around them, and the more collaborative typically ended in chaos. 

“Out of quarters,” Sunny said as she watched Anna attempt a game of Dig Dug with immense concentration. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

With some dips and dodges, Sunny was able to make it to the front of the arcade where the coin exchange machines were placed. The buzz of everyone’s heightened mood and the spirit of competition felt like a constant surge of energy for Sunny. The 8-bit symphony added to the atmosphere too, a smile creeping onto her lips. She smoothed out a couple of bills she’d brought with her, gently placed them in the required slot, and waited for the coins to tumble out into the spout.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted a decently sized group of boys pile in excitedly, and following suit was an older teen with familiar chestnut-colored locks.

“Hey! I got plans tonight so be ready by 9 or I’ll make you all walk home,” Steve called out to the group in question. They seemed to ignore him which only made Sunny laugh.

“Well hey, Steve,” Sunny greeted and leaned against the sturdy coin machine. Instantly the boy turned to her, his irritation quickly shifting into surprise. She felt warmth growing in her cheeks as his eyes did a quick dart over her body when he approached but she kept her composure.

“Two times in one week?” he asked. “I’m starting to feel lucky.”

“Don’t get used to it,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Of course not,” Steve reassured with a dramatic expression. “You here with your sister?”

“Yep, I left her sweating over Dig Dug while I got more quarters.” As though waiting for that exact moment, quarters loudly poured into the holding tray. She gestured to the currency before scooping them into one of Anna’s extra dice bags, an assortment of swirls and abstract designs.

“Dig Dug? Oh, man, she’s got some competition coming her way then,” he said with a quick glance over the machines. His arm was perched atop of the coin dispensers, the distance between the two small enough to ensure they could hear each other over the mixture of sounds in the building. At least that’s what she told herself.

“The boys you’re babysitting I’m assuming?”

“Babysitting is definitely one word for it.”

“Huh, I never got ‘babysitter’ energy from you,” she teased. With a quick tug of the strings on the bag, the material pulled together smoothly.

“You’re still getting to know me, sunflower,” he said and leaned in a little bit. Sunny clenched her jaw a little but did not move. “I’m full of surprises.” God.

“I’m sure you are.” Sunny stood up straight, nose inches from Steve’s before turning back toward the games. “I gotta get this back to, Anna.” She spun the bag around by its strings loosely. Steve followed suit, per usual, and walked next to her as best as he could with how many bodies were in the arcade.

“When you’re done with that, you want to get some air with me?” Steve asked.

Sunny considered him for a moment. A part of her –the distrustful, hurt part– didn’t want to do that, but another side was yearning to know more about this mysterious boy that had somehow crossed her path. He didn’t seem harmful but… No one usually did at first.

All those thoughts and yet she found herself saying, “Yeah, sure.”

By the time she made it back to Anna she found her sister in a friendly competition with the boys that had come in with Steve. They seemed nice, matching her competitive screeches and shouts. Anna finished her turn and stepped aside from a boy that had a hat and curls that could rival Sunny’s.

“Here’s some more quarters,” Sunny said and placed them in Anna’s hands. A chuckle left her as she watched Anna’s eyes stay glued to the screen while clutching the bag to her chest. “I’m going to step outside with Steve for a bit in case you need me.”

“Sounds good– AWWW!” Anna exclaimed, the boy’s defeat evident in the way his head hung before another took his place.

Sunny turned away from the scene and headed back for the door. Somewhere behind her she heard Steve mention something about the time again which the boys continued to ignore. It was a short walk to the door, continuing the dance between patrons until she got there, and once she smelled the fresh –well, as fresh as it could be with the tobacco being smoked right outside– air, she walked to the edge of the sidewalk toward her Jeep. Funny enough… Steve was parked right beside her.

“Mike, Lucas, and Dustin,” Steve said as she came to a stop at the front of his car.

“Sorry?” she asked, confused.

“Mike –lanky, black hair. Lucas – basketball jersey. Dustin – curly hair with the hat. Those are the little gremlins your sister has found herself in competition with.” Steve’s eccentric hand motions during his descriptions made Sunny laugh and she naturally sat on the hood of his car, arms crossed.

“Ohhh, I see,” she said. “Well, she can hold her own. Maybe she’ll even make some friends.”

