#this fic is my sandbox now

[utterlyazriel]

whom the shadows sing for — (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: annnd we've made it to velaris ! yippee !! now it's time for all the introductions >:D i hope you enjoy pls let me know what you think angels <3 ok mwah bye

word count: 3.5k

synopsis: You wake up somewhere entirely new, a long, long way from your home.

CHAPTER EIGHT :: STRANGERS (AGAIN)

The air all around you is sickly sweet.

Maybe... sweet is the wrong word. The air is clean; perfumed with an allure of scents you've never smelt before, heady and swirling, sweet and sterile all in one.

But more importantly, it is utterly foreign.

You're in unknown territory. Age old instinct has you shifting the moment you wake, surging up in a rush before your memory can catch up and remind you why that's an terribly bad idea.

The sheets rustle as you push yourself up into a sitting position, a heavy dose of panic already poisoning your system. It doesn't take long for the pain to follow.

You falter in your movement as an aching agony ricochets through your body, forcing out a wince. Your eyes screw up in pain. Your entire body feels like a bruise, punishing you with every movement.

You allow yourself only a moment of pause before you force them back open to take on the new threat, every sense filtering in unknown information as they sluggishly come to life. You have to blink rapidly to clear your vision, light coming in from all angles.

Why does it feel as though you've been asleep for years?

Where are you?

A room. You're not outside which is where you memory places you last. The extent of the memory drifts back as you search the room, your eyes climbing the walls, ravenous for details. They're made of some kind of warm coloured stone that covers the whole ceiling, you realise, as you follow the line of it up.

You screw your eyes up again and blink hard when you open them again. Every sense keeps pinging for your attention, a thousand things unfamiliar. The bed beneath is too soft, the sound of the wind outside isn't a whistle, the clothes on your back...

You startle, stumbling off the bed you've awoken on as you peer down at yourself, eyes moving about wildly. You're wearing... something completely new.

Frowning down at your arm, you raise one of your hands and pinch at the new fabric that covers the expanse of your arms. It's soft. So soft.

You tentatively smooth your hands down the tunic you're clothed in, all the way down to your pants. Each thing is finely made, with details far smaller that you would ever consider, and soft. Warm but sturdy.

What the fuck? Your chest starts to heave as panic truly sets in, your breath just out of reach before you can catch it. You gasp, grasping at your chest tightly, the new clothes scrunching up beneath your fingers. Memories begin to trickle back in as your mind scours for any information about how you ended up here.

You had been... cold. It was raining.

And your wings had been—your wings—your brain trips over the thoughts as every detail bleeds back in, sudden and frightening.

Stakes driven through the flesh of them, your wings pulled taut, stretched out for lashings and prepped for removal. Your terror climbs, its cloying grip tightening around your sternum like a fist.

Eyes screwed closed, you pray to every deity you can imagine, begging the Mother for this one thing.

You twitch the familiar muscle and feel the weight of your wings as they respond. There's no describing the relief that bursts within you, overwhelming your panic in an instant, your knees nearly buckling beneath you. They're still moving, still stretching out as you command them, still yours.

You stand there and peer over your shoulder, stretching your wings out as far as you can—cringing when they stop before full extension, buckling and bunching up at the violent spike of pain that ripples through them. It echoes through your body, making you hunch forward and grit your teeth. Your left eardrum wails extra loud.

What had happened? What had changed?

You could recall the finality of being down on your knees in the pouring rain, your hands are bound as your fate. Endless agony. The secret you couldn't keep, despite all you had tried.

You had been resigned to it—to dying there amongst in the dirt from where you had come from.

So, what changed?

Behind you, there's an abrupt noise from behind a door in the room, a rustling that makes your head snap around to face it.

Someone’s coming.

You stumble back a couple steps, dread mounting in your chest and your panic returns in full-force. You don't know where you are, you don't know how you got here, you don't know who is coming through that door.

You know that you have a lot more foes than you do friends.

Eyes darting around the room frantically, you spot a balcony down a small hallway and don't waste a single second.

As you begin to stride, you realise faintly that you're without shoes, feet bare on the cool marble floor. It turns to carpet beneath you as your fast strides transforms to a run, hearing the door open somewhere behind you.

It feels like a trap. Not the nice clothes or the fancy room would be enough to fool you. You're caught in a sickly sweet trap of honey and the net is being reined in, the ropes closing up on every side of you. It feels like you're being chased.

Heart in your throat and pulse rabbiting wildly, you burst through the doors of the balcony, daring a glance behind you without thought—

—and you nearly plunge off the edge of a mountain.

The gasp that escapes your throat is entirely involuntary, your fingers gripping the edge of the stone railing the adorns the balcony.

Your balance tips momentarily, the momentum of your dash nearly pulling you over. Terror freezes you. You're fairly certain with the state of your wings, it would be a short flight and an almost guaranteed casualty.

But a wind blows gently against your face, as though helping push you back to safety.

When you're sure you're not going to topple over the edge, some of your crippling panic eases. Your breathes, short and fast, begin to slow.

Your eyes travel up from the daunting height of the mountain side and widen, all the air in your lungs stolen in pure surprise.

Because before you, stretching out across the land that meets the sea, is something you've never seen before.

It's... a city.

A city that sits amongst the rolling, steep hills of the terrain and curls around a meandering river that leads out to the ocean. Tall, jagged mountains surround it from all sides, their hills steep up the top until they give way to gentler slopes, eventually becoming paved roads and streets for magnificent buildings.

The structures gleam, even from afar, made with precision and beauty in mind. Some are white marble or warm sandstone, others the same red stone of the mountains beside the one you're standing on. Small, quaint houses with green copper roofs, their white chimneys smoking softly.

Your breath stutters out in an exhale and you don't dare blink.

A city—a sprawling, wondrous city that was bursting with people, with colour, with life. So utterly unlike the chilled gray-scale of the Illyrian Mountains.

In fact, you wonder briefly if this was even the Night Court at all. This— this incredible sight felt like something you'd imagined of Summer or Spring, imbued with warmth, a place where things could grow and thrive.

The Night Court was... foul. It was the biting frigid cold of the wintry mountains or the shudder-inducing darkness of the court that lay beneath the mountain. This... where is this?

As though you've spoken your thoughts aloud, a voice answers from behind you.

"Velaris."

You start, whipping around fast enough to reawaken all your wounds, forcing you to stifle a pained noise that leaps up your throat. Your heart thunders as your eyes lay upon an unfamiliar figure, stepping out from the empty hallway—a form cut from the very night itself.

Your hands grip the stone railing behind you and you're unsure whether it's to keep your knees from buckling in fear or from bolting off the edge, into uncertain skies.

He's unfamiliar to you, yes, but you have a feeling you know exactly who he is.

"You asked where this—" The male waves a casual hand to the city beyond the balcony before pocketing it, either unaware of your panic or uncaring. "—is. You're in Velaris."

He surveys you, his violet eyes glancing down at the strained way you clutch at the railing.

"I know you must have a thousand questions. We haven't been introduced. My name is Rhysand and I am—"

"I know who you are." You interrupt. There's a lilt of fear in your voice but you couldn't keep it out even if you tried. He's the fucking Highlord of the Night Court.

Which means—Azriel.

His name slams into you like a shooting star, glowing hotly and dripping through your ribcage with a fire warmer than you've ever known.

Azriel must be— he was the one- he's the reason you're still alive. It feels like you relive the relief of his appearance during the storm all over again, remembering that he came back for you.

You have no idea the cacophony of emotion you're giving off, shouting all your unguarded thoughts across the balcony.

Rhysand's cool expression doesn't falter at your disruption. He looks at ease, both hands in his pockets, like he's merely having a conversation with a friend.

"Then it's important for you to know," He continues. "that I mean you no harm."

Lying, lying, liar, LIAR—the thought festers from within you instinctively, only growing in its urgency. You and everyone else where you come from are well aware of the origins of your Highlord.

And while he's your ruler, he's first and foremost, an Illyrian male.

"Only half," Rhysand corrects.

You startle, sickly surprise at the fact he seems to be able to read your very thoughts.

Then he confirms it, by saying, "And I can."

"You can read my thoughts?" You echo, voice sounding so much meeker than you intend. You sound like a child—and you feel like one, feel like the same eight-year-old staring down at the scorched brown earth in Exordor. Old blood. The same dirt you had been forced to kneel upon that now makes you shudder at the fresh memory.

Rhysand's expression falters momentarily at your train of thought, a flash of hurt on his handsome face.

His eyebrows draw together, forming a sympathetic, troubled look. "I can teach you how to shield them, if you so wish."

You don't make a noise. You don't even dare to take a breath, your fingers still crushed around the railing.

Within you, some part of you knows what he's offering. What the very nature of his words implies. He voices it anyway.

"You're no prisoner here. You're free to—”

"Where's Azriel?" The question falls from your lips before you can even think to stop it. Fear hammers through your chest—Fae that make a habit of interrupting Highlord's often find their lives cut short.

