#which for like sturdiness/actually staying on their body as a plush it will just be a tshirt/dress thing kinda instead of a hospital gown

[loverdude]

I think I have bought most of the supplies I will need to make Carrie plush become real 😈

[aziraphales-library]

hello there !!! i hope ur having a lovely day :) i was wondering if you had any fics that included aziraphale's golden angel marks ? thanks!

Hi! Here are some fics which explore Aziraphale's golden angel markings...

Wants by what_a_writer_wields (G)

Crowley and Aziraphale hold each other and remind each other that all they want is each other.

Neither Will I by Depressedstressedlemonzest (NR)

Aziraphale and Crowley get to spend some cuddly time together, just appreciating each others company and touch. Crowley loves touching all of Aziraphale especially his plush tummy.

Suppose to be my light (and keep me safe) by 5ftjewishcactus (G)

Following the not end of the world, Aziraphale and Crowley adjust to being on their side and being able to finally be together. One evening while curled together in the bookshop, Crowley realizes that Aziraphale glows. Aziraphale confesses that he's always been able to glow whenever he's happy, but he's usually hid it out of fear. Now that he's free to, Aziraphale begins glowing more around Crowley when they're alone. Crowley also finds ways to make his angel happy to encourage his happy glowing. Eventually, they both grow closer and Aziraphale becomes comfortable enough to show Crowley his golden stretch marks along his plump skin.

Scales And Gold And Wings And Scars by die_traumerei (T)

Happily retired to the South Downs, Crowley and Aziraphale take a day's holiday to go swimming and picnicking. And to see each other's true earthly corporations for the first time, angel marks and scales and all. A great deal of love and body-worship inevitably follows.

If You Like by sleepymccoy (M)

i saw a tumblr post discussing Aziraphale's surprise when Crowley did the whole, "you can stay at my place if you like," bit on the bench and it sent me in a tailspin writing this. Cos if Aziraphale's surprised at that small a kindness, how in the fuck did he come around to accepting sending Crowley into Heaven on his behalf in like a day?? This is me exploring that. It's a lot of Aziraphale struggling to throw off his way of handling being emotionally manipulated and actually trusting Crowley, so the early chapters are more angsty but it cheers up

Fractured Heart by Blue_Sparkle (T)

Angels are sturdy beings, but rigid and changeless and not meant to endure grief or loss. When thousands Fall and many more are slain in the Great Rebellion, they either literally break apart...or forget. Aziraphale's only memories of his lost beloved are his lover's skill at creating stars. Memories he cherishes above all else. It complicates matters when his heart starts attaching to a certain demon, but perhaps his time on earth can teach him how to heal.

- Mod D

[selinakidreams]

here’s a lil something for baku (and you) to enjoy on his birthday <3 all apart of the bakugo birthday bash hosted by the lovely @jodrawssmut @phasmwrites @katsukikitten @bakugotrashpanda @lady-bakuhoe @ramen-rambles ! !! thank you guys so much for letting me be apart of this <3

pairing: (established relationship) QUIRKLESS AU kiribaku x fem! reader

word count: 3k+

warnings: alcohol consumption but sober sex, oral (f receiving), mentions of throat fucking, mentions of spit roasting, lots of mentions of spit <3 (and exactly one spit into a mouth), very light degradation, praise

a/n: this is my first time writing with three characters kdjdkdk it’s way out of my comfort zone and I only had 6 days to write it,, but I did it!! trust me I wanted to write more but I actually wanted to make it to baku’s birthday so !! don’t be mad at the endiiiiiiinnnngggg <3

The jazz wafted throughout the empty bar; your silk dress falling from the edge of your seat. It has been a slow night for the bar. You leaned your head into your hand, elbow keeping you sturdy as you swirled the drink around it’s glass cup. 

Your friend's party became a bit too feral for your taste, but you kept your word and stayed as long as you could for the sole purpose of seeing her smile, but then they showed up and you saw yourself out. 

The dim lighting made your eyes droopy with no action to keep your brain going, so you take another swig of your drink before swiveling in your chair to face the other side of the bar. 

Floor to ceiling windows greeted you, giving you the perfect overlook to the twinkling city lights below. It was incredible how your friend could afford a room in this hotel for her party. 

You noticed a movement in the corner of your eye; someone had entered the bar. 

You turn back to face all the expensive drinks displayed on the shelf, the perfect excuse to catch a quick glimpse at him. The contrast of his hair against everything else in the room almost made your eyes pop out of their sockets. 

Platinum blonde hair tufted out like an explosion, a satin red shirt that danced with the warm light of the room, black slacks and from what you could tell, some expensive ass shoes. Too dressy just to be here for some drinks.

Wanting to see more but not willing to fully stare at the man, you signed and waited until it seemed like he got settled on the bar stool before saying, “Is it your party that’s on this floor? It seems like quite the... experience.” 

Your voice came out smooth and velvety to bakugo’s ears, not that he would ever admit it. He scoffed before taking a second to look at the stranger who was daring to talk to him. His first thought settled in his mind and accepted it, almost prompting for silence- waiting to see if you would push to talk to him again.

From what you could tell, he was scanning you up and down. He opened his mouth to say something; his pink plush lips looking extremely inviting as they began to mouth something.

No sound came out for the next few seconds, showing he decided to keep his thoughts to himself. He closed his mouth and took out a phone from his pocket, the screen illuminated his face as he began typing something out. 

With this newfound light, his features became even more alluring- which couldn't be said for most people. Perfect porcelain skin, his profile pointed and devilishly handsome.

He’s well aware that he still held your attention, so when he slid his phone back in his pocket, he responded to your previous question, “yea, that’s the one. I’d rather stick it out instead of hearing them complain about me not going to my own party  for the rest of the week.”

By the end of his sentence, he had a glass of something amber in his hand that seemed to look a lot like whiskey. He didn’t spare you another glance but you could tell he expected to hear a response.

You hummed, slightly nodding your head, “The party I had to go to is upstairs and it’s… a lot. They're all just talking about expensive this and designer that and I couldn't listen to another word so I had to get out of there…” you trailed off at his silence. Noting that the conversation wasn’t going anywhere, you introduced yourself in hopes to continue interacting with him. You knew his type, and you knew in some way, he was going to surprise you. 

“Bakugo Katsuki.” He said in turn.

You slowly nodded before posing another question.

“So Bakugo, not really a party goer?” You attempt to ask, only to get a huff in return.

“not one for small talk either, i see?” You add at the end.

Another few quiet moments go by before he responds

“If I was a party goer, I’d be at my own party wouldn’t I?” He quipped back and your eyebrows shot up as you raised your hands in defense. 

“Well hey, I dunno ! For all I know you could have had a really rough night and this specific bar could be your saving grace. Could possibly use this night to drown your sorrows away behind a whole bottle of what… whiskey?” You say, ushering to his drink before turning to face your own, knowing he probably didn’t like being pegged as such.

“but you wouldn’t do that. You’re a strong man who knows what to do when things get bad, huh?” you continue, sprinkling praise to his dignity. He seemed like the type to prioritize that.

He didn’t do or say much in terms of a response but a small smile grew on your lips seeing how his body suddenly released a bit of the physical tension that was winding up.

You moved a few seats closer to him. If he didn’t like it, he hadn’t said anything. 

“So-'' Interrupted before you could continue the line of questions, Bakugo surprised you by asking, “you think you’re better than your friends? Leaving them and comin’ here to drink alone?” his voice coming out gruff and low.

“No, not one bit. I was the one who planned the whole thing for my friend, it’s just unfortunate that she had to invite all those people who aren’t all that nice to her. I can’t stand them. I’ve told them off more than I can count, but they just brush me off. A group of bullies is one thing, but a group of people who pretends to be friends with you then talks behind your back is another.`` 

Bakugo was quiet, not by astonishment or anger; he seemed to be expressionless as he piped up, “fake people are some of the uglies nobodies out there.”

You turn to look at him before sipping your drink and moving a seat closer. This time Bakugo glanced your way but continued to stay silent. 

“You ever beat someone up?” you ask, resting your chin on your palm, tilting your head towards him.

Your second surprise that night, he chuckled. It was soft, the complete opposite to the demeanor he'd been holding.

“Why? You want me to go in there and beat a few of those assholes up?” his eyes were relaxed by this point, no longer sharp and heavily guarded.

“Only because they don't believe I'm intimidating enough.”

“Maybe because you're not.”

You fake gasped, bringing your other hand up to your heart. “Excuse me sir but I'll have you know that I can be quite the fighter.”

“We’ll see about that.”

You hadn’t realized you got so close to Bakugo until you heard the footsteps nearing you both.  When a handsome voice called out bakugo’s name, you slightly jumped. Putting as much space between the two of you as possible, you looked to the source of the voice. 

Handsome would be an understatement. 

With red bangs that framed his sharp toothy smile perfectly and the rest of his hair tied back in a messy ponytail, this man looked a bit taller than Bakugo with a much warmer aura... but radiated the same type of... manliness. 

“Bakugo, I just got your text- Mina has been dragging me everywhere to make sure your party’s going well. Is this her?” the handsome man asked, a slight indistinguishable gleam flashes in his eye when he looks over to you.

“Yeah, ‘nd i wanna leave now.” he almost pouted before looking over to you. 

“You comin’?” 

Your gaze snapped between the two men, only slightly putting two and two together. 

Red hair spoke up, “He probably didn't explain it well but I'm his boyfriend, Kirishima Eijiro!” he held out his hand cheerfully, listening to your introduction. 

“Not to sound too forward or to make you uncomfortable... but do you wanna come home with us? He texted me earlier saying that there was this hottie in a silk dress and… well…” he trailed off licking his bottom lip as his wandering gaze slowly shifted hungrier, “he wasn't kidding.”