“If she’s a nerd, she’ll get along with them just fine.”

“Well, there might be hope yet.”

Steve propped a hand on his hip, eyes on Sunny. The lack of comment on where she was seated surprised her when she realized it herself. Should it have? She wasn’t sure, but she did enjoy how natural their interactions seemed to be.

“You a nerd too?” he asked, question playful. It was the step he took forward, nudging one of his feet against hers and settling it between both of her feet, that she felt the muscles in her stomach tense. He was close again but not in a way that made her feel uncomfortable. She leaned back, hands propped on the hood now, and gazed up at him. The neon behind him gave his face a pink and blue glow and illuminated his features in a way that made it feel like she was briefly back in the city.

“I think everyone is to an extent,” she answered. “I like books and video games and listening to Anna talk about her D&D characters.”

Steve raised an eyebrow.

“Video games?”

“I mean, arcade games are fun & The Legend of Zelda is pretty cool when I’ve got the time to spend on them,” she said with a shrug. Steve’s gaze on her felt wondrous, like something she’d said was groundbreaking or mesmerizing. Overall, she thought it was silly when guys made a big deal about girls liking nerdy things but she understood that maybe Hawkins might have been lacking a bit in variety. Steve must’ve realized he’d been staring because he cleared his throat after a few seconds.

“What about parties? That your scene?”

“Mmm, I’ve been to one or two when I was still in school back in Indianapolis. Why?”

“Well,” Steve started. He stepped off the curb and plopped down on the hood next to Sunny, knee nudging hers in the process. It was silly that it sent a surge of warmth over her skin. Again, he was dangerous… But something about him also made it feel comfortable. “If you’re interested, there’s a party at a friend of mine’s place tonight and I’d love for you to join me.”

That had to be the plans he’d been talking about earlier with the boys. Parties weren’t a surprise for her, especially in a town like this that felt a bit repressed and looking for ways to act out. At least when it came to the teens. It was another pattern that ran parallel to the overworked, barely home parents that allowed for these big plans of debauchery to happen in the first place.

“I… I don’t know if I can leave Anna alone.”

“Aww, it’s only for a few hours, are you sure?” Steve nudged her shoulder with his upper arm – shoulder too high up to match hers.

Sunny nibbled on her bottom lip and locked her eyes on the door of the arcade. If she was honest with herself, Anna would probably be passed out the moment her head hit the pillow tonight. Partying was never really Sunny’s thing and any previous experience had been at the behest of her ex-boyfriend who’d try to sneak grabs and kisses from the female attendees every time she looked away from him. But this was a new place and Steve seemed nice enough…

“If Anna’s comfortable with it… I’ll go for a bit,” she finally said.

Steve’s eyes widened a bit and he gave her a big smile. It wasn’t the answer he was expecting apparently.

“Well shit, I’ll, uh, I’ll get you the address then so we can meet up there,” Steve said and fumbled around for what she could only assume was a pen or something. Instead of letting him do so, Sunny stood and it was her turn to stand in front of Steve, thumbs hooked onto her pockets.

“You can write it down for me in a bit, but in the meantime–” Sunny jerked a thumb back at the arcade. “I’d love to check on Anna and then show you what’s what on a game of your choice.” Her smirk matched the playful challenge in her tone and Steve responded in kind by standing and moving close enough to bend his head down, nose inches from her own again.

“I accept your challenge, sunflower,” he said in that lower tone he’d had in the video store yesterday. It made Sunny’s jaw clench again, the smell of that foresty cologne piercing through the warm air and tobacco smoke. She held her ground though, her eyes flicking down to his lips and back up again before she spun around to head back toward the arcade’s entrance. It made her a bit more confident knowing he’d probably be trailing behind her like he had been since their first interaction. So when she peered behind her shoulder and caught him right on her heels with a look that held a hint of softness… Maybe even hope… She smiled.

[messenger-of-stupidity]

Fire Escape ~ Dabi X Reader

A/n: This is a long one, but I like how it turned out. :)

CW: Cursing, smoking, angst, fluff, Dabi’s real name

Return to Masterlist

You stared down at the instant ramen with an irritated expression. Why was it when the noodles were done the stupid vegetables still needing the hydration? You were hungry! And no, you didn't care if it was midnight. You were hungry regardless. You sighed and set down the styrofoam container on your coffee table and pulled the blanket on the couch around you as you looked out your window. The neon lights from the city were warped through the old glass and it played across the dark oak flooring of your apartment. You glanced back at your food before standing up, letting the blanket slip from your shoulders. You moved towards the window and opened it before climbing out on the mini balcony the fire escape formed. 