But Rhysand gives no impression that he minds. All he does is step to the side, revealing the empty hallway out to the balcony.

Except it's not empty anymore.

There, standing back to hide in the shadows as he did best, is your Shadowsinger.

Reserved and holding back, clearly waiting for you to remember him, to make your call before he made himself known. Making sure you wanted to see him at all.

Azriel, all 6ft something of shadow and muscle, with his wings tucked politely behind him, takes one step out on to the balcony and towards you.

His hands stay at his sides and his hazel eyes watch you with a familiar intensity. Something deep within you unfurls at the sight of him.

It feels like the collision of a thousand stars rain down on you, their jagged, burning fragments pelting into your body.

It's as though the world had been falling out from underneath and then, seeing him before you—when Cauldron knows how long ago you had been resolutely convinced you were never ever going to see him again— suddenly your feet were grounded and the world was still.

You breathe out his name. Azriel sways forward, almost imperceptibly, as though the sound of his name on your lips was a siren call he was helpless to fight.

You don't know that you say it sweeter than he's ever heard it in all his centuries.

Like following an invisible tug, you don't even realise when you start moving, only that you're rushing towards him with an urgency you can't begin to comprehend. It's like he's calling to you and you can't bear to be this close to him and not press in closer.

His beautiful face, usually guarded, reveals a glimpse into his storm of emotions. Concern, care, and something that looks suspiciously like... longing.

Your brain catches up and your feet falter, bringing you to a stand still before him, chest heaving.

Reason starts to catch up to you, asking meanly about what exactly you meant to do, running up to him—you weren't raised with physical touch beyond violence. You and Azriel had barely touched beyond sparring and those quiet nights in your shelter, skin brushing as you passed something to the other.

In the end, it's not you that moves, it's Azriel.

He closes the distance between you with one single step and his strong arms sweep around your middle, pulling you into the tightest hug. Night-chilled mist and cedar swirl your senses.

Helpless to do anything else, with no desire to do anything but this, you melt.

Your weight slumps into Azriel and he takes it without question, your arms curling around his neck to hold him back just as tightly. The light around you shifts, his shadows frenzied as they kiss along your neck and arms, all checking for hurt they can ease. Your heart is torn between soaring and stopping altogether.

The world fades away as his head ducks down, pressing his face the crook of your neck. It's more touch than you've ever known. More safety, more kindness than you've ever dreamed of. You and Azriel seem to exist only in a cocoon of shadow and warmth, in each others arms.

"You're alright," Azriel murmurs, his breath against your neck. It sounds more like he's reassuring himself than telling you. He sounds devastatingly sincere when he says, "I'm so fucking glad you're alright."

"Thanks to you," You whisper back, not wanting to break the silence. "You—"

The words get caught in your throat and you know you need to see his face when you say this. Pulling back from the embrace, you clear your throat as Azriel straightens up. You miss the heat of his body almost instantly.

"I-I thought I was never going to see you again."

It looks as though your words pain Azriel, a flash of pain and shame crossing his expression. His voice, low and gravelly, holds a guilty tone you've never heard him use before.

"I never should have left."

You blink. That wasn't what you had expected him to say in the least. It was you who had lied, who had deceived him from the very beginning. He was— he had— this was what you got for letting anyone get close to you, you understood that.

You shake your head, pointedly ignoring how it makes your injuries throb. "I know why you did, Azriel. I can't imagine—"

Azriel's scarred hands clench into fists at his sides, anguish colouring his face.

"No." He shakes his head, his jaw clenched tightly. "You did nothing wrong. Nothing."

"Then why did you leave?" Your questions comes out with an edge this time, a biting fury as your emotions process what he's saying.

He says you did nothing wrong. He says he shouldn't have left you behind. It's a ugly mixture of hurt and anger that paints your insides as realisations churn to the surface.

Azriel steals a glance to the side, serving as a quick reminder that there was, indeed, someone else still out on the balcony with you. You glimpse at the Highlord as your anger begins to bubble but you can't bring yourself to care.

You had... trusted him— you had let him in, let him get closer to you than anyone ever had, and he had left. He left, he left, he left. He did exactly as you had feared and he was wrong for it.

The greatest secret of your life, exposed like a raw nerve, and he hadn't said a word as he deserted you.

Your heart warbles at the betrayal and you can't help but step back, putting distance between the two of you. It's such a far cry from the nearness of a moment ago.

And even though you know he wasn't responsible for the events that followed, in the haze of your upset, it's awfully easy to add it to his betrayal. As if in response, your wings flinch and shudder as a wave of agony passes through them. You wince, gritting your teeth and turning your gaze to the ground.

"I can leave to give you both some privacy," Rhysand cuts into the conversation, evidently answering Azriel's pointed glance in his direction. "However, I don't think it will be overtly helpful. She's shouting every thought so loudly, I think I'll be able to hear it from the other side of the house."

She. It's been so many years since anyone has used that in reference to you that it nearly winds you, your entire body giving a visible flinch.

It feels foreign. You can't quite tell how you feel about it; whether it's some lost part of yourself to reclaim or whether it's something you've outgrown altogether.

You don't get time to consider it further as, bustling as she walks, a fourth Fae steps out onto the balcony. She's an older female in appearance but certainly not in her sprightliness. Her eyes land on you and they lighten up, as though you're the one she's been searching for.

"You are supposed to be resting." She tsks, without much further explanation. Your heart sinks, already feeling as though you're in trouble. Rhysand, reading your abrupt switch from anger, jumps in to explain.

"Madja, here-" He gestures to the female with a polite smile- "is our resident healer. She's been taking care of you over these last couple days, helping to heal your wings."

A severe reminder of the sorry state that had been in not too long ago. Glancing over your shoulder, your eyes glaze over as they take in the dozens of scattered markings that litter your wings. Irreversible. Your glorious love, changed forever.

There's patches over the ends that you hadn't noticed before, covering where you know the stakes had been. You suddenly feel an immense rush of gratitude towards the stranger before you.

"Thank you," You say, your throat thick. You want to say it again, want to repeat it over and over til your lungs bleed because just once doesn't seem enough.

But Madja nods in a grave way, as though she knows your internal turmoil.

"You weren't supposed to be up and moving quite so soon," She says, this time with less disapproval in her voice.

She directs a more withering look towards Rhysand and Azriel, enough to surprise you. Perhaps, healers held a higher rank within the city than they did in the mountains? The whole scene looks like a mother scolding her naughty children, especially with how both males shrink beneath her glare.

"Anyhow, come now," She turns back to you and gives a gentle wave of her weathered hand, ushering you back inside. "You'll need at least a days rest before you should be back on your feet."

You amble in her direction, too fearful to glance back at the Highlord and too conflicted to turn back to Azriel. You had broken his trust with you deceit but... he had broken your trust back.

He had abandoned you when you needed him most. But he had also turned up during your darkest hour and saved your life.

You weren't sure what you wanted to do more; hug him once more or throw a shoe at his head. Probably both would make you feel better.

From behind you, you swear you hear a faint chuckle of amusement.

—

When it's just the two of them on the balcony, Rhys turns to Azriel, ignoring his brother's unsubtle sullen demeanor.

"So," He grins. "Mates, then?"

Azriel casts a glance across the balcony, still rigid and unmoving from his spot. His shadows perk up at the word but Azriel gives no reaction beyond a twitch in his jaw muscle. Debating whether to respond at all.

Finally, he mutters, "How could you tell?"

Rhys tilts his head back, chuckling quietly, his mind cast back to an old, fond memory. His violet eyes slice back to his Azriel and he gives a little shrug. "A hunch, really. I think I might have enough to start a theory actually."

He wanders over and nudges Azriel with his shoulder, breaking him from his frozen spot and nodding for them to both head indoors. Rather reluctantly, the Shadowsinger falls into step. Side by side, Rhys gives him only a moment of quiet to stew in before he pipes up once more.

"Say— how much do you remember Cassian and Nesta's first meeting? Any flying projectiles?"

tags below!

@strangerstilinski @janebirkln @itsswritten @mischiefmanagers @hnyclover

@waytoomanyteenagefeels @idkitsem @illyrianbitch @jeweline16 @fightmedraco

@iamjimintrash @maendering @spideytingley @aneekapaneeka @cassianswh0reeee

@viciane @astarlitsoul @mybestfriendmademe @archiveofcravings @reputaytionn-13

@bionic-donut @chessebookgirl @itseightbeats @littleblackcatinwonderland @twsssmlmaa

@fanworrior @skysayhi @vintageoldfashion @tequilya @fabulouslyflamboyant5

@rhysandorian @laughterafter @brieftriumphnightmare @hirah-yummar @some-person-somewhere

@scooobies @sfhsgrad-blog @cherry-cin @bookloverandalsocats @megscabinetofcurios

@doodlebugsblog @landofpetrichor @acourtofdreamsandshadows @florabelll @tanyaherondale

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@meandmysillywriting @justingnoreme @krowiathemythologynerd @hanatsuki-hime @sunny747

@coffeebeforewater @kalulakunundrum @marina468 @moonbirde @yellow-birdy @sheblogs

@shinyghosteclipse @randombibitch @itsjustwinter @emryb @books-all-the-way13

[shallowseeker]

Truth & despair

"The truth will set you free, but first it will make you miserable."