There was a lot happening at once but all that you were thinking was that these two hot men wanted you, and the happy buzz that was coursing through your system couldnt object the offer, so with a quick nod of your head, you were handed a water bottle, guided off of the stool, and into the back of the next taxi they could hail. 

The ride was filled with wandering hands and mischievous looks. Kirishima was whispering naughty promises in Bakugo’s ear that you couldn't quite hear, while your attention focused on the big palm that was making its way to the most heated part of your body. The quick inhales that the blonde took went straight to your core, making you incredibly excited for what the night had to offer. 

As soon as the door swung open, lips were on lips and clothes were coming off. The rush to get to the bedroom was heated and messy but once you all entered the room, there was an intense shift that even you couldn't predict. 

Kirishima spoke first, “So what does my birthday boy want? Does he want to fuck or be fucked?”

With a suck at his teeth, Bakugo knew if he didn’t give an answer soon he’d be met with-

“Better hurry up handsome, or I might just choose for you…” Kirishima hummed, bright crimson eyes hopping on over to meet your gaze, “better yet…”

He was by your side in mere seconds. His huge figure towering over yours, you almost flinched when his bulky fingers grazed up your arm. 

“What if you chose for him?” He purred in your ear loud enough so Bakugo’s ruby eyes found yours. Your name rolled off the red-haired man’s tongue like sweet honey, “go ahead, what do you think he would want more?”

Your gaze flickered between them, you couldn’t tell one or the other’s preferences but if they wanted to use you, they could. 

“How about… Eijiro… you could fuck my throat and Katsuki… could fuck whatever hole he wants?” You ask, the question raising an octave out of uncertainty. 

Kirishima raises an eyebrow towards the man of the hour, slightly amused and completely aroused. 

Bakugo is already smirking,“Atta girl, knows exactly what to say.” 

Kirishima starts to kiss your neck as Bakugo stands in front of you, occupying your lips for the first time that night. 

With one arm wrapped around your waist, he seemed to have rubbed on his boyfriend's bulge before reaching for the zipper of your dress. In turn, the feeling of the Eijiro’s bulge humped your back. 

Whether it was your dress hitting the floor or Katsuki’s tongue slipping in your mouth didn't matter, a sharp gasp escaped your lips, causing Kirishima to chuckle and whisper, “get on the bed, princess.” while Bakugo pulls away from you, a string of spit keeps you connected.

With your gaze lustly hazy, you dreamily make your way to the bed, but not without a little show. Before splaying yourself out on the mattress, you stretch out- almost in the child's pose of yoga except you add a deep arch in your back for the sole purpose of showing off your pretty seamless thong. 

As you reposition yourself, you glance over to the side to find that both men are now only in restricting briefs, eyes glued to your figure, both palming themselves over their boxers. 

Eyes half massed and back flat on the bed, you begin to pout, feeling almost bare without anyone’s hands on you. 

As if on cue, they began to make their way over to you, looking oh so hungry. 

You immediately sat up and swiped your tongue over your bottom lip, pulsating at the prospect of having two seemingly thick dicks at once… but they were still in their boxers. Why?

“Ya have to ask nicely in order to get a treat, you ungrateful slut.” Bakugo growled before taking your jaw in his hand, squishing your cheeks with his fingers. 

“Better yet, beg.” he said with a coldness that heated your core and had your eyes going wide.

Whimpering when he let go, you kept your innocent doe eyes as two sets of starved eyes stared down at you.

“W-wanna get fucked, please. Wanna feel both of you everywhere…” you say as you reach both hands out to palm the silhouette of their bulges. “Please…?” 

There was a “christ” that was muttered out before you were pushed back on the bed by Bakugo, then kirishima manhandled you so that your neck was supported by the edge of the bed, your head mostly hanging off.

Even in the midst of the binding tension, Kirishima didn't hesitate to instruct Bakugo to put a pillow under your hips, the blonde eagerly following through with the demand. 

“How’dyou want Katsuki to prep you, baby? He’s skillful in every sense but he really enjoys using his mouth.” 

The bed shifted and before you could string a thought together, you looked down and lost all ability to think. The sight in front of you was downright sinful. A smirk was pulling at the left corner of his lips as he sunk closer to your clothed pussy, his red gaze now a deep wicked crimson as he watched for your reaction.

You didn't have much time to analyze before a thick hand laced through your hair and ushered your view back to the red head’s now exposed cock. You gulped. 

Not incredibly long, a moderate size but with a juicy girth, Kirishima’s cock had a thick vein trailing up his underside. 

If you could make heart eyes, you're sure that you'd be doing them by now. 

Focused on paying attention to his pretty pink weeping tip, you felt your panties being pushed to the side. As tempting as it was to look down, you kept your sights set on the task at hand. Licking and kissing his cock, mixing your saliva with his precum, you earned a guttural groan from the big man above you, encouraging you to do more, please him more- until a warm muscle was met with your sopping core, causing a high gasp of a vibration to hit Kirishima’s head. 

Your mind stopped reeling for a second- it stopped doing anything to be frank. Your hips mindlessly thrust up in attempts to get more of Bakugo’s mouth. He chuckled against you in response.  

Moans bounced off the walls the deeper you guys got with each arousing movement; slurps coming from your’s and Bakugo’s mouth were the loudest noises in the room- that was until you moved down to pay the much needed attention to Kirishima’s balls. He couldn't seem to take it when you began sucking and fondling, moaning about how full he looked. He let out an obscene whine that you couldn’t believe came from him but when Bakugo pulled his lips from around your clit, you followed the noise with a similar one.

Unlike Kirishima who had stayed still, you tried to push Bakugo’s face back down out of lack of patience. Somewhere along the lines, the dominating rolls have switched, but you couldn't really find it in yourself to trace back to when that happened.

 “You really are a fighter, huh?” he chuckled out before adding, “quit whining shitty hair, you’ll get to fuck her throat once I’m done eating.” 

And with that, he dove right back in, causing you to clench around nothing yet and arch your back to get impossibly closer. In turn, your gaze caught the big desperate pleading eyes looking down at you, nearly begging you to do something... 

You were so dizzy with pleasure that you murmured  a mindless, “I didn't forget about you Eijiro.”,  before using your hands to guide his cockhead back into your mouth to coat it in your saliva then pulling off and spreading it down the rest of his length. He bit his lip and let out a cute “mmph!”, which went straight to your abused core. Wanting to hear more, you began to pump his shaft with your messy fist. 

With everything going on, you didn’t realize how built up you were. At an astounding rate, your climax crashed over you, making you shriek against Kirishima's dick as you attempted to cage Bakugo’s head in with your thighs. What pushed you even further was the death grip Katsuki had on your thighs and the sinful sounds he was making while lapping away at your juices. 

Your hands shot from Kirishima’s cock down to grip Bakugo’s hair, freeing your mouth to pant out breathy praises and a whiney “Katsuki!”.

“Fuck,” Bakugo groaned as he came up from your pelvis once you’ve relaxed, whipping your juices from off of his chin with the back of his hand. 

“Kiri, c’mere, you gotta try this,” he said before pulling his boyfriend in for a kiss over your slumped body. Watching their lips meet and seeing Kirishima’s tongue slip into his lover’s mouth sent a dull throb to your core, even moreso when Kirishima sighed into the kiss while his cock twitched upwards, close to your face. 

When they pulled away, Bakugo gave one more little peck to Kirishima before looking down at you with a mischievous grin. You mentally gather yourself and sit up, already ready to be told what to do next.

“Open up, sweet cheeks.”

You did as you were told with your tongue out on display, unintentionally closing your eyes as a sweet little “aaah” came out on instinct. 

The spit hit your tongue dead on and you had to refrain from automatically swallowing. 

A low whisper about how good you were to Katsuki pulled him out of his daze, his eyes darting away from the new wetness on your tongue. 

“Swallow, slut.” and so you did.

“You're right Kiri, she is such a good girl…  Are you ready to get fucked stupid as your prize?” was the last thing you remember before both of them did exactly that.

[supremeinlilac]

Hurt me once

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x Fem!Reader

Prompt: Hurt me once- Ben Platt, also there will be a Mina one too :))

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Cheating, lying, basically Billie is how I imagine some celebrities in reality tv to be like, so soz.

Maybe you were reading into it too much. Since Billie had started dating you, you’d wanted to pull away from working for her and get your own job on the pretence that you could never be equal if you worked as her assistant day in and day out. You supposed you’d brought it upon yourself.

She still needed an assistant. Her job was demanding and stressful so of course she’d rehire. You’d been naïve to think any differently.

“No one can replace you.” She’d purred when you’d admitted to wanting to quit. Assuring that you’d been her best help to date.

She was lying.

You’d tried to remain focus in work but Billie Dean Howard had this addicting aura about her person and you couldn’t help but become distracted. Especially when she’d aim flirty remarks and winks with pinpoint precision at you. Like a lamb to slaughter you were set up to fail.

She’d taken you to watch a drive in movie for your first date. Huddled together under blankets on the plush of her backseat. It had been an action, the name escapes you now; but at the time you’d been far more aware of the way the light from the screen caught against her skin instead of the actual film.

The way she’d catch you staring and the signature cocky grin would form, tongue poking into her cheek as she pulled you closer. Under the stars that night you’d felt her lips for the first time, the moon a perfect witness. Stark and full above you, beaming down in chords of silvery light.

Naturally, it became routine for the moon to bare witness to such moments. For you both to come together under the pale light and either dance or watch another movie. The moon was hers, delicately and wholly and irrevocably hers.

You can’t look at the moon now without feeling the need to howl at it like a wolf does. For the moon had stolen Billie from you. The moon was no longer a thing you shared alone.

Billie took her new assistant to a drive in theatre.

