#when she sings 'cheese in the trap' the way she says cheese sounds like she was saying 'she's in the trap'

[writingquestionsanswered]

I have a small question where I would like to hear your opinion on. My MC died in her original world and was reborn into a new one. So she died at 27 and started back again at 2 years old from the body she took over. She is mentally at the original age. So my hiccup is that the story take place when she is 25 in the new world and I'm having a bit of a hard time figuring out how to have her carry herself. Theoretically, she is mentally in her 50's but 25 physically. How should I go on to write her personality? I don't want to say I want her to "act old", but what are some things that might be different between a 25 year old and a 50 year old and how could I best make her more mature? Should I make her more immature in the beginning (pre-death) So that change could be put in place?

Character is Mentally Older Due to Reincarnation

Here's the problem... there are two things needed in order for someone to mature: physical development and emotional development through experience. If your character died at 27, not only is that about the time that brains stop physically developing anyway, she also does not go through any further emotional development through experience.

Even if she is "mentally 27" when she is transported to the body of the two-year old, and even if we say her mental age somehow overrides the physical capabilities of a two-year-old brain, the kinds of experiences she's having over the 23 years in her second body aren't the kinds of experiences that are going to add significantly to her emotional experience. These are all things she has already experienced and learned in her first life. As a 2 to 25-year-old, she's not gaining a lot of experience in things like career, marriage, parenting, layoffs, career changes, divorce, single parenting, dating after divorce, caring for aging parents, etc. Instead, she's experiencing some of the things (again) that are natural for 2 to 25-year-olds to experience, like going to school, making friends, trying to get good grades, social drama, first kiss, first love, learning to drive, first job, graduation, going to college, first-time independence, getting to vote, serious relationships and serious break-ups, perhaps even getting married and having a kid or two, though not getting very far into that.

So, my point is, your character has to live the life of a 25 to 50-year-old in order to gain the experience and maturity of a 25 to 50-year-old brain.

BUT... having said that, I am speaking to you as a person who has lived the life of a 25 to 50-year-old, and I don't feel mentally different from who I was when I was 25. Maybe a little, but not significantly. I have certainly experienced a lot of things during those 25 years, but I still like a lot of the same things, still do a lot of the same things, still think and feel a lot of the same things. I still wear clothes (sweaters, jackets, and coats, mostly) I wore when I was 25. I still watch a lot of the same TV shows and movies, and like a lot of the same music. But also... I'm sitting over here singing to songs that are popular on the radio, watching TV shows that are popular with the 15 to 30 crowd, and comfortably conversing with family members who are in their teens and 20s.

So, a part of it, too, is that once you get past a certain age (mid-20s, really, when the brain stops developing), there's not always this catastrophic difference between who a person is at 25 and who they are at 50 or 70. I mean, there can be... there are definitely those adults who turn into weird adulty robots who feel like they can only drink wine, eat salmon, play golf, and throw wine and cheese parties, but not everyone is like that. Most people aren't. You'll get into your fifties and laugh that you thought you'd be so significantly different from 25-year-old you. :)

Another issue to consider is this: if your character is a 27-year-old trapped in a 2-year-old's body, does that make her like Stewie Griffin, except that's the way she actually sounds to everyone around her. Do you have a two-year-old sitting in the baby seat in the shopping cart at Target, looking at her "new" mother and literally saying out loud, "Oh, Diane... please tell me you're not thinking about buying that. You know how gluten wrecks your stomach. Put it back and get the gluten free one, would you?" Or, do you have a 27-year-old woman who has to pretend to be a two-year-old, and has to sit there making baby talk and saying things like, "Ma-ma... can get cookie? Pwweeeease?" It's really awkward, to be honest, and I can't imagine how mentally taxing, frustrating, and demeaning it would be for your character.

So... what to do? There are two options that I can see, but keep an eye on the reblogs in case anyone else has a suggestion:

1 - Compartmentalize her adult consciousness from her two-year-old consciousness until she's maybe ten or twelve. So, almost like she's a prisoner inside the body of a child, but she doesn't know what it's thinking and can't control what it says or does. Like they're two independent beings and she's just along for the ride, silently commentating and even trying to get through to the kid to little or no avail. Maybe sometimes, if she mentally screams loud enough, she pops into the child's consciousness as a subconscious thought. Then, for whatever reason, as the child ages, her voice gets through more and more, and she gains control of what the child says and does little by little, until finally she has fully become the child when it's maybe 12 or 15 or whatever age you think makes sense. So, that might look something like this:

Childhood: I'm dressed in my--rather, Bella's--favorite Bluey shirt and a pair of shorts. The birthday party is at an indoor play area called Bounce, and I can almost feel Bella's excitement as she drops her gift off at the table and runs to join the other kids on a giant trampoline. They didn't really have places like this when I was a kid--the first time, I mean. My next door neighbors--the Andersons--they had a trampoline in their backyard, the kind with the net cage around it, but my parents wouldn't let me jump on it except during neighborhood parties when there were lots of parents watching. At least I... Bella... will sleep well tonight.

Teens: "Hey, Bella!" Maxine said as I joined her at the lockers. "Are you going to Brant's party tomorrow night?" Ugh, Brant's party. I had forgotten about that. What an absolute turd. He reminds me too much of this guy Jared I dated briefly in college, in my first life. I'm obviously not going to tell Maxine that. "Nah," I say at last. "I don't like that guy enough to go to his party." "Why don't you like him? I think he's cool!" "Oh, he just reminds me of someone I used to know. Wanna head to lunch?"

2 - Give the adult consciousness a bit of amnesia and have her start to remember things over time. In this sense, there would still be some compartmentalization early on as far as being a separate consciousness from the child's, but in this sense she would be less like an adult imprisoned in a child's body, along for the ride and commenting from the peanut gallery, and more like a faint awareness that is more distant, but becomes more aware and close as time goes on. That might look something like this:

Child: Bella is wears her favorite Bluey shirt to the birthday party. She is such a happy, friendly child. The other kids welcome her with smiles and open arms as she joins them on the trampoline. I wonder if I went to parties like this in my first life?

Teen: Bella's friend--my friend--Maxine greets me as I join her by the lockers. "Are you going to Brant's party tonight?" My stomach sours at the thought of that guy, though I don't know why. Perhaps I knew someone like him in my past life. The name Jared suddenly pops into my head, and I briefly wonder what this guy did to past life me that I carried dislike for him into my second life. Not wanting to get into all that, I make an excuse about having to help my mom wallpaper the guest room. "See you on Sunday, though, so we can study for the test?" "Yeah, see you then," Maxine says, closing her locker. She smiles, but I can tell she's a little salty. She knows social gatherings exhaust me, though. Sometimes I wish I could tell her why--that I've been through all of this before, not even that long ago. But she wouldn't understand.

So, in either case, you're not really worrying too much about the nuances of maturity, but rather a general "adult" perspective as it relates to this child whose body it's inhabiting.

Anyway, I hope that helps! Edited to add: see a related question here.

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[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

the moon will sing a song for me

The first of two chapters of my fic for @fandomtrumpshate is up! It's a gift for Kali, a modern with magic AU featuring werewolf!Jaskier, lots of pining, questionable taste in pizza toppings, and angst with a happy ending (in more ways than one.)

Relationship: Geralt/Jaskier

Rating: E

Warnings: none

Summary: When Jaskier returns after a full moon trapped in his wolf form, Geralt knows something is terribly wrong with his best friend and roommate—who Geralt may or may not have been pining over for the past decade. But as the days pass and Geralt, his fellow witchers, and Yennefer fail to figure out what's wrong with Jaskier, Jaskier starts to lose himself to the wolf. Can Geralt get him back before it’s too late?

You can read the first couple of scenes below or the whole thing here on AO3!

***

"So, are you going to kill me?" the werewolf asks through a mouthful of pineapple and pepperoni pizza. There's a string of cheese hanging from his bottom lip.

"Do I need to kill you?" Geralt hopes he sounds less uncertain than he actually is.

Nothing about the call they received at headquarters an hour ago about a vicious werewolf on Hierarch Boulevard prepared him for this. Not because he found a vicious werewolf, but because he found a young man busking outside a pizza parlor, wearing a seasonally inappropriate flowered shirt and a pair of jeans with so many holes in them, they may as well have been shorts.

When the kid—he only looks a couple of years younger than Geralt’s age of twenty-three, but he has a baby face that makes Geralt think ‘kid’—realized that the man standing over him was a witcher, he seemed more resigned than terrified.

“If we’re going to do this, you’re going to buy me a slice of pizza first,” he said and bewildered, Geralt agreed. And somehow ended up buying him an entire pie.

Now, the werewolf shrugs. He's doing everything he can to look casual, though Geralt can smell his anxiety. "I sure hope not."

"We got a call that you were menacing people on Hierarch Boulevard."

The werewolf's eyebrows draw together. "Look, I know my cover of 'Don't Go Breaking My Heart' wasn't my best work, but calling it menacing seems like an overreaction."

“Hm.”

“First of all.” The kid raises his piece of pizza as if making a point. “You’ll notice that I was playing my guitar. That’s impossible to do in my wolf form. I’ve tried. Second of all, we’re two weeks from a full moon. Even a baby werewolf probably won’t lose control this time of month. I’m twenty. I’ve been able to control my shift since I was like fourteen. Third, if I was going to go berserk, I wouldn’t do it in my favorite busking spot. I have a rapport with all the local business owners and mauling people is bad for business.”

“Then why would someone call and report you?”

The werewolf lets out a laugh entirely devoid of humor. “My guess is that it was that fuck Earl de Stael. He’s my girlfriend’s other boyfriend. We’ve never gotten along and lately he seems to have a bug up his butt, thinking Victoria likes me more than him. Which she probably does, but he has a trust fund, which more than makes up for the lack of personality and the terrible taste in clothes."

“Hm,” Geralt says again, because he really doesn’t know what to say.

“So.” The werewolf grabs a fifth slice of pizza. “What’s it like, being a witcher?”

“Not sure yet,” Geralt says mildly. “Only got my certification six months ago.”

“Is it true that you’re like a super soldier?”

“I don’t know about that.” Geralt shrugs.

“I mean, they did something to you.” The werewolf gestures at his face with a pizza crust. “Unless you were born with golden, slit-pupiled eyes?”

“I wasn’t. My eyes were green.” Geralt isn’t sure why he says that, but the words just come out.

“Fascinating.” The werewolf wipes his mouth on his sleeve. “So, am I your first werewolf?”

“No.”

“Did you buy the last one pizza?”

“No, I killed her.”

The werewolf’s heartbeat picks up and his eyes flick towards the door. “Ah.”

Geralt grimaces. “She had killed one person and was an active danger to three others. I had no choice.”

And he still threw up afterwards.

The werewolf smells afraid and Geralt hates that. The hardest thing about waking up after the Trials was suddenly being able to smell how scared everyone was of him. He tries to sound gentle, or as gentle as he can sound with his fucked up, gravelly voice, as he says, “Look, I’m not going to kill you. From what I can tell, the most monstrous thing about you is your taste in pizza toppings.”

The werewolf’s relief morphs into outrage, his mouth dropping open to reveal a ball of chewed up cheese, bread, and meat. “What in Melitele’s name is wrong with my taste in pizza toppings?”

“Pineapple and pepperoni?”

“The sweetness of the pineapple and the spiciness of the pepperoni—”

“No.”

“Just try it.” The werewolf shoves the tray of pizza at him. “It will change your life.”

“Hm.”

“Come on.” Blue eyes twinkle at him with mirth. They’re pretty blue eyes, Geralt can’t help but notice. “Do you trust me?”

“I’ve known you for fifteen minutes.” But Geralt takes a slice of pizza. Because he’s hungry and a little curious. Not because of the blue eyes.

“What do you think?” The werewolf sits forward.

“It tastes like shitty pizza with pineapple and pepperoni on top.” Geralt drops the rest of his slice back on the tray.

“So amazing?”

Geralt only grunts in answer.

The werewolf puts a hand over his heart. “How disappointing to learn that my new best friend has shit taste in pizza.”

“We’re not friends.”

“You saved my life. Well, spared it. I think that makes us friends.”

Geralt wants to say that the werewolf’s life was never in any danger, that no witcher he knows would have walked up to an innocent person who wasn’t even in wolf form and killed them. But then he thinks of some of the older witchers he’s met—like fucking Varin—and rethinks that. “I don’t even know your name. We can’t be friends if I don’t know your name.”

“Well, that’s easy enough to fix,” the werewolf says. “I’m Jaskier.”

***

Ten Years Later

The house is always too quiet on full moons.

When Geralt and Jaskier first moved in together eight years ago, it took Geralt months to adjust to all the noises his new roommate made. He and Jaskier had been friends for just over two years at that point, but Geralt had still been taken off guard by the sheer volume of noise that Jaskier could make. He even brushed his teeth loudly and his snores kept Geralt awake every night until he invested in a white noise machine and a pair of noise-canceling headphones.

But over the years, Geralt has grown so accustomed to the noise that the silence that greets him when he steps through the front door may as well be a roar. He’s used to coming home from his hunts to the sounds of Jaskier puttering around the kitchen on a mission to make late night pancakes, strumming on his guitar, or snoring in front of the TV. He always waits up for Geralt to come home from his hunts—or tries to, at least—even after all these years.

“If I go to bed before you get home, how will I know if you’ve had your insides torn out by a wyvern and are lying in a ditch somewhere?” Jaskier demanded the last time Geralt told him that the waiting up was unnecessary.

“That was one time.”

“Oh, you’ve only been disemboweled one time. How silly of me, I won’t worry anymore.”

The silence of the house is broken by a meow as Roach comes to greet Geralt, tail twitching in irritation at the indignity of being left alone for hours.

“Hey, girl.” Geralt scoops her up, scratching under her chin. “How’s it been?”

Roach meows at him again. She never likes full moons either. 

“I know,” Geralt says. “He’ll be back in the morning.”

That earns him an unimpressed look. Geralt almost reminds her that he’s the one who found her in the basement of a wraith-haunted abandoned house when she was just a tiny ball of fluff and brought her home to nurse her back to health, and then remembers that arguing with his cat that she should love him more than she loves his roommate probably isn’t a good sign. Anyway, he can’t begrudge Jaskier Roach’s love; his friend is far too lovable for anyone’s good, including Geralt’s.

Geralt carefully puts that thought out of his mind as he makes his way into the kitchen, Roach tucked under one arm. If Jaskier were here, he would be peppering Geralt with questions about tonight’s alghoul hunt, fussing over Geralt’s nonexistent wounds, and complaining loudly about the stench of necrophage that lingers on his armor. Geralt tries not to pay attention to the pang of regret in his belly as he heeds Roach’s pitiful meows and adds some fresh wet food to her half-full food bowl.

He checks the fridge to make sure they have enough eggs, then takes a rib-eye steak out of the freezer to defrost. When Jaskier comes home around dawn, exhausted and smelling like rabbit blood, Geralt will have breakfast waiting for him so Jaskier can wolf down an entire steak, a dozen eggs, and a pile of toast before going to bed to sleep off his full moon hangover. Geralt will spend the day curled up in bed with him, keeping him warm and comfortable.

If Jaskier were part of a pack, he would spend his full moon gamboling around the woods with his fellow werewolves and spend the day after collapsed in a puppy pile with his packmates. But Jaskier doesn’t have that. He spends his full moons alone and the day after, all he has is Geralt. While Jaskier usually is usually sanguine about his estrangement from the Novigrad and Lettenhove packs, it always seems to weigh on him in the days after the full moon. It’s the least Geralt can do to try and ease his loneliness.

Roach meows at him again and Geralt realizes he’s been staring out the sliding glass door at the woods behind their house, watching for a glint of blue eyes in the dark. He looks down to find his cat staring up at him in clear judgment. “Fuck off,” he tells her. “You miss him too.”

With an irritable twitch of her tail, she returns to her food and Geralt heads down the hall to wash the alghoul blood out of his hair before he goes to sleep.  Dawn—and Jaskier—will be here before he knows it.

***

Geralt wakes to sunlight streaming through the window and Roach stepping on his face. He groans as he relocates her to the pillow, glancing at the clock to see that it's well past 8 AM. It takes him a moment to realize what’s wrong with this picture: the sound of the sliding glass door in the kitchen should have woken him hours ago when Jaskier returned home. Jaskier is never sneaky, especially when he’s clumsy with exhaustion the morning after a full moon.

“Fuck.” Geralt stumbles out of bed and across the hall to Jaskier’s room. He’s unsurprised to find the door ajar and Jaskier’s bed still empty, the blue and yellow comforter crumpled on the floor, just like it was the night before. Jaskier’s scent of eucalyptus and mint is present, but faint. He didn’t sleep here last night.

There are plenty of good reasons that Jaskier may not have returned home last night, Geralt tells himself, even as his sense of unease grows. Maybe he met another lone wolf last night and they’re off somewhere, cuddled together as they sleep off the moon’s effects. It wouldn’t be the first time Jaskier has forgotten to tell Geralt when he was going off with some new paramour.

But lone wolves like Jaskier are vulnerable, both to trophy hunters and to other werewolves. Jaskier has no pack to protect him if he gets into trouble. Hell, Earl de Stael alone has tried to kill him at least a half a dozen times in the past decade. The thought of Jaskier in a hunter’s snare or falling under another werewolf’s claws sends a nauseous feeling crawling up Geralt’s throat. Not panic. Witchers don’t get the luxury of panic.

A scratching noise from the kitchen distracts him from his not-panic. Heart pounding a bit too hard than a witcher’s should, Geralt hurries down the hall to the kitchen and finds Roach standing at the sliding glass door, meowing insistently. There’s a bear-sized wolf with brown fur and bright blue eyes standing on the back porch, panting in clear agitation. Geralt only occasionally sees Jaskier in his wolf form, because Jaskier rarely shifts outside of full moons, but he would know those blue eyes anywhere. He can see the fear in them.

“What the fuck, Jaskier?” Geralt slides the door open and immediately winds up with a face full of fur as Jaskier jumps up, nosing at his face insistently. Geralt stumbles back under the unexpected weight and Jaskier backs off, whining apologetically. His ears are pinned back and his tail is tucked between his legs. Even trying to make himself look as small as possible, he takes up most of their tiny kitchen.

“What happened?” Geralt runs his fingers through Jaskier’s fur, searching for signs of injury. There’s a bit of dried blood crusted around his mouth, but that more than likely belongs to whatever forest critter was Jaskier’s dinner last night.

Jaskier only whines in response.

“Why are you still a wolf?” Geralt asks.

Big blue eyes stare up at him mournfully.

A horrible thought occurs to Geralt. “Can you not shift back?”

Jaskier shakes his massive head from side to side.

Geralt knows that young werewolves often have this problem. Jaskier likes to laughingly tell the story of shifting into wolf form in his middle school bathroom after a pretty girl asked for his number and not being able to shift back for the rest of the day. But Jaskier isn’t a pimply preteen, but a thirty year old man. Outside of a full moon, he should be in perfect control of his shift. Most of the time, the only signs that he’s not perfectly human are his penchant for extra-rare meat and his superhuman stamina (which Geralt has only heard about secondhand.)

“Did someone do something to you?” Geralt demands.

Jaskier whines and shakes his head again.

Geralt has a thousand other questions, but Jaskier can’t answer any of them right now and seems to be growing more agitated by the minute. Running what he hopes is a soothing hand down Jaskier’s back, Geralt says, “It’s going to be okay, Jask. I’ll call Yenn. Whatever happened, she can help us sort it out.”

***

“What the fuck have you gotten into now, Jaskier?” Yennefer demands, arms folded over her chest in clear disapproval.

From the wreckage of what was once their couch—it turns out that the couch they picked up at a yard sale six years ago wasn’t structurally sound enough to support the weight of a full-grown werewolf leaping onto it—Jaskier grumbles.

“Don’t start,” Yennefer snaps. “I just had to get up early the morning after a full moon for this.”

Normally, Geralt is amused by Jaskier and Yennefer’s bickering. When he first met Yennefer, she and Jaskier couldn’t stand each other. By the time he and Yennefer broke up, she and Jaskier were such good friends that Geralt was a little worried that Jaskier would choose her friendship over his. But he and Yennefer managed to make it through their breakup and become better friends than they ever were lovers, and now she and Jaskier meet up for brunch every other weekend. They bicker constantly, complain about each other endlessly, and would both happily kill anyone who so much as looked at the other one wrong—including Geralt, he often suspects.

But Geralt can’t find any amusement right now, not when Jaskier still looks so frightened. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him. I don’t think he can shift back.”

Yennefer frowns down at Jaskier.

“Can you fix this?” Geralt hears the thread of desperation in her own voice.

“You’re assuming there’s something to fix.” Yennefer walks over to the werewolf, putting a hand on his snout. Jaskier closes his eyes and leans into the touch. Her expression softens. “I’m going to have to look into your mind, Jaskier. I’m not going to see something that will scar me for life, will I?”

Jaskier huffs.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” But Yennefer still slides her hand up to rest on top of Jaksier’s head and closes her eyes. Geralt’s medallion starts to hum around his neck while she works her mind-reading magic. He tries not to look visibly impatient as he watches the two of them for what feels like an eternity.

Finally, Yennefer steps back and Geralt asks, “What did you see?”

“Nothing.” She frowns down at Jaskier. “He doesn’t know why this has happened and neither do I. If there’s a curse on him, it’s subtle enough that I can’t detect it. He has no memory of being attacked. He’s not injured. There’s no explanation that I can figure out.”

“Then how do we fix it?” Geralt’s voice comes out rougher than he intends.

Jaskier whines, ducking his head.

Yennefer shoots Geralt a sharp look. “Of course I’m not going to let you stay a wolf, Jaskier. You’re coming with me to the Conclave at Thanedd next month, remember? I can’t tolerate that many sorcerers without you there to scandalize them.”

Jaskier makes an annoyed grumbling noise.

“What’s he saying?” Geralt asks.

“He says he’s more worried that he’s going to miss his gig with Priscilla on Friday night,” Yennefer says. “Maybe he was cursed by someone who wants to have a nice night out without listening to his warbling.”

Jaskier barks and Yennefer reaches over to scratch his nose, which causes him to huff, even as he leans into it.

“So what do we do?” Geralt asks. “If it’s most likely not a curse, how do we turn him human again?”

Jaskier whines softly into Yennefer’s hand and she frowns, all the humor leaving her face.

“What’s wrong?” Geralt demands.

Yennefer hesitates, then shakes her head. “Nothing. He’s just being his dramatic self.” Pulling away from Jaskier, she turns to Geralt. “I’ll see if I can find a spell to safely force a shift. In the meantime, I’m sure there’s someone in the Novigrad Pack who will know something.”

“You’re assuming we can find someone in the Novigrad Pack that will help us,” Geralt says and Jaskier barks an agreement.

“Wave your swords around if you have to. Most people find that sufficiently motivating.”

Geralt is about to argue, then notices Jaskier looking at him with big, worried eyes. He knows he’ll wave his swords at whoever he needs to if it means hearing Jaskier’s voice again and seeing his eyes spark with laughter instead of worry. With a sigh, he crosses the room to kneel down in front of his friend, leaning his forehead against Jaskier’s. He doesn’t even complain when Jaskier licks him on the chin, even though his breath smells like dead rabbits and worse things.

“We’ll figure this out, Jask,” he murmurs, burying his fingers into soft brown fur. “We’ll fix this, I promise.”

***

Read the rest on AO3!

[vroomian]

Kinda rough points for the platonic ideal of a Gerard. Just ideas at this point lol

—

Jason shot and wounded stumbles into a maze of alleys, hears someone singing and playing the guitar. That’s fucking weird ™ Because people don’t sing in crime alley.

He follows the music to an abandoned building, climbs in, and stumbles across a girl who seems very unimpressed with the whole situation. Her hair is, of course, black and curly, her skin is pale, and her eyes are a very dark blue magnified by her thick glasses. Her ratty oversized sweater makes her look even smaller than she is.