Synopsis: In an attempt to tackle his grief, Sam rifles through the bunker footage to discover the truth of Castiel's death. The footage leaves him with more questions than answers. (The one where Dean's recollection of events...does not match the footage.)

---

Focus: Supernatural post-15x19 fic, TFW grieving badly, Bad therapy attempts with Mia Vallens, False memories, The Shadow is in love with Cas, Jack and Amara are AWOL

Characters: Dean/Castiel, Dean & Sam, Sam & Dean & Cas & Jack, Eileen Leahy, Mia Vallens, Chuck Shurley, Becky & the Rosen-Baron fam, Donatello Redfield, The Empty, Amara, Jack as God, Rowena MacLeod, Sam POV and Sam is blessedly annoying

Content warning: Major character death (Castiel), poor coping mechanisms (Dean), and encroachment of personal boundaries (Sam). Eventual happy ending.

Updates every weekend!

Proofread by @minalblood & finished for @tenderthunder

❤️

///

Ch 01: (~4200 words, ~17 minutes) - In an attempt to tackle his grief, Sam rifles through the bunker footage to track down Cas’s last moments. The footage leaves him with more questions than answers.

//

Ch 02: (~5700 words, ~23 minutes) Mia admonishes Sam for his breach of boundaries, and Dean suffers his first meltdown.

//

Ch 03: (~5200 words, ~20 minutes) Sam leans into unhealthy coping mechanisms that nearly get them killed.

//

Ch 04: (~4700 words, ~18 minutes) Snapped out of Chuck’s grand finale, Sam and Dean wonder what’s next.

//

Ch 05: (~5250 words, ~21 minutes) In need of Becky Rosen’s laptop, Chuck and the Winchesters track her to a safe house in the recesses of the Wallowa Mountains, Oregon. En route, the roadways are riddled with mysterious sinkholes. Dean admits he’s drawn to them.

//

Ch 06: (~7500 words, ~30 minutes) - Chuck shows his true colors, but Dean’s the real problem.

//

Ch 07: (~7200 words, ~28 minutes) - Dean takes a leap of faith. Sam follows.

//

Ch 08: (~7100 words, ~28 minutes) - Sam and Dean tunnel their way into The Empty. It's not empty.

//

Ch 09 (~ 6200 words, ~25 minutes) - Unable to rid Castiel of the cooling Empty gunk, Sam and Dean transport him back to the Barons’ house and attempt to free him.

//

Ch 10 (~ 6200 words, ~25 minutes) - Hoping to track Jack and Amara, Team Free Will returns to Washaway Beach to perform a potent locator spell.

///

Ch 11 (~8000 words, ~32 minutes) - Sam and Chuck crash-land in a lush landscape and run afoul of Amara. She taunts Sam, promising that Jack will never return, at least not of his own free will.

//

Ch 12 (~10800 words, ~43 minutes) - Jack's got everything he needs right here. Why would he ever leave?

//

Ch 13 (~8000 words, ~32 minutes) - Sam awakens in the shallow waters of Washaway Beach...alongside the prone body of Jack Kline.

//

Ch 14 *new* (~10200 words, ~40 minutes) - Maybe Sam can't fix everything. Maybe that's okay.

//

Epilogue coming soon (~?words, ~? minutes)

[jezunya]

Angels can sense love (and other virtues), while demons can sense lust (and other vices).

Early on, Crowley can sense Aziraphale's little spikes of lust towards him, and he maybe thinks a time or two about tempting the angel into a serious sin, maybe even something worth falling over...? But he also genuinely likes Aziraphale, more and more each time they meet, and so he holds back. Gets him to try some human food and think a little independently from Heaven's company line. Calls it a win just to have someone to talk to, to have someone who understands even a little, and even more a win when he gets Aziraphale to relax and enjoy himself once in a while.

And then, of course, that sense of lustful, covetous desire coming from the angel wanes and eventually vanishes altogether. Oh, he still senses it occasionally, especially when it comes to acquiring a particularly rare manuscript. But it's never directed towards Crowley anymore, hasn't been for decades, maybe even centuries if he thinks about it.

It's not disappointing. Not really. He wouldn't want to tempt Aziraphale into anything that could actually be harmful to him, after all. Hasn't wanted to do that since sometime back in the Old Testament times, to be honest. It was just... nice? (Ugh.) To know he was wanted, at least in that way. And now that's gone, apparently, Aziraphale's physical desire for him having cooled as they've become friends over the millennia.

(He's still got it, though, if his success inspiring lust and envy in humans when a job requires it is anything to go by. Just can't inspire it anymore in the one being he'd be particularly interested in exploring it with...)

What a shock it is, then, when Aziraphale asks quite desperately one day, after they're finished with Heaven and Hell and their attempts to wipe the Earth from existence, if he can make love to Crowley -- but then also rushes to assure Crowley that it's alright if the answer is no! That what they have now is absolutely perfect! It's only that Crowley is so beautiful, and Aziraphale feels he's half gone out of his mind at times through the long centuries trying to ignore how distractingly much he simply wants to touch him, hold him, caress him... And now that they're here, together, and trying to be honest with each other, trying for open communication, Aziraphale doesn't want to keep this to himself any longer, wants it all out in the open and to know Crowley's thoughts on the matter so that he shall know how to act going forward. It's an excited, blundering, mess of a confession, ending on a stiff-upper-lip determination that most people think is so very English but don't know that Aziraphale actually invented it and that the Brits have just been following his lead all this time.

And Crowley has no idea how to respond, questions getting caught in his throat, tangled around his forked tongue. Because, what? What?!

He watches his angel's face start to crumble as he struggles, and finally his protests take shape: He could sense when Aziraphale stopped wanting him like that! It's been years and years and years! Without a single whiff of lust coming off Aziraphale when he looks at Crowley!

Which, Aziraphale replies, is simply not possible. Because, honestly, he's only come to desire Crowley more over the years: sensually and sexually, yes, but also as a friend and confidante, also romantically. Tenderly. He quite desires Crowley in every way it is possible to do, he thinks.

And really, Aziraphale goes on, feathers a little ruffled now, Crowley needn't pretend or make excuses -- if he doesn't want to be with Aziraphale in that way, he will absolutely respect that. There's no reason to pretend he can't sense how Aziraphale feels, just as Aziraphale has been able to feel Crowley's love for him growing, starting with those bits of affection and interest all the way back in Eden, through to the very purest, most all-encompassing love he's been able to sense from him these last few years, after everything.

But demons can't sense love, Crowley has to remind him a bit tetchily, only vices! Things that lead to sin and degradation and unhappiness! So it's not actually the same at all!

And then he watches Aziraphale make a pretty perfect Shocked Pikachu Face, not that the angel would understand the reference if he told him.

But Aziraphale starts to smile after a moment, even if his eyes are shining with tears at the same time, and the angel breathes that it's not a vice to wish to be close to someone whom you love, and whom you know loves you in return.

The penny drops.

Aziraphale never stopped wanting him -- he just also started loving Crowley at some point.

[boxfullaturtles]

A Phrase Remains

A "Made to Suffer and to Love" Vignette

He does not understand the sounds that they make, anymore than they understand the sounds that he makes. But when it comes to family, some things can be communicated no matter what.

I wrote this instead of sleeping because I had a bad day and I needed soft silly fluff. I almost didn't add the ending scene, but I wasn't sure if I got the point across well enough beforehand.

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

He hears the Sound-That-They-Call-Him and raises his head to peer over the side of his territory.

(It is his territory and though it is small, it is warm and has water and sand and food a plenty. He lets his bale in as they please because they are his bale and he shares his territory with them. His territory is also inside their territory, in a larger space that he thinks used to be smaller. Or maybe he used to be bigger.)

Sister-Who-Is-Not-Turtle is sitting on the ground outside his territory, making sounds at him. He does not know most of the sounds she makes, but he looks at her anyway, because she is bale and the sight of her makes him happy and safe and warm. He rumbles low and content and ambles across the sand towards her, churring. She slides a paw in and starts scritching him under the chin with her dull claws. It feels nice, getting at the scales he has a hard time itching, and he closes his eyes with a pleased hum.

There are more sounds, this time from Fast-Red-Markings and Sister-Who-Is-Not-Turtle makes the noises too. They are communicating, he thinks, but he cannot understand them. That’s all right. He knows they are safety and warmth. He doesn’t need to understand their noises to know this.