It rained. The sky cried and protested like a petulant child because it should have been you. It should have been you there, huddled together under blankets on the plush of her backseat. Instead of throwing a tantrum, you told yourself that she was just being kind. Billie Dean was kind. Annoyingly so, in this case.

You told yourself that she didn’t realise that doing that was your thing, something that you did together. It was special. A rare pearl lodged in the mouth of a clam, the gem that you were lucky to have had. Had. Had you lost it, was its touch fleeting? Inevitably drawn back after being loaned so cruelly?

You started to notice the little ways Billie was pulling away. At least, you thought she was pulling away. Little landmines that were buried under your feet, growing and ticking dangerously, waiting for you to lose balance and fall. Triggering them. A looming explosion.

Billie would eat with her production team after long scheduled days of filming, she’d message you fleetingly with wordless apologies for her absence, and slip into bed after you slept. She never saw the tears that would stain the skin of your cheeks. At least you hoped she didn’t notice them, because she never mentioned it, and you’d prefer her to be ignorant to it than to ignore your pain.

She’d started to take her phone calls on the porch, leaving the dinner table with only a motion to the ringing to say where she was going. She’d mouth that she’d be back in a minute but you’d always have to reheat her food. Eating alone with the silhouette of your lover in the window had become the regular, leaving an uneasy feeling in your gut which you couldn’t seem to shake.

It seemed like you’d forgotten how to read her face.

No. You’d always been able to sense her mood by the twitch of a lip or the furrow of a brow, could know what she was thinking without even having to try.

It struck you that maybe that was only the case because she was letting you, an open book, the tells of her mood bright against the curves of her face. The book was no longer open, fragile pages torn in an attempt to hide the contents. The library of Billie Dean’s emotions padlocked and closed to you.

At the back of your mind however, you knew that you could still read her like you always had been able to. A feeble attempt to disguise the fact that you could see the words strewn carefully across the page, so clearly in front of you. But you don’t like what you read, instead feigning oblivion rather than face the truth.

It was red to love Billie Dean.

Passionate and fuelled, excitement sparking your muscles involuntarily. It was hot, blushed faces between silken sheets. The feeling one gets as the rollercoaster reaches its peak, and hovers just over the edge, dipping so you can see the fall. Your breath hitches in your throat and for a moment you feel like you might live forever, stay in this moment and this safety with Billie.

But a moment doesn’t last forever.

And then it’s dropping. Falling, falling. You reach out to grasp for something sturdy but fingers only close around the fragments of memories that you’re losing. Moments you won’t experience again. And your breath draws in a way that is painful, burning down to your lungs. Red. Fire. Dangerous.

For it was dangerous to love Billie Dean.

You knew it all too well.

You’d read the suggestive articles about the mysterious, nameless new girl that clung to Billie’s arm, sheltered by the umbrella she’d once used to protect you from the rain.

Now, you’d dance fearlessly under it with closed eyes and a head tilted to the sky. Welcoming the rain from your apologetic moon. For your moon was panoptic, it saw your pain and her infidelity, sending shards of silver regret.

You wanted the looming explosion to be destructive. To be angry and snapping and make her understand that she’d hurt you with inexistent loyalty when yours had been unwavering.

But the explosion wasn’t big. It wasn’t sudden and angry, a dog snarling and baring steak knives for teeth, loud and frothing at the mouth. Looking back you wished it had been, it would have been easier to hate her, to blame her.

Hating Billie Dean Howard was impossible. Even the people with the least humility would sooner blame themselves, sinking and struggling beneath the waves themselves lest have Billie drown.

You found yourself drawing back into yourself, a child curled into itself in the corner, a small animal frantic to take up the least space possible. You shrunk, imploding instead of exploding. Crippling hatred gnawed at your skin, vultures picking your body clean and leaving it to rot in the burning sun.

Doubt crushes your ribs to ash, filling your lungs and mixing with blood to a paste no amount of coughing will clear. It was deep and bruising, and you knew that not even Billie’s empty reassurance wouldn’t settle the ache.

The night you confronted Billie played in your mind like a broken cassette, looping the scene, a single jumping moment on display endlessly.

You’d been crying. Billie hadn’t turned up for the dinner you’d made for your anniversary, well she’d showed, hours later and stumbling through the door. She’d been drinking and the curve of her lips was smudged with a crimson lipstick under the moonlight.

Your moonlight.

You couldn’t remember a time when Billie Dean had worn red lipstick. Hooker lipstick, as she’d once said. The fact only made the tears run anew.

Her intoxication made it easier. Perhaps you’d be able to vent and cry and confess to her and she wouldn’t remember come the morning. The spirits in the walls would remind her though, whispers and taunts in sobriety.

You wanted to be big and angry, pushing back against her when her actions cut you, hurting and scarring her back. But you were kinder than her. Billie was kind but she had nothing on you.

You’d stood, bags packed in a pile by the door, and she’d sat. You’d cried, and she didn’t. She didn’t even speak until you made to leave, didn’t move until it was to cling onto your wrists in a frantic effort to keep you.

“Did you sleep with her?” You found yourself asking without even registering your words. You hadn’t planned on being so direct.

“Y/n, listen to me. I-”

“Did you, sleep with her?” Ignoring her, you spoke. Slower, punctuating and almost spitting your words at her, as if keeping them against your tongue would do more damage.

“Once, yes. But she’s not you.” Billie said, slender fingers reaching to pull at the pearls around her neck, instead of reaching to you.

You found yourself backing away again, struck anew at her final admission. Somehow it hurt more to hear her confirm what you already knew to be true. Like when you know someone to be dying, yet it only really hits you when they’re gone. When it’s too late to change anything.

“I don’t know why I did it, I just-” her voice trailed off, hands hitting out at nothing. Slumping onto the sofa, you mirrored her movement, perching yourself tentatively on the arm of the coach.

Your eyes flitted from her form to the door, the escape should you need it. Should youchoose it.

“You did it because you could, Billie.” You breathed, knuckles pressing at your temple to ease an impending migraine. Fighting with Billie always gave you a headache, it was a headache to get your point across when she’d ceased to listen. “I mean I get it, it’s exciting. Young girls like me, fawning. You feel, I don’t know? Appreciated, flattered?”

You knew that it was commonplace among celebrities like Billie, to chain date young girls who fed into their egos and made them feel young. Billie didn’t speak for a while, head in her hands and knees knocking together while you forced yourself to not watch her, eyes fixing instead on the way the curtains sways slightly with the open window. Even the curtains ached to free themselves.

“Look. I’m sorry, I swear.” Her voice thawed, defensiveness gone and replaced with a vulnerability she rarely let herself show. You wrung your hands in your lap and stared at the way they whitened with pressure. Your lungs felt like that, blood pressed out with the crushing doubt, a band wrapped around your ribs. You almost reached a hand up to your chest to help you breathe.

She stood, reaching into the cabinet drawer and retrieving a packet of cigarettes and flicking one between her fingers. She didn’t light it. What would be the point of creating more of a separating fog between you both? Instead, she just fiddled with it, a nervous tic.

“Can we still be in love?” She pleaded, eyes shining and you screwed yours tight as to not be lost to the depths of them. Her eyes were your weakness, and she knew it. You’d once told her that you thought you’d seen the man on the moon, reflected in them. The man on the moon, dancing on a music box in her eyes.

“I don’t know you. Your voice, it’s different.” The shake of your head and the riddle of your words had the medium narrowing her eyes in confusion. For one who loved to play games, Billie wasn’t playing fair.

“What do you mean? Different how?”

Frustration bit at you, and you wondered if this was the explosion people spoke of. An internal understanding of grief for something you never had.

“I can’t with you Billie! Did you ever even love me? You say you want to be in love but were you ever in love with me? What makes me different from the others?” The chime of the music box, opened and singing in the splash of your tears.

She sighed, tying her hair loosely behind her head to stop her from running her hands through it in anguish. She didn’t like to see you in pain knowing she was the one who’d caused it. Unjustly caused it. Guilt washed smoothly over her only now at the sight of her baby girl, a small ache in the gut. But the realisation hit like a winter wave in a storm. She’d lose you if she didn’t fight to keep you.

She reached out to wipe your tears with a comforting hand.

“Let me in. Please.”

Who were you to seek comfort in the person who’d broken you? Much alike to a shadow seeking solace with the sun, the sun that burned and cut through the shade. Prey looking to please the predator.

But you did. You craved the musk of smoke that would cling to her clothes, the rasp to her voice in the morning. The suggestive lilt to her eyebrow when she’d dress you in her favourite dress, dancing in an empty crowd because she used to only see you.

“I love you.” She begged; voice hoarse from overuse. “You’re a part of me.”

That made you stop. Made you question.

Who were you without her? Billie Dean Howard, medium to the stars. She was a light, cutting through the dangerous darkness a path forged for you. The darkness was exciting and inviting and you wanted to be comfortable in its depths, but without her you are nothing.

You sell your soul for the chance at happiness. For the hope that she may learn to love you properly, how you love, and deserve to be loved back. To walk in the light.

You tell yourself how easy it would be to leave the city and find peace elsewhere. Get a steady job in television production, a steady and reliable wage. Reliability. Billie had made you crave it. Crave it from her, selfishly asking for something that you aren’t even sure if she’s capable to give you.

But you're ensnared in her trap. Her charm and confidence has bound you on a tether, an obedient puppy just looking to please. Young and impressionable.

How could you settle for a simple life when Billie had shown you the city from the highest building. Made you watch as the lights illuminated the world below in perfect technicolour. She’d shown you what could be, what was destined to not to be, but what you’d reach for nonetheless.

You’d known about Billie’s previous proclivities toward girls your age, but you’d believed that you could change her. Naively, you, another wide eyed, hopeful wannabee, believed you could make her settle down. Stupid. She’d lain with dozens of girls like you, before you, and she would lay with dozens more.

This realisation did nothing to stop you from letting her back in, agreeing to her empty promise of change.