You looked up and your eyes narrowed in confused as you saw a pair of legs hanging over the edge of the roof. It was technically off limits, but people still went up there. You gripped the railings before climbing the stairs to get up to the roof. After you got up there you saw the owner of the set of legs. He was a dark outline against the bright city backdrop. His dark hair blended into the night sky where smoke and light pollution blocked out the stars and moon. You moved closer to him and plopped yourself down next to him with a content hum. He glanced over at you, his striking cyan eyes grabbing your attention from where they looked at you under ebony hair and long dark eyelashes. He held a burning cigarette between his fingers. 

"What the fuck." He said. Despite the words normally forming a question, the way he said it was so obviously a statement you were caught off guard for a moment. Sleep deprivation made you reckless and you plucked the cigarette from his hand and pressed the burning end against the roof before flicking it down to start it's long descent to the ground below. "What the fuck!?" He repeated, and you grinned at him. 

"That's bad for you." You hummed. You didn't think you would ever see him again so you didn't really care about making a good first impression. He stared at you before looking down at the scarring on his arms with a dumbfounded look on his equally scarred face. He rested his elbows on his knees and pressed his face into his hands with a sigh. You continued to grin at him, swinging your bare feet. You were still hungry though. 

"Are you a fucking idiot?" 

----

Meeting on the rooftop became your thing with this stranger. You didn't know his name or if he meant for it to become your thing. But two times a week on the same day at the same time, you would climb your fire escape to find him. He would spot you and light a cigarette with his fire quirk while making direct eye contact with you. You almost fell off the roof trying to grab it from him. He had caught you though and pulled you back to safety. He hadn't let you cling to him until your heart had slowed in speed. You left early that night and missed the way his cyan eyes followed you. Normally he waited for you to fall asleep before carrying you back into your apartment and placing you on the couch before leaving. 

"Hey. Blue man." You said as you sat next to him. He grunted in response, watching the city quietly. You continued. "What apartment number are you? We could hang out during the daytime too." You said, twisting your hands together. He looked over at you with a raised eyebrow, not answering. You didn't ask again. 

 He was so secretive. About absolutely everything when it came to himself. Meanwhile he knew your name, which apartment you lived in, your favorite color, food, and activity to do on rainy days. You just knew that he liked smoking, he had a flame quirk, and he didn't talk about himself. That was it. It was practically maddening. 

----

You stared at the glowing digital numbers of your clock. It was almost time to meet him. But... you didn't really feel like it. There was only so often you could go up there to hold a conversation when the other didn't seem interested. You shrugged and rolled over, curling your blanket around you as your eyes closed. You didn't know what you were expecting, but as you opened your eyes to sunlight filtering through your open window, you felt disappointed. You forgot that you had closed your window last night. 

----

You climbed the stairs again a week later and found him there, as per usual. He was laying down on the roof this time though, his dark jacket tossed off to the side. You could see the scarring on one arm connect to the one on his neck and lower half of his face while the other ended in the stapled lining under his deltoid muscle. From just looking at his arms, it was lean muscle but muscle nonetheless. His build was simply lean. You sat down next to him and followed his gaze up to the cloudy night sky. It didn't look any different to you. 

"You're back." He murmured, surprising you as he started the conversation. You nodded slowly and watched as he propped himself up on his forearms. It surprised you further as he continued to speak, even if he didn't look at you. "I thought you were finally tired of going on the roof at night." You shook your head and brought your knees to your chest, folding your arms on them as you continued to watch him. 

"No. I just got tired of holding up a one sided conversation. You barely say anything, how come?" You asked. You didn't expect him to answer since it was a question targeting himself. It would be offering up more information about himself willingly. Everything you had found out had been from just watching him. And his expression didn't offer up any inner workings of his mind. He was probably good at poker if he played it. 