Sister-Who-Is-Not-Turtle stops scratching his chin and he snaps his jaws with an irritated huff. She makes a light sound, bouncing and whirling like the bird shapes in the sky. He likes the sound.

Fast-Red-Markings holds out a flat shape with meat on it and he darts forward to snatch it before it can escape. It does not bleed hot and warm into his jaws, but it is tasty and filling. He chomps it down and churrs to show he is pleased and content. Fast-Red-Markings starts to withdraw from the territory, but he nips at Fast-Red-Markings’ paw and rubs his snout along the smooth scales, leaving his scent behind. Fast-Red-Markings is bale and must be marked as bale. No one will harm his bale.

A loud sound startles him and he scuttles towards the water, where he is faster, bristling with alarm. He knows he is strong and he knows his jaws can crush and bite and break and tear. But he feels so small now, smaller than he should be. There is, somewhere inside him, the idea of something being wrong.

But he does not have the words nor the sensibility to describe it.

Something just outside of his territory is making the sounds of injury. It sounds like Soft-Fast-Swimmer and he is instantly on alert. Something has harmed his bale? Soft-Fast-Swimmer is hurt?

He leaves the water and starts trying to climb over the edge of his territory, claws scrabbling on the smooth, curved edges. Fast-Red-Markings picks him up and carries him away from the territory and towards the sounds of lonely, lonely, frightened, lonely, pain, hurts, help, help, help.

Hard-To-Open-Shell is on the ground beside...it looks a little like Soft-Fast-Swimmer and smells mostly like Soft-Fast-Swimmer. But he can also smell One-Who-Bites-Strongest, which is him, he is One-Who-Bites-Strongest and he is the biggest.

He is supposed to be the biggest.

Soft-Fast-Swimmer is making the injured sounds and there is water on his beak. He is shaking and there is a red-blood-injured spot on Soft-Fast-Swimmer’s head. He snaps his jaws and growls a challenge at whatever has harmed Soft-Fast-Swimmer, wriggling in Fast-Red-Markings paws. He will fight! He will fight for his bale! He will defend! They need him! His—

The right sound elude him for a moment and he forgets, slipping and sliding against things that are too big for him to understand. He doesn’t know why they are there.

When things settle, Hard-To-Open-Shell is sitting with him, holding him in his lap and gently stroking his shell. He is pleased with the attention and churrs to let Hard-To-Open-Shell know that he is happy. Hard-To-Open-Shell makes the happy sound of bubbles under water and sunlight through the surface making pretty patterns.

Soft-Fast-Swimmer is quiet now and his head is held by Fast-Red-Markings. The red-blood-injured spot is covered in a shape and there is no more injury. Soft-Fast-Swimmer is making broken sounds, sometimes the ones that the rest of the bale make, and sometimes ones that he can understand. He clicks and chirps back sometimes, but Soft-Fast-Swimmer just closes his eyes and hides his face. Sister-Who-Is-Not-Turtle is rubbing Soft-Fast-Swimmer’s shell and…

...and it should not be shaped like that, he thinks. It is spiky and looks too hard. It is not the right colors. Something is wrong...something is...something…

He shakes his head, swinging it back and forth. The too big things that were trying to crowd inside him scatter.

Hard-To-Open-Shell taps on his shell and he rumbles, twisting his head around to look up. Hard-To-Open-Shell shows his teeth in a not-threat way and says something in the sounds he doesn’t know. He blinks and Hard-To-Open-Shell makes the sunlight and bubbles sound again. This time it does not sound like real sunlight and he wonders if that is a different sound, if it means something else. He cannot learn these sounds, it’s too hard, it hurts if he tries.

So he doesn’t try. Because he does not need to. His bale is here and he is safe and fed and warm with them.

Soft-Fast-Swimmer is making the frightened sounds. Soft-Fast-Swimmer makes those noises a lot at night, when he cannot get out of his territory because the walls are too slick and he cannot comfort and protect his bale.

But he’s not in his territory right now. So he squirms out of Hard-To-Open-Shell’s paws and crosses the short space between them. He snuffles at Soft-Fast-Swimmer, trying to find what has frightened his bale, and nuzzles against the big scaly arm in his way until Soft-Fast-Swimmer finally moves to look at him. He clicks and cocks his head—where is the threat? What has frightened you? I will keep you safe, I will protect you.

Soft-Fast-Swimmer doesn’t answer him. But he does gently scoop him into his big arms and hold him. He shifts to be more comfortable, warm and pleased that he can comfort his bale, and rubs his snout against Soft-Fast-Swimmer with gentle churrs and little grumbles of happiness. Soft-Fast-Swimmer tries to churr back but his sounds are weird and broken and don’t quite come out right.

That’s fine. He knows what was trying to be said.

He settles against Soft-Fast-Swimmer, tucking himself against their warmth. Fast-Red-Markings makes happy sounds and Soft-Fast-Swimmer makes a sound like a threat but has no threat in it. Fast-Red-Markings makes noises of light and splashes in the water and little things flitting about and falls against Soft-Fast-Swimmer, tucking against his side. Hard-To-Open-Shell climbs onto Soft-Fast-Swimmer and settles down with a not-threat teeth display, saying noises that sound like flower shapes and warmth. Sister-Who-Is-Not-Turtle leans on them too and he makes a very happy noise to have most of his bale with him. Soft-Fast-Swimmer echos the sound.

They rest and makes sounds at each other.

Mouthful-Of-Fur comes in later and makes noises at them. Mouthful-Of-Fur brings them food and makes sweet noises and drapes them in soft warmth. The sun dims and a bright light appears that moves and flashes with lots of sounds and colors. It is too much for him to look at so he closes his eyes and just is. He inhales the scents of his bale and knows he is safe and warm.

Soft-Fast-Swimmer says the Sound-That-They-Call-Him and he opens his eyes again. They look at each other. There is something that is almost there, he thinks, something that is like a fresh prey just out of reach. If he could just stretch his neck out farther, he could snap it up, and everything would be clear.

He tries to repeat the Sound-That-They-Call-Him.

All that comes out is grunting nonsense.

Soft-Fast-Swimmer curls his head in and gently knocks their heads together. He is so much smaller than Soft-Fast-Swimmer (he does not think he is supposed to be this small).

Protect, He says in his chirps and clicks and his own sounds, Safe. Bale. Protect.

He does not know the thing that is larger than happiness and brighter than warmth, he does not have the sounds for it. This thing that is so much bigger than he is, that feels tangled together like trapped weeds in the water, that is all of his bale all at once. It is them and him and everything that they are. He does not have a way to say this thing that is too big for all of them.

So he makes the noise he has for Soft-Fast-Swimmer, for Hard-To-Open-Shell, for Fast-Red-Markings, for Mouthful-Of-Fur, and for Sister-Who-Is-Not-Turtle. And then he makes the sound for himself. It is not the Sound-That-They-Call-Him, it is his own sound, the one he is. And then he huffs his territory noises, slightly aggressive but softer than they should be. And then he mewls, just once, just a little sound, soft and gentle and unusual.

Bale. He. Territory. Soft.

He doesn’t know if they will understand. He doesn’t think they will, just like he can’t understand their sounds.

But he says it all the same. Maybe, even if they cannot understand the meanings, they will be able to feel the intentions.

Bale. He. Territory. Soft.

***************************************

“He’s pretty talkative today, huh?” Mikey is all smiles, watching Raph more than he’s watching the movie. The snapper is nestled into Donnie’s arms, quite content to stay there and rumble happily at the warmth. Every so often, Raph’s been making the same series of sounds, over and over again, before he goes quiet once more.

“I wish I knew what he was saying,” Leo mumbles, leaning heavily against Donnie’s side. Donnie’s tail has wrapped all the way around and is draped over Leo’s lap. Leo is absently smoothing his palm over the scales in a repetitive motion, soothing both himself and his brother.

“Well those are the noises he makes for us, right?” April leans forward on the couch, crossing her arms and resting on Donnie’s head. He rumbles at her and she ignores him, “I dunno all of them, but I kind know the one he makes when he sees me…”

“Mm, he’s definitely saying all the stuff he has for us,” Mikey nods, “I dunno the one after that, but the next one is like the noise he makes for his terrarium! Don’t recognize the last one though…”

“It is a baby noise,” Splinter says from his chair, “You all used to make it when you were veeerryyy tiny—a little baby noise, oh! You were so cute! You would make that sound whenever you had something you really loved! You four would go crazy for watermelon and the lair would be full of your cute little mew mews for hours!”

“Oh…” Donnie whispers and everyone looks around at him. He sniffs, his eyes wet, and curls tighter around Raph’s little form, “I...th-think he’s teh—trying to say...I love you.”

The weight of this revelation slams into all of them with jackhammer force. Silence filled with the sounds of karate movie action sits heavily between them.

Mikey’s the first to break it by bursting into tears.

There isn’t a dry eye in the lair (Raph’s excluded) for several hours after that.