Was change even possible?

She was Billie Dean Howard, the stars. The stars could make deals with the people of Earth, but they could not bargain in return. You can’t catch a star and claim it as your own. She held all the cards, all the choices while you remained empty. Without her, you were nothing.

You let yourself be engulfed by the stars. Opening your arms for her warmth to invade you once again as she pulled you into a hug. Letting yourself be hers again.

But you’d always been hers, ever since she’d strode, cocky and confident, into your life. You didn’t think that she’d ever truly been yours, or ever would.

Billie Dean Howard held the unpredictability of a tornado’s spin, and people got caught up in her exciting whirlwind. You weren’t sure if she really meant for them to, or if she realised the damage she left in her wake. Travelling from place to place, never looking back.

It was a defence mechanism the job forced upon her. But who was defending you?

“No second chances.” You warned her through gritted teeth, chin propped against her shoulder. She couldn’t see the angry tears that pricked at your eyes, anger at her, at yourself. You’d been reminded of the dangers over and over and yet you still allowed yourself to fall victim to her charm.

“I won’t need one, I promise. I swear I won’t,” Billie reassured, palms rubbing up your back and making you shiver involuntarily. You clutched her blouse in trembling fingers, perhaps if you held on strong enough your bones might turn to ash in her grasp and she’d be the one to mourn. You convinced yourself she wouldmourn.

“I can’t do this again.” Truth.

“I won’t do this again.” Lie.

She hummed, accepting your whispers as truth, for who was Billie Dean Howard to question you? Who was she to take your love for granted and render it infinite? Fame did not mean she was entitled to your loyalty if she refused to give hers.

Billie wasn’t stupid, she knew it wasn’t a game she could win without consequences. She couldn’t have it all. Wouldn’t have it all.

“I love you.” A kiss against skin mottled by tears.

You didn’t say it back, she didn’t deserve it yet. Despite wanting to let your lips form the words, your teeth bit down on your tongue and refused for the phrase to drip demurely from it, she had not yet earned the nectar of your spoken love.

Instead; you let Billie believe that you would have actually left. That you would leave next time.

Not that you wouldn’t have eventually, when you finally broke the spell she had over you, being the television star that she is. You loathed that you would forgive her for hurting you so easily, self-respect forgotten in lieu of kissing under the gentle moon once more.

You were ashamed that you were proud of the fact that she could do anything and you’d still be in love with her. You’d chosen her, your colour sealed with the crimson blood that coursed through your veins.

Red was once your favourite colour, wasn’t it?

taglist: @pearplate @billiedeansbottom @pluied-ete @okpaulson @extraordinarilycelestrial @mssallymckenna @magnificent-paulsonn @shineestark @commanderspeach @grilledcheeseandguavajelly @darling-dontforgetme @amethyst-bitch @its-soph-xx @germansarechill @bluesxrgnt @d14n4ol @ninaahs @sarahp-stan @natasha-danvers @imgayandmymomdoesntknow @lovelypeasantjellyfish @rainbow-hedgehog @paulawand @saucy-sapphic @lilypadscoven @citizenoftheworld-stuff-blog @sapphicsarahpaulson @delias-bitch-craft @venablemayfairgoode @loverofallthingssarah @music-addict ,,if you want to be added, give me a shout :))

[emerald-amidst-gold]

Random fic ask! Is there a favorite scene that you are particularly proud of in your fics? If so, which one is it?

Hello, nony! Thanks for the ask! Rambling about my stories is on a whole different level than rambling about individual characters for me! It's like utilizing the rubber duck technique! :D

So, this took me a bit since I have about three scenes I'm especially proud of due to structure and just overall dialogue, but this one particular scene from a five chapter drabble that was my first dip into smut has to be my absolute favorite. I legit re-read it to help me remember how to write. Honestly. XD

***

“Aterian..”, Solas called out to the sleeping man once again, voice a touch louder this time as he leaned down to lay a light kiss against a freckled cheek. “..Come. Open your eyes for me.”

As if his words were some kind of command, Fane’s glimmering emerald eyes cracked open, albeit slightly, a hazy cloud of deep sleep masking the usual brilliance of liquid-like gold. Solas smiled more at that as he pulled back slightly to connect their gazes.

“Good morning, ma vhenan.”, Solas greeted the barely awake Elvhen dragon softly, stroking Fane’s cheek with a thumb. “Sleep well?”

Fane leaned into his touch easily before emerald eyes slipped shut once more, the curtain of sleep threatening to shade a draconic mind from the waking world once more. Solas chuckled with fond exasperation at that before moving his hand to cup the side of Fane’s head, brushing his fingers against the dragon’s pointed ear. Yes--this would be a battle, or more appropriately, a war .

“My dragon, I know you dislike early mornings, but this way, we have more time to ourselves before duties begin anew.”, Solas attempted to coax with a sweeter tone before leaning down further to lay a light, but loving kiss against slightly frowning lips.

The kiss had been a mistake, Solas realized because before he could sit himself back up, a heavy, muscled arm came up to gently yank him down. He let out a soft noise of surprise and confusion before feeling the softness of the bed he was now pinned down against, his face going blank. He was losing ground in this war already. That would not do.

“Aterian.”, Solas said with a fond, but warning tone, face still deadpan as he looked up at Fane, who’s own face was down turned into a slight frown. At least he had managed an expression to appear. A small victory.

Fane merely snorted sleepily, presumably at his tone of voice, before emerald eyes opened once more - a bit more this time as flecks of gold began to shine from the rising sun outside.

“Mm?”, Fane hummed out in question, finally deigning to acknowledge him as the arm that had yanked Solas down closed in to hug him close.

“It is time to get up.”, Solas repeated calmly, attempting to dislodge himself from Fane’s embrace with little success as his body still felt heavier than a lead weight, and from the sheer strength of the man responsible for that predicament in the first place. “Fane.”, he warned once more, pulling out his heart’s other name for a harsher effect.

“Mm-hm. I ‘eard ya the..first time..”, Fane’s voice finally eked out in a growl gruff with sleep, eyelids slowly slipping shut once more as he buried his face into the plush pillow more.

“Then you should be attempting to rise.” A warm feeling of affection filling Solas’s heart at the precious sight before him. He would never say it to Fane’s face, but his heart could be rather adorable at times with some of his softer habits. Fane’s grumpy attitude in the mornings was just one of those many soft spots.

“Mm-hm..” Another absent hum leaking out from slightly frowning lips as he watched Fane begin to drift away once more.

“Fane.”

“Solas, shut. the. fuck. up..”

Solas couldn’t help a small smile at Fane’s childish attitude. While his dragon did tend to wake up at the crack of dawn most days, that didn’t mean Fane actually enjoyed it. It was simply a routine for him. Years of living with a Dalish clan, and endless roaming practically warranted such a routine as hunts were best done in the early morning. It was a routine that only seemed to worsen with his role as the Inquisitor, however - the ancient man staying up far too late to pour over reports as well as his own research surrounding his kin while still attempting to help Solas, even if before this, he had lightly diverted the eager dragon. It was also a routine Solas knew was never broken unless Fane was exhausted , and judging by the way the large man was literally fighting to stay awake told him that that was the case this particular morning. Then again, they had indulged in various ways last night.

Perhaps, too indulgent, but I would not change what happened for anything. He thought with a warmer smile, eyes tracing the strong, but graceful contours of Fane’s face as they laid next to each other. He let out another quiet, fond sigh at the memory of emotional and physical connection before shifting closer to Fane’s muscled frame, laying a soft kiss against a bold jaw.

Well, what was the harm in a few minutes more? He would surrender in this war for just a few..

“Ma’isenatha..”, Solas purred out quietly, trailing more kisses along before gripping a pointed chin gingerly to direct Fane’s face towards his own.

“What?”, Fane growled out testily, eyes opening once more to weakly glare at him with a simmering ember of grumpy agitation.

Solas chuckled before releasing Fane’s chin to place it upon a sturdy neck. “Ar lath ma.”, he said tenderly. A simple truth that had long been denied in favor of grief born protection finally being said without fear or shame.

His words had the intended effect of drawing Fane’s attention away from sleep as he saw emerald eyes brighten slowly, an annoyed grimace turning into a faint, but tender smile.

“I love you, too..”, Fane reciprocated with a whisper, the arm around Solas tightening a bit more. Those words were better than any music as Solas returned his dragon’s soft smile with one of his own before leaning in to brush their lips together lightly. Perhaps he had won this war after all.

***

Like seriously? I don't know how I wrote this. It just flowed so well, and since this story I've struggled with replicating it. I'm convinced I was possessed by a writing demon and then they got bored and left. XD

[yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy]

My Knight, My Savior, My Herald

Alright, so @waiting4inspiration​ NEEDED this. Some sweet Herald Finehair to the rescue. Is it incredibly indulgant? Yes. Is it romantic? Yes. I wanted this to be nice and sweet and most of all, COMFORTING but not intrusive. If she wants a part two, I can include sexy times if she wants them. But this first part is just soft and sweet yet casually intimate. I tried to leave this vague as far as the food and presents go (which is incredibly hard for me) and tried to leave things as ‘your favorite’ so you can impose what you like into it. The only thing I specified was a fruit tart and chocolate covered strawberries. Sorry it took so long, I spent an equal amount of time writing it as I did scouring pintrist for THE PERFECT PICTURES. Only the best for you Dearest. 

You walked out, to be met by the sight of Harald waiting by his car with flowers and a smile on his handsome face. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked. 

“Here as your knight in shining armor on my valiant steed here to take you to my tower of solace.” He answered in an over dramatic way that had you snickering a laugh as he handed you the flowers before hugging you tight and his hug felt like coming to a warm and loving home. There was warmth, comfort, love, care and happiness here. Where you felt welcome and at peace and he let you hold him for as long as you needed. 