Jason adds another point to the “am I actually cursed to deal with Wayne nonsense for the rest of my unlife ??” collum, because this kid is adoption bait, down to the deadpan look on her face.

Jason can’t get this Obviously Homeless Child to leave , because ‘I was here first’ is a pretty good justification in crime alley. Then it’s too late and the people who shot Jason show up outside, and they’re both trapped.

“Fucking really,” the kid says flatly.

Jason kinda likes the twerp despite himself. What a tiny asshole.

“I’ll lead him away,” Jason says, despite being Swiss cheesed. “Stay here.”

“Normally I'd agree,” the kid says, “but your blood is mostly on the outside. If you go out you’ll die.”

She’s right. Jason’s still not about to let this kid be killed because of him.

the kid looks out the window and sighs like he’s deeply annoying. “Okay. Fine. I’ll take care of it I guess. Can I have a gun. “

What.

“What,” Jason says.

The kid makes grabby hands towards the gun in his hands. Jason let’s her take it because it’s out of bullets anyway and he’s very confused.

“Wait no,” Jason says. “Do not go out there and get in a gun fight,”

“Obviously,” she says. She holds the gun kind of awkwardly, but the way she clicked the safely off speaks of familiarity. “But if red hood dies, no one keeps Batman out of the narrows.”

“Why does that matter?”

“Because Batman won’t let metas live in Gotham,” she says and leans out the window before Jayson can stop her. Pressure builds and builds until jaysons hair stood on end, instincts screaming at him. The girl's eyes gain pinpricks of glowing red in the iris.

“It’s high noon,” she says, an odd echo to her voice, as if she was calling down a long tunnel.

It’s like three am. Jason can still feel the blinding heat of a harsh midday sun on his face.

There are eight men in the alley below them, and one of them points upwards at the girl — but it’s too late.

“Draw.”

The girl pulls the trigger . The crack is defaning, even through the sound filters of Jason’s helmet. The heat vanishes, but the wariness doesn’t.

Down below, all eight men collapse at the same time. Jason can make out the neat little holes in each of their foreheads. Clean headshots.

The girl shakes her head, hands Jason the gun back and rubs her eyes. “Ow. Hate doing that.”

“What was that????”

“Don’t worry about it. Here, hold this thing,” she tosses him a baseball. “Embrace tranquility or whatever.”

“???” Jason says when the base ball begins to float and glow, this time gold -- and matching the pinpricks of gold light in the girl’s irises. Before he has time to drop it, he can feel his chest begin to knit together. “You can heal?”

“No,” Her face is completely straight. “It’s definitely not me. There’s no metas in gotham. Especially not in the narrows. That’d just be asking to get captured and sold.”

Jason glanced out the window, at the eight dead men, and the calm face of the girl. She couldn’t be more than twelve but there was no regret, or hesitation in her expression. Not the first time she’d killed.

“I can put you up in a safe house,” Jason says.

“Haha, death first. I’m not getting involved with your caped nonsense. I’m going to go to college and become an accountant.”

Argue about it till the orb fizzles out and Jason agrees to leave reluctantly. He knows how alley kids are, and forcing the issue won’t help.

“Whats your name?” He asks.

“……Gerard” she says, not changing her expression.

“You don’t look like a Gerard.”

“I’ll have you know that I am the platonic ideal of a Gerard. If you look Gerard up online you’ll find me and only me.”

Man Jason likes this kid. “Sure. See you around Gerry.”

“Man I hope not. Don’t forget to clean up your mess. I like this spot and I don’t need eu de corpse outside all day.”

Brat. Jason goes out the window, baseball in hand. Behind him, there’s a moment of quiet, and then the music starts up again. 

“Now Jesus died for them its true. What’s a devil to do? When the saints go marching in, I won’t be there because I love my sins…”

[panda-001]

okay so moonbyul is the cheese that traps and steals the guys' girlfriends by making them fall in love with her? NICE

[chatonne-rousse]

Great Minds (and Kind Hearts) Think Alike

Written as a gift for my sweet friend @sketchy-panda to celebrate a bunch of happy things in her life, as well as just because she's awesome. Inspired by this adorable piece of her art.

During a rooftop discussion about superhero merch while relaxing after patrol, Ladybug and Chat Noir each decide to share their favorite items with their partner. What results is an impromptu gift exchange that just might open the door to a whole lot more.

Read it on Ao3 here.

"My parents put us on the Christmas tree last year, Kitty! I had to see myself in the living room every day."

He bumps her shoulder with his. "And me, apparently."

"Yes, but your ornament was cute!" She flails her arms comically and he tries not to focus too much on the fact that she called his likeness cute. "Mine didn't even look like me."

"Would you have liked it better if it had?"

"That's not what I..." Ladybug scowls, but there's no real heat in her expression or her voice. "It was just weird."

"No, the baby onesie that I saw on an actual baby that said 'Meow, My Lady' was weird," Chat mutters. "I didn't even know any civilians had ever heard me say that."

Ladybug's surprised laughter rings out across the rooftop they're perched on tonight, loud enough to be heard from any nearby open window until she muffles the sound with her hand over her mouth. "And whose fault is that, you tomcat?" she asks through her remaining giggles.

He tries to pout, but her laughter is contagious and his smile breaks through. He chooses to ignore the jab at his vain attempts at flirting. Wooing is difficult business.

"The baby was cute, though. I had to take a picture with him."

"You had to?"

He shrugs. "That's a very small request, Bugaboo. I've encountered way worse. A few pictures? I don't mind."

She stares at him for a long moment, something unreadable in her gaze, before looking back over the horizon. "Have you ever bought any Chat Noir merch? You strike me as the kind of guy to have a bookshelf full of action figures."

He is the kind of guy to have a bookshelf full of action figures, and he definitely does, but he thinks of the drawer in his closet that's full of red and black, reminders of his beloved partner. There are far fewer items in black and green.

"I...have a few things. The action figures of us are really cool, actually. Didn't you always want to be immortalized in plastic as a kid?"

"Can't say I did, Minou." She bumps his shoulder this time. "I'll bet you had your supersuit all planned in your head already, didn't you?"

Not quite, but only because he never imagined himself as a cat-themed superhero. He has no intention of ever divulging the fact that his first real transformation sequence was anything but random. That secret is between him and Plagg, and he's not telling. Plagg probably will, but that's a problem for future Adrien.

She laughs again. "I'll take your silence as a 'yes'."

"I'll have you know, My Lady, that I have a carefully curated display of collectibles that are very valuable. And no, this—" he gestures from his cat ears to his steel toes, "was all spontaneous. Can't help it if I've got cat class and I've got cat style."

Ladybug shoots him a deadpan look that dissolves into giggles once more when he wiggles his eyebrows.

Success. He loves to hear his partner laugh, loves to make to his partner laugh. These are moments he wouldn't trade for the world.

"Well," she finally says after her laugher subsides, "the Chat Noir doll I saw in the market did not have cat style, so I made my own."

"Really?" His voice is soft with wonder.

"Yep! And a Ladybug doll, too." She casts him a sidelong grin. "They're a duo, you know. I couldn't have Chat without his Lady, could I?"

He wills himself not to cry. It takes three blinks and one shaky breath before he can respond. "You made them? Yourself?"

"Sure. It's not hard. All it takes is felt and thread and buttons for eyes. They're simple, but—" she shrugs, "I think they're pretty cute."

"Wow," he breathes. "You really are amazing, Bugaboo. They sound incredible."

His Lady seems to amaze him anew with each revelation she allows. He could count on one hand the things he knows about her, really knows, and those facts are tucked away and treasured. She's a whiz at video games. She babysits. She has a loving family. She listens to Jagged Stone. She loves animals.

"Thank you, Minou," she says softly, as the barest hint of a blush spreads to her cheeks beneath her mask.

His heart beats a little faster. His tongue feels heavier. He falls just a tiny bit more in love with her.

Ladybug fills the silence again. "Better than mass-produced action figures, for sure. More cuddle-able!"

That startles a laugh from him. "Is that a word?"

"It is now." She shrugs, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"I'm telling you, Bug, those action figures are cool. I can't believe you don't have a set."

"Guess I need to go shopping."

"Yup," he responds with a decisive nod.

When they make eye contact, it sets off another giggle fit, Ladybug's shoulders shaking with mirth and Chat having to wipe the tears from his eyes. It's not even that funny, but it doesn't have to be.

Paris is quiet tonight, and his heart is light as he relaxes against the rooftop and laughs with his best friend.

*****

Four days later, when they meet up for patrol again, Chat Noir is surprised when his partner joins him carrying a gift-wrapped box. Especially since he himself is hiding a gift bag behind his back.

He sweeps into a bow as she approaches, straightening with an exaggerated wink. "Something for me-ow?"

Her expression morphs into one of longsuffering annoyance. "Well, it was, but I'm reconsidering."

"You wouldn't!" He gasps, one hand clutching his chest over his heart.

Her lips twitch into the beginning of a smile and soon the stillness of the nighttime rooftop is broken by their shared laughter again.

"For you, Chaton," she finally says with a grin, holding out the box.

He produces the gift bag from behind his back and presents it to her, the tissue paper fluttering in the night air. Her eyes widen with delight, and his heart sings.

The handoff is a quiet affair, a hushed silence of surprise settling over the moment as they sit cross-legged, facing each other.

Even the box is beautiful, he notes, wrapped in shiny black paper and adorned by a giant bow of vivid green with black paw prints. He knows, of course, what's in the bag she's holding in her hands. Could this box contain...? He doesn't dare to dream.

He looks up and nods at the bag. "Go ahead, Bug."

The tissue paper rustles as she removes it, trapping it under her foot to keep it from drifting away on the breeze. She takes one look inside, sees the label on the top of the box within, and bursts into laughter. "You didn't!"

Chat grins. "I did."

She pulls out the box to take a closer look. There are several options when it comes to Ladybug and Chat Noir collectible figurines, but this one is his particular favorite. They're sold separately, but he's always been partial to the 1st Anniversary Special Partners Edition, boxed together as a pair and made to wield his baton in his left hand and her yo-yo in her right, leaving them free to hold hands in the middle. Which the figurines' hands are molded to do, and how they're currently posed in the box. They can also stand alone, but there's just something special about the fact that joined hands are an option.

"Okay, Kitty, you were right. They really are cool." She points at the Ladybug figure. "This looks so much better than that Christmas ornament!" Squinting at the box to examine his figurine, she suddenly snorts a laugh. "Your hair looks like a bunch of bananas!"

"Hey!" He pouts, but he knows she's right. When he bought his own set last year, Plagg had made the same observation and laughed so hard he nearly choked on his cheese. He then proceeded to call him Bananoir for days, until Adrien threatened him with a month of Velveeta. The ribbing didn't really bother him that much - honestly, he had to concede the resemblance - because it was an action figure...of himself. No matter how many were produced, that fact would never not be incredible, and no amount of banana hair or cat god snark could diminish his excitement.

"Oh, Chaton, I'm just teasing. I love them." She beams at him, cradling the box with both hands. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome, LB. I just...I thought it would be fun."

"Great minds think alike, it seems. Your turn!"

He glances down at the box in his lap and back at his partner. Her smile is bright, but her eyes betray a nervous anticipation.

"Bug, you know I'm going to love whatever this is, right?"

"I hope so. I made them myself."

His heart in his throat, he carefully slips the ribbon from the box and slices the paper with his claws. He can barely breathe as he lifts the lid.

His hunch (his dream) is confirmed when he finally sees the contents of the box. Nestled in a bed of tissue paper, side by side, are two handmade plush dolls, opposite in configuration to the action figures but with their soft little hands touching in the center just the same. Tears spring to his eyes unbidden, and he wipes them away quickly, partially out of embarrassment but mostly because he wants to see every detail with clarity.

The seams are pristine, the limbs symmetrical; the dolls are simple, but crafted with a skilled, sure hand. He picks up the Ladybug doll first, lifting it reverently from the box. Red felt with carefully-painted black spots form the doll's body, and her little black button eyes gaze up at him from a matching spotted mask. A sweet smile is the only other adornment on her face, but the doll is perfect without anything else. This is his beloved partner, created by his beloved partner herself. That alone is perfection to him.

He returns the Ladybug doll to the box and shifts his attention to his own likeness, resolutely ignoring the lump in his throat.

Equal in craftsmanship, the felt Chat Noir in his hands smiles the same sweet smile and looks at him with shiny button eyes from a black domino mask. Perched on his blond felt hair are two black cat ears, and a real bell is sewn at his neck. He gives the doll a gentle shake and the golden bell rings with a jaunty jingle. It's adorable.

Chat Noir is helpless to the grin that lights his face, looking up from the doll to his partner just in time to see that same joy reflected back in her own dawning smile. Warmth suffuses his chest, elation and love and an overwhelming gratefulness bursting firework-bright and making his breath catch.

He has never received such a heartfelt gift in his life. This eclipses the fine blue cashmere scarf his father gave him on his fourteenth birthday, folded in his closet and placed where he can see it every day. It's a treasure to him, and it always will be. But this, handmade just for him with obvious care by the person he loves most in the world? Nothing could come close.

"I don't know what to say, LB," he begins once he can finally speak, "They're...they're amazing. Adorable. Perfect." He takes a deep breath. "I'm fumbling this, but...thank you isn't enough."

Ladybug reaches out to place her hand on his knee. Even through two supersuits, the contact sends a shiver up his spine. Her expression is one of warm relief, clearly pleased with his reaction. "Thank you is more than enough, Kitty. It was nothing."

"Nothing?" he splutters. "These are far from nothing!"

"Oh, Minou," she laughs. "I meant that it was my pleasure. It wasn't difficult, but even if it was, you're worth it."

Do. Not. Cry. He thinks. He's been fighting tears since she handed him the box. Once he gets home, he's absolutely going to give in and sob while clutching them to his chest. He's man enough to admit that...to himself.

He takes several deep breaths and swallows against the lump in his throat as he arranges the dolls back in their tissue paper nest, making sure their hands are touching before replacing the lid on the box.

"Thank you, Ladybug," he says softly. "I love them. Us."

She pats the box still held on her lap. "And I love this version of us, too. Thank you for making sure I have the coolest action figures in Paris." After placing the box and the tissue paper back inside the gift bag, Ladybug stands and offers her hand to Chat to help him up. "Now, let's go stow these treasures and patrol. Last one to Sacre-Cœur has to buy the other an ice cream cone."

Still clutching the gift box under one arm, he watches her throw out her yo-yo to snag a distant chimney before she zips off with a giggle. He grins, shakes his head, and reaches behind him for his baton.

"That's my bug," he murmurs to himself, before setting off for home to secure the gift safely.

In a few minutes he'll rejoin his partner in a merry chase across the rooftops. He hopes the night remains quiet.

Chat Noir can't wait to buy ice cream for his Lady.

[gamer-logic]

Hetalia Platonic Ships Week Day 4 Annual Canadian-American Sleepover

Allen and James had never had the pleasure of experiencing the annual Canadian-American sleepover/prank way before, so the kids all decide to 'initiate them.' Pure chaos ensues.

They all have the sleepover at Alfred's place since it's the biggest.

Full-on prank war starts right out of the gate. Allen and James are immediately initiated by everyone with the oldest trick in the book: getting slathered in maple syrup and chicken feathers. Louisiana teams up with Ontario to terrorize Quebec voodoo-based pranks. Of course, Allen runs damage control makes sure to keep track of what they're doing, and cancel any horrible aftereffects. Nevada runs bets on who falls for what prank. The highest is California falling for the kale snack that's actually grass prank. With Tony's help, Alfred pranks Mathew by beaming down beavers on his head and teleporting him into a giant pile of maple leaves filled with syrup. Mathew immediately retaliates by jump scaring him with a creepy eagle mask every time he enters a room then chases him into the barn where he's covered in ketchup and mustard.

Pennsylvania and New Brunswick team up to switch PEI's hair care products and New Jersey's hair gel. They also replace New Jersey's bottle of soap with Tan in a Can mixed with Cheeto puff powder. Saskatchewan and Nunavut scare New York and make him think Wendigos are after him. New Mexico and Arizona fill every bit of Minnesota's winter gear with desert sand. North Dakota and North Carolina team up against South Dakota and South Carolina in a giant nerf war. Delaware, being Delaware, puts sticky notes on everything. There's can only be one. The Southern States team up to terrorize Florida in revenge for Florida man. They convince Florida she needs to around dressed as all their state football mascots to ward off Florida man who's coming to fight her Alligators.

Arkansas borrows Lousiana's pet pelican and trains it to dive-bomb Alabama and Mississippi with stink bombs. Texas mixes his five-alarm chili seasoning in with food and gets people to eat it. Alfred easily falls for this when it's put in ice cream. Mathew as well when it's put in poutine. Wisconsin makes various cheese replicas of everyday items and replaces them. He'll go around just eating things like a lamp in front of people to subtly frick with them and make them question reality. Oregon tye dyes everything Washington has. Tennesee has trained various chickens to crow at Kentucky at various hours of the day whenever she walks by. Hawaii and Alaska are currently leading on the scoreboard because, despite their unassuming looks, they're little devils, especially when hyped on sugar.

Their most successful one to date would be tying one end of Texas' lasso to Ameriwhale and telling him they found it, giving him the other end, and making him go for a swim. British Columbia and Alberta accompany Maryland who loves subtly messing with Mr. Perfectionist Delaware by moving everything he has in his room an inch over to the right and making everything crooked. Kansas, Nebraska, and Iowa rig a popcorn matching to shoot popcorn at random intervals. James ducktapes Allen's shades to his head and his bat to the top of the tallest tree in the yard. He also trains Kuma to roar in his face every time he turns a corner and turns on Jersey Shore every time he comes close to a TV to get him stuck using that accent for a whole day. Allen retaliates by hiding his hockey stick in a nearby beaver dam, dies all his flannel pink and puts polka dots on them, puts honey in his scruff and hair which makes Kuma chase him down to lick it off. He also rigs his motorbike to be remote controlled (a trick learned from Massachusettes) and attaches the back of his paints to it, making them fly off.

Eventually, things start settling down and everyone starts up the movies and eats pizza. The award for the best prank goes to, surprisingly, Wyoming and Newfoundland who actually are aresponsible for over 20+ pranks with Hawaii and Alaska in a close second and Wisconsin in third for sheer creativity. Wyoming enlists Newfoundland to help her set this up, swearing him to secrecy. Many of their pranks include creating an impossible-to-navigate maze and trick people to go in, being continually chased by prairies dogs, gophers, and various farm animals, rigging various wire traps around the house and whenever someone activates one they immediately get pied in the face, and somehow rigging every toilet in the house to flush and sing Another One Bites the Dust on command. No one knows where they got them or how they managed to do this in such a short time. They were also never caught until the scores are tallied and they revealed themselves after no one could figure out who did most of the pranks. It's always the shy ones.

About five minutes into the movie, New Jersey hits New York with a pillow starting another all-out brawl. Texas immediately goes big with a bean bag chair because it's on like Donkey Kong and his motto is 'go big or go home!' Even Delaware, usually a tightwad, gets crazy and helps West Virginia target, Virginia. All of the New England states hunker down in a pillow fort under heavy fire with the Southern states who also vote unanimously to sacrifice Florida. Oklahoma and the rest of Tornado Alley team up and become a giant collective twister of unstoppable force. The battle of the 48th parallel states and provinces i.e. BC, Alberta, Ontario, Saskatchewan, Manitoba, and Ontario vs. Minnesota, North Dakota, Montana, Idaho, and Washington rages on with South Dakota betraying them for the chance to hit North Dakota and Ontario also going rouge after being booted out. Eventually, though, they reveal their double agent status which decimates both sides. Mathew and James immediately go into hockey mode while Allen goes into baseball mode and Alfred into football mode.

The party shows no signs of slowing as the chaos continues late into the night. Everyone wakes up the next morning to find feathers everywhere, Texas' entire cowboy hat collection on the roof, PEI, Ontario, New Jersey, California, and Quebec are all duct tapped to the ceiling, Kansas is wearing a Dorothy costume while Maryland wakes up surrounded by hermit crabs. Georgia is covered in peaches and Florida is seemingly missing until they find her safe and sound in the pool snoozing on a giant Alligator float still in the Bulldog costume with every other state mascot suit next to her. Manitoba, Utah, Kentucky, and Nebraska all wake up in the barn with the chickens crowing. Texas is sleeping on top of his bull ride with his state flag dropped over him. Alfred wakes up in the bathtub in a Captain America costume and Mathew Wakes up in the shower with a Captain Canada costume on. Allen and James come out of things relatively unscathed with Allen crashed on the couch with his motorbike covered in glitter courtesy of Hawaii and Alaska in the living room and James with Kuma in the garage with Wisconsin's cow and goats. Basically, everything is pure chaos and no one knows what has been replaced by cheese and what hasn't. Needless to say, Allen and James' first annual family prank war/sleepver was a success. See y'all next year!

[justfrozenthings]

A Summer to Remember

Paring: Anna/Kristoff

Rating: T

Word: 5,335

Notes: My piece for the Volume 5 Summer Lovin’ Frozine. To find the complete zine visit the @frozines blog. Huge thank you to @punkpoemprose for putting together another wonderful zine!

Summary: Kristoff and Anna are ready to go on their annual summer vacation to the beach at Ahtohallan. Little does Anna know, Kristoff has a big surprise for her, well...more of a big question really.

Ao3

 “Kris!” Anna Arendelle was currently packing for her and her boyfriend’s annual summer vacation to Ahtohallan. It had become an annual thing they have been doing for the past five years since they started dating. It was the first place they went on vacation as a couple and they had fallen so in love with the charming little town that they had decided to visit every year. And while each trip was a little different, it consisted of at least three things that had remained the same: spending as much time as possible at the beach, going to their favorite diner Reindeer Circle as their special dinner, and staying at the charming The Crocus beachside hotel. Little did Anna know, however, that Kristoff had a surprise that would make this trip more than a little bit different.

 “Which dress do you think I should wear to the diner?” Anna hollered from their bedroom.

 Kristoff stopped what he was doing and sauntered over to their bedroom. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed as he admired his girlfriend examining herself in the Rococo style mirror with the two dresses. One was the white sunflower shirtdress that he had gotten her for her twenty-third birthday, because at the time she had an obsession with the 50’s setting movie Grease. The other was a forest green sundress that had lace trimming, he has actually seen her wear this one before, when they went out to eat for his birthday, and he remembered how it hugged her in all the right places and showed off her scattering of freckles.

 “I don’t know. You decide. I’m not the one who will be wearing it,” Kristoff said.

 Anna pursed her lips. “I know, but I just want to look beautiful enough for you,” she pouted.

 A soft smile graced Kristoff’s lips and he walked over to where Anna stood, enveloping her in a loving embrace. He leaned his forehead head against hers causing a small hum to escape her delicate lips.

 “Anna, you always look beautiful. Whether you're wearing clothes or not.”

  Kristoff pushed back her bangs so that he could get a better look at her bluebell eyes, not unaware of the blush that began to tint her cheeks.

 Seeing this as a challenge he leaned down and whispered, “Especially when you’re not.”

 Anna’s blush went from a soft pink to a beat red. Successful with what he wanted to accomplish, Kristoff grinned with pride.

 “Kristoff!” Anna whined. “I’m being serious.”

 “So am I.”

 Anna let out a small huff before standing on her toes so she could entwine her hands behind his neck to give him a small peck on the lips.

 “You know, sometimes you can be very frustrating.”

 “But that’s why you love me.”

 “That, and so many other reasons,” Anna smiled.

 “Oh yeah?” he chuckled, bumping her nose with his. “And what would those be?”

 “Hmm?” Anna tapped her lips with her finger, which should still not be doing things to him.

 She put her arms behind her back and gave him a cheeky little grin.

 “Not telling.”

 “You little minx.”

 Anna picked up the dresses she had dropped on the floor during their embrace and held the sunflower one out in front of her.