[cyronite]

im so used to how finely curated my fandom experience is with star wars that im actually suffering trying to navigate the fallout fandom rn.

[crimeronan]

ugh i really am kind of fucking devastated about shadow and bone. it's not even about wanting to see specific book moments with specific blorbos, even tho there were in fact So Many storylines that the varying actors never got to play with the way they deserved to..... i just.

i liked the writing so much.

:(

[fallenangelontheceiling]

My Jamie Has a Half-Sister fic idea is mostly an emotional support daydream and some loosely connected scribbles.

The main thing getting in the way is the fact I know I'm basically stealing the Roy/Sister and Roy/Phoebe dynamics, modifying them, and just giving them to Jamie. Then throwing in the Tartt Sr mess.

But I'm very fond of this daydream, is the thing.

[chiropteracupola]

thinkin about the imaginary timeline where antonia sharpe and fanny and charlotte aubrey are friends again...

[camtankerous]

I love trying to make sense of the naruto timeline its like trying to put together a jigsaw puzzle using pieces from seven different boxes

[marypsue]

Oh hey, it's Sneak Peek Sunday! Have some fic about it.

This is another sample from former heroes who quite too late, part three in the AU where (almost) all the Hawkins kids have powers.

...

Heather Holloway barely manages to slam on the brakes when something flashes out into her headlights.

By the time she gets her breathing back under control, her heart lurching back down out of her throat, whatever it was is gone. The dark trees on either side of the narrow road have swallowed it up without a trace.

But Heather could have sworn she’d just seen a kid run across the road.

She debates with herself for one long, agonising second, before she shifts her beloved little Chrysler convertible into park and kills the engine. The sudden night hush swallows up its rumble like it was never there, the faint tick tick tick of hot metal parts cooling under the hood blending seamlessly into the rustle and chirrup of bugs in the trees and the soft susurrus of a breath of blessedly cool wind through the leaves overhead. She doesn’t think she hit – whoever or whatever that was, but she came pretty damn close. And if it really was a kid –

Heather listens, hard, for anything that might sound like footsteps. Like a human voice.

There might be a rustle, a crackle, off to the right of the road. Like small feet pattering over decades’ worth of fallen leaves. Like a small person pushing their way through the brambles and brush scattered between the trees.

“Hello?” Heather calls, pushing open the driver’s-side door. “Is somebody there? Hey, are you okay?”

The looming mass of dark trees doesn’t answer her.

Heather steps out of the car, looking back and forth along the road before she shuts the door behind her. The heavy metallic chunk sounds obscenely loud in the quiet of the night.

She doesn’t see approaching headlights in either direction. And there’s really no reason for anybody to be out this way at this hour unless they’re coming back from the pool. It’s probably okay to leave the convertible, for a minute or two. Heather crosses in front of her car’s nose to step onto the grassy sliver of shoulder between the road and the trees, passing through the glare of her headlights. The pool of light they cast on the road, catching motes of swirling pollen and the occasional whirling mosquito hanging in the air, only makes the lowering twilight around the car seem even darker.

Heather thinks she can faintly make out, in that dark, a small white shape retreating between the trees.

“Hello?” she calls, again.

Again, only the soft hush of the breeze answers her. And a crackling sound that could be distant thunder.

Heather glances back at the road, but her own car is still the only one visible. The headlights dim to a dull brown, then flicker out, briefly, as she watches. Leaving it sit with the lights on can’t be good for the battery.

She takes one last glance over at the trees, where she thought she’d seen the white shape. But there’s nothing there now. Maybe she’d imagined it. Maybe it’s just the dark, and her own worry, playing tricks on her mind. Nobody’d answered back when she called out. She hasn’t heard anything that sounds like a cry of pain, and she’s pretty sure she managed to brake before hitting anything. If there’s a kid out here on their own – and that seems less and less likely – they don’t want to be found.

And Heather doesn’t really want to let her car die in the middle of the road. Even if there is almost no traffic at this time of night.

She hurries back through the headlights, watching them carefully for any more flickers, startling a little when she catches sight of her own shadow moving in the pool of light they cast out of the corner of her eye. The heat of the day is starting to fade as the last of the sunlight drains out of the sky, and the little breeze that’s making the treetops whisper is chilly in just a polo shirt and chino shorts. As soon as she gets back in the car, Heather’s pulling on her sweater.

A sudden flapping, rustling commotion overhead has her looking up, just in time to catch a flock of dark-winged shapes fluttering against the starry blue velvet of the sky. Bats.

Maybe she’ll put the ragtop up, too.

It takes her a few minutes of struggle to get the top up and fastened into place. Heather’s just climbing back into the car when she hears the rattling thrum of another engine, coming up the road from behind her. Her timing is, apparently, perfect. She twists the key in the ignition and shifts up into first, pulling right to let the headlights now shining in her rearview mirror get by her.

But the white panel van coming up her tailpipe doesn’t pull out around her. Instead, it drives right up behind her, those headlights blinding in her rearview. It keeps riding her bumper as she shifts up through the gears.

Heather’s got no idea who it could be, but she can’t say she’s impressed. If they were going to wait for her to get up to speed, then maybe they should’ve waited. Driving like this out here, they might actually hit that kid Heather saw.

If she really did see a kid, that is.

And, she thinks, watching anxiously in her rearview mirror, if they keep speeding up, sooner or later they’re going to rear-end –

There’s a sudden burst of light, a headlight flashing on, glaring directly through the windshield and into her eyes. Heather glances down from the mirror, and chokes on a yelp as she slams on the brakes for the second time in fifteen minutes.

She only just has time to wonder who the hell drives a motorcycle at night straight down the middle of the road with no lights on, before the nose of the van behind her collides with her rear bumper and turns the world into a terrifying fairground ride. The woods around her flash drunkenly in her headlights as she spins out, tires screeching, heart hammering, the sharp taste of blood in her mouth as she desperately tries to wrestle the convertible back under control –

The ride comes to an abrupt, jarring stop. Heather never knows what, exactly, she hit. Or what hit her. The last thing she knows, after her head bounces hard off the steering wheel, is the quiet scrape of her door being pulled open, and lowered voices arguing about something her stunned mind, barely clinging to consciousness, can’t understand. Strong, broad hands under her arms, pulling her gently but inexorably from the car.

And then nothing but darkness.

[ratwars]

Cute things in botanical gardens vs human rights violating horrors in botanical gardens

[t1erradelfuego]

[fullmetalscullyy]

finishing writing long fics is a wild experience. like. i spent over a year of my life working on this thing. daydreaming and planning out the plot in my head. spending h o u r s writing chapter after chapter (and sometimes painfully. my spine has been forever changed). and now. 170k words later. it's done. everything has been accomplished. the story is over. and i have to say farewell to this version of these two characters i've grown to love dearly over the last year+

wild. brilliant, though. and grateful for every moment spent working on it <3

[sapphicblight]

finished c2 of eat bathe love and that is soooo not how bodies work but i’ve decided ✨ i don’t care ✨

[luvhughes43]

you are in love | luca fantilli

[luvhughes43 masterlist🌷]

request: Loved the Luca fic! Can you write one with him based on “you’re in love” by taylor?

word count: 3.8k words

one look, dark room, meant just for you

time moved too fast, you play it back

buttons on a coat, lighthearted joke

no proof, not much

but you saw enough

you weren’t drunk enough to truly enough the frat party luca had invited you too. you were chatting with a few girls from one of your classes, but your attention kept straying to your best friend of many years. 

luca was undoubtedly your best friend. he was the reason behind a lot of your decisions - like committing to the university of michigan - and the reason why you struggle to talk to other guys at parties like these. because despite it all, you would always feel love for your best friend even if you couldn’t speak on that part out loud. 

now of course you didn’t do everything for him but… sandbox love never dies. so when you discovered that michigan offered you a substantial scholarship… a school that your best friend coincidentally had committed to playing hockey for… how could you have turned it down? 

“okay, and i swear the lectures never make any sense! like there’s no structure at all” the girls around you continue to talk but you were no longer paying attention. Luca had caught your eye, mouthing a quick you okay? from across the crowded room. you nod politely, and turn your attention back to the girls in front of you. 

you're interrupted less than a minute later however when luca - grinning - taps on your shoulder. “you ready to go?” he asks, head so close to yours you could count his eyelashes if you wanted to. 

“yeah just let me go grab my coat,” you reply, waving goodbye to your friends and taking hold of lucas hand so the two of you don’t get separated. 

it takes a few minutes but you find your roommate gwen who was guarding your belongings for you, and you give her a quick hug before grabbing hold of all your things. 

“are you guys leaving?” she asks, looking between you and your best friend with a knowing glint in her eyes. 

luca nods and grabs your things from your hands. he has your purse slung around his shoulder and your coat held up for you to slip your arms into. 