“Are you going to be alright y/n?” He asked, his words muffled by your clothes and hair since his face was buried into the crux of your shoulder. 

“Now I am.” You answered, confident that now you were together again, you would be. 

“Come on, I got a surprise for you.” He revealed when you pulled apart. 

He opened the passenger door for you as you slid into the leather interiors. The car was clean and fresh but you smelled food, like groceries- kind of food before you turned around to see paper bags full of groceries in the back seat as Harald went around the car and got in himself. 

“So is the surprise dinner?” You asked as you gestured to the back seat as he started the car. 

“Part of it.” He grinned as he looked back over to you. There was a mischievousness to the curve of that smirk. Normally it would give you just a touch of fear. But over time you’ve learned to trust it because there was never any maliciousness or any harm, intended or unintended with that. He was a hopeless romantic and he believed in big romantic gestures and being spontaneous. And now was one of those times. 

He reached down and took your hand before he kissed the back of it sweetly before he focused on driving. 

He drove for what felt like at least an hour, maybe an hour and a half. He let you listen to whatever your heart desired music wise as the city turned into suburbs then to the country side, the roads getting narrower and narrower until it was just a back country road and the houses became fewer and fewer as lush fields turned into heavy forests. 

The scents of late summer and early autumn were rich and heavy into the air as the air got cooler and cooler before he leaned forward, looking for something in particular. 

“10105, 10110, 10115, 10120, ha, here we are- 10125.” He beamed as he pulled into the driveway, it was a long, winding gravel one through the trees where you saw squirrels and a bunny or two go for cover as you drove through and then a clearing….

Low and behold, the proverbial and exemplar cabin in the woods. But with a twist. There were solar panels on the roof, interrupted by skylights for the place, there was a lovely wrap around porch and a little garden on the side. It was so beautiful you wanted to cry. 

“Do you like it?” Harald asked hopefully. 

“I love it.” You professed. 

“Good, I’m happy you love it. New home away from home for a while.” He revealed as he drove all the way up to the house and under the car park where you could see the back of the house where there was a hot tub on the back porch. Oooh, you were going to have fun in that later. 

You got out of the car and tried to help bring in groceries at least. 

“Oh no you don’t, I got this, the code for the door is your birthday, go check it out, I got this.” He urged you. 

Before you turned and went to the code thing for the door and punched in your birthday, thinking it was really cool that he would set it to that before the door opened and revealed an exquisite interior. A gorgeous new kitchen and cozy if not slightly lavish and luxurious interiors but not so much so that you felt uncomfortable or that you couldn’t breathe for fear of messing it up as you simply let your heart lead you. You found the most cozy and inviting reading nook. Oh the stories you could read. Hell, the stories you could write from there. But this was about you filling your own cup before you could pour and give to anyone else. 

Your hand felt along the plush throw blankets over the back of the couch as you walked past, the fireplace was begging for a fire and the large tv was also inviting you to watch it but, not now, maybe later. You followed your eyes up the sturdy stairs to the upstairs, a lavish upper bathroom with a tub of dreams, oh the baths you could enjoy. It was big enough for at least two people. Bathbomb needed. 

And the bed. Oh God. Heaven help you. A king size bed, with a down comforter and super soft sateen sheets with all these pillows and you just rather unceremoniously flopped onto the bed face first. 

It had some memory foam in some of the layers because you bounced a little before you just sunk in as your body laxed before you rolled over to your back. The bed smelled amazing, fresh and clean and looking up, oh, the biggest sky light ever right above the bed. Combined with the giant windows, you didn’t lack any natural light. You felt...at peace, free and comfortable. Like the rest of the world and all your problems were a million miles away and they could stay that way. 

It wasn’t until you heard Harald doing something in the kitchen, a clank of pots and pans which brought your attention away from the bedroom of dreams to get back downstairs to see Harald surrounded by his ingredients and a few already on a cutting board, having already been sliced and chopped to the perfect sizes. 

“Hey, so? How do you like the place?” He asked hopefully as he swirled some oil in the pan around. 

“I love it, how did you find it?” You asked. 

“Airbnb is amazing. It was close yet far enough for you to feel like you’re getting away without actually going too far away. And we still have all the comforts of home plus some. Did you see your present?” He asked. 

“Wha...what present?” You frowned. “I thought this was the present.” You looked around. 

“Well I mean yeah, but hang on, let me get this in the pan.” He urged you as he threw the diced items into the pan to hear them sizzle as the scents became enhanced from the heat before he turned the heat down so it wouldn’t burn and put a lid on it before he brought you back to the livingroom where a giant present was sitting on the couch with your name on it and you were so focused on the soft throw, you totally missed the present as you gasped in surprise and smiled so brightly. 

“Yay! There’s a real smile.” He cheered before he kissed you sweetly. 

“Open it,” he urged you before you sat next to it on the couch. 

You ripped that wrapping paper to shreds trying to get inside and you squealed with joy. It was a pampering gift! Oh you had a couple of face masks, you had a body scrub, you had a trio of bath bombs, you had fancy lotions and little bottles of shampoo and conditioner and body wash and even a little thing of bath oil and a little moisturizer and face cleanser. And if that wasn’t enough, oh no, you had a new pair of super soft pajamas, with a new comfy robe and slippers too! The man knew you and knew exactly how to make you feel like a princess, if not a queen. 

You were beyond happy. 

“Thank you so much!” You thanked him as you threw your arms around him and hugged him tight. 

“You’re welcome, y/n.” He chuckled as he hugged you tight. 

“I gotta go finish cooking.” He said as he let go to return to the kitchen to finish preparing your dinner before he put what he needed to into a deep cooking dish and slipped it into the oven to bake for a while. 

“So, we have a little time before dinner is ready, what did you want to do? You could start enjoying your gifts or there’s a trail in the back, we could walk it and see where it takes us.” He hinted as he nodded over his shoulder were you could see a trail as plain as day.

“I’m feeling a little adventurous.” You admitted before you took his hand and he led you to the back yard as you took the trail together since it was wide enough for that. You were so enchanted by the forest, it was rich and dense yet not so dense you could peer deeply into it. You could hear the birds sing their delightful songs and the breeze rustling the branches before they caressed your skin, keeping you cool and comfortable since the humidity was way down today. You just felt so at peace, just walking side by side with Harald before the trail brought you to another house, this one bigger with a barn with horses in the yard. 

“Ok, time to turn back.” You urged him as you tugged him back towards the cabin. 

“No it’s ok, these are the owners of the cabin, they have horses and the option to ride them was part of the deal. We’ve come this far, want to go a little farther? They have horse trails all over the woods, all you have to do is get on. The horses are very tame and sweet.” He invited. 

“Really?” You asked as you stopped tugging before the horses seemed to notice you and neigh at you. 

“Hey guys!” A woman greeted as she waived at you from her chicken’s yard since she was feeding them her trimmings from dinner before she came out and walked on over. 

“I’m Ashley, the owner and operator of this ranch and the cabins, I take it you’re Harald Finehair, we talked on the phone, and you’re y/n.” She assumed judging by the trail that dumped out as you noticed others lead out from the farm. She must have had other cabins at the ends of those trails. 

“Thinking about going for a ride?” She asked hopefully as Harald looked to you for that answer. 

“Well we don’t want to trouble you.” You tried to dissuade them. 

“Oh no trouble at all, these cheeky beggars need an excuse to get out.” She reassured you as the horses came closer to investigate. They did look really nice. 

“Ok,” you caved before Harald and the owner walked towards the barn. 

“How much experience do you have with riding horses? Harald already told me he has quite a bit of experience.” She inquired. 

“Uh, some.” You answered before you told her of your experience. 

“Well then I’ll put you on Casper, he sounds like he would be a good fit with you. Harald, I’m putting you on Duke.” She said before she walked you into the barn before she grabbed two haltars and two lead ropes and walked out into the main paddock where other horses were there, eating hay and drinking from the trough before she approached two particular horses and put the bridals on them and then the lead ropes before she led them back over to the gate and with Harald manning the gate, she got out and tied them to a post outside of two of the stalls. “Y/n, meet Casper, Harald, meet Duke.” She introduced before she went through the few kinds of saddles she had and what you preferred before Harald took a brush from a bucket and handed you one brush while he took the other as you brushed them down, the horses quite liking this part as Casper rubbed his face into your front. 

“Oof, I like you too.” You chuckled as you brushed him down and just as you got done, Harald took your brush and handed you a hoof pick so you could clean out your horses hooves which you did. Casper was super good and picked up his feet for you as Harald did the same with Duke who was sniffing at Harald’s back pockets to see if he had any carrots or treats or anything in them. 

“Hey, cheeky beggar, they don’t have treats.” Ashley got after Duke when she came back with Harald’s saddle and set it on the bar that rotated out from the wall next to the stall before she left again to get your saddle. 

Harald was a natural around horses as he placed the saddle pad right where it needed to be just as Ashely came back and put your saddle and saddle pad on the rotating arm next to the stall and Harald had saddled his horse in no time before he came over to walk you through it again and no sooner had he cinched it that Taylor came back with the bridals. 

This part you could do yourself so Harald could do his own before you led the horses out of the barn to a small stool to make mounting them easier. 

“So how long do you want to ride for?” She asked. 

“Uh, dinner should be done in about an hour so like half an hour or so?,” Harald answered.  

“Well then you should take the Lake trail, and when you get to the fork, turn left, if you turn right, it’ll take you about two hours to get back and that’s too long.” She urged you. 

“So at the fork turn left.” Harald repeated. 

“Yup, you can’t miss it.” She insisted before she pointed you in the right direction.