"I don't like the sound of my voice, that's all." He said, surprising you for the second time in under five minutes. You raised your eyebrows. You didn't have as good of a poker face as him. And when you were around him, your emotions played across your expression more than usual. You didn't know why. "It's... hard to listen to." He added, his tone bored even as he was more focused on the sky than it made any sense to be. 

"Well that happens when you smoke. It changes your voice. Adds more rasp. Although sometimes a smoker's voice is hot. It depends on preference." You assured with a shrug. He rolled his eyes and pushed himself the rest of the way up so he was sitting, leaning back on his spread hands. 

"It's not just smoking cigarettes that makes me sound like this." He retorted. You jumped on the chance that he provided, whether knowingly or not. 

"Genetics? Damn. You got some crazy genes." He looked over at you, scorn writing itself onto his scarred expression. You held up both your hands in mock surrender. He stood up and stretched, his spine popping. His white shirt lifted slightly with the movement and you caught sight of his V-line for a moment before the shirt dropped again and he held out a hand towards you to help you up. 

"Yeah. In an indirect way. Now let's go. It's only going to get colder and my joints don't like the cold." He mumbled. You took the hand and got up before starting towards the fire escape again. 

"Alright old man." You laughed. 

----

"What the fuck do you mean I can't do that?" He asked, glaring down at the gameboard. You sighed and rubbed your temples before grabbing the coffee mug next to you from the floor and taking a sip. 

"I mean you can't. It's my turn. That's breaking the rules, man." You explained for the umpteenth time. He groaned and leaned his back against your couch, his head falling back to rest against the seat cushion. The two of you were sitting on either side of your coffee table playing one of the board games you had in your possession. "I can't believe you don't know the rules of Candyland, my guy." You added. He lifted his head to look at you, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. That was the most you had ever gotten of a smile out of him. But you were satisfied with it for now. 

"I've never followed the rules. Why should I start now?" You waved a hand dismissively towards him before flipping over the card to move your figure. He said these cryptic things sometimes, but you had learned over the past six months that he would never elaborate. Six months of these random interaction and you still didn't know his name. That did bother you a bit. 

"Quit saying stuff like that. You're making it seem like you're a villain." You said with a shake of your head before gesturing towards him to take his turn. He gave you a weird look, his pierced nose wrinkling. 

"I can't believe you don't have a fucking TV." He said before going through the motions to do his turn. You shrugged with a smile on your face. 

"I read 1984. I'm not going to be spied on, thank you very much." He shook his head. It didn't help that you were a recluse, not often leaving your apartment. You could get everything you needed delivered and you worked from home. What purpose was there for going out there? Plus you never came across villains if you stayed in your apartment. And now you had your odd friendship with him to make sure you didn't go insane from lack of interaction. 

 "Your conspiracies are ridiculous, you know that right?" You just shrugged again, still smiling. "GOD FUCKING DAMN IT! THE LICORICE HELL AGAIN?"

----

You frowned at your ramen again. It was fully cooked, but there was something else nagging you. It was a problem. You had known this stranger for eight months now, and despite not knowing much about him, you found yourself starting to like him more than you should. He was a secretive asshole that was obviously unstable in more ways than one. But you liked that he was nice to you most of the time. He had stopped smoking, at least whenever you saw him. He didn't smell as strongly of cigarettes, but just smoke from his quirk. But you wanted to know more about him. You didn't want to just let this continue without knowing him. 

You heard a soft sound of surprise as he found you sitting on the roof with your ramen and you looked up at him. He had gotten up through the fire escape. You still didn't know what apartment he lived in. 

"Hey." You said quietly. He sat down next to you, grabbing the ramen and chopstick from your loose grip. You didn't protest as he began to eat. Something told you he didn't eat reliably every day. So you never said anything to try to ward him away from eating. You looked away, resting your hands in your lap. "Can we go sit in your place this time? I'm getting cabin fever." You said, the city reflected in your eyes. He paused his eating before sighing. 

"You don't get cabin fever." He pointed out. It was true. But you were so curious about him. How could he stay so quiet about himself after you've been friends for a little under a year? Time really flew past. You sighed and let your head hang down. 

 "Look... I still barely know anything about you. Not even your name. And I don't want to mess with my feelings anymore than I have to. So if you're not going to tell me stuff, I'm leaving. And I'm not going to come back up here." You said quietly, feeling cold. Silence descended between the two of you and you waited several moment before standing up and walking towards the fire escape before you heard his voice call out to you. 