“yeah, luca’s tired” you joke, smiling back at him as you pull your arms through your jacket sleeves. 

luca rolls his eyes and spins you around before buttoning up your coat for you. when he did things like this for you, you swore that it was impossible for your feelings to not be requited. 

“tired of being bored because you ditched me, maybe!” luca smiles, your burgundy bag still sitting pretty on his shoulder. 

“you're right, I should've known better! no party is fun without me,” your reply was meant to be taken as a joke but luca enthusiastically agrees with you. 

“alright, well you guys drive safe! yn text me when you get back home. i might be late,” gwen says, her eyes catching on somebody in the distance. 

“okay i will! love you, bye!” the two of you part ways, and luca immediately slips his hand back in yours under the guise of “not being separated…”

Small talk, he drives

coffee at midnights

the light reflects

the chain on your neck

lucas passenger side isn’t an uncommon place for you. everything about his car felt familiar. he had bought it used back in freshman year, and it was beat to all hell with the amount of hockey boys and trips it’s been through. 

“hey, did you hear that rutger got a girlfriend?” luca asks about five minutes into the drive. car rides between the two of you were mostly in comfortable silence, neither of you needing to say much to enjoy your time together. 

“no i didnt. is she nice?” you respond, letting your gaze shift from the dark streets in front of you to the boy beside you. 

“yeah, i think you’d really like her,” the conversation falls flat after that. you can’t help but pay attention to luca. his grown out hair, the way his hand flexed around the steering wheel… how the light is hitting the chain hanging from his neck just right. 

with all the years you’ve spent with luca, you’ve never once got tired of the sight of him. even when the two of you were back in toronto and he had braces with all the hideous band colours. 

you would also never get tired of his company. it was all just so easy being with him like this. even though you wanted more, you thought that it always going to be enough to just be his best friend. 

“do you want to get coffee?” lucas voice breaks through your thoughts, and your smile becomes impossibly wider. coffee at midnight - as strange as it sounds - became yours and lucas tradition ever since your first final season when the two of you were exhausted and in desperate need of caffeine. luca had managed to find the only coffee shop in ann arbor that was still open, and ever since then the tradition had continued. 

he says, “look up”

and your shoulders brush

no proof, one touch

but you felt enough

luca was at your usual spot in less than ten minutes, parking the car and rushing over to your door to open it. which was another one of your many traditions. you had seen it in a romcom once, something so simple and yet so charming at the same time, and since then whenever he could luca would open your door for you. 

“look up,” luca says, gesturing up to the sky adorned with hundreds of stars. 

you look up, shoulders brushing against lucas when you feel the familiar rush of butterflies in your stomach. 

luca looks down at you, a soft smile on his face as he appreciates you without you noticing. 

you can hear it in the silence

you can feel it on the way home

you can see it with the lights out

you are in love

true love

you are in love

the coffee shop is quiet when you enter, and you order yours and lucas coffees to-go. while you're waiting, you catch lucas gaze on you and your cheeks heat up accordingly. you were so in love with him… 

“i’ve got one sugar one cream, and two creams two sugars!” a barista calls out and you immediately grab your coffees. 

back in the car luca asks you a question, “do you want to stay at my place tonight?” now, this wasn’t something unfamiliar for you two but every time he asked it still felt like the first time. it felt like how it did years ago, like giggles and blushes and unspoken feelings. 

you easily accept, “yeah sounds good. i don’t have any of my things though”

“I bought you a toothbrush when i went to the store last week,” luca flashes you a smile.

“a little bit presumptuous huh?” you tease. whenever you’ve gone to lucas before it was always pre-planned. therefore there was no reason for you to leave any of your stuff at his place. 

“oh i knew it’d happen eventually,” he jokes. “I know you love me,” luca smiles again and your heart races. could he know? has he known all these years? 

when you don’t immediately respond, luca frowns. “you're my best friend… i’d hope you’d love me?”

you shake your head to rid yourself of your thoughts. “no, of course i love you. my best friend forever!” you sing, hoping that you’ve masked your feelings well. there was absolutely no way - even if there were multiple signs that luca loved you - that you were going to confess your feelings. you weren’t going to risk your many years of friendship on something that he may not actually feel. 

yn to gwen: hey! there’s been a change of plans and i’m staying at lucas tonight. be safe tonight!

gwen: ok!!! you be safe too🤭

morning, his place

burnt toast, sunday

you keep his shirt

lucas sheets are cold, and you know that because you're tangled in them. you push your hair out of your face and sit up in bed, quickly noticing your best friend’s absence. 

you let yourself adjust to your surroundings for a moment, before a whiff of something burnt reaches your nose. 

“luca?” you call out, before getting out of his bed and making your way into the kitchen. 

luca was standing there in his pajamas, trying and failing miserably to cook breakfast. he looks up at the sound of your voice, eyes trailing your body as he takes in your outfit. 

“i’m loving the look,” he says, referring to his shirt and sweats you borrowed last night. 

you roll your eyes, laughing lightly as you walk up to luca to assess the damages he's done to the food. “how is it that you’re 21 and don’t know how to cook?” 

“aht! aht! aht! this is gourmet!” he gestures towards two messy plates. 

“ah sorry!” you amend. “i wasn’t familiar with your work” 

“yes! this is the great fantilli breakfast which i am proud to serve…” he passes you a plate and you smile up at him as you lean against his counter. 

the two of you eat in silence for a while before luca pauses and looks up at you. “you should keep that shirt by the way,” he says, completely catching you off guard. 

you wipe the crumbs from the corner of your mouth, “really?” you set your plate to the side. 

“yeah it looks really good on you,” 

you hum in agreement, twirling around in the kitchen so luca can see the full effect of his shirt. “i think i look really good in your car too!” you tease and luca sets his plate down. 

“oh yeah?” he replies, smirking.

“mhmm think i might have to keep it,” you advance towards luca playfully, grabbing ahold of his hands when you finally reach him. 

luca squeezes your hands, “sorry but the car comes with me,” 

you pause for a minute, pretending to contemplate whether the car, luca included, was worth it. “i think… i can find a place for you!”

“oh you think?” luca laughs, breaking apart from your hold to tickle your sides. 

“okay i know so!” you pant, trying but failing to break free from lucas grasp. 

“hmm.. I don’t think i heard you…” he teases, not pausing from his tickling. 

“okay okay! I want you and the car!” you yell, and when luca stops his attacks on your sides you fall against him. he wraps his arms around you and all of sudden you feel the butterflies from earlier float from your stomach and up to your chest. 

he keeps his word

and for once, you let go

of your fears and your ghosts

luca drives you home later that afternoon. you're clad in his t-shirt and your jeans from last night, and for a moment you allow yourself to forget about your rules and to imagine what it’d be like if luca was really your boyfriend. 

one step, not much

but it said enough

you kiss on sidewalks

you fight, then you talk

months go by and you two are still in the same positions that you’ve always been in - helplessly in love but too afraid to say anything. 

it was graduation weekend, 4 long years of university long gone and so were your childhood years well beyond that. you hold luca’s hand comfortably as the two of you walk around campus one last time as students. the sun was setting, and there was nowhere else that you would rather be. 

“remember first year when we were walking to the library and some girl came up to you and asked you for your phone number? did you give it to her? i can't remember anymore,” you ask mindlessly. 

luca hums in acknowledgement, “yeah i remember. but no i didn’t give it to her,” he responds, squeezing your hand. “remember when that guy… what's his name? from the football team spilt his drink on your top at the first party we went to here?”

you snort, recalling the memory. “yeah, and then he asked me to dance”

“did you dance with him? i can't remember,” luca asks. 

you lead luca forward, “no i didn’t” 

the two of you send each other knowing glances but neither of you acknowledges the obvious truth between the two of you. you were both in love. 

when you get to a crosswalk you pause and turn to luca. “remember in second when i was late for econ and i almost got hit by a car because i was running and didn’t look before crossing the road?” that was an awful day. everything had been going wrong but there had been one nice moment… luca had brought you dinner at the end of the day and the two of you sat together as you both ranted about how much harder second year was turning out to be. 

luca doesn’t respond, and when you look up at him he blanks. “lu…?” 

you hadn’t even realized that he was moving towards you until he kissed you. lips soft as they brushed against yours in an impossibly tender kiss. it lasts a few seconds, and when luca pulls away you sigh. 

“wow…” “i’m sorry, i don’t know why i did that” you both speak at the same time, both of your tones are drastically different. 

“oh” your shock was clearly evident because luca started back pedaling. 

“like it was nice but i don't…” 

“don't what…” 

luca is the one to sigh this time and it’s not out of pleasure. “we’re best friends i shouldn’t have done that,” 

at first you were hurt, but then you were angry. who cared if you were best friends? you felt so strongly about luca and now more than ever you knew he felt that same way. “luca-”

“no we don’t have to talk about this, really. it was a mistake and it won’t happen again,” he assures you, and your heart breaks. you nod silently, biting the inside of your cheek as you drop lucas hand and turn back to where you had just walked from.