 “You know,” she said, “I think I’ll wear this one. Besides, you gave this to me so that makes it special.”

 It was Kristoff’s turn to blush now. She giggled and gave him a peck on the cheek leaving him standing there dumbfounded as she went to put up the other dress.

 Later that night, after dinner they snuggled up on the couch watching reruns of The Office. Kristoff ran his fingers through Anna’s fiery hair, and eventually, she nodded off to sleep. He soon joined her in slumber, allowing his mind to drift to a very important tiny box he had hidden in the top shelf of his dresser.

 ***

 Kristoff had woken up from where he fell asleep on the couch last night, careful not to disrupt Anna as he got up to go make breakfast. He knew she liked to sleep in late and the last thing he needed was upsetting the snoring redhead. While Anna was the kindest person she had ever met, she was also scary as hell. Plus, they wouldn’t be leaving for Ahtohallan till a little after noon anyway, so they weren’t in any kind of rush.

 He raised his arms above his head and stretched, his shirt rising up a bit to reveal some of his toned stomach.

 Turning on the stove, he cracked a few eggs into the frying pan. He made them scrambled, just how Anna liked them. He added an assortment of other things as well like chives and cheese. Early on in their relationship, he had learned that Anna would eat just about anything as long as it had either two things: cheese or chocolate.

 The scent of the delicious concoction of eggs, bacon, and biscuits Kristoff whipped up swirled in the air causing Anna to stir in her sleep. She had tried with all her might to not give in to the delectable aroma, but eventually the mouse had fallen for the trap. Her button nose stuck up to get a better whiff. She looked like a little woodland creature in search of food.

 She followed the scent all the way into the kitchen to where Kristoff had begun serving everything on their plates.

 “You’re up early?” Kristoff teased, knowing very well that this was a rare occurrence.

 Anna gave him a small swat on the shoulder. “Oh shush you.” She opened the fridge door to grab the jelly for their biscuits, strawberry for her and grape for him, and set them on the little round table right outside the kitchen.

 “Your breakfast m’lady,” Kristoff said, putting on the best posh accent he could muster and giving a small bowl as he placed the dish in front of her.

 “Why thank you kind sir,” Anna replied back with a fancy accent of her own.

 “So,” Kristoff said, getting Anna to meet her eyes with his. “Are you excited for our trip?”

 Anna nodded before shoving a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

 “I’m always excited, because it means I get to spend a whole day with you.”

 “You see me every day,” Kristoff chuckled, feeling light and happy in his chest. It was a feeling that only Anna was able to give him.

 “True, but with work keeping us on our feet and having completely different schedules from one another, we hardly ever get to spend quality time together.”

 Anna spread some strawberry jam on her biscuit. Some dripped down the side of her finger and when she licked it, Kristoff could do nothing but stare. It seemed as if with every move she took, made him lose his breath every time.

 He must have been staring for quite a while too because suddenly Anna was in his lap with her arms wound around his neck, snapping him out of his reverie. He glanced over to where she was previously sitting across from him and saw that her plate was empty.

 She put both her small hands on the side of his face and turned his head so that he was looking at her once again. And when she smashed her lips all he could taste was strawberry jam and Anna, and he would be perfectly fine if time froze in that moment and they stayed that way forever.

 “You know strawberry jam may be delicious, but kissing you is always so much sweeter,” Anna sighed.

 “You flatter me too much,” Kristoff grinned.

 Anna returned the smile before giving him a peck on the lips and leaving to go finish packing any last-minute things.

 Kristoff laughed to himself, wondering how he, who came from nothing, had been blessed with Anna, who came from everything.

 Anna was the heiress of her father’s manufacturing company, Arendelle Incorporated. Her family had also founded the town they lived in so saying she was popular was a little bit of an understatement. While  he was adopted into a family that couldn’t offer much except their love.

 Whenever they were out in public people would always whisper. Many believed they didn’t belong together due to their different backgrounds, that Anna was too good for him. But despite all the harsh words and criticism they have received, Anna refused to believe any of it. She said that it doesn’t matter that they come from two different worlds, because she loved him, and love is the strongest thing there is.

 With a smile, Kristoff got up from his seat and went into the kitchen to wash his dishes.

 ***

 “Krissss,” Anna groaned, “Are we there yet?”

 “We just left the apartment feisty,” he said laughing at his girlfriend’s impatience.

 It was a six-and-a-half-hour drive to Ahotohallan, and every single time, no matter how many times they did it, Anna never forgot to show her displeasure for the small road trip. It was rather adorable if Kristoff was being honest.

 “But I’m so bored.”

 “Turn on the radio.” He grabbed her hand and kissed it before rubbing little circles on it with his thumb. “Besides,…I like it when you sing.”

 With a blush, Anna pressed the radio button, flipping through the stations until she settled on one she liked.

 A few minutes later she had become lost in the music, singing and doing little dances in her seat as if there was nobody watching. Kristoff loved this view of her. He loved seeing her in her natural element, because it was so Anna and there was nothing better in the world than that. Her voice sounded like birds singing their morning songs when the first light of day appeared over the horizon. She had rolled her window down and her hair looked like a wildfire the way the wind blew through it, making it go in different directions. And Kristoff hoped that he would get to see her like this for the rest of eternity. If Anna accepted the question he had prepared, then that dream would become a reality.

 About halfway they had stopped at a burger place to grab some lunch then headed to the nearest gas station to fill up the tank. Anna, of course, couldn’t pass up the opportunity to go inside and grab a few chocolate bars for the road. Kristoff would never understand how someone so small could consume so much of the sweet treat. He was convinced that it wasn’t blood but chocolate sauce that flowed through her veins.

 He laughed when she came out holding twelve chocolate bars, saying that there were too many to choose from and that she didn’t want the other chocolate bars to feel bad for not choosing them so the only logical thing to do was to buy one of each. She also said that she would space them out during their trip, but he just shook his head and smiled knowing fully well that all twelve candy bars would not make it by the time they arrived at the hotel.

 ***

 Unfortunately, it took a little longer than usual to arrive at the hotel due to some heavy traffic. Neither of them minded though, because it just meant Anna had more time to sing at the top of her lungs and having little conversations that usually ended with them saying how much they loved one another.

 Anna hopped out of the car, “Finally! We’re here!” She hopped up and down on the tips of her toes and clapped her hands together. She looked like a little kid who was about to receive their ice cream cone. “Now we can finally relax and get our vacation started!” She squealed with excitement.

 “Don’t get too worked up just yet feistypants. I still have to check-in,” Kristoff chuckled as he made his way over to her with their bags.

     The Crocus may not have been five stars, but it was affordable and convenient because it was right on the beach. Kristoff and Anna had never been ones for fancy things anyway.

 Anna sat in the lobby admiring the coziness of it all while she waited for Kristoff to return with their room keys. Though she had been here many a time, the homey little hotel never failed to take her breath away.

 Speaking of things that took her breath away, Anna was getting a rather pleasant view of Kristoff’s butt from where he stood at the front desk. Those jeans were definitely doing his ass a lot of favors.

 The scene had put Anna in such a deep trance that she didn’t even notice that Kristoff had left and made his way over to her.

 “Room 209.”

 Anna shook her head, bringing herself back to reality. “Hm?”

 “Our room,” Kristoff said. “It’s 209.”

 “Oh! Um.Our room.209. Got it!” Anna stuttered hoping that he didn’t catch her ogling his butt a few minutes ago.

 “Are you okay?” Kristoff raised an eyebrow.

 Blood rushed up to her cheeks. “Never better!” She got up and grabbed the handle of her suitcase, staring there awkwardly as she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and bit her lip. “Let’s head up shall we.”

 She rushed past Kristoff leaving him standing there dumbfounded as to what had just happened before he followed her towards the elevator.

 Anna threw herself on the bed sighing with contentment. “Finally!,” she exclaimed. “We can relax and begin our vacation.”

 Kristoff joined his girlfriend on the bed grinning at the image of her snuggled up into the pillow with her eyes peering at him. She looked like a kitten curled up in a blanket.

 Kristoff pressed her frame against his, his large arms swallowing her in a tight hug. “Just a whole week of just you, me, and spending quality time at one of our favorite places together.”

 Anna hummed in agreement. He kissed the top of her head and relished in her soft honeysuckle-scented hair.

 They stayed curled up with one another for hours it seemed, one never wanting to let the other go. The peacefulness of the moment, eventually bringing both to a deep slumber.

 It was around 5:00 when Kristoff woke up. He figured he would let Anna sleep in a little more before then went and grabbed some dinner.

 Carefully unwinding himself from Anna he silently walked over to his suitcase. Unzipping the front pocket he took out the tiny box containing the ring. It glimmered back at him and he looked over his shoulder to make sure Anna hadn’t woken up; if she had seen him the jig would be up.

 He ever so quietly put the box back in the small corner of his front bag pocket. He had decided to wake Anna up at 6:00, and for the time being he made himself a cup of tea and got out the chapter book he had currently been reading.

 When 6:00 rolled around Kristoff had woken Anna up just as he had planned. Anna quickly fixed her lion's mane that she always got after a good rest and looked up restaurants nearby on her phone to find a place to eat. Settling on an Italian place they headed out the door and down to the lobby.

 For dinner they shared a plain cheese pizza, Anna never cared much for toppings. They laughed over stories about moments shared together in their past, with dreams of creating more in the future. And every time Anna’s soft lips wrapped around the straw to take a sip of her Coke she would lick the droplets off her lips causing a pulse to surge through Kristoff’s body. The simple things that woman could do to him was uncanny.

 When the check came they had both blushed when the waitress deemed them “The Cutest Couple Ever.”

 Now, after a quick stroll through the park, they found themselves back in their bed tangled up in their sheets as they held one another.

 Anna absentmindedly twirled the hair on his chest with her index finger, breathing in his woodsy aroma and listening to the beating of his heart. She placed a soft kiss there, “I love it when we get to share moments like this,” she sighed. “Moments where we can let all our worries run free and sunker down into each other's embrace.”

 “Yeah. Me too.” Kristoff stroked his fingers through her unruly hair.

 “I was always alone when I was little, so I thought I’d never get to have anything like this. I never thought I’d feel as loved as I do now. But then you happened Kristoff Bjorgman. You crashed into my life and changed it for the better.” She propped herself up on her elbows and stared down at him. “I love you, and I will always love you forever and always.”

 Kristoff pushed a strand of hair behind her ears, tears welling in his from the sweet words that had just left Anna’s mouth. “I love you too. To the ends of the earth and back.”

 Wrapped up in each other’s love, all that could be heard that night were Anna’s soft snores and the heartbeats of two people who were madly in love.

 ***

 Anna woke up, her head still resting on Kristoff’s chest. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stared at Kristoff’s sleeping form. He looked like an angel. A very tall blonde muscular angel.

 She stroked his hair and he looked up at her drowsily, cracking a lopsided grin.

 “Hey beautiful,” he said, bringing her fingers up to his lips for a kiss.

 “Hey yourself.” She smiled back at him and he was lost again.

 “So?,” he pulled her tighter to his chest. “What would you like to do today?”

 Anna tapped her pursed lips. “Hmm…how about we go to the beach? We had a long day of traveling yesterday so I would just kind of like to have a chill day. Know what I mean?”

 He pressed a line of kisses from her cheekbone down to the base of her neck and stayed there for a while. “Sounds perfect.”

 Anna went to her suitcase to pull out her swimsuit while Kristoff got ready in the bathroom (which didn’t take long at all). Kristoff, unlike Anna, was never really one who cared much about his looks. Of course he made sure he kept up with his hygiene, but for everyday wear, he usually rocked some sort of simple T-shirt and let his hair go wild and free. Oftentimes, people would give him nasty for how unkempt and long his hair was, but Anna liked it that way and to him, that was all that mattered.

 When he stepped out of the bathroom his girlfriend looked at him with hungry eyes and he almost had half a mind to strip them both down of any article of clothing and go back to being wrapped up in the sheets. It also didn’t help that Anna gave him a seductive wink when she passed him to go into the bathroom.

 It was Anna’s turn to walk out of the bathroom and Kristoff had given her the same look she gave him just a few moments ago.

 She wore a black 50’s style one-piece bathing suit with white polka dots. Her hair was put up in a messy bun, the little whispys that had escaped it framing her angelic face with perfection.

 His eyes were wild with lust as he looked at the goddess that was his girlfriend.

 Anna must have known that the sight of her was making him swoon too because she rubbed her pale star scattered freckled thighs together as she bit her lip peering up at him with shy yet mischievous eyes.

 “What do you think?”

 He lost all control over his body as he sauntered towards smashing his lips against hers.

 “I think,” he whispered into her and her butt a little squeeze, “that I must have the sexiest girlfriend on the planet.”

 “Kristoff!” She swatted his chest. “You can’t say things like that.” A blush rose to her cheeks which only made him more confident to tease her a bit more.

 “In fact, you're so sexy that I think we should skip going to the beach and hop right back in bed.” He nibbled behind her ear.

 “Besides,” he smirked, “I don’t want other guys drooling all over you.”

 “Ah, ah, ah,” Anna tsked, wagging her finger. “We only get to come here once a year, mister. We’re going to the beach.”

 “Fine,” he groaned. “But, don’t get mad at me if I have to fight someone for flirting with you.”

 Anna threw her head back and laughed. “I don’t think you need to worry about that. I highly doubt anybody is going to hit on me.You? Yes. People will for sure be wanting a piece of you. But me? No way in hell.”

 “You know I really wish you wouldn’t talk that way. You make it sound as if you're not attractive.”

 “That’s because I’m not.”

 She started to turn the door handle before Kristoff shoved her up against the wood and pressed his mouth over hers in a firm kiss.

 “Don’t,” Kristoff breathed across her lips, “you dare say that. You are the most beautiful being on the planet and I pity anyone who doesn’t agree with me.”

 Tears gleamed in Anna’s, making her blue orbs sparkle like the ocean right outside of their hotel. Words got caught in her throat and the only thing she could do was reply back with a kiss.

 ***

 Anna couldn’t believe it, but Kristoff had been right. They were lounging in their beach chairs when Anna decided to go grab them drinks from the bar. After placing her order and taking a seat at the countertop while she waited for them, a tall skinny man with eyes of emerald green and dark auburn hair with sideburns took a seat right next to her. He pulled his stool closer, and when Anna had tried moving away he would scoot right next to her again.

 Anna stood up to move down to another stool, but as she started to walk away a slender hand gently gripped her tiny wrist.

 Anna’s heart dropped as she slowly turned her head to look at the stranger with frightened eyes.

 “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable miss. It’s just that, when I see a woman as beautiful as you I can’t help but wanna introduce myself.”

 “That’s very flattering of you to say-I think-but I do have a boyfriend.” Anna made sure to elaborate on the word “boyfriend” to make it clear that she was unavailable and that hopefully the guy would leave her alone.

 “Well, that’s too bad.” He gave her a sweet sinister smile and fear washed over her.

 He still held her wrist and when she tried to break free he pulled her to him.

 “However,” he paused to kiss her hand. “I’m sure he won’t mind if I borrow you for a little while.”

 Anna looked over his shoulder with frantic eyes, hoping to find a bartender or some other beach guest who would notice her discomfort. Kristoff was on the other side of the bar and out of sight from her so she couldn’t rely on him either, though if he were to have seen the situation Anna had no doubt he would be here in a heartbeat.

 She would have to deal with the problem on her own.

 “Actually,” Anna furrowed her brow trying to put on the sternest look possible. “I don’t think he would. And quite frankly I wouldn’t appreciate it very much either. Now I already told you I am not interested so please respect my wishes and leave me alone,” she huffed.

 She pushed him away before he grabbed hold of her waist and pressed her body against his once more.

 “Come on darling, don't be that way. I promise to show you a good time.”

 Anna tried to wriggle from his grasp, but he was surprisingly strong for such a scrawny man.

 “No!,” she screamed, finally turning the heads of those around them. “Let me go! Leave me alone!”

 She twisted and turned but to no avail could she break free; that was until a fist had collided with her aggressor’s face.

 Screams and gasps spread throughout the beach like a tidal wave.

 Looking up to see her hero’s face, she cried a breath of relief to find Kristoff standing over the man’s limp body, seething with anger.

 Kristoff grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pressed him up against the countertop. “If I ever catch you near my girlfriend again you can be sure I’ll do more than just punch you.”

 Kristoff threw him back onto the ground standing tall and brooding, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched him skimper away like a scared dog.

 He turned to Anna, his face softening as he brought her into a warm hug.

 She rested her head against his shoulder, her small frame small trembling against his large one. He placed a kiss there as he gently caressed her hair.

 He pulled back to look at her, “You okay?”

 “I am now, thanks to you.” She smiled softly at him and he kissed her forehead.

 “Were you scared?”

 “Only a little, but I’m glad you came to my rescue.”

 He gave her one of his iconic sappy grins and it made her heart flutter.

 “Always.” He rested his cheek against the top of her head. “Even though I know you could have totally kicked his ass.”

 “Damn right I could have.”

 Kristoff gave a whole-hearted laugh and Anna joined in, her giggles creating a symphony with his chuckles.

 The rest of the day was spent splashing each other in the salty waters of the ocean, buried each other in the sand, held a sandcastle contest-which Anna had won- and ended with them holding each other close as they watched the sunset beneath the horizon.

 When they arrived back at the room they hopped in the shower helping one another wash the salt out of their hair.

 Once more they were now tangled in the sheets of their love, drifting off to sleep with the sound of the other’s heartbeat.

 ***

 For the next few days, Anna and Kristoff spent their time going on hikes, shopping at their favorite local stores, visiting the town’s attractions, and so on.

 Now, on their last night here, Kristoff sat at the foot of their bed dressed in the best casual clothes he had, fumbling with the small box he held in his hands. Anna was still in the bathroom “making herself pretty,” as she called it even though he told her that she was beautiful just the way she was.

 Taking one last deep breath he put the ring in the little gift bag he bought to carry it in. Since he wasn’t wearing a suit he didn’t have a pocket to hide it in except for his jeans, but Anna would for sure be able to make out the outline of the box if he did that.

 “Whatcha got there?”

 Kristoff jumped at the sound of Anna’s voice behind him. He was so deep in thought that he hadn’t heard her come out of the bathroom and accidentally run into the dresser cursing, as she walked up to him.

 “Oh! Uh…it’s nothing!,” he stuttered.

 “Kristoff I love you I really do, but please don’t take this the wrong way when I say you have never been a very good liar.”

 Caving into Anna’s persistence he picked the bag off the ground and showed it to her. He had wanted to keep it a secret, but knew his nosy girlfriend wouldn’t stop pestering him until she got what she wanted.

 “I got you a gift. You know just a little something to show how much I love you.” He gave her a dopey smile before adding, “But, it’s for after dinner. So no peeking.”

 “Aww, Kristoff! That’s very sweet of you, but you don’t need to get me a gift to prove that you love me. I know that by heart.”

 Her words made his heart flutter and he took her hand rubbing small circles over before kidding each one of her fingers.

 “You ready?,” she said, breaking the silence.

 “Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said more to himself than to her.

 Together they walked the quiet streets that guided them to their destination and before long they had arrived at a familiar little diner with a big retro light-up sign that said Reindeer Circle.

 They preferred their usuals, for Anna a large chocolate shake with extra whip cream and a plate of chicken fingers with curly fries, and for Kristoff a hamburger with regular fries-though he knew Anna would probably eat some of them-and a glass of water.

 They chatted and laughed as they enjoyed their meals, the time encroaching ever so closer for Kristoff to pop his big question.  And as the waitress had taken their dishes away, he decided that it was now or never.

 “Anna?”

 She had turned her attention away from the window and back to him. “Hm?,” she sighed dreamily, gently squeezing their clasped hands in the middle of the table.

 “I think it may be time for me to give you your present.”

 Interest piqued in her eyes and she lifted her head from where it rested in the palm of her hand.

 “Oh? Really?!” She clapped her hands together, unable to contain her excitement.

 “Um? Yeah…just let me,” he cleared his throat, “let me prepare myself right quick.”

 “Prepare yourself? Kristoff what are you-”

 She was cut off mid-sentence at the sight of Kristoff, down on one knee holding open a box with a ring, in front of her.

 “Anna Arendelle you are the most extraordinary person I ever had the pleasure of meeting. Before you, I thought my destiny was to just live on my own for the rest of my life. But, you came crashing into it with your infectious love and proved me wrong. They say everyone has an angel, and you are mine. Will make me that happiest man on earth, and marry me?”

 Tears formed in Anna’s eyes and she threw herself into Kristoff’s arms, peppering kisses all over his face.

 “Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!”

 Applause spread through the diner and Kristoff spun Anna in the air, kissing her deeply as he slid the ring in her finger.

 Anna admired it. In the middle was a stone of amber on a gold band with intricate petal designs that had made it look like a sunflower. It was so perfect and knowing that it was Kristoff who picked it out caused her heart to overflow with overwhelming love and desire for him.

 After the excitement had settled, they had already begun discussing wedding plans.

 “I think we should have it here, in Ahotohallan. On the beach,” Anna said with a smile.

 “Unless…you know…you would rather have it somewhere else. I just thought it would be cute to have it at a place we both loved, and I always dreamed of having a beach wedding since I was a little girl. I always thought it was romantic. But, if you don’t think it’s a good idea I totally understand! You know what, forget I said anything it’s stupid.”

 “Hey! Hey! Anna!,” he cradled her face in his calloused palms and brushed a thumb across her ivory freckled cheek. “I wouldn’t want to have it any other way.”

 That night as Anna lay in the comfort of Kristoff’s arms, she stared at the ring glistening in the moonlight that shone through the window with visions of many more summer vacations to come.

[voiceless-terror]

Oooo 16 mixed with 39 w Jon for the fluff/angst prompts?

Hello there, anon! Can you believe, that in all of my whump fics, I’ve yet to tackle the bread knife incident? High time we corrected that. The two prompts this is referencing are- “Do you need to go to the hospital?” and “If you don’t rest you won’t get any better.” Had this written for a bit, but I spruced it up and decided to post as I’m working on reconstructing chapters. Hope you like!

“Jesus Christ.”

“I-It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Admittedly, it doesn’t look great.

There’s a trail of blood following Jon to the sink, a bloody handprint or two on the counter (and probably a few door handles), and his shirt is similarly stained, the rumpled white button-up painted with red. The slice (more than a slice, probably a stab) to his arm bled more than he anticipated and is probably still bleeding under the towel he’s currently using to stifle the flow. Jon’s swaying where he stands; the loss of blood has him feeling weak, and the dizziness and dull throb in his head leftover from Michael hasn’t abated. All in all, he must look a mess.

Judging by Martin and Tim’s expressions, this is probably a fair assessment. Martin immediately goes to his side, though Jon flinches away as he tries to reach for his arm. He tamps down the guilt he feels at Martin’s look of rejection. “It’s n-nothing, really-”

“Nothing?” Tim scoffs, slowly making his way over as he dodges Jon’s mess. “We leave you alone for twenty minutes and suddenly you’re finger painting with blood. The hell happened?”

“Did you reopen one of your wounds?” Martin’s hands are hovering above his arm, like he’s trying to approach a skittish animal. “I told you not to pick at them-”

“Uh, n-no.” Jon leans against the counter- his vision’s starting to go, he should’ve sat down instead of puttering about like a fool. “It’s-it’s a new one.” Sufficiently cowed by Martin and Tim’s worried stares, he gently removes the towel with a hiss and yes, it’s still bleeding profusely. Damn. 

Tim hurriedly pressed the towel back down, leading him over to a chair as Martin lets out one of his disbelieving squeaks. Tim’s always been good in a crisis and Jon wants to lean into the touch but something in the back of his mind rebels against it, whispering paranoid nothings in his ear. Wrong wrong wrong. There’s something wrong, something bad. Find out. So instead he flinches out of his hold as soon as he’s sat down, ignoring the exasperated look this gets him and putting pressure on the wound himself. 