"I don't live here. I just like the view from the roof." You paused but didn't turn around, needing more than that. He sighed and you could tell he got the memo. "I..." Why did this seem like it was so hard for him? It was just talking about himself. It was human nature to talk about yourself. "Da... Touya. My name is Touya." He said. You turned around and smiled at him, content with just that for right now. It was more than he had given you for a while. 

 "Alright then. Come on Touya." You watched him shiver, which was odd since his temperature was always high due to his quirk. But he stood up and went with you back into your apartment, eating the ramen with a subdued look on his face. 

----

You watched him pace around in your apartment like an agitated or anxious animal. You didn't know why, but he had just climbed through your window just before you had exited your apartment for the meet up and started to pace in here without a word to you. You sat on the couch, fidgeting with the blanket. You had known him for a year and two months now. Ever since learning his name he had offered up little scraps of information about him to keep you around every time you had threatened to leave. Knowing that he didn't want you to leave had done nothing to decrease your growing feelings towards him. 

"Why the hell do you not have a TV, Y/n?" He asked. You didn't answer, knowing he was just focusing on something that didn't matter to him to try to distract and redirect his emotions. This was one of the rare expressions of emotions from him. He had seemed oddly relieved when he had first realized you didn't have a TV in your home. You stifled a yawn as you waited for him to get to the point. It took him a few minutes but he eventually did. "Why are you moving?" He asked, his cyan eyes meeting yours. Ah. There it was. You had told him the last time you met and he had been upset and left quickly after that, not finishing the food you had made the two of you. 

"Because I live on a shitty part of town." You answered, not breaking eye contact. He groaned in frustration and resumed his pacing. 

"You don't ever go outside anyways, so why does that matter?" He asked you. You shrugged and pulled at a loose thread on the blanket. He was right. And you didn't plan on changing that. But your living location was starting to worry your family and remaining friends. 

"The league of villains is appearing more in the area. I'm just trying to stay safe, Touya." You answered gently. He froze at that and looked at you again, his eyes wide. You wondered if you should tell him that the mascara wasn't fooling anyone and you knew his eyelashes weren't as dark as he pretended they were. 

"How do you know that?" He asked. Your brows furrowed at the odd way he worded the question. It was a fair question but the way he said it made it sound like he was looking for someone to blame instead of double checking the information. 

"My family. They saw the news and it said that they've been spotted here a lot. Especially that villain... what was his name... Dabi. The heroes aren't doing anything about it though." You answered. Your confusion only increased as his posture tensed at the mention of the villain's name. You didn't know much about the villain except he was a follower of Stain, in the league of villains, and highly dangerous. You had heard everyone talking about his iconic appearance so you figured once you saw him you would know. After all, everyone said he looked villainous. 

"They won't hurt you." He said quietly after a bit. You shrugged and focused in on the blanket. You heard him move closer and his heat press against your skin as he cupped your face in both his hands to lift your face so he could look in your eyes. "I promise." He added. Your eyes rolled. 

"You can't promise that Touya. Don't be silly. No one can control them. It's just safer for me to leave. And you can still visit me, dork. I'll give you my new address." He sighed and stepped back from you, hands falling away from your face with a shake of his head. You didn't know why, but just watched with a confused expression as he climbed onto the fire escape again and went down. You moved towards the window to watch his dark figure walking away from your apartment. You wouldn't see him for another three months.

----

You sat in your apartment, holding onto yourself. Fate had delayed your moving date to Deika City. And you were far from upset about it. Your family had updated you that the entire city had been levelled by villains. You could have died. Suddenly the place that you had deemed too unsafe to live was the safest place in Japan to you again. You wondered if Touya was alright. You hadn't seen or heard from him in so long, and you were almost tearing your hair out with worry. 

Tapping on your window had you jumping from where you were and looking towards the slightly warped glass quickly. Cyan eyes and dark hair caught your attention and you rushed towards it, throwing it open and wrapping your arms around his neck. He helped you step out onto the fire escape as he hugged you back. You weren't sure when you started to cry, but you sobbed into his shoulder. You also weren't sure when you had grown close enough to him for both of you to accept the physical contact, but here the both of you were. 