“i think i’m going to head back now… it's getting kind of chilly,” you lie, just wanting to be free from luca. 

luca starts to shrug off his sweater but you hold one of your hands up to stop him. “no, you should have it” he tries again but you still don’t let him give you his sweater.

you let out a weak laugh, thinking back to the time luca had given you his shirt earlier in the year. you had let yourself think that he liked you back… “i’m fine, thanks” is all you say before you start to walk back to your apartment. this time instead of holding hands, you're holding yourself. 

weeks later this moment becomes insignificant to the both of you, but that doesn’t mean you still don’t reflect on it whenever luca shows any type of affection towards you. 

one night, he wakes

strange look on his face

pauses, then says

“you’re my best friend”

and you knew what it was

he’s in love

graduation is long over now, and your first summer out of school treats you with kindness. yours and lucas friends had decided to rent a beach house along the coast of florida, and so for the past week you’ve done nothing but drink and lounge happily with your group of people. 

rutgers girlfriend, you were quick to find out, was insanely nice and kind. the two of you had grown close, and so it came to no surprise that when luca spotted rutgers girlfriend outside, that you were close by. 

“i’m headed off to bed,” luca says, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “just thought i’d let you know so you don’t go looking for me,” he jokes, pulling you into his side like any boyfriend would. except you werent dating, and the bed he was referring to was being shared between the two of you since there weren't enough rooms for everybody to get their own. 

“okay, i’ll meet you in a bit,” you respond, breaking eye contact with rutgers girlfriend and turning your attention to your best friend. 

“sounds good,” is all luca says before dropping his arm and sauntering back into the house. you wish your eyes knew better than to trail after him and yet… you couldn’t help but stare at his back muscles as he retreated. it was going to be a long summer…

when you crawled into bed that night, luca was already asleep. you stare up at the ceiling fan, wondering if you’d ever fall out of luca. it was getting too hard to love him. 

luca always had some strange extra sense when it came to you. so it came to no shock that he had awoken shortly after you had laid down. you turned your head away from the ceiling and onto the brunette boy laying next to you.

“you’re my best friend,” luca mumbles, moonlight from the open window casting a soft glow onto his face. 

“you’re my best friend too,” you reply simply, voice breaking slightly as you realize the weight of your words. best friends… it was all you were ever going to be. 

“no, don’t be upset…” luca whispers, wiping away the tears that were rolling down your face. the genuine concern on his face made you want to cry harder. his first thought was always to protect you. 

“i’m sorry,” 

“no sorry,” he slurs, sleep catching up to him. 

you don’t say anything in reply, opting for the silence to wash over the two of you once more. luca didn’t remember this exchange in the morning. 

you can hear it in the silence

you can feel it on the way home

you can see it with the lights out

you are in love

true love

you are in love

once the trip is over you fly back to your family home in toronto. you busy yourself with work and childhood friends, and things start to become a new normal for you. now that you and luca weren’t living in michigan anymore, your hang outs became much more sparse. 

or at least, until adam had a game against the leafs and luca had sent you tickets to watch the game with him. 

you sat next to luca during the game, shoulders brushing and smiles exchanged. and you so desperately knew that even if neither of you could vocalize your feelings, there would always be love between you. 

you two are dancing in a snow globe ‘round and ‘round

and he keeps a picture of you in his office downtown

and you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

and why i’ve spent my whole life trying to put it into words

five years go by and you and luca are still close friends. though instead of midnight coffee and study sessions it’s a quick lunch and texts between work tasks. 

tonight was different though, because you were being promoted at work and so you dressed up in your finest attire for the dinner being thrown in your honour. you had told luca all about it, and when you stood up in front of your colleagues and their spouses to accept your new position in the company, you were delighted to catch a glimpse of luca amongst the crowd. 

when everything was over and done, you walk as fast as you can to luca. “lu you’re here!” you shriek, throwing yourself into his open arms. the two of you rock back and forth for a moment, completely enamoured with one another. 

“of course I'm here! i'm so proud of you,” he smiles widely, never dropping his arms from around you. 

“thank you for being here,” you mirror his smile, giggling slightly when you realize his attention is still solely on you. 

‘cause you can hear it in the silence

you can feel it on the way home

at the end of the night luca drives you home instead of letting you take an uber. his car is much nicer now that he’s out of university, and you want to make a joke similar to the one from all those years ago… something about wanting his car and him, but you can't remember it properly enough to recite it. 

you can see it with the lights out

you are in love

true love

you are in love

when you're parked, luca steps out first and rounds the front of his car. he opens your door as he did all those years before, and all the butterflies from years prior seem to find their wings again as they start to flutter. you’re in love.

“thank you,” you say as you step out of luca’s car. you look up at the night sky, to be pleasantly surprised by the amount of stars that rarely grace the toronto skyline. “luca look up,” you tug on his blazer sleeve. 

when luca meets your gaze and looks up at the sky, he can only think of one thing. he’s in love. 

“yn…” luca whispers just as you tilt your head to face him. 

“luca…” you turn your body towards him, both of you are still standing right next to lucas car in your parking lot. 

before you can doubt yourself, you’re leaning over and grazing your lips against your best friends. luca doesn’t pause this time, instead he pulls you closer to him as he deepens your kiss. you sling your arms around his shoulders, and his hand rests itself on the back of your head. 

when you pull apart you're both breathing heavily. “wow…” “wow…” you both echo each other and luca leans his forehead against yours. 

“i’m sorry if this is too soon but… i love you,” 

you can’t help but giggle at his words. “lu we’ve been waiting for what seems like a lifetime,” you slip your lips back against his and pull apart much sooner than you would like. “i love you too,” 

“good,” luca’s smile is breathtaking. “because i’m never letting you go again,” 

you tighten your grip around his neck and you let your hand find its rightful place in the hairs at the back of his neck. “who says i was going to let you?” you hum. “i’ve waited way too long for this,” 

luca’s lips are on yours again, and for a moment it feels like you can't breathe between the love coursing through your veins and all the butterflies. “way too long,” luca whispers as he pulls his lips away from yours. 

you can feel it on the way home

you can see it with the lights out

you are in love

true love

you are in love

[blackopals-world]

I liked your ´ I Found Home ´ Twisted Wonderland fic could I PLEASE request a part three where everyone else finds out about her son and her books! I have a feeling some of those boys would be a blushing mess. PLEASE I NEED MORE I CAN ´ T GET ENOUGH! PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEEEAAASEEE!

I Found Home

Part 3

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 4) (Part 5)(Part 6)(Part 7)(Part 8)

Implied relationship

Leona

"The Tracker"

It's usually very busy in the kingdom this time of year. Handling the harvest, taxes, keeping an eye out for droughts, and other things that pop up. These things are part of his responsibility as the official grand duke. His brother gave him a good chunk of territory after it was confiscated from a group of inept nobles. He stated that Leona more than deserved it after uncovering their faults.

Leona gained the freedom to rule how he desired with no input or control from his family or counsel. The people respected him and his knights swore loyalty to him.

Ruggie became an aid obviously and is still the only one to keep up with Leona. Despite Jack being strong enough to become a knight he became a botanist.

While Leona is not king, he still basically is one. The only time he's ever had to follow orders is when his brother begs him to attend functions in the capital, which Leona usually ignores.

Recently Cheka started staying at Leona's castle for the summer to learn how his uncle rules his region. Thus ends the lion's peaceful days.

Ruggie sometimes takes the cub to his old neighborhood to learn of its past. The slums no longer exist as Leona created a project to help those living there and created new jobs to support them. The idea wasn't his alone. It came about when Yuu proposed a plan to help Ruggie community. She knew a few examples from her own world to solve this problem and together they made a plan.

She was an incredible woman. Falena had insisted had she become his sister-in-law.

"Listen to me brother, you don't meet a girl like that every dynasty. You need to do something now or never."

Now did become never. Leona learned the hard way that lazing around doesn't stop the world around you from moving forward with or without you. Without Yuu.

Maybe she would have stayed if he asked. He doesn't know. He moved on.

Opportunity was a window and it was closed until someone opened a door. A gateway in this case. There was a way to see her again.

"I don't know how you do this. One moment you're a velcro baby and won't let me put you down the next you're gone." Yuu watched Grimm bolt for the sandbox.

Yuu had gotten the go ahead from Grmm's doctor and social worker to introduce him to the outside world. He was finally secure enough to interact with people his age.

He liked the sandbox which meant extra laundry to Yuu. She checked her bag for a change of clothes when she was stopped by someone.

"Excuse me? Miss I couldn't help but ask. Are you the author of the Lost Princess series?" The woman asked.

"Yes, actually I-" Yuu was cut off.

"It's so amazing to meet you! My children love your books and I love that new romance novel you put out. I heard you were working on a t.v show based on the kids books." She asked in excitement.