“What did you do?” he asks but Jon doesn’t meet his eyes, instead looking down at his lap. “How’d you get that?”

“A-A sandwich.” He can feel Tim’s stare, practically hears Martin’s fretting. “I-I was-”

“A sandwich,” Tim repeats, his voice deadpan. “A ham and cheese stabbed you.”

“No!” Words aren’t making sense, they’re hard to put together. He wants to lay down, he wants to sleep, he wants to be far away from these people and what they’ve done and what they might still do to him. “I cut myself...making a sandwich. W-With a knife. A bread knife.”

“A bread knife.” Martin’s talking now, his voice high-pitched and concerned. “A bread knife did that.”

“Where is it, then?” He wishes Tim would let up, would just take the story and leave him be, let him bleed.

“I-I put it back. I cleaned it and I put it back.”

“Let me get this straight-”

“For God’s sake, Tim- that doesn’t matter right now!” Now Martin’s at his side, hauling him up out of his seat with a steady hand that takes the brunt of his weight as he lists to the side. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“I-”

“Why am I even asking? Of course you do.” Martin’s muttering, already dragging him halfway out the door. “I’ll get us a cab. You two will just bicker the whole way. Take care of all this will you, Tim?” He gestures with one free hand to the mess Jon’s made and Tim just sighs wearily, nodding his head. He throws Jon one last glare but it’s weak and more worried than anything. He feels the guilt bubble up again. He should apologize for the inconvenience, tell them what happened, who visited. But then the voice creeps up, starting its chorus in the back of his mind.

He stays silent. He doesn’t speak as Martin takes more and more of his weight and the world tilts around him. He’s in a cab. Martin’s hand is warm and should be comforting but it isn’t. His arm stings and Helen’s gone and Michael’s laughter echoes and he can feel the worms burrowing back in, and over this cacophony of pain is the miserable choir singing wrong, wrong, something’s wrong someone’s there someone’s watching, waiting until they’ve got you alone-

He struggles in Martin’s hold but its weak and must seem more like a squirm of discomfort, for Martin doesn’t let go, just keeps up his murmured reassurances and his touches that sting like a thousand tiny needles.

He doesn’t know how long they’re at the A & E for. He barely registers Martin dragging him inside or talking to the nurses. He watches dispassionately as the wound’s stitched up, his other scabs disinfected from constant picking. Nobody lectures him or says much of anything- one mention of the Magnus Institute shut them right up. Jon is as much thankful as he is discouraged. He really is alone. He feels it even as he’s shoved back into Martin’s arms with a disingenuous smile and a ‘get well soon!’ 

Martin’s eyeing him critically as they wait for the cab; Jon’s too tired to fight at the probing hands that inspect the bandages. “Still your story, then?”

“Hm?” The world is hazy, but Michael’s laughter is starting to fade.

“Bread knife.”

“Oh...yes, yes it is.” He tries for some defiance but his voice is small and weary. Martin sighs in turn.

“You know you can tell me about these things, right? Me o-or Tim, maybe Sasha-”

Jon snorts. “Tell you when I’m making lunch?”

Martin’s face remains serious.  “If that’s what you want to call it, sure.”

Jon doesn’t want to have this conversation so he nods in a clear dismissal, sighing in relief as a cab pulls up outside. Martin reaches for the car door, helping him in before hurrying to the other side. Jon’s about to tell the driver to take them back to work when Martin interrupts in a no-nonsense tone, rattling off an address with a please and thank you.

It’s Jon’s address.

How does he know my address? Has he been following me? He is the one who found Gertrude’s body, after all. What if- what if-

“I can see your mind going a mile a minute, Jon. What’s wrong?” He startles, moving as far away from Martin as possible and hitting the car door with a wince. Martin continues, his eyes betraying nothing but concern as Jon’s mind spirals. “You’re not going back to work. You just got stitches-”

“How do you know my address?” The words are meant to be an accusation, but they just sound like the bark of a small dog. Martin seems to agree with this assessment because he rolls his eyes, running a hand through his hair. It takes him a moment to gather himself, and every second makes Jon’s heart beat faster until it’s rabbiting in his chest. What does he know, what did he do?

“You don’t remember, do you?” Martin sounds sad, disappointed. It hurts more than Jon would like to admit.

“R-Remember what?”

“You don’t remember the three times I had to do this, back when you were supposed to be on sick leave?” Jon blinks.

He doesn’t remember much of that time. He remembers the pain, the paranoia, the fear- all of it tuned up to a fever-pitch. Trying to go back to work and being promptly shooed out by Martin, who took one look at his limp and still-bleeding wounds and shoved him back in a cab. Was he covering his tracks? Is that why he didn’t want me around? He has the faintest memory of arms scooping him unceremoniously from the trap door to the tunnels at night, this time accompanying him in the cab and making sure he got home, since Jon had exited the cab early and snuck back several times before. It’s embarrassing and disconcerting, these gaps in his memory. Gaps that Martin has to fill. Martin, who he can’t trust. Martin, who’s talking right now. 

“- really, Jon- if you don’t rest, you won’t get any better. Tim tells me you’ve been skipping physical therapy, skulking about-”

“I don’t skulk-”

“Well, it’s sure as hell not sneaking if you leave a trail of blood wherever you go!” Martin’s voice raises in frustration, though it immediately quiets as Jon flinches, again. He heaves a massive sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose as if fighting off a headache. “We’re worried, Jon. We’re all worried. About you, about Gertrude, this whole mess- but you’ve got to talk to us. You’ve got to let the police do their job. And for the love of god, let us help you. Because-” he swallows, his next words earnest and spent. “-because we’re scared too. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Martin’s worried. Martin’s scared. Martin found Gertrude’s body. Martin’s always outside his office. Tim’s tired, Tim’s getting angry. Sasha smiles when she shouldn’t smile. Elias is up in his office, telling him everything’s fine and to rest but something’s watching, something’s wrong, Gertrude’s dead and someone killed her and someone’s coming for you next-

The next thing he knows he’s standing outside the door to his flat, Martin at his side. The door looks like a normal door, but Helen went through a door and didn’t come out. She didn’t come out, and Michael laughed, and there’s a war coming and he’s so stupid, so ignorant-

“Are you going to be okay?”

Jon takes the key from his coat pocket with shaking hands, shoving it in the lock. He doesn’t want to go in but he can’t stay out here, not with Martin who found Gertrude, who knows where he lives. “Y-Yes. You can go. Thank you.”

He’s inside before Martin can protest any further, slamming the door shut and leaning against it wearily. It looks like his flat, he hopes it’s his flat. Martin’s talking on the other side, asking him to call if he needs anything. Jon’s not going to do that, of course. He waits for the inevitable sigh, listens until Martin’s footsteps fade away. He’s safe, for now.

He locks the deadbolt.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28073586

[apenapaperandadoofus]

Reverse Big Bang

This was a work for the reverse big bang ( @mysme-rbb ) and acollaboration with the lovely @sapphireicecream ! She made a beautiful piece that I am in LOVE with!

Life and death are one thread, The same line viewed from different sides.

-Lao Tzu

Some say life and death are on the opposite ends of a spectrum. But are they actually?

Some reply yes, they are enemies and loathe each other. Others claim that no, they are both the same thing in the end. 

One part is true, though. Life and death had been enemies for a while, with both of them trying to best each other. Life created humans, who were immortal until Death came to take them away from the Earth. Life wouldn’t stand for that, and so she kept trying to find someone who could live eternally, that could cheat death 

Death was trying to overpower her by trying to wipe out everything he could touch. 

Death was on a rampage. Everywhere you turned a life would be taken away. Meanwhile, Life kept trying her best to keep humans alive. 

This rivalry kept going for years and years, each generation of Life and Death trying to cheat each other, to be the most powerful one, to be the winner.

However, that would come to a change.

………

She quickly made her way through the garden, a plate on her hands filled with cheese, figs, and olives dripped in honey. 

No matter how much she abhorred him, she wasn’t heartless enough to leave him without eating. 

The gazebo where she held him prisoner coming into view. She grasped the plate tighter as she made her way closer. 

He had his back to her, looking at some flowers, but he rapidly spun around when he heard her clear her throat.

 “Here’s your food.” She said, still not meeting his gaze.

“...thank you.” He replied and sat down to enjoy his meal. 

While he was focused on eating, she stole a glance towards him and then felt her face burn. She had to admit he was very handsome, even if he was the god of Death. 

Jumin.

Even if his hair was messy, he still looked like a perfect statue, made by one of the finest artist in the world. 

She immediately cringed at the thought. Gosh, this guy was really making her think weird things, wasn’t he? Still….she wanted to touch him. To feel his soft skin, to run her fingers through his hair, and to even touch his horns. She would have if he hadn’t looked up at her at that exact moment. 

She immediately pulled her hand behind her back. 

Jumin stood up and handed her the plate. “Thank you for the food.” 

“No problem.”

There was a bit of awkward silence, and she thought about making an excuse and leaving, but Jumin opened his mouth to speak at that same moment.

"I have to-"

“This-“

They both said at the same time. She felt her face flush.

“Sorry, sorry, you go first.”

“No, I apologize, you were saying something, I’m sorry for interrupting,” Jumin said.

She shook her head. “It’s fine, it is nothing! What did you want to say?” 

Gosh, she was being way too polite to a guy she was supposed to hate. She assumed it was because of the unfair advantage that he was really cute.  

Jumin stared at her for a moment before clearing his throat. 

“I just wanted to say that...this is a beautiful garden.”

 She glanced up at him and nodded. “It is.”

“Did you grow it yourself?” 

“No. Life made it..the original one, I mean. The one from the very beginning. Throughout time, all the other generations have been taking care of it.”

“I see. It must be a very important place.”

She nodded. “It is. This is the garden that was made of Life’s tears as she mourned the death of humans. They were her proudest creations, and to see them being taken by death crushed her.” She said those last words with a hint of spite in her tone. 

Jumin looked the other way, but he could still feel her glare on him. He sighed. “I’m... I’m sorr-“

“Don’t apologize. Especially when you don’t mean it. You clearly don’t care about humans. You don’t care about anyone but yourself, just like the Death before you, and the Death before him, and so on and so forth. All you care is about destruction.”

Jumin clenched his fists, looking ashamed. “I am very sorry for what my ancestors did, I truly am. But let me assure you, I don’t share any of their beliefs. I don’t want to be anything like the-“

"Yeah right." She scoffed. How could he say that after taking...taking her away? He was trying to make her feel guilty, to trick her so he could leave this prison and go back to killing and destroying. And she wasn't going to let that happen.

She spun around and walked away, glancing back only to say she was going to bring him food later. She didn’t wait for his reply as she left the garden.

……

The god of Death paced around the small gazebo, every once in a while stopping to marvel at the flowers growing around him. He’d love to touch them, but he knew if he did they would immediately wither away. 

He closed his eyes as he tried to distract himself from the current situation. He had to admit; it was nice to take a break every once in a while, from the dark depths of the underworld, the only sound being the screams of the souls coming down. It wasn’t exactly a job he liked. 

It was kind of ironic; he thought. To be the god of death, but want to have the power to do the exact opposite. Instead of taking lives away, to create them. 

He wanted to escape that hellish place no matter what. So, when he found an opening in the cave, small rays of light streaming in, he left his throne and walked over to investigate. He should’ve known it was a trap. That it wouldn’t end well. 

Still, he wanted to leave so badly, he’d use any excuse, no matter how dumb. And so what if he suddenly got kidnapped by the goddess of life in her beautiful garden? He wasn’t complaining.

He didn’t know why the goddess would want to imprison him, but, he thought, why wouldn’t she? No one likes the god of death. They all despise him.

Still...he had to admit he wasn’t having an awful time. It was...interesting in a way.

He thought Life was a bit...confusing. Sometimes she would be so terrible to him, glowering and snapping at every small thing he did. But then other times she’d show this...this kindness that would make his chest feel warm. 

He’d never felt that way before, but he had to admit he didn’t mind.

 …….

At first, their relationship comprised only small conversations, saying here’s your food, and thank you for the food, and no problem. 

She was always stiff around him, not meeting his gaze. No matter how many times he’d tried to apologize, she still seemed to think of him as Death, destruction, chaos, everything he didn’t want to be seen as. 

At one point he had truly given up. It was obvious Life would not change her view of him, no matter what he did, so why bother?

He gazed at the chrysanthemums growing beside the gazebo. They were beautiful. He had only seen one part of the garden, and he couldn’t help but yearn to see all of it. The essence of life, all around him, without death hovering over his shoulder. 

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” A familiar voice said from behind him. Jumin jumped a bit and then turned to see….see her.  

He cleared his throat. “They are. This entire garden is. I’d love to see more of it.” 

She scoffed but then bit her lip as if debating whether to indulge him for a bit. She sighed. 

“Why are you so interested in flowers and plants? Shouldn’t you be focused on something else?” 

His mouth formed a thin smile. “I have always loved flowers. I love seeing them...grow and bloom. It’s amazing how full of life they are, how something so beautiful could exist.”

They stood in silence for a few seconds until the surrounding air seemed to change. When Jumin looked up, he noticed something. The door was open. He looked at her in confusion. 

“Well, c’mon. Get out of there. You said you wanted to see the rest of the garden, right?” She gestured for him to come over, and he strolled down the steps, feeling the grass beneath his feet and the sun hit his skin, hearing the birds sing, a gust of wind tangling his hair. 

And then….then he smiled and let out a small laugh. 

She couldn’t help but stare in awe at the beautiful sight. 

For the first time in weeks, she had seen him smile. An actual smile, one that lit up his entire face. And his laugh, god his laugh. She felt her heartbeat quicken once she heard that beautiful sound. 

She shook her head. What was with her?? He’s supposed to be her enemy, a man she despises, the one who took everything she loved. But...right now, he seemed like the exact opposite. 

Instead of the god of Death, something that everyone despised and feared, he appeared like a normal person….

Well, in reality, he looked like a kid who loves sweets that was just brought to a place full of candy, or like a puppy when you tell them you’re going on a walk, but he was so different from what she expected. 

Maybe...when he apologized, he truly meant it. Maybe he wasn’t the scary, cold god that everyone thought he was. 

She should give him a chance. 

She knows that’s what...what she would have wanted. Not for them to become enemies, but for them to slowly understand each other. 

Well….better late than never, right?

 …..

Their walks around the garden became a daily activity. She would come and open the door, letting Jumin out, and then they’d walk around the place. She’d tell him the meanings of each flower, and eventually, as she became more comfortable, she’d tell him stories about the names and how they came to be. 

As time passed, they became more comfortable around each other.

They’d have a pleasant picnic and talk about their lives, what they liked to do. The goddess of life found that Jumin had a very lonely life. He didn’t have many friends, just one that he had known since he was a kid, but wasn’t able to talk with much now. 

He never went out and always stayed at home. He knew no one really wanted to be with him, anyway. And so, the goddess of life felt her icy heart thawing the more time she spent with him. 

….

He could tell there was something bothering her, but whenever she asked she would brush it off. He had made it his personal goal, that if he wasn’t able to find out what was bothering her, then he’d try to at least make her feel better.

He wasn’t good at it, however. He had never really comforted someone before. 

Every once in a while, whenever Jumin found her smile falter a bit and her gaze shift down, he’d try to tell a joke.

He’d try.

The first time she looked at him as if he had spawned a third head. 

In the second one, she was a bit confused but seemed to calm down for a bit. 

Eventually, he made her laugh. 

He, of course, thought his joke-telling skills were getting better, so whenever he could he’d try to make up some in the gazebo instead of sleeping. 

He loved her laugh, her smile. It made his heart jump, and it couldn’t help but make him smile too.

He was...falling for her.

And what sealed the deal was one day as she was escorting him back to the gazebo, and after he told some other silly joke, she giggled and poked his nose.

“Haha, Jumin! I would’ve never thought the god of death could be so...so adorable. If you keep this up, I think I’m really going to fall for you.”

They both stopped in their tracks and looked at each other. Jumin felt his heart beat fast, and she blushed, her entire face, even her ears, turning red.

“Uh- uhmm... I’m...uh...well...goodnight!!” She quickly said and turned around on her heel as she walked away from the gazebo. 

A smile slowly spread out on Jumin’s face, becoming bigger and bigger every second.

Her words echoed in his head. 

If you keep this up, I think I’m really going to fall for you.

She was falling….for him.

Did she...did she feel the same way? 

He couldn’t stop shifting the entire night, unable to sleep. He was far too giddy and happy to do that. 

She might love him, just as much as he loves her.

Jumin couldn’t keep his dorkish smile off his face that night. And the morning after. 

He had to stop himself from kissing her right there as soon as he saw her.

He wanted to take things slow. If he wanted her to fall for him, then he’d gave to show her how much she mattered to him. 

.

.

.

A few days later, as the two of them ate in an unknown part of the garden that hadn’t been explored, Jumin noticed something. At the end of the garden, there was a small sort of...fountain. It had different flowers all around them, some he didn’t even think could grow this time of the year. 

She caught him staring, and when he noticed he flushed and cleared his throat, embarrassed.

“Sorry. Uhm, those flowers are very beautiful. I haven’t seen them in the garden before.”

She gave a small smile. “Yeah. I had them especially made for this place.”

This place? Jumin felt confused. What was different about this place from the others?

She let out an uncomfortable as she fidgeted with a flower in her braid, adjusting the ones that had become crooked or were about to fall. 

“This place was somewhere I used to go with a friend every day. A...very dear friend...I’ve known her since we were children. She...uhm...she passed away at the beginning of the year.” 

Jumin felt a chill run down his spine. 

Now it all made sense.

Why she kidnapped him. Why she was always so cold to him, why she loathed him. 

But….that was before. And now look at her, showing him places around the garden, bringing him food, telling him things about herself that no one else knew.

The only sound that could be heard was their breathing. The birds had stopped singing, and the wind had stopped blowing, making the air still around them.

Jumin eventually met her gaze, and as soon as he did, he felt his heartbreak.

She was crying. 

And that made him want to cry too. 

He hadn’t realized just how much he had cared about her, and this new wave of feelings to want to protect her, to hug her, and make all her problems go away. But then there was also this crushing guilt. It was his fault. The woman he loved was heartbroken, and it was because of him.

He could barely breathe.

In fact...he wasn’t really breathing at all. He couldn’t seem to.

A lot of things happened at once.

He felt a sort of darkness surrounding him, clouding his view. And then the next thing he remembers is her beautiful voice calling for him, and her warm arms wrap around his body. 

Even after what he did, she still cared about him. But why? 

He didn’t deserve any of her kindness.

 …..

“Jumin?” 

He woke up in a familiar field of flowers. The sky was darker now, the sun about to set. He looked up and felt his heart stop at the sight. She had laid him on her lap and was gently running her fingers through his hair. She looked beautiful, with the remaining rays of sun appearing to make a halo in her hair. Well, she was definitely an angel. 

He slowly sat up and kept his gaze on the ground. A small hand touched his shoulder, but he tensed up and moved it away. 

“Jumin...I’m... I’m…”

“You don’t have to say anything. It’s me who should apologize….why….why didn’t you tell me?” He looked up at her, finally, an icy glare in his eyes.

“I...well...I didn’t...it wasn’t supposed to go this way.” She whispered.

“You should have told me. All this time, the thing that was making you sad, that was causing you pain, was me. Me. Why have you even kept me around? Wait...no. I understand now. All of this...it was a lie, wasn’t it?”

“Jumin, it wasn’t I-“

“I took away someone very dear from you, of course, you’d be mad. Of course, you would never forgive me...not after that. You...you made me care about you, grow fond of you, to...to love you. Just so at the end, you could crush my heart as I crushed yours…”

“That was not what I wanted to do, believe me-“ she sobbed.

He stood up and gave a dry laugh. “It makes sense. Why would you even care about me? I am the god of death, I destroy things, I am someone that takes things away from people. I am a...a monster. And who could ever love a monster?” He whispered.

“Jumin, you are not a monster! Listen to me!” She stood up and tried to grab his hands, but he pulled away. “Jumin…”

It had become nighttime now. Fireflies were flying around them, and the only source of light was the full moon in the sky. 

She took one step forward. And then another. And another, until she was close to him. She slowly moved her hands and touched his cheek, now wet from tears. He was crying. And to be honest, she was probably crying too.

She cupped his cheek and leaned closer.

“You are not a monster, Jumin. You are...you are the most caring, amazing, intelligent, beautiful man that I have ever met. I’m...I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I never thought it’d end like this. Gods, by now you should be... never mind....but...I am happy that...that I got to know you better, that I saw the real you. I had filled my heart with hate and wanted to take it out on you, which is something I should have never done. Jumin...I care about you so much and..and I’m so sorry I was so...so heatless towards you. I was cold and mean when you didn’t deserve any of it. It’s you who should be mad at me.”

They were now both sobbing, gripping each other’s hands tightly. Jumin gently took one hand and lead it towards her chest. She looked up at him, confused. 

“You are not heartless. Out of everyone in the world, I am sure you’re the one that has the biggest heart. You always bring love with you wherever you go. You’re kind, brave, compassionate, and beautiful. How could I ever be mad at you?” He gently lifted her chin to make her look up at him. “You are the first person who has shown me this amount of kindness...of love, even if I don’t deserve it.” 

She moved her face closer. “You deserve it, Jumin. More than anyone in the world.” 

He smiled as he caressed her cheek. Slowly, they closed the distance between each other with a gentle kiss. 

Their lips were soft against each other, and Jumin couldn’t help but yearn for her touch more. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer.

When they pulled away, leaning their foreheads against each other, they couldn’t help the big smile on their faces.

“I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you too.”

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew against them, and when they looked around them, they found fireflies dancing all around them. 

She laughed, and then gently pulled a very awed Jumin towards her. She placed both his hands on her waist and then wrapped her arms around his neck.

She giggled when he raised an eyebrow. 

“Have you never danced?” She asked.

He shook his head. “Isn’t there supposed to be music to dance?”

“No, not really. You can sometimes dance with the person you love with no music.”

They both blushed at her words, and Jumin smiled. 

“Then…let’s dance, my love.” 

And so they danced. 

Eventually, as the night ended, she led him to a small bed of flowers. They spent the rest of the night in each other’s heated embrace, whispering words of love to each other.

And that was how life and death became one.

 .

.

.

.

.

She woke up early. The sun wasn’t out yet. She couldn’t help but smile as she saw him sleeping beside her, his hair messy from the night before.

She slowly slipped from the bed and summoned a small robe, so she wouldn’t feel as cold. 

As she walked through the garden, she knew like the back of her hand, she couldn’t help but feel a shiver run down her spine. And this time it wasn’t because of the cold.

When she finally made it to a small clearing, she bit her lip and looked around. There was no one.

Perfect.

“Rika!!!” She called out. “Rika!! I know you’re here! Come out!!” 

She heard a bubbly laugh from behind her, and she spun around.

“That’s not a pleasant way to call someone over my dear~ I thought they had taught you better than that.” 

She bit her lip as she watched Rika slowly come out from the darkness, her cold green eyes making the hairs on the back of her neck stand. 

“Cut the crap. I’m here to call the deal off.” She seized out a large dagger and threw it at Rika’s feet. “You can have this back.”

Rika chuckled and walked towards the dagger, picking it up and then twirling it around her fingers. “How rude~ I’m guessing you weren’t able to kill him then? A shame, really, that would’ve made things easier for me. I thought you were perfect for the job, so I can’t say I’m not disappointed.”

“I want nothing to do with you or your stupid plan anymore. Don’t come here ever again, I want this to be the last time I see you.”

“Oh, dear. You have really fallen for him, haven’t you?” 

She felt a blush creep up her face as Rika walked closer to her. 

“Dear, let me give you a piece of advice, from someone who’s been in love before. Never give yourself to anyone. They will all betray you in the end.”

“Jumin is not like that.”