Once on the trail, Harald took the lead and just let you walk, following him through the forest as your body adjusted to the rhythm of the horse walking at a comfortable pace. Grateful you weren’t getting chowed by mosquitoes or really any other kind of bug. You were just having a wonderful, romantic, charming ride in the woods. With Harald. The one person who knew you, knew all of you and loved you unconditionally, and not in spite of your flaws, but because of them. Who accepted you wholeheartedly, who would never betray you or your trust or confidence. You didn’t have to be strong or tough unless you wanted to be. You could be vulnerable and when you felt like you were about to collapse, he was there to fall into and carry you when you felt like you couldn’t go on much longer and you didn’t have to turn yourself into something you thought he would love, nope, as long as you were all of yourself, that’s all he wanted. You.  And you had learned that if you just let him and give him the chance to try, he would take care of you in every way. And you needed this now more than ever and you appreciated having him in your life. 

Sure enough you found a fork in the trail and turned left before the forest opened up to reveal a gorgeous private lake where there was already another couple in a row boat having a romantic afternoon themselves while two more horses were tied to the horse equivalent of a runner line for dogs, but for horses as the horses themselves were happily munching on the grass. 

“Tomorrow?” Harald asked as he turned around and looked at you hopefully. 

“Tomorrow.” You mirrored. A day on the lake sounded lovely actually. 

The trail continued to wind and twist through the forest before it came back to an open field. 

“Wanna run?” Herald asked. 

Your answer was to click your teeth and gently tap your heels to Casper’s side and Casper got the hint that you wanted to go faster which he was all too happy to oblige you as you hung on and galaoped through the field with Harald, both of you laughing as Duke was not about to be surpassed and gave Casper a run for his money. 

“And it’s a tie.” Harald laughed once you reached the end of the long field before you found another trail that would lead you back to the farm before you rode the horses back over to the barn and got off and led them back into the barn where they got their tack taken off before you brushed them again and cleaned their hooves before they were let back into the corral with the others before Harald took your hand and led you back to your private cabin. 

The timing had been perfect, dinner was done, cooked perfectly and Harald opened up your drink of choice and poured it into the appropriate glass before serving you dinner. All the flavors were perfect, rich and divine and your portion was generous, filling you comfortably full but not overstuffed. 

“There’s going to be a storm later tonight.” He mentioned as he ate his own dinner and checked the weather on his phone. 

You slept really well through thunderstorms. That would be awesome. 

After dinner and an array of desserts, from a your favorite cake, to a fruit tarte and chocolate covered strawberries, you coaxed him into the bathtub with you as you put in your most promising bath bomb as he settled in behind you in the hot waters and held you as you watched it melt and fizz, the heavenly aroma filling the bathroom as Haralds hands lovingly stroked your body, not in a sexual way perse but definitely in a comfortable intimacy way. LIke you were a priceless pearl or gem he was enjoying running his fingers over every facet and appreciating each one and how it made the jem itself shine and you couldn’t help but smile. So many little things that were his way of saying ‘I love you’ without saying a word. 

You stayed in the tub till the water got luke warm and your fingers were pruney, you heard the first splatter of rain on the roof and by the time you had drained the tub and gotten dressed in your new pajamas, the storm had settled in. A few cracks of thunder and lightning and the down pour was splattering on the roof and relaxing you further as Harald dressed in a matching pajama set and a robe and slippers that were the masculine compliment to yours before you went back downstairs to start that fire in the living room as you sat on the couch and finally got that soft throw blanket to go over you and him as the fire roared to life, the sounds of the rain hitting the roof, the rumble of thunder that you could almost feel in your chest, the occasional flash of lighting, the heavy rains pounding the roof and the soft loving comfort of Harald’s arms as you cuddled together, watching the fire. 

Soon enough you were practically falling asleep. 

“Come on, you’ve had a big day, into bed with you.” He gently urged you as you sluggishly got off the couch and happily took his hand as he led you upstairs, helped you shed off your robe and slip into bed, the cool sheets were welcoming and looking up through the skylight, you could almost see the splattering of rain when the lightning crashed before Harald had you snuggle into his side. 

And in no time, you drifted off the sleep, in your savior’s arms. Warm and perfectly comfortable.

[gildersbane]

The Gilder’s Bane

“ Portraits “ 

Boots, loose around the ankles from their laces removed to  make a lasso, fell upon stone floors as Princess Petra marched down the corridors. Morning sunlight dipped in through dusty glass in arched windows. Lighting her path as she journeyed past locked doors and prying eyes toward the nursery. A place she’d not been since she was a baby, but which was now the home of a baby sister.

A baby sister who picked a truly terrible time to decide to join them. 

They weren’t expecting her for another couple weeks. Maybe if they had been allowed that kind of time, this whole mess would have blown over. Maybe without a new baby in the home and a mother recovering from labor, everyone wouldn’t be on high alert all the time. This would have been a problem, obviously, but they might have actually let it go after a couple days. 

But it wasn’t as if they could just put her back. She was here now and everyone was going to have to get used to it. And Petra… Petra was going to have to start setting a “good example”. Whatever that meant.  She liked to think that she was setting a fine example as she was. 

Steps came to a stop outside the cracked nursery door. Petra pushed it open the rest of the way and peered into the shadows. Inside it was dimly lit, with only a bit of light slipping through the sheer white curtain over the window. It was warm inside from the morning sun beating against the castle but the sleeping little one in the antique bassinet. Looking at this old, plush piece of furniture, the elder princess couldn’t imagine a time when she was ever tiny enough to fit inside it. It sat beneath a lovely canopy of pink cloth that draped around it. Providing a little fortress for the child to rest without light from the outside world slipping in.  For now, though, those drapings were withdrawn, as Meliora had just been in here with her daughter. Liking sitting with her in the leather armchair that sat just beside it within the canopy.

The little girl’s eyes didn’t open as Petra approached and looked down at her. She was swaddled in a plush blanket and peacefully sleeping the morning away without a care in the world. Despite the noise from the castle staff hurrying from one wing to another, the construction happening up on the roof and the barking of castle dogs beyond the window in the courtyard below. She didn’t stir. For however much longer that would last before she’d wake and begin to cry again for food or clean dressings or attention. It was a miracle she was able to stay quiet long enough for the nursemaid to step out and fetch something.

Petra leaned against the edge of the bassinet carefully. Looking down at the itty bitty princess as she lay. Her baby soft, warm brown skin. The tuft of dark, fluffy hair on just the very top of her head. She looked more like a doll than a little human.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” Petra whispered as she stepped back from the child to let her have her rest. 

Clearly the currently nameless infant wasn’t in dire need of care. She was fine unattended before Petra showed up, surely she’d be fine for another few minutes while Petra took a walk to clear her head. Luckily she knew just the place for it that happened to be right down the hall. So Petra slipped out of the nursery without a sound, leaving the door ajar so she could hear her sister if she started to cry. A moment later she was walking further down the hall in a direction away from where she’d find anyone else in her family.

This path led Petra to one of the more prestigious halls in the entire castle. Down the hall, down a short flight of stairs and around a corner, she found the portrait hall. A place where portraits of every ruler of Argustead hung along with some of their treasured items. Alongside at least a dozen portraits of people Petra wasn’t certain the identities of. But it was the rulers who had the biggest and most ornate frames. 

Aside from the princess and her ancestors this hall was vacant. Everyone had much more important business elsewhere. With her head hung, Petra walked past more than a handful of her ancestors. Her paternal grandparents frowning down at the world in oil paint. A sour looking pair neither Lucien or Petra had ever met. Their parents beside them, looking even more uptight with ruffled collars that looked as if they would soon be swallowed whole. An empty space made to accommodate the portrait that would someday hang for King Lucien- The latest in a long line of great men. And beside that space…

“Hi, Dad.” 

Petra’s voice broke the silence that filled the hall with a solemn tone. Her eyes didn’t lift from the floor at first to look at him. But when she did, her chest felt tight and her shoulders heavy. Stoic eyes the same color as her own stared out at the world, seeming to follow her no matter where she stood. His expression was still and lacking any emotion but Petra didn’t mind. It was just good to see him again. King Samuel, late king of Argustead, stood poised with his head high. In his grasp he held his trusty wooden shield. He wore a deep red velvet suit with the silver trim like his own parents wore. Meliora had always used to tease him about looking like a tomato with those red clothes and auburn hair on his stocky body. Over the years he’d grown out the thick ginger beard that covered the lower half of his face in this portrait. It was painted only a couple years ago. Before anyone would have ever considered that the worst could happen. 

Below the portrait, hanging on the wall at eye level was an old, worn shield of wood. The one in the portrait but with a few more years and a few more battles added to its life. It’s circular shape had been broken by a large wedge of it having been hacked out by a powerful axe blow. The bronze plate at its center was scratched and dented but sturdy. Damaged as it was, it wouldn’t be of any use in a battle these days. But it had served Samuel well in his life, up until the very end. And when tragedy struck, it was with its king until the bitter end. Meliora had given her blessing to put the shield on display. To immortalize her late husband’s bravery and honor his memory.

‘Honor his memory’...

With a hefty sigh, the princess turned her back to the wall and sank onto the floor. She dropped her head back against the cold stone and closed her eyes tightly. She could feel the frustration rising again just thinking about everything that had happened in the last few weeks. Everyone partying at the Coronation like it was just another celebration, everyone telling her to stop acting the ways she’s always been encouraged to act, hammering in how things would need to be different now.

“How am I supposed to honor your memory if everyone wants to change everything you left behind?”

Petra knew there wouldn’t be an answer, but she needed to ask somebody. Nobody else seemed to understand why she couldn’t just let the past go. Why she didn’t want to stop doing the things he’d taught her to do. 