"Were you near Deika City when it happened?" You asked through your hiccups. You felt dread creep into your veins as you felt his head nod. You clung to him tighter and he let you. "Oh my god. You could have died Touya!" You whimpered. He rubbed warm circles on your back to try to soothe you. 

"I know. But I'm alright. Just a bit bruised, that's all. There were survivors." You stepped back to rake your eyes over him. His scarring on his palms looked more extensive and was it just your imagination that the scars under his eyes and along his smile line were closer than they had been? His hand moved towards your face and he used his knuckle to wipe away your tears with a small smile. 

"I love you." The words left your mouth before you could even think about stopping them. He froze before the smile faded slightly and he dropped his hand. 

"Then I need to tell you something." 

----

The truth was hard to accept at first. That Touya, who you had seen as this gentle spoken man except when Candyland kicked his ass, was the same man who burned people alive. But you had spent nearly a year and a half getting to know him. And while it was shocking, it wasn't enough to shake those growing feelings for him. There was an obvious separation between him and Dabi. 

You fell in love with Touya. And he promised that things were drawing to a close for Dabi and he would just be Touya. So if you could just keep loving Touya until then, everything would be fine. It shook your morals, but you were willing to try at the least. Touya and you both deserved love. And even if Dabi didn't die, maybe he needed love too. You were willing to try anything for Touya. That amount of time where you thought you had lost him was too much. You weren't going to lose him for real this time.

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

If you wouldn't mind, for dekaranger. Doggie and Swan, number 3? I am really looking forward to seeing what you end up with as prompts and what you end up writing. I hope you have a lot of fun doing them!

3 is a nose kiss, which seems situationally appropriate for these two.

There's a faint clink behind Swan, and she doesn't even look up from her work, she just says, "I know I shouldn't be up this late, but I'm making progress on these upgrade designs, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to make me get some sleep."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Doggie never quite sounds as if he's suppressing laughter, but Swan can hear the signs anyway. She ought to be able to, after so many years. "In fact, I brought you coffee."

"Ohh, now that's an entirely different story." She turns in her chair, accepts the coffee from Doggie--in a broad-based mug that won't tip over, she notes with approval--and then turns back to her sketches. "Anyway," after she's taken a happy sip, "I know just as well that you're not supposed to be up this late either, not after your last heart exam."

There's a slightly guilty silence.

"You were hoping I'd forgotten about that."

"...perhaps a bit, yes."

She takes another sip of coffee and doesn't turn around again, so that he can't see her smile. "I try not to ever forget things like that. So how are the kids? Last I saw they were getting patched up after the firefight."

"They went out for yakiniku together. Tetsu tried to come in here to invite you, but I told him you'd bite him if he interrupted you while you were inventing something." An uncertain pause, and then, "I'll admit, that might have been the wrong thing to tell him, he didn't seem too put off by the idea."

"That boy..." She sighs and then, frowning, realizes that one of the leg panels on this new powered armor design needs to be shifted over. "Damn. Could you hand me the kneaded eraser over there?"

Doggie passes it to her and she sets about fixing the position of the panel, nose wrinkling as she focuses on carefully erasing each line and redrawing them bare millimeters to the left of where they'd been. She can feel him watching, calm gaze on the back of her neck, and it's comforting, knowing that after all these years they can still have silence together. It's something she's always liked about his company.

Once the panel's been redrawn, though, it throws into sharp relief a whole host of other small issues, and she makes a frustrated noise in the back of her throat. "Maybe I am up too late." Another sip of coffee, which is starting to cool a bit, although not unpleasantly. "I feel like I've been looking at this thing for six hours."

"Seven."

"No."

"Seven and a half, really. Nearly eight. Long enough for me to catch Ban sneaking out of Hoji's room for the third time this week when I was getting you the coffee."

She chuckles into the mouth of her coffee mug. "They're young, what else would you expect?"

Doggie lets out a little amused whuff noise. "They're all adults. And we're not so old."

"Speak for yourself." She spins in her chair, drains the last of the coffee, sets aside her mug, smiles up at him. "I am enjoying my descent into stately old-ladydom." He stands and offers his hand, and she takes it and lets him help her up, wincing as one of her knees pops a bit. "Mostly. I'm mostly enjoying it."

Doggie keeps looking down at her. "You still look just like you did when we first met."