“Oh trust me, that’s what you think now. You will think his love is the most wonderful thing in the world, and you’ll want to be surrounded by it all the time. Although eventually, that love becomes too much and you’ll start suffocating, and no matter how much you try to let go, he will only drag you deeper and deeper, until you aren’t able to breathe, to think, to live.”

Rika was now closer, their noses about to touch. Her eyes filled with madness, and her grip on Life’s arms had become so tight, that blood was coming out. Life found at that moment, what genuine fear was like. 

She tried to pull away and took in a deep breath of air as Rika let go. 

“Rika, go! Away! I’m serious! It won’t be like that, it’ll never be like that. Our love is pure, it’s real. Jumin would do nothing to harm me, and I would never do anything to harm him. And...and I swear that if you ever lay so much as a finger on him, I will make you regret the day that you were born.” She said through gritted teeth.

Rika raised an eyebrow, her smile disappearing from her face. She quickly grabbed Life’s hand and slashed her palm open, making her let out a pained gasp.

“You will not threaten me,” Rika whispered. “You will help me with my plan, and you will get rid of Jumin. I command you to, and if you don’t, then I have a perfect spot for your dead body once I’m done ripping you to shreds.”

Life felt her blood run cold and she couldn’t move. She couldn’t do anything.

“Now then, I do have to get going. These things will not get done by themselves, and I don’t think Ray is...capable enough to do the next step. I will come in two weeks and by then I hope you’ll have gotten over your silly crush and get me Death’s heart. I’m not asking, by the way, this is an order that you will carry out, one way or another. It’s up to you if you choose to do it the easy way or the hard way. Toodle-oo!”

 She laughed and vanished, leaving as quick as she came. 

Life panted, falling to her knees, the dagger still in her hand. Not only that, but a big, black scar had formed where Rika had cut her, sending the dark magic that came from it.

What was she going to do now?

Shit.

.

.

.

“Is everything alright love?” Jumin’s sleepy voice called out to her as she walked back to the flower bed. She felt her worries disappear for a second as she heard his nickname for her.

“I’m... I’m fine. I just... thought I heard something over there. It was just a snake though, nothing to worry about.”

Jumin hummed and motioned for her to come and lay down next to him. She took off her robe and laid beside him, their bare chests touching.

He hugged her tightly and kissed the top of her head, sighing happily. 

“I love you so much.” He whispered.

“I love you too, Jumin.” 

Eventually, he fell back asleep, his chest rising and falling with every breath and a small smile on his face.

Life, however, couldn’t seem to fall asleep. Her mind was repeating over and over what Rika had said. What in the world was she going to do now?

One thing she decided about though, as she hugged him tighter. She promised that no matter what, she would let no one come near the one she loved.

[henryobsessed]

The Borrower and Her Bean

Summery: Melina lives in the wall between two houses with her family. What happens when lockdown is put in place and her Bean (Henry Cavill) is home.

Word Count: 1700

Warnings: Nothing Yet :) 

A/N @witcherfan​ thank you for the request for a Borrower Henry Fic lets see where my brain will take this lol - I just watched the borrowers for the first time yesterday 😜 

Picture from  Ratgirlstudios's DeviantArt Gallery on pintrest

Part 2

Part 1 –

Melina enjoyed listening to the sounds of the morning, it was her normal waking practice to listen first before she opened her eyes. She could hear sounds of the wind rustling through the blades of grass outside her bedroom. The sounds of the crickets chirping a good morning to each other and the frogs singing their morning tunes. Everything sounded as it should except today there was a new sound, a sound that signalled a change.

She opened her eyes her heart beating faster now that she had heard him, the heavy footfall of the bean that lived in their house. Melina loved their house, in fact, they lived between two wonderful muse houses. There was another family that lived all the way down at the other end of this set of muses but these two were all theirs.

The house to their right was great fun, the beans that lived there had parties all the time. With lots of dancing and loud music that mum and dad were always complaining about. Melina and her brothers loved it. The one thing her mum and dad did not complain about was the food. Because they had so many parties the beans never noticed the missing food. Lots of fruit, cheese, meat pies and salami’s perfect sizes for her father and brothers to bring home. It was a good thing too because the bean who lived on their left was often gone for months at a time. If they had to borrow food from him, they would have starved or would have had to resort to getting food from the other borrowers.

Apart from the lack of food though Melina loved his house. Because it was empty most of the time, they had free reign. Her twin brothers Greg and Carson had worked out how to turn on the bean’s computer and between the two of them had even managed to play one of the beans games. Laughing she thought about the last time the bean had come home. Watching from a hole in the wall she had seen him turn on the computer and go bright red as his game had come on the screen. The boys must have done terribly because he had jumped up and stalked about the room swearing “Bloody hackers, destroying my hours of work. *&^%$ how did they even get past my firewalls” He had spent at least 3 days glued to the machine trying to undo what they had done.

Melina had two favourite things to do when he was not home. He had these statues that he liked to paint, of warriors and monsters. This time while he was away, she had gotten up the courage to paint her own statue, the paintbrushes were small so easy for her to use and sometimes she would paint for hours. There was a little part of herself that hoped that he would like the work she had done even if he never told her directly. Her absolute favourite thing to do was to sit on the windowsill in his bedroom. She could see the whole world from the window and at night if she was feeling really brave, she would sneak up there with a pillow and blanket and fall asleep watching the moon and the twinkling stars in the deep indigo sky.

He was home now so life would change, they would go back to living in the shadows. Only coming out at night and living in fear of being seen. Melina hated this, sometimes she would look up at those stars and wish with all her might that she would change from a borrower to a bean. Then maybe, maybe her heart's desire would come true. You see Melina was 25yrs old, there were no borrowers her age to go courting with. If she was really honest with herself, she would admit that she wanted to be with her bean, but that was the ultimate betrayal of her emotions to want something that could never happen.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed she put her feet into the cotton balls that she used for slippers. Stretching her toes, she stood her full 4inch of height. Her room was along the wall that had ventilation to the outside facing the garden. She had chosen this spot because she loved watching the animals play in the grass and often, she would watch her bean playing with his big shaggy friend. She smelled the fresh air and turned looking casually in the pocket mirror her daddy had borrowed for her. She fixed her dark brown hair up into a braid that curled around her head. Smiling as it made her 4 inches just that little bit taller.

She changed into her day dress and walked down the hall to the room they used for a kitchen. She had dawdled this morning and the image that greeted her told her she was late. Everyone was sitting around the dining table, which was a small Jar that Daddy and the boys had scavenged from my bean’s pantry. Mum had made a tablecloth out of a piece of cloth the boys had found by the computer; it was a perfect size and she always laughed at the image of a doggie on it and the words glasses cleaner underneath. She sat on her die seat and grabbed a grape.

A loud pitter-patter could be heard running alongside the wall and sniffing, everyone froze. Daddy put his finger to his mouth admonishing us to be silent. My stomach fluttered as I heard the deep rumbling of my bean “Kal what have you found?” the puppy yipped and continued to sniff at the wall. Fear and hope mingled as Melina heard footsteps come to a halt by our room, as we all stayed silent. My bean’s deep rumble was so close as he praised “Silly puppy, I can’t hear anything, but I might put out some mouse traps ok buddy? Good Job” as both sets of pitter patters and footfalls retreated, we collectively let out our breaths. “That was close” mummy breathed as she mopped her brow with her apron.

Daddy eyed the boys and me, a frown on his face “Looks like he bought his puppy with him so you will all have to be incredibly careful if you venture into the house. I would prefer that you did not go into the house while he’s here, he is never here long, but your adults……. Or at least close to it” he said looking at the twins who had just turned 18. I hated when daddy got strict, I’m an adult granted unmated but still, I should be able to make my own decisions. I glance at my brothers who seem to be also grumbling under their breath. Don’t get me wrong I love my mum and dad, but they are old fashioned, they have lived with the motto that Borrowers should never be seen. That we should be quiet, cautious, brave and inconspicuous. Greg spoke up for all of us, looking for agreement from Carson and myself before saying “ok dad”

I was frustrated, I had been so close to finishing my statue. Instead, I spent the day sitting by my vent writing. I liked writing I could escape into a fantasy world where my dreams could become realty rather than just a thought in my head. As the day sky became dark and the stars came out I itched to sit on my sill. My bean and his puppy should be asleep. After saying goodnight to my family I crept up the brickwork steps to the small hole I had made in the wall under his bedside table. It sat up against his window to provide a perfect way to get to the sill. As I peeked out into the room, I saw his puppy sleeping at the end of my beans bed. I watched for a good 15mins to make sure he was asleep.

The beautiful puppy was a huge black and white animal. Once she heard the tell-tale snore from the bear's mouth she breathed a sigh. She was surprised her bean had not seen her rope hanging from his bedside table it had been there now for the last few years and it never seemed to be found. Gaining her footing she made the steep climb up the side of the table. Reaching the top she paused, listening, watching, her adrenaline pumping so hard she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. She slowed her breathing and made the final climb to the sill.

Now she was this high she could see not only the world outside but she could see her bean. He was tucked up under the covers, only his face and his curly hair tussled into a mop on top of is head could be seen.

A gentle snore could be heard from his parted lip letting Melina know that he was in a deep sleep. She watched him for a while, she knew it was wrong but there was something comforting watching this gentle giant. Turning around she settled herself into the crook of the window from here she could see the stars and the moon as well as her bean. Again, she made her wish to the stars, her desire to be loved and to love, her desire for the one she could never have.

As she relaxed, she heard a small whimper coming from the bed. Her bean’s face scrunched up creasing his forehead as more whimpers made their way out of his mouth. Hoping to soothe rather than awaken she moved to the bedside table and hid behind the books he had stacked up ready to read. Softly at first, she began to sing a lilting lullaby. As she sang his whimpers settled down, she continued to sing until she could hear the gentle snore again. Moving back to the window she looked out to the night sky and whispered, “Goodnight Moon, Goodnight Stars watch over us tonight.” Then before she could fall asleep she made the long journey back to the safety of her bed.

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[ceruleanmusings]

First and Foremost

Fandom: Big Time Rush Pairing: James Diamond x Mickey Mason (OC) Word Count: 5.7k Summary: Mickey goes to cheer James up after a brutal verbal beating by Gustavo. Contents: mild flirting, teasing, show-standard humor, sadness Tag: @mystic-scripture​ @foxesandmagic​ @witchofinterest​ @perhapspearl​ @raging-violets​ @lareiism​ @ocfairygodmother​ @ocappreciationtag​

The bright orange vinyl began sticking to his cheek, trapping his heavy sighs against his warm skin but James didn’t care. Why should he care? It wasn’t as if he had a modeling gig to run off to so the inevitable red line pressing into his cheek could stay. It wasn’t as if he had an acting gig to prepare for so he could continue to lay flopped on the couch, feet dangling off the edge, wrinkling his clothes. It wasn’t as if he had a solo moment in a song to rehearse for so he could let his throat roll an agonized vocalization around in his chest.

He'd left Rocque Records hours ago and yet he still heard Gustavo’s shouts echoing in his head: “Stop smiling like that, I hate it!”, “A garbage disposal has better timing than you!”, “I could replace you with a mop and it wouldn’t make any difference!”, and his favorite, “Okay, do it again, but this time, SING ACTUAL NOTES!”

Clearly, Gustavo was wrong. …He had way better hair than a mop so, actually, it would make a difference!

James uttered another body wrenching sigh.

It just wasn’t fair. He spent so much time rehearsing, getting his vocals warmed up, loosening his muscles to better execute dance moves. He put his all into being a pop star! Okay, sometimes he could get distracted by the lights and the glitz and glamor but who wouldn’t? Pretty people wanted to dress him, sculpt his hair, perfect his image (not that they had to do much on that front), have them joint their ranks, put him in the spotlight where he belonged. Why was it a bad thing? When it came down to it, he wanted this. He always wanted this!

Kendall, Carlos, and Logan didn’t get it. He loved his buds, but that didn’t mean he didn’t see their eye rolls, hear their scoffs, or feel their dismissive aside glances when he talked about a potential modelling job or how he was, in fact, the best person to lead a song (or sing the whole thing, why split hairs?), or when he shared his dream of buying a house to turn it into a personal salon/display museum for his bandanas. (It makes sense to keep it all in one place!)

All he was trying to do was make his dreams a reality. It wasn’t as if he was pushing his buds off a cliff to get there. It’d happen eventually. It was inevitable. (The recognition, not the cliff-pushing.) He had the face, he had the voice, he had the talent, he had the body, he had the face. He was born for this life. He was meant to be doing this!

But no one else seemed to notice.

Groaning, James turned onto his side, tucked his arm beneath his head and curled his knees up to his chest. If Katie were around, she’d point and laugh at him, maybe say he was being a big baby or some other phrase with big words he didn’t understand. Thankfully she, the guys, and Mama Knight were off at an LA Kings game. He’d been looking forward to the game for weeks but going didn’t appeal to him after the day he had. He’d taken enough hits to watch other people get tossed around like a ragdoll.

Sometime later he heard the distinct sound of someone climbing the stairs to get to the swirly slide entrance and yet he still didn’t move. Instead, he watched dust motes float and around the shafts of gold light seeping in through the blinds.

“Hey, it’s just me.” Ordinarily James would’ve jumped up at the sound of Mickey’s voice, double-checking his reflection in his lucky pocket mirror to ensure he was presentable and his muscles were at their peak. He couldn’t let her see him at anything other than his best. He was James Diamond! He didn’t do mediocre! This time, though, he stayed still, listening as she came down the swirly slide, the rubber on her docs tapping against the ground on her dismount. It was the only time she didn’t knock before entering. The door was always open, and people came and went as they pleased, but not Mickey. She made sure to knock every time. It was polite, she explained, looking at them all as if they’d been raised by wolves.

He mentally followed her footsteps—always with that cute little bounce to it—around the back of the couch heading to the island until she came into view. She dressed comfortably as always: dread locks pulled back into a half updo with gold rings and cuffs, her favorite cropped white *NSYNC hoodie depicting the image of their first album cover, dark skinny jeans, pale blue docs and a makeup-free face. She never wore makeup except for occasions where it called for it such as appearances, interviews, and photoshoots. James never thought she needed it.

“I’m just picking up my Tupp…er…ware…” He watched as Mickey’s eyebrows collided and she leaned to the side, peering at him as if she didn’t recognize him on the couch. He didn’t blame her; he was sure he wouldn’t recognize himself if he could see himself right now. “James? Are you okay?” she asked, taking a few steps closer, tucking a lock behind her ear.

James’ lips pushed out another sigh. “I’m sad,” he replied. No sense in hiding the obvious. His lower lip already dropped to a pout upon uttering the words and he couldn’t fight the wave washing over him, dragging his mood further (if that were possible).

Shoving her hands into the front of her pockets she approached. “’Cause of Gustavo?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

He blinked. “That’s it.”

Her eyebrow arched. “No it’s not. I can see it all over your pretty face.” Sliding a hand out her pocket, she wiggled a pointed finger at him, motioning in circles around his face.

“Hmph. At least you think it’s pretty,” he mumbled.

She sat on the floor in front of the couch, turning her knees to the side, propping her elbow on the cushion and her cheek on her fist while turning to him. He looked back at her, taking in her freckle dotted nose. Her dark eyes squinted for a moment, mimicking the small pull to her mouth until they both relaxed. “What’s up? Besides the Gustavo part. I was wearing soundproof headphones while recording my bass lines today—I still heard him through it. And while that sucked, I know that’s not the only issue.”

“Maybe I just wanted to be alone.”

“James, you can’t go an elevator ride without needing someone to talk to.” Her mouth quirked in the corner, bolstering the tease to her words. He managed a small smile. “Speaking of which. Where are the guys?”

“They went to a Kings game.”

“Are you meeting them there?”

“I didn’t want to go.”

Her eyes widened, dark brown lighting to reflect her surprise. “You didn’t want to go to a King’s game?”

James twisted his mouth to the side, shrugging. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go. Of course he wanted to go. Everything about hockey appealed to him: the crisp air filling his lungs, the crackling excitement plucking his energized nerves, the sharp snap of wood smacking against rubber, the scuffing of sharp blades on the ice, the cold adding a natural blush to his cheeks, the hot girls dressed in jerseys, the warm nacho cheese sliding down his throat, the way the bright lights lit him on his good side (both of them). But, even with the Kings and Ducks matchup, it wasn’t enough to get him off the couch.

“Well, what about hanging by the pool? It’s Golden Hour.” She reached out and poked his cheek. “Your favorite time of day.”

That was true. Nothing made his selfies better than the effect of a filter without actually having to use one. He thought about it for a second, shook his head, and sighed again. “I don’t feel like it.”

“Wow.” Her lashes fluttered due to her rapid blinking. A hum sounded behind her turned down mouth and she reached out, squeezing his knee. He felt a tug somewhere in the pit of his stomach at her touch, like a cork easing its way out of a bottle. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Silence. Then: “It just doesn’t make sense!” And it all came pouring out, the frustrations and grievances. Not just from that day but from the past year and a half, from the start of it all. How they didn’t want him, they wanted Kendall. How no matter how hard he tried it wasn’t good enough. How, even though he had the talent, and knew it in his bones, it didn’t match the “fire” they looked for. How he was dragged along to form a group in a business he’d always dreamed of being in. How he was constantly shuttled back and forth between his parents, passed along like a discarded accessory. How he was overlooked time and time again (which he still wasn’t even sure how that was possible with his height and face and style.) How he was dismissed and taken as being “dramatic” when he opted not to go to the Kings game.

It was that feeling, the want—or lack thereof—which kept him glued to the couch. It seemed everyone could direct it towards anyone and anything else but him. No one chose him. No one wanted him.

The entire time he spoke Mickey stayed quiet save for the occasional hums to accompany her head nods. By the end she offered up a clicking tsk and a welcomed, “Aww, dude, I’m sorry you had to deal with all that.” She looked at him and he looked right back, wondering for a minute if they were having some sort of staring contest until he got cross-eyed and had to blink. Her shoulders shook with a quiet laugh, lips curling upwards in the corners. Silence stretched between them. James’s eyes widened slightly, taking on a pointed look.

“Is that it?” James finally prompted.

“Is what it?”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“…Yeah.”

“You’re not going to tell me I’m being dramatic? You’re not going to give me some advice? You’re not going to give me some pep talk?”

Mickey snorted. “And what kind of advice could I give you? To just get over it?” James nodded rapidly. “You’re upset. Telling you to get over it won’t change that. Besides, I get it.”

“You do?”

“That feeling you have to work twice as hard just to get the recognition you feel you rightfully deserve only to be overlooked?” She let out a little bitter laugh, twisting the end of one of her dreads around her finger. “Yeah. I know that feeling a little too well; life made sure of it.” A second later her eyes widened and then squinted, as if seeing something in the distance. Her eyebrows furrowed and she clicked her tongue. In a flash, she got off the floor and James watched her make quick strides to the door, opening it with a flourish only to pull it shut behind her. He stared at the swinging jackets hanging off the key shaped holder, an incredulous expression popping onto his face.

“Well thanks for the talk, Mickey! I feel so much better!” James called out to the closed door. He rolled onto his back, unfurling his legs, staring up at the tall ceiling. Geeze, first Gustavo, then his buds, and now Mickey. He thought people cared about him but clearly he was wrong! Why did he even like her in the first place?

A knock sounded on the door. Uncurling himself, James sat up, head tilting in curiosity. A second later the door opened, and a sheepish Mickey stepped through it. “Forgot, I don’t need to knock for myself,” she muttered, rubbing her palms down the legs of her jeans.

Nevermind, she came back. He liked her again.

She drummed her fingers against her thighs and then headed for the kitchen. “I’m thirsty. Do you want a juice box?”

James’s head bobbed from side to side. Now that his chest didn’t feel as if it would cave in, it felt “Yeah, I could go for one.” She pulled one from the fridge and tossed it to him. He easily caught it with one hand as he swung his legs down from the couch, settling on the middle cushion facing the tv. He popped off the straw and stabbed it through the foil-covered hole on top. He didn’t pretend it was Gustavo’s face beneath the straw. Not at all. He took a long pull of the watermelon flavored drink and swallowed. It helped, but only a little.

He watched as Mickey closed the refrigerator and started opening and closing a few cabinets. She pulled a few bowls out of one and set them on the counter and then pulled open a few drawers, taking out measuring cups and spoons and knives.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Well, there’s really no point in bringing back Tupperware that’s empty is there?” She asked, eyebrows lifting. “It’s downright blasphemy.”

His stomach quivered at that. Food? She was making food? As much as a small part of him still wanted nachos from the Staples Center, he could trade it for whatever she made. If magic existed, she possessed it with how good her food turned out. Not that Mama Knight’s wasn’t a great cook herself, nothing beat her cheesy potato soup or Fishstick Fridays or her amazing snickerdoodles, Mickey just tended to make more on the dessert side. And while his body was a temple and he treated it right, sometimes the temple wanted a big fat slice of pie. To please the Gods. (Him, James was the God. No matter how much Logan disagreed, the peasant).

“What are you making? Can I have some?”

“It’s a surprise but sure. It’s gonna take me some time, though.”

James reeled in his pout and protest, as much as he hated having to wait history showed it tended to be worth it. Shifting off the couch, he opened the cabinet beneath the tv and looked at the array of DVDs staring back at him. He bypassed his usual go-tos—Die Hard, Bring it On, the Entourage series, Fast and Furious, Step Brothers, Zoolander, Marley & Me—stopping at the smaller cases on the end, holding white discs with Mama Knight’s handwriting scrawled over the surface depicting dates from a few years back. James shuffled through the cases as if they were a deck of cards, stopping on one he remembered from freshman year, near the end of the season.

The Meadowlark High Coyotes were 7-9; they needed to win at least four more games to make it to the playoffs before their season was cut short. They were down by three points at 4-6 against Willow Grove High’s Rams with ten minutes left. Kendall had been benched for fighting after getting his face smashed into the plexiglass on a breakaway (it was a cheap hit). Carlos was ejected for leaving goal to bum rush the player who executed the hit, trying to pants him. And Logan sat on the bench, his nose buried in his roster book, scribbling away, making notes for the coach to review after the game. That left him the lone wingman to turn the tide on a penalty shot and any scoring chance he obtained afterwards. Yes there was another wingman, but he may as well not have been on the ice with James taking the lead.

He popped it into the DVD player and fell back into the memory of the day, sank into the swell of cheers, the shrill whistles, the thudding beat of his heart in his ears, the rush as he glided over the ice, carrying the puck to the goal shot after shot after shot. And the chanting, oh the chanting, it may as well have been tattooed on his heart: Dia-mond, Dia-mond, Dia-mond! Only his stick slapping against the puck broke the cheering. Crack! Crack! Crack! James rushed the goal and sent the puck sailing through the air, nestling in the top right and left corners of the net, lighting the lamp. The crowd went wild. His team rushed the ice, lifting him up in the air as sirens and whistles went off.

James paused on the zoom on his face, the light in his eyes and the flush on his cheeks. Someone had yanked off his helmet so they could ruffle his sweaty hair, which still looked good compared to the others, thank you very much. (Helmet hair was not something he ever had to combat, he made sure of it.)

They won. They chose him and he won. When he was picked, they all succeeded. That was the point.

He scanned backwards, watching the play in reverse, pressed play, and watched their victory unfold. Again. And again. And again. Forward, back, forward, back. Shoot, score, repeat. Every watch brought back another shot of exhilaration, another round of satisfaction pulsing through his veins. Gustavo had drained that feeling right out of him.

“What’re you watching?” Mickey’s head hung next to his as she leaned over the back of the couch. “Is that you? Oh, you were all so teeny!”

James pouted. He wasn’t teeny. Yeah, he was a couple years younger than now and had a bit of a rounder face but all the days playing hockey he’d shed his childhood weight. And he’d hit his growth spurt, so he was already taller than the guys in their class. Despite the slight sting of the comment, he answered, “Freshman year hockey game. Against our rivals, the Rams.”

“Did you win?”