When she was little, Samuel always had an adventure for her. He knew that she’d never have the same esteem as Lucien since she was the second born child to the second queen… So he’d tried his best to give her as much freedom as he could give. As much room to forge her own path as their kingdom could allow. When he realized how much she loved to watch the guards training, he realized that she wasn’t going to be the same kind of reserved and quiet child her brother had been. He asked the captain to let Petra join the younger class of future soldiers. She trained along with the future squires and young hopefuls who longed for the days when they could be a brave knight for the kingdom. Defending their furthest borders from all manner of fiend and foe. It wasn’t the life most kings wanted for their daughters, but Samuel wasn’t blind as they were to what his children needed. 

Petra could still remember the swell of joy when she was given the family armor. It wasn’t a full suit, it hadn’t been as long as it was in the royal family’s possession. It had been refitted generations ago to fit a smaller body than the broad shouldered men of their family. It was a perfect fit for Petra. She wore that silver armor as often as she could get away with it. Sometimes even wearing the greaves under her gowns at formal events. She only got in trouble for it a couple of times. 

But even that had changed. All because of that sword. The moment she discovered it in that ancient forge, it drastically altered her life. In ways that she still didn’t fully understand. But it was special. Petra could feel it. A smoke creature no one could identify had come out of nowhere to attack her for it. It was a mystery that needed to be solved and nobody but her was even trying. She was certain that if she just went back up to that forge she could find clues. Maybe Petra could learn who put the sword there for her to find it. And maybe figure out why she was having such strange dreams. But Lucien had forbidden her from going back up the mountain. In fact, after her last fight, he’d locked her in the castle indefinitely. 

True. It was the worst Petra had ever been beaten in a fight… But the injuries were mostly superficial and wouldn’t even leave scars. Everyone was making a big deal out of the wrong things. She was okay. They needed to find out what was going on.

Why wasn’t anyone on Petra’s side in this?!

“Your highness?”

Her eyes opened with a start and the princess looked around the previously empty hall. The portraits still stared lifelessly out at each other on both sides. The only People in the hall were Petra and…. Whoever the guy at the end of it was. 

He didn’t look much older than her. A year or two, tops. He had a long, rounded face Petra may have seen around the castle a few times, but never paid close attention to. Maybe down on the lower floors by the dungeons. Where the court alchemists and royally appointed smart people worked. But this guy didn’t look like he was one of those people. He didn’t look aged or bearded enough for that. Plus he still had a full head of black hair divided into many thick locks atop his head. A lot of those old guys downstairs had long since lost their hair to the years.

He also wasn’t dressed nearly as elegantly as the court mages in their flowing robes. This guy’s clothes looked second hand and well worn. With visible repairs made to the seams of his green overcoat. 

“I’m kind of in the middle of something here.” Petra pointed out, gesturing to the portrait over her head. 

The boy didn’t seem deterred. In fact he only smiled and walked closer before stopping a couple yards back and bending at the waist to bow. 

“Your highness, I was hoping for just a few minutes of your time.” He said, lifting his head to peak up at her. “I heard whispers- gossip really. I had to find out for myself if it was true. Did you truly fight a … monster?”

A loud groan rumbled from the princess’ chest as she hauled herself up onto her feet, “What? Have you come to tell me I’m crazy too? That I should stop running into trouble? Or that it’s my own fault that some big purple smoke monster showed up and attacked me and tried to take MY magic sword?”

The stranger popped up from his bow, eyes wide and sparkling with delight at her words. His face split into a wide grin and his hands dove into the satchel he wore draped across his body. He pulled a roll of wrinkled parchment and a quill out and took a few steps more toward Petra.

“Crazy? It sounds exciting! In fact, I was hoping that you would allow me to be the one to document your account of the events.” 

This was definitely a surprise to Petra. This guy was the first to volunteer to listen to her.

“Who are you?” She asked, her brow furrowing curiously as she looked him over, “Why do you want my account? Hasn’t the king already given everyone the official story?”

Petra nearly rolled her eyes. Yes. Lucien’s story had, of course, been that the assault on her had been an isolated incident and not a reason for panic. That the one responsible would soon be brought to justice and that their peace wouldn’t be disturbed. Petra wondered if anyone actually believed it. 

With a sheepish smile, the young man bowed his head once again. “My name is Micha Fontaine. I’m an apprentice to the royal archivist. Mostly I help keep our scrolls organized and make sure the old books get dusted. But I’m hoping to change that.”

He righted himself and clutched his paper to his chest with purpose, his eyes full of resolve.

“Can I speak my mind, your highness?” Micha asked, his tone hopeful but careful. Petra gave a shrugging nod. She figured he was already doing that… “With all due respect to his majesty, I don’t think his story was… enough. The people want details. They want a mystery and they want to see it solved.”

Already Petra could see that she liked where this was going. 

He continued, his voice lifting enthusiastically. “I want to give the world a story they’ll never forget. Mystery, action, magic-!”

As he carried on, Petra’s ears picked up on something else in the castle. A different sound she couldn’t quite make out. A faint, distant droning. 

“If what I heard is true, your story of what happened three days ago could be just what I need.”

Petra raised a hand, trying to quietly shush the boy as his bright voice completely overpowered her hearing. That sound was still going. Shifting and changing in pitch somewhere within the castle. But what it was exactly she couldn’t tell with Micha talking over it.

“If I get your first hand account of your experiences then I could finally prove myself and move up in the world.” He blinked, watching the princess waving her hands to try and quiet him. “.... What are you doing?”

“Stop talking.” She whispered, eyes darting around the corridor, trying to discern what she was hearing and where it was coming from. 

The droning continued in an unbroken rhythm from somewhere else in the castle but here. It was an unfamiliar tone to someone who had spent every day within these castle walls. Petra had spent her entire life getting used to every voice, every creak and every groan these old walls held. But this was entirely new. It was also markedly nothing like the pounding of the construction. And with the castle locked down, it was very unlikely that they had a visitor. 

Not a welcome one anyway. 

One look at Micha’s face and Petra could see that he also heard it and was equally disturbed. Despite the fact that they’d never met, it was clear that the boy had been around long enough to know when something didn’t belong. As the princess took a few steps back down the hall the way she’d come, a chill rocked Petra to her bones. The humming was coming from…

Upstairs… The Nursery!

Petra gasped, her eyes snapping over to where Micha stood. “Come with me. Now!”

This apprentice archiver was not exactly the ideal backup Petra would have wanted when running into a potential danger. But she was unarmed and he was taller than her. He might at least tilt the odds in her favor if something truly bad was happening upstairs. 

Without pausing to explain or wait for him, Petra took off in a full sprint toward the stairs. She stumbled in her loosened boots but didn’t let that stop her. 

She never should have left her sister alone. She’d told her mother that she’d be there taking care of her. If something happened to her because she wandered off, it would be all her fault! Maybe Lucian was right. Maybe she was being reckless.

Slipping and sliding on smooth stone floors Petra, with Micha quick on her heels and stuffing his belongings back in his satchel, came upon the nursery door she’d foolishly left open. It was now a bit more ajar than she’d left. Confirming that someone had indeed come to this room since she left. She gave a glance back at Micha and signalled for him to follow her lead as she approached. And now that they were coming up on the room the sound they had both heard was clear as day.

It was a voice. Deep, smooth and melodic. A man’s voice by the sound of it. It held a calm but eerie energy with every moment it continued. It was very different from the booming, bone rattling roars of the monster that Petra had fought. This had to be someone else. Whoever this voice belonged to, they seemed to be… Humming. There was no mistaking it, though. It was not a voice Petra knew. And if she didn’t know them, they had no business with her baby sister. 

Casting out any doubts and any fears she might have, Petra threw open the door and entered the nursery, ready to confront this mystery man. When she entered, she saw the canopy curtains around the bassinet drawn closed, though the light from the window shined through them. It was warmer than it had been when she was last in the room. But a cold stab of horror still ran through Petra as she took in the dark silhouette of a figure sitting within the pink curtains. Taller than anyone Petra had known but unmistakably shaped like a person. A person sitting in the nursery of a three day old child, notably cradling something to their chest in the shadows. 

With Micha hovering in the doorway, Petra advanced. In a few quick strides she crossed the room and reached for the curtains to pull them open. When she ripped the curtains back, there was nothing that could prepare her for what she saw within.

Petra might have expected someone foolish enough to invade a castle and attack a child to be dressed like some sort of bandit or thug. But this person- or whatever they were, was dressed too well to be either. He wore a fine black and cream colored suit jacket with gold trimmings and embroidery around the lapels, cuffs and closed waist. His crossed legs were covered in what the princess could only assume were tall riding boots for they were all black and came up well beyond his knees. Making his legs appear even longer than they already seemed to be. But his clothes weren’t his strangest feature. 

He was… Tall. Nearly at eye level with Petra even while seated. And he was grey. Blue-grey like lead or steel and with nearly the same metallic sheen where the light struck him just right. His eyes, kept lowered even as Petra barged in on whatever mischief he might have been up to, were sunken and dark. If there were sclera in his eyes, there was no shine or whiteness in them. Only pools of darkness around two gold irises dotted with blue pupils. He almost looked like a statue sitting in Meliora’s chair. If not for the fact that when Petra looked to his grey hands, she saw him gently holding the baby princess’ tiny hand. While his other arm held the fragile baby close to his body and very out of Petra’s reach. It was worth noting that the infant was, as of yet, unharmed.

And then… there was his hair. Shimmering golden waves- literally- pouring from his scalp. Looking far more like molten metal than strands of hair, it seemed to flow away from his head and stop  of its own accord around his shoulders. Petra now wondered if the added warmth in the room was coming from him. 

This person- This creature was unlike anyone or anything Petra had seen before. He certainly wasn’t the same as that smoke creature. But she had no reason to believe he wasn’t just as malicious.

“Ah.. Hello, Princess.”