Her feathers ruffle a bit, but she just smiles. "And you're still a rascal, you've only gotten better at hiding it." She pulls her hand free of his, reaches up to take his face gently in both hands, and rises up on her toes to kiss him on the side of his nose. "Come on, old man. It's late, and we're not as young as we used to be."

[rosies-emporium]

💔💔💔 I wanna hear about em!! :DD

send 💔 for my muse to talk about an ex

Husbands covered: 2/7

PREVIOUS LINKS / ALREADY WRITTEN: 1st husband

[MOD TALK] Time to begin those Rosie headcanon lore drops! So excited to slowly explore her story and descent into remorseless cannibalism as it unfolded in my head haha <3 Enjoy, be mindful of the tws + of this all being mostly headcanon, and send 💔 if you wanna hear about the next one in the line!

tw: cannibalism, murder, cheating

-------

𝓢𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓡𝓸𝓼𝓲𝓮

🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 

My second husband happened to be my first love. Oh, such a romantic he was! It was barely a couple of years since my first taste and a year since the investigation was discontinued; I was a known widow, but he treated me like a maiden. A starry-eyed lad, never meeting a lady without flowers, speaking of me like I was the sun. To this day... I still look back at those days with him fondly. Despite everything, the scoundrel could be charming.

He was in town only for a month before we eloped. My father's unfortunate passing cemented the decision. I had nothing more tying me down and he was a traveler, aficionado of never quite staying tied down to one spot. We married next city over, making our way westward. Looking back, my rose-colored glasses must have blinded me completely for a little while. Of course I noticed how he stumbled home late, never having an excuse. I saw him thinking about something - someone - else when I spoke to him no more than two weeks into marriage. Once I even found a perfume bottle that he never later gifted me. The signs were there, but my feelings had me bound. Even now, I don't regret it. It only meant that I spent a while happy, in my own fantasy land... before everything we've ever had turned sour. Bitter like a cup of poison.

By the time I found out, he ceased to even bother hiding it. It could be that he thought me dull, or that he didn't even deem me worth the effort. Hand on heart, this ached more than any sort green-eyed jealousy. That he wasn't even slightly scared to wrong me. Of course, he didn't know. But from all his little ladies, all his secret rendez-vous... I was the one he should've been wary of crossing most.

They call it 'crime of passion'. Mine was hardly that. If anything, it was a crime of indifference. A once sizzling heart that had a bucket of ice-cold reality dumped all over it. I had nothing but a wish to bring him to book by the time I served him his black coffee laced with far too many sleeping pills. I told him what I've done when he started getting dizzy. He could no longer run for help as I sharpened my knives with him watching.

Now, that made him scared. Fear, I've found back then, always makes the meat taste better.

This one I ate all the way through; not in one go, of course, but with his nomadic lifestyle? It was no trouble at all to pack up leftovers and leave, replying to questions about his whereabouts only with a mournful smile. He left with another woman, I'd say, I don't know with who or where. The sympathy I received back then told me all I had to know.

I wasn't even the first he'd acted out against like this.

So really, all along, he had it coming.

[gisapot]

how long does it take for a person to fall in love? i could say 3 months after i left the show. i could say 2 minutes when i first met him in the conference hall. i could say 7 days on the first week of work. i could say every night we spent going over the words he would say to him that i wish he said to me. or in the second afterwards, when he would smile and ask me if he could do it over again and not let me get a line of my own in because he wanted to make it believable. in the multiple times he kissed him. in the multiple times i wished that was me. in between every heave i breathed behind the speakers. maybe in the five hours in my dreams every night, i'd pretend i could hold his hand. he would hold mine. it's never enough. the sleep or the delusions, i don't know. i woke up: i'm in love. a light smile, then the realization. this is dangerous, you are dangerous, and you've let me play too long with you; you're going to hurt me, but i could never blame you.

after watching red white and royal blue i had this au idea for our ocs, adrian and eli. adrian is of thai descent so what if he was an up and coming bl star/main character and eli is in the supporting cast for that bl as adrian's love interest's classmate/close friend? eli and adrian would get close behind the scenes, and eli would misunderstand his relationship with adrian. in the fictional show eli's character would have to be written out because they're graduating from high school and the night he leaves the set he posts this on his dump account forgetting that adrian follows him on dump oof