James scoffed. “Of course we did!” Big Time Rush didn’t lose. Once they all joined the team, they were a force to be reckoned with. “All thanks to me, even. Kendall and the guys were benched for ‘unsportsmanlike behavior’.” His finger quotes stabbed the air as he rolled his eyes.

“Why? What’d they do?”

“Watch.” Within a few seconds the scene unfolded again: Kendall on a breakaway, for all intents and purposes prime for a good shot. Then someone from the other team bashed into him, clearly committing a foul. Kendall bounced off the plexiglass as sharp whistles and booing jeers filled the air. Cheeks red, either due to the cold or anger, Kendall threw down his stick and gloves, whipped off his helmet, and charged for a Ram. He managed a hit on one before two Rams came up, grabbed him, threw him into the plexiglass again, and squished his face against it, dragging it from side to side. Mickey sucked a hissing breath in between her teeth, face scrunching up to a look of pain.

“That looked like it hurt.”

“Hurt worse when the guy wasn’t even called for it—the refs were from their town,” James explained at the look of disbelief crossing her face. “But I get the penalty shot and score more goals to clinch the win for us.”

“Bet that felt good.”

He shrugged. Good wasn’t the right word. Amazing wasn’t the right word. He didn’t think a word existed to properly encompass how that day felt. He paused the video and scanned it backwards again, his thumb hovering over the play button as his eyes took in their reflections on the tv screen. Namely how close she leaned to his head. Turning to her, he eyed her close-up profile. “If you wanted to kiss me, you could just say so,” James said with a flirtatious smile. Motioning to her with the remote he added, “You don’t have to come up with an excuse to get close.”

Her head tilted to the side, her studying him this time. “Would it make you feel better?”

He blinked. Uh…what? That wasn’t what she was supposed to say. That wasn’t how things went with them. He’d flirt, she’d rebuff him, he’d try again later. That’s how their friendship worked, among both agreeing blue was, in fact, a flavor (suck it, Logan!), her helping him with English homework while he helped her with vocal work, taking trips to the farmer’s market for fresh ingredients (her for her cooking, him for his organic, clean, homemade facial mask), and splitting the s’mores skillet at Fun Burger on his cheat day. Not that he didn’t like this turn of events, he wasn’t stupid. Okay, so he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the spotlight, but he wasn’t that stupid.

Still, he shook his head and pinched his arm to be sure this wasn’t some sort of dream, that she had, in fact, asked if kissing him would make him feel better. His fingers pressed into his skin and a pinch of pain shot up his arm. His eyes widened. He was definitely awake!

“Uh…sure?” He mentally admonished himself, hearing how unsure he sounded. Who talked like that? Not him, that’s for sure. He was much cooler than that. He cleared his throat, deepened his voice, turned his eyes to smolder, and said, “I mean, yeah. We could give it a shot.”

“Okay, close your eyes.”

He did as he was told, eyes slamming shut. James’ chest swelled and relaxed as he took in and let out a long breath. Not that he was nervous. He’d kissed plenty of girls before. Hell, once he’d kissed three girls in a half hour (thank you spin the bottle!) So this was nothing to worry about. No big deal. It’s just Mickey. Just the girl he’d been into for the past year. His palms sweating had nothing to do with it, that happened sometimes. Not a lot. Okay, never. Not when it came to kissing girls. So it had to be some sort of new medical condition he’d need to get looked at. Along with the shaking. And his heart thudding against his chest. He made a mental note to get that looked at too.

He felt her hovering in front of him, close enough for that strange sensation to itch and curl beneath his skin, anticipation cracking like a livewire. A strong swoop lurched in his stomach when she asked “Ready?”, so close he smelled something sweet on her breath. Vanilla? A lock of her hair brushed against the side of his face, sending a shot of something pleasant down his spine.

He nodded, swiping his tongue against his bottom lip. (Not too wet, not too dry. Couldn’t have her thinking his lips were like sandpaper.) Breath? He thought back. Last thing he ate were a few ants-on-a-log back at the studio. Peanut Butter wasn’t what he’d go with, but it would do in a pinch.

Okay. You’re James Diamond! You’re in a world-famous band! You have great hair! You have great style! You have great lips! They’re perfectly pouty and pink and fantastic. It’s just a kiss. You can do this. Annnd….go!

James leaned forward, pursing his lips. Something touched his lips. His eyebrows lowered. Huh, her lips were a lot colder than he’d imagined. Just as smooth, though. And a little…pointy? What? Before he could react, something gave way and shot between his teeth, heading to the back of his throat. He coughed, the object shooting forward, bouncing on his tongue.

His eyes popped open, granting him the sight of Mickey and her shit-eating grin. His tongue rolled the object around in his mouth, smooth on all sides except for one point. A rush of chocolate swarmed his taste buds. A Hersehey’s kiss. He blinked, staring up at her.

“Did the Earth move for ya, honey?” she asked sweetly, her soft southern accent igniting the teasing sparkle in her eyes.

“Very funny,” James grumbled, chewing the cold bit of chocolate into small pieces. It melted fast on his tongue. Pushing a hand through his hair, he flopped back against the couch, doing his best to avoid her gaze. But that smile, so bright and satisfied, drew him back in and he found his frown lifting upwards.

Still grinning, she dropped down on the couch next to him. He noticed the plate in her hands, the surface covered with an array of purple swirls and designs resting atop white sponge dotted with color.

Funfetti cupcakes. His favorite.

She was forgiven.

------

“She moves left, she moves right, she goes left again-oh! Fake out! She’s on a breakaway! There’s no one standing between her and the net! Will she make it?” With a lunge, Mickey slapped a pretzel rod against the Oreo in the middle of the table. James dropped to his knees, opening his mouth in time for the cookie to slide against the smooth surface, coast past his teeth, and land on his tongue. Goal! “She does! She scores! And the Missles are the table hockey champions of the world!” Throwing her arms into the air, Mickey danced a little victory jig, chomping the pretzel rod in her hand as if putting an exclamation point at the end of a sentence.

Chuckling, James chewed the Oreo. Ordinarily he would already be mentally preparing his routine at the gym the next day to counteract all the sugar he’d eaten but he could skip it for one day. Tossing his own pretzel rod onto the table—he wasn’t going to make an exception for sodium, not when bloat could set in—he stood, brushing any miniscule bit of dirt off his knees. “Why didn’t you go to the hockey game again?” he asked.

Mickey’s eyebrow arched and she waved her hand around the room, motioning to the table, the leftover cupcakes sitting on the kitchen counter, and Bring it On playing on the tv in the background “And miss out on all this fun?” She winked and took another bite of the pretzel rod. “Not a chance.”

James smiled, a rush of warmth spreading through him.

The door burst open; Carlos, Kendall, and Logan rushed in, hooting, and hollering, waving towels and hats in a flurry. Katie and Jennifer entered behind them, wearing identical expressions, half of amusement and half of wariness.

“Hey guys,” Mickey greeted them, walking around the table. “How was the game?” Her answer came as a wall of sound when Kendall, Carlos, and Logan screamed in her face. Blinking rapidly, she wiggled a finger in her ear as she leaned away from them. “That good, huh?”

“It was awesome!” Carlos shouted. “First the Ducks were in the lead and then the Kings caught up to them but then the Ducks were in the lead again! And during the ice cleanings Bailey and Wild Wing came out and got into a shootout. And then they played musical chairs which is silly, you know, because why would animals need to sit on chairs—ooh! Cupcakes!” Breaking off, he made a dashing dive for the kitchen counter.

“Those are mine!” James shouted, making Carlos freeze with a cupcake halfway to his mouth. A whimpering sound fell out of his mouth as he looked back and forth between James and the cupcake.

“Be nice, there’s enough for them to have one,” Mickey said, rubbing James’s arm. “Go ahead, Carlos.” She barely finished her sentence when Carlos stuffed it into his mouth, paper still attached.

“Dude.” Kendall bumped James on the arm with the back of his hand. “We had to keep Carlos from tackling Bailey the lion for thumping Wild Wing’s bill in the stands. Could’ve used you to hold him back.”

“Is that the only reason?” James asked.

Kendall scoffed. “Of course not! I had no one else to cringe with when they messed up the National Anthem. You weren’t there to list off every stat for the Kings or the Ducks—down to what conditioner they most likely used.” James pushed a laugh out of his nose. “After the game ended, they let us skate around for a bit. T’somethin’ I always dreamed about, skating one of the biggest NHL rinks. Wasn’t the same without my wingman there to catch my passes without fail.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “We’re sorry we didn’t take your feelings seriously. Gustavo was rough on you today. We should’ve stayed with you, made sure you were okay.”

“You didn’t think I was being overdramatic?”

“Oh no, we totally did,” Kendall said, making James roll his eyes, “but halfway through the game I remembered that you get like that when it comes to things that are important to you. And it’s not fair for me, for us, to push that aside. So I’m sorry. We cool?” He extended his hand,

“We’re cool. You know I can’t stay mad at my bud,” James replied, clasping Kendall’s hand to pull him into a quick hug.

“And on that note, it’s time for me to go,” Mickey said, squeezing past them. Clutched in her hands were two Tupperware containers filled with cupcakes. “Are you feeling better?” Kendall’s eyes quickly ping-ponged between the two; he mumbled something about needing to polish his hockey puck and backed away.

James’ mind quickly scanned through a list of things he could say to keep her around a little longer. He came up with nothing. “I am, yeah,” James admitted. “Thanks for sticking around and keeping me company, Mickey.”

“Any time. If you ever want a rematch against the Missles, you know where to find me. We’ll be ready for you Diamondheads.” Leaning past James, she called out “see you, guys!” only to get distracted hand waves back from Kendall, Carlos, Logan, and Katie as they watched the game highlight on the news. She shrugged. “See ya, James,” she said, quickly tilting her fingers at him in a rippling wave.

He waved back, watching as she left the apartment. The door closed with a soft click. James turned on his heel only to stop in his tracks, noticing every pair of eyes in the room pointed on him. Eyebrows crinkling, his head tilted to the side. Usually he deserved attention, basked in it even, but he wasn’t sure what he did to get it this time. “What?” he finally asked.

“You were here with Mickey alone all afternoon,” Kendall said. “What happened?”

James shrugged, approaching the couch. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. We talked, watched some hockey, and messed around.”

“So you never hit on her?” Logan asked.

Kind of. “No, not really.” Hershey kiss substitutes didn’t count.

“Dude! This was your chance!” Carlos sprayed bits of uneaten cupcake out of his mouth as he shouted. Uttering a noise of disgust, Logan wiped the side of his face, shooting such a scathing look at Carlos it made him behind Katie. James laughed at the sight.

“Yeah, that’s not like you, James. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Kendall said.

“I’m feelin’ great, guys, really,” he assured them. “Gimmie another cupcake.” As he reached for the plate in Katie’s hand, he spotted something white under the pillow Kendall leaned against. He yanked it out with one strong pull. “Oh shoot,” he muttered. He got a series of asynchronous what?s answered him. “It’s Mickey’s sweatshirt. She forgot it.”

“Give it to her tomorrow. She’ll be at the studio,” Kendall pointed out.

James took in Kendall’s nonchalance with an incredulous shake of his head. He couldn’t do that. Well…he could but he couldn’t. Even if the built-in excuse for her to come back to the apartment was enticing, he wouldn’t feel right holding onto it. Not when he knew of her attachment to it, not just due to how soft and comfortable the sweatshirt was but to the band as well. When he thought about not having his Lucky Comb on him, even for a second, it sent shivers down his spine.

“No, I’ll just try and catch her at the elevator.” Clutching the sweatshirt tight in his hands, James dashed for the door. It barely opened far enough for him to fit through before he found himself out in the hall. He ran around a corner, nearly clipping it, slowing when he heard Mickeys’ voice.

“Thanks again for being so understanding. I know it was last minute…”

“Girl, it’s okay,” Jo said back. Hmm? James peered around the corner, spying Mickey and Jo standing in front of the elevator doors. She clutched a rolled-up script in her hand. “We can always go another day. It’s no big deal.”

“Thanks. James just looked so…defeated.” Mickey’s nose wrinkled. “It’s weird. I’ve never seen him like that before. I just…I didn’t want him to be alone.”

“I get it. I’m not going to be mad at you for being there for a friend,” Jo said, waving her hand in the air. “Buut…you’ll also be extra forgiven if I can have a cupcake.” Her eyebrows wiggled as she tapped a quick rhythm on the Tupperware lid.

Mickey laughed, popping the lid. “No problem.”

Jo eagerly dove for a cupcake, peeling the paper off halfway before taking a bite at the base of the treat. She brought a finger up to her mouth as she chewed, wiping away a stray smear of cream cheese frosting. “So…you must really like James to cancel going to that pie making class you’d been looking forward to for weeks.”

What!? James pressed his lips together, biting on them. The pulse of pain fell into sync with his rapid heartbeat. Jo’s lips curled in the corners and, beneath the hallway lighting, James swore he saw devil horns pop up on her head.

Mickey rolled her eyes. James squinted. Was that a blush on Mickey’s cheeks or a trick of the light? “Don’t even start with me, I gotta deal with all that at home.” The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Mickey stepped backwards into the elevator, jabbing at a button with her elbow. “…And I don’t not like him. But don’t tell anyone that!”

Jo mimed zipping her lips. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Swallowing the yelp fighting to shoot up his throat, James turned and headed back to 2J. He slipped into the apartment under the noise of aliens and troopers getting blown up in Biohazard 5 and Carlos’ jeers as he held his hand in front of Logan’s face.

“Did you catch her?” Kendall yelled over the noise, eyes glued to the tv.

“No, I missed her.” James made a beeline for the bedrooms, a soft smile sitting upon his lips. “I’ll see her tomorrow.”

[nagia-pronounced-neijia]

WIP WEDNESDAY

tagged by @ejunkiet

Warnings: Catholicism, somebody being extremely sarcastic about the holiest of the sacraments; if those things trigger or upset you, scroll on by.

So, the thing is, it wasn't supposed to go like this.  He gets about four seconds of, "oh shit" when he puts his foot down inside what was apparently a circle of something.

A whole lot of things seem to happen in those four seconds.  He recognizes the circle -- formed in salt!  He doesn't know much about magic, but he knows you can't write spells in salt! -- and looks up at the witch chief.  She looks over-fucking-joyed, and expectant, and he can't watch that, so he looks to Alucard and Sypha.

Sypha reaches for him, fingers splayed and arms out like she's trying to cast.  He sees the determination locking down her jaw, thinning her mouth, and the wide edge of real fear that makes the corners of her eyes smooth out.

Alucard reaches too, and he's fast.  He blurs red around the edges; Trevor almost doesn't see him coming.

Their fingertips touch.  Sypha screams something, ragged and desperate and horrible --

His hand slips through Alucard's, somehow translucent, like a silk screen or a chemise.  Like a ghost.

Alucard's eyes go so wide, the red burning away inside them out of what's probably rage.

The world falls away.

He wakes with a bony elbow prodding him in the ribs.  He jabs back reflexively without opening his eyes, muttering, "Fuck!" as he does.

His voice sounds weird. 

Those are the two stupid, stupid things he first notices: some arsehole's bony elbow and that his voice sounds higher pitched than it should.

He opens his eyes to find a pew in front of his face.  An actual church pew, complete with the kneeler and the carved cross cut-outs and everything.   Hell, his knees are on the kneeler, how's that for hopelessly wrong?

He looks around out of the corners of his eyes.  He hasn't been in a church in thirteen years, but he remembers how shitty people get about other people not paying attention.  It just looks like a normal congregation; everyone in what's probably their best and the women all have their hair covered.  Their eyes are all on the priest ahead of the chancel.  He looks and sounds and moves like every other parish priest Trevor has seen.

At the front, the priest calls, "Oremus," in that rhythm they have, and apparently Trevor is still a Christian in deed, if not in heart, because he rises smoothly, automatically, with all the rest.

This church looks familiar, he thinks as he rises.  There's the transept with the little crack in its window.  The chancel is a little more in shadow than it ought to be; it takes the shine off the altar, which is arranged simply.

Something is fucked.  He knows something is just in a new land of wrong and upside-down.  He just can't tell what it is, besides his presence.

The priest chants in Latin.  Trevor fights not to roll his eyes.  Yes, yes, he wants to say.   Praise be to God for the Eucharist.  What would we do if we didn't literally eat and drink our Savior?  Praise him, praise him, forever and ever.

Everyone around him repeats after the priest.  It's all such garbage and he's still trying to figure out how the hell he got from the salt circle to a church, and how he's not on fire for being in said church. 

The person next to him jabs him again with their bony-ass elbow.  Trevor jabs back, again, muttering unkind things about their parentage.  The next jab is harder, and shortly after that there's a familiar cuff to the back of his head.

He almost starts looking around more, but fourteen years of getting cuffed for looking any way but forward are very fresh in his mind.  Best not to draw any more attention to himself.

With no better options, he recites with everybody else.  His voice still sounds wrong in his head, and it cracks and feels uncomfortable when he tries to speak lower.

After the Postcommunion, they all kneel again, then rise.

"Benedicamus Domino," the priest sings.

They all chant back, "Deo gratias," and the general shuffling toward the exit begins.

And now that Trevor can actually look around without getting smacked, he's starting to see precisely why everything seems so familiar.  He knows this nave.  Knows this church.  They'd come here his whole life.

And, filing away toward the narthex, he sees four familiar dresses, four familiar white veils, made of fine linen from Targovişte.  They move with the smooth, graceful glide over the rough stone floors that he'd thought he'd never see again.

His sisters.

It hits him like an actual sucker punch, like somebody slamming a chair into him in a bar fight.  His stomach clenches up like a fist.  He makes some sort of horrible choking noise as all the breath in his lungs decides to leave.  He wheezes in another breath, feels it whistling down a throat that doesn't want to open. 

And ahead of them, his mother shines in the doorway, outlined and turned into a smudge by the early afternoon sunlight.

Ahead of her, Father turns.  He makes an impatient gesture, calling Trevor's name.

His whole body feels numb.  He goes anyway.  Now that he's doing something more complicated than standing and kneeling, he can't help noticing his balance is off.  Like he's not just shorter but slimmer, lighter.

Like, for instance, he's fourteen or so.

This can't be happening.  Salt doesn't work magic.  People don't step into salt circles and find themselves in fucking consecrated churches from thirteen years ago.

Near Father, Luminița gives him a smile from under her hood.

Trevor smiles back.  Even if this isn't happening, even if it's some cruel dream, she's his closest sister.

They walk home from church in a thick knot, exactly the way he remembers.  The way he's longed for.

It's Sara, his second-closest, who laces her arm in his and leans in.  The hem of her cap has frayed a little; it needs re-sewn.

Ha.  Like he can talk.  He only launders his clothes regularly because otherwise Sypha and Alucard probably wouldn't speak to him.  And sure, he can darn his own socks, but that doesn't mean he actually does any mending when it needs done.

"You seemed distracted during Mass today," she says, and her voice is the same mixture of high pitch and dry delivery that makes everything short of a threat sound kind of funny.

It's not real.  Can't be happening.  Not.  Real.  Just a fucking vicious, painful dream a witch came up with.  Somewhere above him, Sypha and Alucard are dealing with a small coven and trying to wake him up.

Knowing all that doesn't stop the warmth in his chest, that huge bubble of impossible fondness that always accompanies seeing his most precious people after a long absence.

"Just thinking about things."

It's Luminița who asks, "What kinds of things?"

"Just things."  One good point of being probably four-and-ten again: he can get away with that.

Both his sisters laugh at him.

The walk home is long and surprisingly warm.  He thinks it must be Lent, and that means early spring.  He would have expected grayer skies, the last few flurries of snow, but instead it's all an expanse of blue.  The sun pours down on his head, gradually warming him.

They reach the great gate by late afternoon.  A nod from Father, and Mother takes her keyring from her belt and fits key to lock.  There's a resounding click and then they're swinging it open.  Trevor, as the last one through, pulls the gate shut, listening for the sound of the mechanism.

He still has a hard time believing any of this is real.

He stares up at the stout walls, of good oak and better stone, at the windows with real leaded glass, at the pennant of the Belmont crest hanging from one of the windows.  A hunting party must be away; they only display that when someone's left the house on a hunt.

This all feels… It's completely crazy, but at the same time, it feels right.  Accurate, maybe: it feels like he's walking, all too aware, through a Lenten Sunday that really happened to him.

Father and his sisters go directly into the house.  Except for Luminița and Sara, none of them has ever had much patience for him when he's being slow.

It's Mother who waits on the front step.  She reaches out to catch his face in between her palms.  They're softer than his own, than Father's, but they're still callused and chapped, just in different places.

"You've been out of sorts," she says, sweeping her thumbs over his cheekbones before resting the back of her hand against his forehead.

He doesn't protest the touch.  Maybe he would have, at fourteen, but he hasn't been anywhere near his mother in thirteen years.  Instead he allows it, unwilling even to close his eyes if that means losing sight of her.

"I'm fine.  Just thinking."

His mother hums.  "If it's about Old Marta… Well, you're kind, Trevor, but there was nothing we could have done for her."

Old Marta?  He thinks back, trying to remember.  He has the vaguest, dimmest memory of an aging woman with apple cheeks who always smelled of onion.  She sold cheese, maybe?

His mother mistakes his confusion for something else.  She does the thing where she squeezes his face in her hand.  Squeeze isn't the right word -- but she cups his cheek and grips, and instead of threatening, it's comforting.

How had he forgotten that she did things like that?  Does things like this?

"It's not the fire or the heat.  It's the smoke.  It's very quick -- minutes, at most.  Almost as good a death as a beheading, and then they're made pure and good again.  She didn't suffer."

The sheer fucking irony of those words coming from the mouth of this woman.  This woman, who didn't die of fire or heat, but of being trapped in a smoky little room, who died coughing, is telling him that burned witches don't suffer?

He squints at her, looking not with the eye of a self-absorbed youth, but of a man.  The last thirteen years taught him to read a room, to read a face, to listen to what people weren't saying.

That's why he sees it: the faint tremor at the corner of her mouth, the flickering of her eyelids.

She's lying.  She's lying to protect a boy who's always been a little too soft to be a Belmont.

And that's when the memory finally settles in place, and he remembers Old Marta.  Burned as a witch in the town square in Sighișoara, and they hadn't been able to do anything about it.  It had been uniquely galling to the whole family.  Even Grandfather Rafael, who always focused more on killing what was wicked than on protecting his countrymen, had hated everything about it.

Of course, less than a year later, they'd all been accused of black magic, excommunicated, and burned alive.  Fuck.

[allycryz]

Thancred x Nerys x Haurchefant for either Spring Prompt 4 or Spicy Prompt 10

I went with Spicy Prompt 10 (Praise Kink). For some background context the loose timeline right now is

Lakeland Invasion -> Emissary Haurchefant goes in disguise to infiltrate Eulmore as a soldier -> Amh Araeng- -> Thancred and Nerys get back together -> Than and Nerys hook up with Emet ->  Save Eulmore/Haurchefant -> Reunion Sex with Haurche turns into Thancred and Haurche Hooking Up for First Time

This is set after that while they work on the Ladder

Rated E, not for Everyone, Haurchefant gets praised and pampered

"Early tomorrow," says Thancred, wiping a forearm over his brow. His coat is a long abandoned pile on the lumber. "Should be ready to go by then, I think."

"Well ahead of schedule then." Nerys sits on the ground, propping her back against said lumber. They'd made her rest during the morning but she had made up for it during the afternoon. 

Better to have the distraction of work while she processed her earlier conversation with Emet-Selch.

"Come sit." She curls a finger at him. He looks...magnificent in the tight black shirt, his muscled arms shown to advantage. More than one of the laborers gives him an appreciative glance. 

"If I sit, I might not stand." He grins. "Did you see everything Chai-Nuzz had me haul around today?"

"Oh come now, you've had far more taxing days."

"After you and Haurchefant wore me out two days and nights in a row?" His grin grows bigger now and she can't help but return it.