"Yes, a network reached out about it but I wanted it to suit my vision and a lot is going on with it. Besides that, I have a family and I can't be away from my son for long." Yuu explained.

"I see, I understand completely. My girls need to be watched like hawk. How old is yours?" The mother seemed to switch gears the moment kids were brought up. She was clearly an attentive mother as she occasionally looked over to where her daughters were on the swing.

"He's 4 now. Over there in the sandbox." Yuu said pointing towards the box except he wasn't there.

The other mother looked around questioning.

"I saw another kid other there a minute ago with a small boy. Do you know if he has a friend here?" She said with a thick edge to her voice.

"No, he doesn't know anyone but me. He hates strangers! Grimm?! Grimm?!" Yuu ran for the sandbox and yelled for her some.

The other mother called for her daughter's and told them to stay close as she called for Grimm as well.

In the back of her head Yuu knew what was going on. She had read stories about predators using kids to lure in other victims. Her son was kidnapped!

Leona stood at the door of a small house in a quaint neighborhood. The house had to be hers. The scent of desert roses and clove was everywhere. That was her favorite perfume.

He knocked a few times but there was no reply.

Cheka(who insisted on coming and Leona had no choice anyways) investigated everything around until a door slammed open in the neighbor's yard.

"Scram you little urchin! Stay out of my garden! She yelled at Cheka as he rooted around the flower bed.

"Who are you calling an urchin?" Leona growled as Cheka took cover behind his uncle.

"You let your son tear up people's yards? You are no better than that hussy that lives here. Are you dropping off another one of her noisy bastard kids? Keep him! I don't want another one running around here!" The old woman ranted.

Leona doesn't advocate punching old women's remaining teeth out but this woman was making him a believer. But he wasn't going to do that in front of Yuu's house in public.

"I don't know who you're calling a hussy but I'm looking for Yuu. Since you are already so nosy you must know right?" Leona asked as politely as he could muster.

"Like I'd tell a thug like you." The old woman said.

"That's fine. If you can't say anything useful you might as well not speak." He said casting a silence curse on the old bat.

The crone tried to flap her gums more but nothing came out as she tried to yell and rant some more.

"Cheka, it's time to practice tracking." Leona picked up a trail that did go too far. Yuu must be on a walk.

Cheka excitedly bounded off with Leona a few yards behind.

When they made it to a park Cheka sped off before Leona noticed.

The old woman said Yuu had a kid. Damn things did change. He should have expected it, kind of. He knew she liked kids and would volunteer to babysit Cheka all the time but knowing she started a family was unexpected.

Was he jealous...no. Why would he be? She didn't owe him loyalty especially when she believed they would never meet again. They weren't even together. So what if he never saw anyone after her and turned down every engagement? She owed him nothing. It was enough to spend what time they did have together.

"Look!" Leona snapped out of his revelry as Cheka brought a small boy over to him.

The boy was small, looked to be less then half the age of Cheka, and held a bright yellow plastic hand shovel.

"Oh no." Leona already had a bad feeling about this. "Cheka what do you think tracking means?"

Cheak puffed out his cheeks as he picked up his new friend from under under his arms like how a toddler picks up a cat.

"I followed the scent and I found him." The cub replied.

The boy had little awareness of what was happening thankfully. But Cheka had a point, the boy smelled like black clove, cinnamon and faintly of desert roses.

"Cheka you can't just take a kid from a playground, even if you are a kid yourself. Put him back before I get called a kidnapper." The instant 'kidnapper' left his mouth the latent survival instincts in the boy went off and he sprinted for the bush and disappeared.

"Shit." Leona muttered.

"Shit." Cheka echoed.

"Not you! Find him before his mom-"

"Grimm! Grimm! Where are you!" Yuu's voice echoed across the park.

He's going to die. He's going to die and I'll all be this brat's fault.

He wasn't overreacting, he is under-reacting. Leona has seen this woman do a hundred-meter dash just to hit her friends upside the head. She once tried to fight a referee after getting a red card and it took Jack and Sebek to pry her off.

Leona managed to find Grimm as he climbed up a tree.

"I swear if you fall from there," Leona growled under his breath.

Cheka tried to follow him up but Leona yanked him back down by the back of his shirt.

"You stay here, go distract Yuu." Leona ordered

"Aye!" The cub mock saluted before bounding off again.

Yuu began to feel lightheaded as she searched every corner of the playground. She asked every parent and child if they had seen her son.

She pulled out her phone and began dialing for emergency services. Just before she pressed the call button she was ambushed from behind.

Two arms circled her stomach and squeezed. Yuu yelped and grabbed one of the hands. Prickly claws dug in firmly.

"Nanna!" A familiar voice called for her.

It was Cheka! Little Cheka wasn't so little anymore. Well, he was taller at least and was still very much a cub.

If Yuu wasn't so frantic she would have squeezed him to death tighter than Floyd but a mother's mind isn't so easily swayed. Grimm first, reunion second.

"That's the boy from earlier!" The other mom said "He took your son!"

HE WHAT?!

Before Cheka could run he was grabbed by the ear.

"Cheka Kingscholar!" Yuu yelled. "Sorry about all this trouble Amaranth. I'll handle the rest from here."

Amaranth laughed a bit leaving Yuu to parent.

Cheka yelped as he struggled to escape.

"Sorry Nanna! I just thought it was funny and I wanted to play with cousin!" Cheka squirmed "He's with uncle I swear!"

Yuu dragged the cub by the ear back to where Grimm was still in the tree.

Currently, Leona was trying to grab the boy while Grimm reflexively hissed and spat like a feral cat. Grimm only did that when he was really scared. One of the side effects of being locked in a basement with only a cat for company for who knows how long.

"I said I was going to hurt you, now stop trying to bite me!" Leona tried to grab him by the collar.

"Mama!" Grimm called out as he dodged Leona again and climbed higher.

"I'm trying to take you to her! Do you want to be left up here?" Leona managed to snag the boy this time by the waist and hauled Grimm up in a position that would keep them stable but not in biting range.

"Grimm no bitting! It's safe! He won't hurt you!" Yuu called out.

Leona worked his way down and as he made it to the lowest branch dropped the squirming toddler in Yuu's waiting arms.

Immediately the boy wiggled around to wrap his arms around his mother like a koala.

"I'd really like an explanation for what's going on but I'm tired and Grimm is overdue for a nap." Yuu sighed.

Leona agreed wholeheartedly.

"So you missed me, my prince?" Yuu laughed as she pulled the leftover leaves and twigs out of his hair.

'My prince' he remembered when she used to call him that when she wanted to tease him. The boys couldn't hear at least, they exhausted themselves and were currently napping.

"No one has called me prince in years. Most just say, Grand Duke." Leona sighed in relief as Yuu combed out his locks.

"Fancy~" Yuu sang before her tone shifted "You've changed, Leo."

"That's your fault. You changed me."

Yuu couldn't pretend he was lying. She wouldn't leave Leona alone back then.

She recognized that Leona was in pain and asked-begged him to get help. She taught him to recognize his feelings so he could explain what was wrong. It was hard for him to accept that help but in time he improved.

Yuu forced him to eat healthier and made excuses everytime she wanted him to do something more then sleep.

"These guys keep harassing me. I can't go alone." She'd say poking him in the ribs until he caved.

When they had bad days. They'd sleep cuddled up beside each other.

"You don't need to fix me." He'd complain but he didn't mean it.

"I'm not. I just don't want to see someone else go through what I did." She said.

Leona wasn't an idiot. He knew she was more fragile than she let on but it never mattered to him. She was the strongest person he knew. So he believed in her words and got his life together.

"Change is good. I've changed too." Yuu responded.

"I've noticed. So where's the dad? Not in the picture?"

"Never was. I found Grimm and took him home. He has his quirks but he's a good kid."

"I've noticed, his bites were just full of kindness." Leona said holding out his nicked hand.

Yuu rolled her eyes, he could heal himself with magic but was being dramatic.

"He was just scared. Besides his teeth aren't nearly as sharp as Cheka's." Yuu scoffed as she intertwined their hands.

While the adults got cozy the kids were up to trouble.

"So this book is about the king of beasts?" Cheka asked puzzled.

"It is about the lost princess and how she met the king of beasts. He wanted a war with the enemy kingdom and worked hard to win. The princess taught him that the war was dumb and he should be a good king instead." Grimm said flipping the pages.

"And then they get married and live happily ever after?" Cheaka asked.

"No! The princess has to go home and goes to the underwater city to get help from the sea folk. The princess can't get married." Grimm argued.

"I dunno, I think the princess is going to marry the beast." Cheka smirked.

"What do you mean?" The boy asked tilting his head.

"Ask your mom. We are going to be cousins soon. Shihihi" Cheka cackled using Ruggie's laugh.

"Mom?" Grimm scrunched his nose in thought before realizing "MAMAAAA!"

Grimm cried as he stumbled down the stairs.

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