She had imagined of course–what it might be like to have them both. Especially after she and Thancred reconciled. But she hadn't dared hope the two men would fit together as well as they did.

"So what was everything we did up until then? A warmup?"

"Well...Haurchefant is a wellspring of energy. Speaking of..."

The man himself strides towards them, clad in the golden armor bestowed upon him when he became the Crystarium's Emissary. There are appreciative glances for him too, but also double-takes.

There was a fairly recent addition in Eulmore; one of the soldiers who defected from the Crystarium after Vauthry's attack on Lakeland. A tall, black-haired, friendly fellow named Edmont Grey.

The glamour on his features is gone but there were enough similarities between the two handsome profiles. Those who didn't know must wonder if this man is related to the affable soldier. 

"I hoped I might find you together," he says. "Am I allowed to steal you away yet?"

"We were about to discuss that," says Nerys. "Thancred worries he cannot keep up with you, my lord."

Thancred nudges her arm with the toe of his boot. "Don't go spreading lies, sweetheart."

"If anything it should be the reverse. You two have been at work on the ladder all day while I have been spent the past hours in meetings or traveling via Amaro and Aetheryte." Haurchefant steps closer to Thancred, running a hand down the front of the tight black material. "Never fear, where I'm taking you has all the amenities to unwind."

Thancred watches the path of the gauntleted fingers as they stroke over his midriff. "And where is that?" 

"You'll see." Haurchefant turns to Nerys, extending a hand. She takes it and finds herself hauled up, tugged against his chest to receive a soft kiss. "Hello."

"Hello." She slips her arms about his neck, shivering as Thancred presses a hand to her lower back. "You may take us away, my lord. Alphi will tell the others where we have gone."

"Hm?" Haurchefant glances around, till he spots what Nerys had a few moments ago: Alphi trying not to get flustered seeing three of his comrades positioned as they were. He is a good ten yalms away and Haurchefant lifts a hand to wave emphatically. "Hello Alphinaud! I shall be borrowing these two, take care of the others!"

"Right," the youth calls back. Looking pointedly at their faces and not their hands. "Good evening!"

"When I was his age," Haurchefant says to the other two. "It had stopped surprising me when the knights retired to a single bunk, two or three at a time. We squires just made ourselves scarce for the evening."

"He admires you a great deal," says Nerys. "Maybe that's part of it."

"And you. And Thancred, of course."

"Mm, do not try to flatter me. That boy saw me at all my absolute worst and at best thinks of me as a wayward brother." Thancred sighs. "At least he doesnt delight in spilling about my past like Urianger and Alisaie."

"Sweet Urianger is an imp," says Haurchefant. "However, he did help me secure our destination. Please hold on tight."

They do and it is no hardship to embrace thus. Haurchefant wraps them in teleportation magicks, whirling them away from Kholusia…

...and to the colorful wilds of Il Mheg. They stand before a little cottage Nerys recognizes from her hunting ventures. Abandoned, not all that far from Lydha Lran. Or–it had been abandoned but looks freshly cleaned and aired out. 

Haurchefant holds up a hand and opens the door. "The game was that if they did not touch anything, I would give them something fun and sugary."

"And we did not!" A voice giggles above them. Three pixies hover above, watching expectantly. 

"Yes, it look quite well looked after.." He produces a handful of colorful paper straws sealed at both ends. "Tear off whichever end you like and you can eat the treat inside."

"...Haurche," Thancred says, eyes gleaming with mirth. "Are those-"

"We thank you Haurchefant," one of the pixies cooes. "It is too bad you won't play with us to-day…"

"Ah, but another day I should like to. Hide and seek the next time I am here?"

They nod, flying away with a burst of magic. None too soon because Thancred has to duck into the house and explode with laughter. The sound is like a balm to Nerys' heart–it has been too long since he made a sound of pure and utter delight like that. 

"Well," Haurcefant says, grinning. "There must be a reason the Crystarium merchants call it that. The fae love sugar."

"Good gods, Haurchafant," Thancred leans against the small dining table for support. Careful not to muss the place settings though it is a very near thing.

"It was a good idea," Nerys says, stifling her giggle. "It's no tricking them into making your tea but…"

“I prefer honest bribery with pixie sticks rather than elaborate ruses." Haurchefant grips her hand, urging her to take one of the chairs. The ache is getting worse the past few days, the churning of the light in her belly. So she doesn't protest. 

He steps over to a small ice chest and gathers up items for the table--cheese, cold cuts, fruit, a bottle of sweet Kholusian white. Butter to go with the loaf of bread he takes from a cabinet. "I...may have had a bell or two prior to bring things here, after my meetings."

"Look at that." Thancred steps over to him, laying an almost tentative hand on his arm. "You're a good man, Haurche."

Haurchefant beams under the compliment and the touch. Nerys watches the pull between them in silence, the hesitation before Thancred curls a hand in his hair and tugs him down. Kisses him soft and sweet, his murmur barely audible. "Very good."

She knows well the shiver that goes through Haurchefant. Nerys stands, needing a moment of support from the chair before walking over to them. Burying her hands in the soft fabric of Haurchefant's blue cape. "This was lovely of you, finding a private place and preparing this food for us."

"Truly, it is the least I might do." Haurchefant turns his head towards her. "And all I did was cut up some of the offerings."

"Still." Nerys finds the clasp of his cloak and removes the bilious garment. She peers over his shoulder at Thancred who gives her a minute nod. "Its exactly what we needed."

"Perfect." Thancred looks around the small space–the kitchenette, the table, and the largish bed in the corner. They'll have to huddle but that is fine. His gaze returns to Haurche and he smirks a little. "You're perfect."

"I know what you two are doing," Haurchefant says in a sing-song way. He moves his arms to let Thancred remove his cuirass. Sighs when his shoulders are bare and Nerys rubs soothing fingers into his shoulders.

"But it's working," she sing-songs back. "Let us take care of you, please."

"My love…" He turns in the circle of their arms, pressing his palms against her cheeks. His bright eyes bore into her and there is no hiding from him. There never is. "You need care as well I think."

"I do," she admits. "It will make me feel good to do this."

"And with that you have trapped me," he presses his forehead to hers. "As you take care of me, please let our Thancred also take care of you."

Our Thancred. Her heart flutters at that and she kisses him, her gratitude and joy permeating the contact.

Haurchefant's armor disappears piece by piece until he is pressed between them, cloth the only barrier left. Thancred tugs his lips down, dropping praise against his ear. "You're gorgeous in the armor and even better like this. And those hands-"

Those hands slide over Thancred who groans in appreciation. The three of them move in a tangle to the bed. Nerys feels hands on her own hips and chest, though it’s hard to tell at first who is touching what. Only that they're petting her, peeling off her leathers and tugging loosely at her short hair. 

She finds Haurchefant's ear and sucks lightly at the tip. "Do you know how beautiful you look right now? You almost never blush but…"

At that, the faint pink across Haurchefant's cheek grows. He sighs, turning his body to face hers and rubbing her hip. "This is the effect you have on me, beloved."

"Not just her, I hope." Thancred slips his arms about him from behind.

"Not just her. You're an attractive man, Thancred."

"Indecently so." Nerys adds. "He could bat those eyelashes at a king and receive half a kingdom."

"You forget, they called me Thancred of the Silver Tongue when I was a young and wild bard." That same tongue traces Haurchefant's jaw. "I am more than a...what did you say once? Infuriatingly handsome face?"

Nerys grins. "Alright then, please demonstrate how good you are with that silver miracle."

"Verbally or..." He slides his tongue into Haurchefant's mouth, kissing him into a pliant puddle of limbs. They're dazzling together–Thancred half-propped over the other man, hand curled about the knight' cheek. He directs Haurchefant's limbs upward, above his head. "Good boy."

Haurchefant groans. "What wickedness do you have planned for me?"

"No plan, moving as we are inspired to." Thancred presses a hand over his chest, kneading Haurchefant's pectoral through his shirt. "You're so beautiful Haurche, you drive a man wild. Whenever I look at you I think seven hells, how can we mortals be so lucky."

"Ha-I thought you were the pretty one," Haurchefant gasps, hands flexing above his head. "There-keep rubbing right there."

Nerys cannot hold herself back anymore, adding her hand to the ministrations. Slipping it beneath his shirt to cup the other pec, circle the nipple with her thumb. He starts to jerk forward, to reach for her-and then keeps his hands where they are above his head.

"You're so obedient for us," she says, kissing the underside of his jaw. "So good and sweet "

He sighs. "I would do anything for you."

"We know." Her lips travel to the column of his throat. The words fumble a little--Thancred and Haurchefant are good at reciting a litany of praises. She doesn't talk quite as much during.

As if he senses her doubts, Thancred grins at her and picks up where she leaves off. "How lucky we are, to have someone this giving and beautiful in our bed. Will you do us a favor, lovely one? Will you let us suck your cock?"

Haurchefant groans like a man wounded. "Fury, you don't even have to ask-"

"Of course we do." Their hands are quick at Haurchefant's laces, shoving down the supple leather leggings and the smalls all at once. They draw him out: already hard and in need of their succor. 

"You look amazing like this," Nerys says. "So still and good, and needing us to take care of you. And one of the prettiest cocks I've ever seen."

"Agree," says Thancred. "And we've both seen enough to know. Yours is by far one of the best."

Haurchefant groans, disobeying so that he might cover his eyes with a forearm. "You two will destroy me before I even feel your mouths on me."

"Look at us," Nerys begs and he lifts the arm. His lips are parted, his cheeks flushed, his eyes blown wide with desire. "There. I want your eyes on us, and not just because they're exquisite."

Thancred nods his approval at that. "And promise to be vocal, so we know when we're doing a good job."

"You have my vow."

"Good boy." Thancred licks a stripe along one side of the shaft and Nerys the other, meeting in an open mouthed kiss at the head. Haurchefant obliges them with a moan and some very improper Ishgardian curses. "Nerys, suckle him."

She obeys without hesitation, drawing the swollen head into her mouth. A gentle but insistent hand cups the back of her neck, lips brush her cheek and whisper, "Good girl."

Nerys shivers. If she isn't careful, Thancred will have her as overwhelmed as Haurchefant is.

The pressure increases until she takes more of Haurchefant, savoring him with the flat of her tongue even as her jaw aches and he slides further into her throat. She watches as Thancred changes his angle, drawing the heavy sac into his mouth while she bobs up and down the shaft.

Haurchefant gasps, hands once again reaching for them before he returns them above his head. Thancred draws himself up and murmurs something into his ear-too quiet for Nerys to parse but Haurche’s cock twitches in her mouth with each syllable. 

She looks up and can see Haurchefant's eyes shut tight, his breathing growing faster. Nerys takes a shallow breath through her nose and takes him deeper. It is never an easy feat, big as he is, but she wants this for her dear knight. 

Haurchefant gasps, pressing his face into Thancred's shoulder. The words become louder, probably for her benefit.

"Look how she takes you, big boy that you are. That's how much she wants to make you feel good. You deserve to feel good-"

"Thancred," Haurchefant pants. "Nerys, I don’t have much control left-"

"Yes you do. We know you do." Thancred slides back down, tugging Nerys away with gentle hands. Putting his own mouth upon Haurchefant's straining cock.

"There you go," Nerys says, cupping his sack with gentle fingers before subtly increasing the pressure. "Our lovely knight has so much control left."

"Yours," Haurchefant sobs. "Yours, I'm yours-"

"Ours," she hums, lips pressing to the base of his shaft where neither of them can manage to swallow. "Our wonderful, perfect Haurche."

His back arches and she can feel the control shaking through him, the strain to hold back and be good for them. 

Nerys' eyes meet Thancred. He pulls off with a gentle pop and their twined hands replace their mouths, their mouths hover close to the head.

"Come for us," Thancred says, drawing their hands quick over the spit-slicked cock. "We need you."

"Please," says Nerys and it seems to be the last straw for Haurchefant, who comes with a desperate yell. Painting their faces, their open mouths. He babbles through it–declarations of love and need that twine with the other two's fervent praise.

He sags into the mattress, as if it might cocoon him. Tugs at their hair and arms until they rise to meet him with slow, tender kisses. 

"You did so good," she tells him and he smiles.

"So did you. And you, dear Thancred. Silver tongue indeed."

"He's very good with it." Nerys says, curling against her love. And then seeing the mischievous glint in his eye. Uh oh.

"Oh really?" Haurchefant smirks. "I think I need to see it again, on a willing test subject. Do you volunteer?"

Her own need pulses between her legs and she nods. Swallows. "Yes, I think I do."

"Good girl," says Thancred, as he crawls over to her, a leg swinging over her waist. "Shall we?"

[madllamamomma]

The Cave~ Part 2 (Muriel x OC)

[This chapter is actually SWF, other than profanity and adult themes. Still, no trash pandas under 18. Thanks.]

Part 2~

Swimsuits and Sandwiches~

Still a bit taken by surprise, Rhemi tilts her head thinking about what Asra just asked her. A..... beach day? She thought. That’s a little random. The last time I went to the beach was almost a year after I woke up. The sounds of the ocean waves crashing to the shore and the smells of salty air come to her mind. A faint smile twitches up in the corners of her mouth as she continues to ponder on the thought of being in the warm sun. 

“.... The beach?...” Muriel mutters warily, sounding to not be the biggest fan of that idea and he sneers a little. “Why there???”

Asra takes a step back, letting go of Rhemi, exchanging it for Julian’s hand and leans affectionately into his arm making him flounder as he lazily closes his eyes to explain. “Well, Rhemi’s Aunt Athena used to take her every year on this date.”

Rhemi glances between all her friend’s faces then back to Asra’s, tilting her head cluelessly and raising an eyebrow. “She…. We did??” Thoughtfully she glances to the wooden floor boards with her pointer finger resting on her bottom lip. She still can’t really recall any of those things.

Asra stifles a chuckle at her adorable puzzled expression. “Yeah. It was like a little tradition you both had. Athena said you liked to look for ingredients for potions, powders, things like that. She used to make a day of it, played games, packed a lunch, sometimes you even went swimming.”

“...Did you go too?”

A shrug rolls smoothly off his shoulders. “A couple of times, yeah. Especially when we were younger. It was a lot of fun.”

“Hmmmmmm.” Rhemi folds her arms, and taps her chin with her finger looking towards the shelves eyeing the large conch shell that lived there that she always admired. It was huge, about half the size of Muriel’s hand. Visualizing the crispy blue-ish green water, the smell of the salty ocean breeze, and the wonderful feeling of the hot sun beating down on her skin makes her smile even wider. “Ya know? A beach day does sound pretty nice actually. I’m sure the water would be nice, too.”

“Then what are we waiting for?? I have a good suit that I've been dying to use back at the clinic!” Julian says with a cheer tone walking towards the door.

A swimsuit….Oh no. “Ooooh wait..... I don’t think I have anything to wear anymore…”

Suddenly Julian stops dead in his tracks, spins around dramatically, his one eye lights up with pure excitement, and Rhemi starts to slightly grimace, realizing what she just said out loud. “OOOOO! We are gonna go shhhhhhoooooopppppppiiiiinnnnnngggggggggggg!!!!” He sings whimsically wiggling his hands and fingers.

“Oh noooooooooo….” Rhemi huffs unenthusiastically. She despise clothes shopping. That’s why she wore such baggy clothes (other than her tight pants and under shirt) and fastened them all together with a corset belt.

The silly Doctor quickly whisks Rhemi away out the door, Portia tailing behind with a large goofy smile. “Oooo! Ooo!! OOOO!!!! I’m coming too!! I’m coming too!! Wait for meee! I know the perfect place to find one!”

Trapped between the two, Rhemi had nowhere to go but with them. She groans, helplessly rolling her eyes knowing that there is no real way out of it, and when you think about it, shopping is a lot more tolerable with good company. “Just…. Just nothing too revealing, please!!” She murmurs. 

“YAAAYYYY!” The Devoraks cheer together merrily, leaving Muriel and Asra alone in the shop with the door wide open.

Asra snickers a bit and shouts, “Take it easy on her, you two!” And they wave without looking behind them, still dropping their friend down the street. The magician just shakes his head and shuts the door and waves his friend along. Muriel just scowls grumbling into his fur cloak, and Asra just smile at him. “Come on. I can probably whip something up for you.”

“Thanks….” Muriel unenthusiastically grumbles. He feels a bit uncomfortable with going back to the shores. The last time he was there wasn’t the best of memories, but it’s for Rhemi’s sake so he’ll deal with it. She did seem happy to be going, and that's really all that matters to him. 

--------

While Portia and Julian go shopping with Rhemi for the perfect swimsuit for her, Asra swiftly makes his friend something he could wear as well. He makes him a long brown wrap-around cloth that stops around his knees. Knowing that he would be uncomfortable showing that much skin, (well more than he already is) Asra also made him a thin olive colored cloak to put him at ease. Muriel tries on the outfit and Asra places his hand on his hips proudly. “Whatcha think?”

“Tall friend handsome!” Faust hisses cutely.

Muriel looks all around and looks in the long mirror and nods slowly in approval with a faint blush. “It’s, ah... a-acceptable… I guess… T-Thanks, Asra.”

The magician laughs a little then goes in a flash he changes into a white with gold trim short shorts. As he comes out of his room, he dons a cover for now, a cute little lavender flowy dress.

Now mid morning, Asra and Muriel start to pack up a picnic basket and start to fill it with small plates, a couple of forks, a few napkins, a dozen or so small sandwiches, three loaves of bread, some cheese, a small jar of olive oil and of course Agrippa’s cake so they can all enjoy it at the beach. Asra then notices Muriel is just staring at the picnic basket, his mind miles away. By the looks of it, not somewhere pleasant.

 “...Muriel?” Asra whispers, making his friend snap back to reality. “You ok?”

“Oh… Sorry.” He mumbles shaking himself out of his thoughts and returns back to his task of making sandwiches.

Asra flutters his eyes softly. “What’s wrong?”

“I-I’m fine...”

Asra looks at the picnic basket pondering on if for a minute. It’s nothing particularly special, just a large wicker picnic basket. They have seen hundreds of them before.... in fact... Finally it dawns on him exactly what is weighing so heavily on the hermit’s mind. Asra exhales sharply through his nose. “...Thinking about what happened the last time we were there together?”

His tall friend stiffens for a moment, sticking out his bottom lip, and his face turns a little pink. “...No..” He fibs.

Asra stifles a chuckle and a small reassuring smile sprouts across his lips. “The beach is actually a lot more fun when you aren’t forced to sleep there.”

Muriel’s shoulder’s relax a bit, knowing that his friend can read right through his lie. He scratches his left ear a little, feeling a tad bit embarrassed. “... A lot of stuff is actually fun now…. with the right people I guess.”

Rather touched with his statement, Asra places his hand over his chest. “Awwwww, Muriel! You’ve grown so much!—”

“—S-shut up.” Muriel grumpily moans going back to the sandwiches, turning away to hide his smile. “...Why do you have to make things weird?”

Asra laughs and starts back on wrapping up the sandwiches in napkins. “No, really! I mean it. You and Rhemi both have grown so much. The two have just brought out the best in each other. And... And I never want to see you two apart. You belong together.”

“I know…. I don’t know where I’d be if it weren't for her. Probably still wanting to be alone in the forest…. Still wanting everyone to forget that I even existed.” He pauses again, but this time his eyes are glowing with warmth and love as he think about Rhemi’s pretty face. “I… I want to be with her forever…” Muriel flushes a little harder and sheepishly looks at the half made sandwich in his hand. “Asra.... I…. ahh…. I’ve been meaning to ask you…..”

“‘Bout what?”

Muriel's large strong hands start to slightly tremble and he swallows hard. “...What… if….I… I dunno….” Crimson red now engulfs the top of his head down to his chest and a little bit of sweat beading at his brow placing the half made sandwich to the counter top. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, makes vague gestures with his hands then somehow beams even more red. Frustrated, he turns his entire body away to pretend to fetch some more cucumbers, despite the fact there are still three whole ones on the counter.

With a large sigh, Asra places his hand on his shoulder reassuringly. “You can tell me anything, Muriel. I’m your friend and I will never judge you for it.”

Taking a large terrified inhale, Muriel turns himself back to face him and twiddles his thumbs. “..... How would you feel… If…. I asked Rhemi… to… to—”

Slowly the white haired magician starts to realize that he’s trying to ask, and his eyes start to get wider and his lips stretch up into a large toothy smile, and Muriel’s words die in his throat. “Murieeeellllll~ Do you want to pop the question?”

“N-No…….” He scoffs. But then his face softens and he quickly grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. “...Alrightmaybealittlebit.”

“AAHHHHHHHH! OHMYGOODNESS—MURIEL!!!!!!”  Asra squeals, throwing his arms around Muriel’s waist making him just groan and flush even more. “Wait—Wait-wait!!! A-Are you asking for my blessing?!”

Muriel throws up his hand and shrugs awkwardly and shuts his eyes, trying not to stammer. “I—I dunno!.. I don’t know h-how to do any of—” He vaguely gestures to all around him and to Asra making him smile even wider. “I—I n-never thought…. I’d be in this p-p-position!”

“Of course you have my blessing, Muriel!! No one in the world is more deserving of her then you!!!” Muriel makes a strange shocked mumble, his hands hover over Asra’s shoulders. Slowly they come to rest on his back accepting his affection. “HA! Now I can’t stop thinking about how beautiful your babies are going to be~”

“HUH????” Muriel suddenly covers his face with his hands, but smiles secretly liking the idea of it. “—Wait a minute!—Sl-slow down a bit! I haven't even asked yet! She might tell me no…. I mean… We’ve only known each other for little over a year!... She might think it’s weird. Say ‘no’.” His smile falls, it’s clear that he’s terrified of what she might say or even think about him. 

“But you know she’s the one—I can see how you look at her! And I’m pretty sure she feels the same about you. I have known Rhemi for years. I have seen her with a couple of different guys before she came back. She has never looked at any of them the way she looks at you! Rhemi loves you, Muriel. With every fiber of her being--”

Muriel suddenly lifts Asra up in a huge bear hug that takes him by surprise, but loves at the same time and he squeezes his large barreling chest. A few seconds later, Muriel sets him down, realizing himself and clears his throat. “.... D….Don’t we have some sandwiches to make?” Asra holds his stomach and laughs at the hermit’s sheepish face. He then takes pity on the man and pats him on the arm. “Thanks…” He whispers with a small grin, feeling so relieved that his friend approves. Asra has been there for him so long, even though he may never admit it, their opinion is very important to him.  

The two finally go back to their rhythm making sandwiches and wrapping them up, and there is a comfortable silence for a while. But then Asra snickers a little without looking at Muriel. “So…. when are you gonna ask her?” He whispers loudly.

“A-ASRA!!” Muriel scowls.

Suddenly the door flies open and in walks Rhemi, Portia, and Julian all carrying a canvas tote of some kind. “—I really wish you’d stop saying that, Portia!” Rhemi says opening the door to the shop with her cheeks hot and pink. Apparently the three of them are continuing on their conversation.

“What~?? You should be proud to have such nice big ones!—I was just a bit shocked because you always hide them with these loose shirts of yours!” Portia teases and Rhemi gets even more red.

“Ugggggghhhh!!!! SHUSH!!!” She gripes then covers her mouth with the back of her hand. “I know they're big!!!” She loudly whispers.

Julian just is holding in his laughter, snickering all the way back from the market and Rhemi holds in the urge to punch him. Muriel and Asra stick their heads out the door frame holding the picnic basket eyes wide and confused. “...Do we wanna know?” Asra chuckles while Julian trots over. 

“—NO!” Rhemi quickly snaps with her bottom lip out freezing in place. The magician’s eyes light up as his partner hands him a tiny straw sun hat for Faust and she slithers around his neck giving him a loving squeeze, and he only flinches a little.

“Yeah, you‘ll just see.” Julian loudly whispers, gently peeling Faust off his neck with a large grin while heading to Asra’s room to get changed.

Embarrassed, Rhemi covers her face with her hands, her words muffled by her fingers, “HolyfuckIhateyoubothrightnow.”

Muriel ducks out of the kitchen and trundles over to his lover. As soon as she notices his presence, she drops her hands and she gives him a warm hug and he returns it. “Find something?” Muriel asks as she pulls away to look in his mossy emerald eyes.

“Ahhhh… I guess I did.” Rhemi mumbles with her hands still around his waist. “Not...uhh.. Exactly what I was expecting to find… buuuuuut—” She finally notices his outfit and glances back down changing the subject. “Well you look cute!! Asra, did you make this for him? I love the color!” Asra nods proudly and Muriel scratches the back of his neck shyly.

Giddily, Portia skips over, tugging Rhemi’s shoulder towards the stairs. “Hey, we’re burning daylight! Let’s get changed!” She says so giggly like a young school girl.

Rhemi whips her head towards her direction. “Oh—Okay!” Using Muriel’s forearm as leverage, she jumps up and steals a quick peck on his cheek making him flush ridiculously, then she zips up the stairs to get changed with Portia as he tries to hide a love drunk expression. “Be back in a minute!” She says with a wink. 

Muriel’s attention then goes to Julian as he dramatically bursts out of Asra’s room with a puffy long sleeved, but lite, burgundy embroidered shirt with a deep cut V and a black pair of very short trunks. “Ta-da~” He sings trying to embody a fabulous pose. Muriel stares at him blankly while Asra sputters into laughter at the doctor's goofiness. Finally, Muriel turns grumbling loudly and rolling his eyes, heading back to the kitchen to finish the last of the sandwiches.

Portia is the first to come down stairs, dressed in a large sun hat and an off-the-shoulder scarlet tankini. “Come on, Rem!” She excitedly calls to her as she brushes out the wrinkles in her short orange cover-up around her waist.

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Hang on!” Rhemi comes hopping down trying to get her dark blue slip on shoes on her feet. Asra and Muriel feel slightly disappointed as they see her coming down in an ombré green wrap tied around her neck that covers all the way down to her knees, not yet getting a chance to catch a glimpse at her new swimsuit that the Devoraks were raving about. She quickly pulls her hair up into a bun and cutely says, “Ready!” It’s good to see her looking happy again. 

Muriel silently grabs the picnic basket and pulls his hood over his head. Asra, fetches a large blanket and places in a large canvas tote. Portia takes a beach ball and Julian has an umbrella. Rhemi also is carrying another umbrella, along with her trusty crossbody bag filled with glass jars with tops on them so she can collect items that they need. This was the main point of this trip after all.

As the group of friends head out of the shop, Rhemi closes the door tight and swiftly places the protection spell, securing it safely. Key in hand, she spins around as she drops it into her bag, and finds herself starting at them all.

Just the other day, she felt such dread like she had an empty void tugging away at her chest. Fixated and upset that she didn’t remember why she hates August 15th so much and what exactly she lost that day. But today, all of the anxiety, the emptiness, and the nausea all but disappeared as if it never existed in the first place. She might not remember her childhood, but she does remember what it feels to be terribly lonely. Yet watching her friends joke and laugh and carry on amongst themselves as they wait for her, this was something she always wanted. At one point she even envied what she has now. But now this is all her’s. Surrounded by love, understanding, and never ending kindness. People who love her. The real her. She can’t help her as she smiles stupidly, thinking to herself, “What did I deserve to have so many wonderful people who care about in my life?”

Muriel turns around and his eyes meet with her’s. Seeing the corny grin on her face, he knows exactly what she’s thinking and he smiles back. How can you not smile back at a ray of sunshine? Nodding his head, gesturing for her to hurry over, she hops merrily off the step and over to her friends, excited for the day they're going to have together. She loops her arm around Muriel’s left bicep and he gives her a gentle little squeeze. “Let’s go everyone!!” Rhemi happily shouts, tugging Muriel ahead of the pack, nearly sprinting, pointing towards the shores of Vesuvia like she’s going into battle.

“Today is going to be a good day… What happened in the past doesn’t matter… All that does matter is that I’m here now, in this moment. Loving every minute of it.”

To be continued…

I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. But holidays, am I right?? Anyways, lets hope that 2021 is a better year that this dumpster fire. Thank you all for being the lovely trash pandas that you are and making 2020 bearable. I really don’t know what i would have done without The Arcana, this fandom and all of you guys you read my hot trash. I love you all, have a great night, and as always...

Thanks for reading my hot garbage. <3

[etoileholland]

Holland Park

@musicalkeys asked; Hi Cordelia! Can I request a fic with Reader going on a date with Tom (maybe Tom's her first OFFICIAL boyfriend) and Tom gives her, her first kiss at the end of the date? 

Pairing: Tom x female reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: none

A/N: I’m so sorry this request is a month late but I still hope you enjoy it! Requests are open but it may take me a little bit longer to write them, also please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 

“What’ve you got in the basket, Tom?” You inquired when you answered the door to see your boyfriend Tom standing on the other side of it, arm propped against the doorway. He had planned a ‘big trip’ around London, which just consisted of driving to a park in Kensington for you both to relax and spend the day together. Tom also had known that you were stressed with exams coming up, and what better way to alleviate some anxiety than to go on a picnic with your boyfriend.

This wouldn’t be any ordinary picnic, you see. No, this would be more momentous than any other date, because this was the date that Tom would finally give you your first kiss. He hadn’t had the luxury of doing so yet, being privy of the fact that you confided in him that you had never had your first kiss. When he had heard that, he couldn’t have believed it, but you confirmed, saying that you never had the opportunity to do so, since you’ve also never been in a relationship.

With this in mind, Tom wanted to make sure that this would be a first kiss to fondly remember.

“It’s a surprise.” He whispered, scrunching his nose. You laughed a little at the sight, before smiling when Tom held out his hand for you to grab.

“Hold on a second, I gotta grab my keys and all.” You held up a finger to let him know you’d be right back, before going to grab your little backpack. Tom, still standing in the doorway, gently pushed open the door so he could see you scrambling to make sure you had everything you needed. That was one of the things Tom loved about you, the fact that you were always so proactive.

A second later you were back at the door, closing and locking it behind you.

“So what’s in the basket?” You asked cheekily, trying to discreetly open the basket so you could catch a glimpse of what’s inside.

“I told you,” he laughed, playfully pushing your hand away from the basket, “it’s a surprise.”

“But I wanna see.” You whined, pouting and grabbing onto his bicep.

“Well too bad.” He tried to say that with a straight face but to no avail.

“Fine.” You let go of his arm, playfully crossing your arms in front of your chest as you two made your way to his car.

“Trust me, I promise it’ll be worth it.” He said as he held open the passenger door for you to get inside his car. Carefully closing it, he made his way to the trunk of the car, securely placing the basket in there and slamming the trunk shut. He walked to the drivers side, getting into the car and putting the key into the ignition.

Surprisingly, it was a lovely day in London. The sun was out, the sky was a beautiful hue of blue, with a few fluffy white clouds speckled in the atmosphere. There was a slight breeze that lightly chilled the air, but that wasn’t uncommon for an typical London day. 

Tom had put a lot of thought into what park he would take you to, even going so far as driving out to a few different parks to see which would be best. Hyde Park was lovely, but it was also a tourist trap, and it was always crowded at Greenwich Park. He had been spotted and followed at the Regent’s Park, so he knew that wouldn’t make you feel comfortable. Almost giving up hope, he had settled on one that he chose solely on its name alone: Holland Park in Kensington.

Serendipitously, this would be the perfect park for you to go to, and not just because he was biased that it beared the same name as him. This park had it all; a serene Japanese Kyoto garden, a cute lake and even a little waterfall. That was the spot where you two would have a picnic, and eventually your first kiss.

To ensure that the meal was perfect, he did enlist the help of his brother Sam to help create a meal, as well as prepare it. Tom knew he was obsessing over this a bit too much, but he knew how much having a perfect first kiss meant for you, so he was hoping that all this would be worth it.

The drive was a quiet forty-five minute drive, spent mostly with singing along to the playlist he had made for this special occasion, and a lot of giggling and laughter.

Every once in a while, he would look over at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, admiring your features and how you looked better in his sunglasses than he did. That was yet another one of the reasons why he was in love with you; even though you were methodical, you had always forgotten to pack the most essential things.

He hadn’t told you where you were going either, for he wanted it to be a surprise. As he drove past the sign that welcomed visitors into the park, you laughed at the name.

“Okay now before you say anything I promise this park is super cute and I did not pick it based on the name alone.” He tried to state with a straight face.

“Sure you didn’t.” You smirked.

“Whatever, I think you’ll be impressed.” He pulled the car into an available parking spot, turning off the car and sticking the keys in his pocket. He stayed silent as he looked over at you lovingly, eyes focused on your cherry red lips.

“What? Is there something on my face?” You nervously asked, pulling down the visor to inspect yourself in the mirror.

“What! No, not at all! It’s just,” he paused, contemplating if he should say what’s on his mind. “You’re just really beautiful, that’s all.”

“Oh, um thank you.” You blushed, looking down at your bag on your lap.

Oh god stop making this awkward, now you’re the nervous one, he thought to himself. Looking back at you, he asked, “You ready?”

You gazed back at him with wide eyes, excitement written all over your face. “Absolutely, I’m starving.”

“Alright, let’s go.” He opened his car door, and walked towards the boot of the car. After popping it open, he grabbed the basket and the picnic blanket before proceeding to shut the boot. He walked back over to you, gently grazing his hand with yours before intertwining his fingers with yours.

You both walked in comfortable silence from the car park to the entrance of the park. Upon walking under the entrance gate, the smell of magnolias wafted lightly through the air, being carried by the wind. In the distance you could hear children running around and playing, as well as some dogs.

Hands intertwined, he led you to the spot that he had deemed perfect for your picnic, which had a view of the lake and waterfall. He set the blanket down first, then the basket, and then sat down on the ground.

Eagerly, you grabbed the handle of the basket, wondering what was inside, but Tom playfully slapped your hand.

“Gosh you’re impatient, do you know that?” He asked, to which you just shrugged your shoulders.

“I know but I’m hungry and I’m dying to know what you packed.”

He grinned, carefully opening the basket and pulling out its contents. He first pulled out a bottle of white wine, some homemade pasta salad and a platter of mini bruschetta with cheese. To show that he had packed dessert as well, he quickly showed you a plate of chocolate covered strawberries before placing them back inside the basket. 

You stared at him in awe, marveling at how amazing he was. He looked at you with adoration, slightly raising his eyebrows before asking, “well, was the surprise worth it?”

“Oh, absolutely!” You leaned forward, throwing your arms around his neck. He was taken aback by your sudden affection, but quickly wrapped his arm that was not propping him up around your waist.

You leaned back, adjusting your seating position as Tom began to help you dish up some food. He was blushing as he served the food, taking a second to present it nicely before handing it to you.

“Thank you.” You said, and the two of you ate your food in solace.

—

Now is my chance, Tom thought to himself. You two were laying on the blanket, your chest on his. His hand rested on the small of your back, your leg wrapped over his. It was almost so peaceful than you nearly dozed off, listening to the bubbling water and to the sounds of birds. He could feel your heartbeat slowing down, your breathing becoming softer and slower, and he began to tense up. He didn’t want to take a nap now, he wanted to kiss you, and he was becoming tense that it wasn’t going to plan.

I know, I’ll just lightly nudge her and then when she wakes up I’ll kiss her, he thought.

Before he could even wake you up, you had done so yourself, carefully rolling off of him and onto your back. You bent your knees, feet flat on the ground as you carefully got up.

“Tommy, I wanna go explore.” You declared, standing up and holding your hand out for him to grab.

You have got to be kidding me, he thought, I was just about to kiss you.

“Okay, let’s go explore.” He held onto your hand as the two of you walked around the park. He was still having a good time, but he had really wanted to make a move. A few quiet minutes had passed, filled with loving side glances and quick banter, until you spotted something in the distance.

“Oh my gosh, look!” You exclaimed. Tom looked over to what you were pointing at, which was a flock of peacocks about a few metres away.

“I’m gonna go pet one.” You said, swiftly letting go of his hand and walking towards them.

“Don’t you dare.” He shouted, and watched as you walked up a hill and towards the peacocks. He observed you from a safe distance, close enough to help you but far enough away from the excitement. Carefully you got about two metres way from the small flock, but when you went to grab your phone they started walking towards you.

Instinctively you took a step back, but they were starting to charge at you. You nearly tripped walking backwards to get away as they got closer, fear setting in. Flight or fight instinct kicked in, causing you to dart down the hill.

“Tom!” Was all he heard as he saw you flying down the hill, running towards him as four peacocks chased after you.

He didn’t even have time to laugh as you grabbed his hand and ran to the other side of the lake. Luckily they didn’t follow you any longer and left you alone, but it was still hilarious.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Tom smirked as you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah well whatever.” You bent forward, placing your hands on your knees, in an effort to catch your breath. “You know,” you exhaled, “I figured that would happen.”

“You good though?” Tom asked, watching as you waved your hand up at him.

“Yep, all good.” You stood back up, gaining your composure. “Let’s take a walk.” You added, Tom nodding his head in agreement.

The next hour was spent exploring, marveling at the various things the park had. You both walked through the maze of flowers that were in a row, strolling as you stopped and smelled some of the tulips and daisies. Tom was always in awe of you, watching as you giggled about a ladybug on your finger, and how pretty the flowers were.

It was around dusk as you two strolled, hand in hand. It was colder now than it was when you arrived, so you leaned into Tom a bit more. You both walked back to your original picnic spot, to gather up your belongings. As he began to move the basket to fold the blanket, you stopped him.

“Wait,” you placed your hand on his arm, prompting him to stop.

“Yes?” He asked.

“Can we watch the sunset, please?”

“Of course, I’d love that.” He sat down, watching you sit down next to him as well.

Wanting some warmth, you leaned your head on his shoulder. He put his arm around your waist, gently pulling you a bit closer to him. Your thighs and shoulders were touching, and you leaned into his touch further. He rested his head carefully on yours as you watched the sunset together.

The sky was golden with shades of pink and orange blending together in the sky. There was one cloud in the sky that was vaguely shaped like a heart, which Tom took as a sign that he was meant to kiss you now. 

Finally, here’s my chance, he thought. He lifted his head from yours, turning his head to look at you. The golden light bounced off your features delicately and made you look glowing. He looked at your lips, noting how the light reflected off it and made them look softer.

You felt Tom staring at you, and you looked up to see what it was. Before you could ask him what was up, he looked down at your lips and then back at your eyes.

“Love, um...” he trailed off, scanning your features.

“Yes?” You gulped.

“Can I, um, please kiss you?” He asked nervously.

You smiled. “Of course.”

“Hold on, I want this to be perfect.” He moved from your side to in front of you, so that it would be more comfortable than turning your head to the side. You saw him fidget as he tried to sit in the most comfortable position, as he struggled to think of the best way to go about this.

This went on for a few seconds longer, him shuffling around. You grew impatient, so you grabbed the neckline of his shirt and gently tugged him closer to you. You grabbed his face, cupping his face in your hands and placed your lips on his. He was taken aback by your display of affection, but after a second kissed you back. Your lips were interlocked, your bottom lip in the middle of his, gently laced together. His lips tasted faintly like mint chapstick and chocolate from the chocolate covered strawberries you both had consumed earlier, and were soft and smooth.

Pulling away slowly, you could feel his warm breath, a stark juxtaposition from the chilled air surrounding you. You felt him smile against your lips, him gently leaning into place a soft kiss against your smiling lips.

“Wow,” was all you could say as you two pulled apart, cheeks blushed.

“Well,” he paused, “was it a good first kiss?”

“Good’s an understatement, that was amazing.” You smiled, giggling as he leaned into kiss you again.

— —

mes anges (taglist): @scarletxwidow @sunflowerhollands @fangirlwithasweettooth @taciturnspidey @lmaotshollandd​ @musicalkeys​ @harrysleftchelseaboot​ @quaksonhehe​

[kingsofneon]

Kink ask--omorashi/piss kinks? (No specific characters or ships in mind, but if you have hcs about it, you'd have my full attention.)

No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |

okay, look, okay. LOOK. okay. im. very specific abt this one. because A LOT butts right up against me being like Yo that’s Unsanitary. But. I really like this one really specific part of it in like a REALLY INTENSE WAY

just.

like.

the aspect of humiliation in really needing to go and being told not to, squirming as they try and be good or hold themselves back because it feels good to be fucked full while already needy, wanting to concentrate on. being fucked but also so desperate that they can’t concentrate?

and then the relief of being able to go, to let go as asked, the satisfaction of release OR. the humiliation of not being able. to hold it. being debased for making a mess.

eeeeverything else I’m kinda eh/iffy on but. that. gets to me.

(i have headcanons but they’re going under a readmore kdjdj bc otherwise im just gonna have to DIE :) )

mainly i think sabo is into it. smacks itself right into his humiliation kink and he went Oh No and that was it, as soon as he realised it was a kink he couldnt stop thinking about the fact that he often feels really good if he consciously holds back the urge.

he used to get distracted and not pee but then like. after finding out it was an actual kink he pays More Attention to when he has to pee like ‘ i cannot be into this’

but no shocker he is

anyway, scenario of ace/mar finding out is probs smth like, sabo distracting himself on purpose because he does have to get this stuff done but it’s pretty lowkey?

and he doesnt realise koala Knows they have free time and has called his bfs for a surprise (we can say it’s near his birthday so she’s decided she can be nice. as a treat.)

so he’s a little needing-it, but not super there, just an edge at the back of his mind, when ace comes in and puts his hands over sabo’s eyes and is like guess who~

“there’s two guesses, by the way, yoi”

and sabo is like oh!

ofc he first has to tamp down the urge to slam his elbow into ace’s stomach, bc he thought she was koala at first, and he’s trying to say like,  Do Not Sneak Up on him, but thgen he’s like wait it’s my boyfriend being cute. we will allow it....

and he gets to turn around and ace still has his hands over sabo’s eyes and gives him a kiss and he’s like. trying not to smile because. he loves them. and it’s really nice to be surprised like this. Normally he has to go visit them instead, they don’t often get to see him.

a Moment of makeouts and soft grinding and physical affection and then Ace is like you should show us around the base!!

and sabo’s like I could show you my bedroom? (eyes emoji)

but Marco just grins at him and he’s like “nahhh, we have time for that later.”

Sabo wants to groan at his cheese but he’s also like okay Fine, dork. Because. he does just like spending time with them and he wasnt super riled up

but.

it does mean

he totally forgot that he needed to piss

it isn’t until an hour later that it suddenly comes back with a vengeance, and sabo’s like ah shit. I had like a fuckton of water. And they’re. hmmm. maybe half-way on a hike or smth? sabo is showing them the revo dock. bc normally the two of them fly in lmao (makes it easier to hide their connection, if Marco flies them both in)

and also the dock is pretty and leads into a beach and it’s disguised as a abandoned fishing town/tourist trap, so he thought they’d like it.

and they do, if the fact that Ace hasn’t stopped grinning, is anything to go by. he just. also. needs to pee. and ace’s smile needs to stop distracting him.

but ace keeps dragging him around and he doesn’t want to say anything, so he’s like nah! it’s gonna be totally fine! We can stop for some food or snacks and I’ll just have a moment to myself then.

but also he’s trying not to get a little turned on. aching to go, and also, thinking about how humiliating it’d be, for his boyfriends to see him hard when they’re just hanging out for kicks, or how nice but confused they’d be, if Sabo accidentally-

and he stops the thought RIGHT THERE because he absoLUTELY cannot live if he thinks about that, and indulges that fantasy, and then Marco places the back of his hand against sabo’s forehead and he’s like huh??

“You look really flushed, Sabo,” Marco says, frowning at him. And it’s an Actual Frown, not a teasing frown. “I think you’re getting sunburnt.”

Sabo spluttering a protest but then Ace drags him into the shade of some rocks and. well. it does actually feel a lot better in the shade, but now that he’s stopped he just. can’t distract himself. pressing his thighs together but trying to look natural, Marco and Ace just chatting and it is Totally Normal he absolutely isn’t desperate to pee, feeling it throb and-

oh shit, oh fuck, that was definitely a leek, Sabo can feel it, the sudden release of tension rocketing through him, feeling so good, and he gives a tiny, sharp little gasp and bites his lip and Marco / Ace are like "Sabo? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” and they’re just touching him, Ace trying to pick away at his coat to see if he’s injured, Marco feeling for a temperature and then at his neck for a pulse, and Sabo’s skin is singing at their touch, at their care, the lingering trace of their fingertips, and he grabs Marco’s laps and grits his teeth and he’s like

“Look, I just really need to pee.”    

“Then....just go?” Ace suggests, looking at him with a confused frown, and oh god Sabo’s now just imagining if Ace actually meant it the way Sabo’s brain suddenly leapt to, for Sabo to just go, piss staining his crotch and trickling down his leg to pool on the sand, and Sabo can just imagine how good it would feel if he-

“Oh,” says Marco, cupping his cheek. Sabo will not look at them, but he can absolutely feel how red-hot his cheeks get under Marco’s touch, under the weight of that tone.

“You don’t wanna go, do you, Sabo?” he says carefully, and Ace makes an even more confused sounding huh? next to them. “You just like- feeling like you have to. Is that right?”

“Shut upppp,” Sabo hisses, and Ace is like, computing next to him, and Sabo is so so so embarrassed and so fucking turned on that he’s hard as shit and they haven’t even touched him

wow! great! at least he can’t pee with his dick hard as fuck! but also!

he needs to spontaneously combust in embarrassment

“Oh it’s a kink!” goes Ace, and his eyes dart so fucking obviously to Sabo’s dick and Sabo kinda wants to cover himself but that’s an even more obvious move than Ace seeing his stupid erection and Why is this his Life

Except. Ace is kissing his cheek. And pressing himself against Sabo and sneaking his hand into Sabo’s pants, and Marco is backing him up against the wall. and he’s got a knee between Sabo’s legs for Sabo to grind on.

“Wha-?” he says, knowing now he’s the one who sounds like a confused idiot, and Marco just cocks his head and looks at him

“It is a kink, right? You like this?”

“I- I mean- I don’t-” and both of them are paused & staring at him and his cheeks are aflame as he manages a jagged nod, and then Marco gives him a quick kiss and when he pulls back Ace is just like

“Well if you like it then we can try it out.” and he shrugs like it’s fucking simple, like Sabo hasn’t been super embarrassed this entire time and it settles in him (they love you) and then Marco’s hand reaches out and he fucking presses on Sabo’s bladder and Sabo gasps, needy and pained, yanking Marco’s shirt as he tries to close his legs further, tries to stop that ache, feeling himself shudder. And ace just grins and is like, “I mean, it is pretty hot seeing you squirm like this.”

👌 👌 👌 

and then they make out with him, hot and heavy, and when they finally jerk him off, his pants still around his hips and dick out, Marco then just presses on his bladder again and tells him not to pee but it’s too fucking late and Sabo sobs in relief at being able to piss.

So fucking humiliated at Ace & Marco watching him, loose and boneless from his orgasm, but also. they’re watching, watching him make a mess, watching him piss on the sand because he couldn’t hold it back any longer, and he can feel himself getting turned on again as the relief mixes with that preening sense of humiliation and exhibitionism.  ️

anyway 4 basic headcanons i kinda think Marco doesn’t really get it/isnt interested in trying it but he likes seeing Sabo desperate. He’s already very good at knowing what will humiliate sabo, this is just another tool in his arsenal, one that used by itself is more than enough to get sabo worked up and crying. he likes. seeing sabo cry.

ace has tried it a couple of times and sorta sees where Sabo’s coming from? but he likes being told he’s a good boy for holding it, for drinking when he’s told, he likes the control aspects more than the humiliation aspects, and sabo likes wetting himself and being mocked but ace is always ): when he “fails”.

AND THOSE ARE MY THOUGHTS AND NOW I NEED TO GO DIE, BYE :)