That deep voice cut through the silence, knocking Petra from her confused, stunned stupor. She’d been staring and trying to process what she was seeing for so many seconds that she was startled. She tightened her jaw and fixed the mysterious figure with a hard glare as she watched those hollow eyes slowly raise and settle on her. The sight brought abrupt and frightening memories of her dream before she’d awoken on the beach and left her with a powerful and looming sense of dread. The figure didn’t stand up. Didn’t make a move toward her. He only pulled back his thin lips into an unsettlingly calm smile.

“You and I have business to discuss...”

[flemnotthun]

‘Who Else Would It Be?’

Chapter 4 - ‘Don’t You Know?’

We finally get to see Kate and Steve have their hotly anticipated date. Hope you enjoy lads xx

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Four days into her stay at Central Hospital, and after much begging on her part. Kate was finally discharged. Her and Steve had got into a pretty nice routine over the last few days, texting at points during the day and chatting about nothing bed to bedside chair until visiting hours were over. They had fallen into a rather sweet, platonic closeness that despite her very real feelings for him, made Kate feel apprehensive of any change in the future. It could be the trauma voice talking, the fear of the outside world which contained men that would shoot her, that caused the concern though, because there was nothing in Steve’s behaviour that suggested any danger. He would never put her in an unsafe situation, she knew that. She knew him.

Every new touch of her hand, stroke of her wrist or enveloping hug was prefaced with an almost bashful request for permission for a number of days, until Steve got the message that she was very unlikely to turn him down. “I don’t want to take advantage of you,” Steve explained when she questioned him, “I want you to feel comfortable”. Kate smiled back at him, “thank you,” she said, gazing into his eyes as if they were jewellery, bursting with light and untold futures.

She was discharged on a Saturday evening. As soon as the salt-and-pepper haired consultant had exited the room after giving her the green light, Kate threw her arms around an elated Steve, who’d been at her side since 8 that morning. Despite her obvious excitement at being able to escape the torment of bustling nurses and being poked and prodded, she was hardly fit to do everything by herself, and couldn’t help feeling frustrated at the need to surrender herself to Steve’s care for the time being. Her side ached when she walked, which meant that getting about was a challenge. On the day of her discharge, it became clear just how much help she would need.

Steve was sat next to her in his chair, eyes deep in his emails, when he felt Kate shuffle out of bed next to him.

“Do you want some help mate?” Steve asked as she made her way towards the door of the room.

“Nah, I’m alright thanks,” Kate replied, growing weaker with every step, her upper abdomen twinging every time her right leg took a nervous step forward. Without any warning, her legs gave way under her, tipping her backwards towards the floor, when suddenly a pair of strong arms broke her fall and set her upright.

“Look, I know how annoying it is to not be able to do the things we always take for granted, believe me. But Kate, it’s just me. Let me help you.”

Kate turned to face Steve and nodded gently.

“Okay. You couldn’t just help get me to the loo door?” Kate asked shyly.

Steve put a sturdy arm around her waist, supporting her under her right arm and guided her to the loo and back, waiting outside as she washed up. While he hated seeing Kate in pain, having someone to look after was good for him. It distracted from the niggling temptation to just take more pills and separate his mind from his body. He loved seeing Kate fly, but it was nice to feel useful.

He drove them back to Kate’s flat after picking up her prescriptions from the pharmacy. She chose the music, tunes blasting from Steve’s Volvo like youths blazing through town in a white Fiesta. He caught a glance at the side of her face whilst waiting at the lights. Kate was undoubtedly a force of nature, albeit sometimes a stern one, but seeing her lose herself in this way made him burst with pride. She’d bounce back, just like the nurses said she would, albeit with a caveat, expressed to Steve in a hushed tone while Kate slept on the Thursday evening.

“Your friend may suffer with the effects of this trauma for a while. The two of you seem very close, and you’re going to need to be there for her when the triggers occur.” One of them had whispered.

Steve took Kate’s hand as the nurse explained the nature of the post-traumatic symptoms she might suffer.

“Hypervigilance, dissociation, flashbacks...”

He’d be there for her, Steve thought as he smiled sadly at his partner’s sleeping form.

After they managed to make it through the front door of his flat without incident, he helped Kate get comfortable on her plush leather sofa and set about making themselves something to eat.

“Pasta okay?”

“Yeah perfect, as long as you don’t burn it, I haven’t forgotten the last time”.

Steve let out a laugh as he remembered the event. They had only been working together for a few months, perhaps it was even the first time he’d come over and they’d ended up falling asleep next to each other on the sofa. He remembered thinking “what if?” that night, and remembered dismissing it, knowing even then that this was too important for a snap decision. He grinned at how lucky he was to have her in his life, both then and now.

They sat a safe distance apart on the sofa as they ate companionably in front of a late night rerun of the ‘Undateables’.

“Kate, you’re available!” Steve quipped as one of the show’s less attractive participants bemoaned their single existence.

The woman in question glared at Steve affectionately, giving him a light slap on the arm.

“Too soon?” Steve ventured.

Kate burst out laughing, Steve joining her in a hearty fit of giggles.

“I’m not available to just anyone Arnott” she scolded through her laughter.

“Even me?”

“Especially you!”

“And here I was, going to tell you just how lucky I am to have a date booked with you.”

“I bet you say that to all the witnesses”.

That was enough to have Steve spit out his cup of tea, Kate banging the side of the sofa in hysterics until her abdomen made it clear that the jokes had to take a backseat for at least the next few minutes as Steve pulled himself together.

“Ahhh!” Kate winced.

“You okay mate?” Steve questioned, returning back down to earth, his hand on her shoulder.

“Fine, just a murmur.”

Steve’s worried expression settled into contentment as Kate shifted to face Steve, his legs curled up on the opposite side of the sofa.

“So, this date then?” Kate probed. “Which underpass are you planning on taking me to? The one by the old cinema has a nice smell of piss that really enhances the whole vibe.”

Steve let out a huge belly laugh, which he curtailed before its time, if only to avoid his own stomach hurting let alone poor Kate’s. She was truly funny, which some blokes might be intimidated by, but Steve basked in, letting it wash over him.

“Actually, I was thinking about tomorrow night at Kudu, down the road from the Hare and Hounds?” He ventured.

“Sounds perfect, almost serious! What’s a girl done to deserve fine dining?”

“Don’t you know?” Steve answered with a sad smile, which Kate returned as her hand clasped his.

“Of course I do”.

____________________

The date felt as natural for the pair as working together. They ordered mocktails (both had very good reasons to keep things sober for now, besides, they didn’t feel the need to drink away any anxiety - it was there, but they leaned into it like a welcoming hot shower) and chatted about work, making in-jokes, the banter flowing between them in a glowing symbiosis of bright eyes and smiling faces.

“I love it when you’re suited and booted, Kate told Steve as he helped her out of her flat and into the lift. He’d nipped home from hers to change, which had the side effect of making this feel as if he was an unfamiliar suitor picking her up to whisk her away to an evening of culinary wonder.

“You look beautiful.” Steve replied earnestly.

Kate brushed him off with a laugh, indicating the scars on her face with her eyes raised.

Over the second course, he tried again.

“Kate,” he said softly.

Kate looked up, struck by the use of her name rather than the usual “mate”.

“I meant what I said, you are so beautiful”.

And with that Kate understood. Unlike some men in her past who she’d heard this line from, although it was often cancelled out by a sly dig at some other character trait later on in the relationship, “married to the job” etc., Steve truly meant it, and while the scars were less than ideal, if he could see past them, then she could too.

“And not in spite of your scars, or your injury, or your independence. You’re beautiful to me because of them.”

Kate was speechless. She felt almost uneasy as she sensed the shame exit her body with a heavy exhalation. Perhaps she no longer needed to be selective about the parts of herself she loved. It was at this moment that she was sure that her and Steve had hit on something between them that was just as special as their existing partnership.

“Thank you, Steve.” She whispered, blinking back tears.

“Ahhh I’m sorry, come here.” Steve reassured her, rising from his seat and wrapping his arms around her for a hug as the clientele of the restaurant stared. Returning to his seat, the meal continued much as before and by the time the dessert was finished, Steve found that Kate had reached out across the square, marbled table and curled her fingers through his.

________________

If they had been civilians, if they had been normal, they may have kissed outside the restaurant, one may have invited the other back to their’s, and they would have seen how things went. Maybe they would have seen each other again, maybe they wouldn’t. Instead, Steve guided his best friend back to the car. No kiss was exchanged until they were safely back at Kate’s, in this part of town, anyone from work could walk by any minute. No discussion was had, they both knew the risks of being seen together. After walking round from the driver’s side to where Kate was waiting opposite, Steve took hold of her hand and the small of her back as she met his eyes. Leaning her against the car carefully, so as to avoid putting any pressure on her abdomen, Steve asked.

“Is it okay if we...”

Before he had a chance to finish his proposal, Kate had pulled him by the shirt towards her with her free hand and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was chaste, but long enough for Steve to feel the meaning between them, and what they meant to each other. After they broke away Kate put her hand on Steve’s cheek, saying:

“Thank you for tonight, I had a great time.”

They would go no further tonight, settling down on the sofa together to watch crap telly and enjoy each others’ humming energy, neither wanting the night to end. Kate snuggled into Steve’s side as he gathered her close under his arm, tipping her head up for a kiss every now and then. Kate would look up at him, their eyes locking, and she would stretch her neck up, allowing her lips graze chin before Steve lowered his lips to hers. The pain medication was clearly having an effect on Kate, and she eventually fell into a deep sleep. Steve tuned his neck around to fix his eyes on where he’d stood in the kitchen all of 10 years ago, making that ill-fated pasta and thinking “what-if?” He thanked his younger, more impulsive self with a smile while he dropped a delicate kiss to the head of the sleeping woman under his arm.

“Thank you for waiting.”

[tsukoyomi-fumikage]

Baby Birb (Sl/TokoShoji)

Slight Tokoyami X Shoji

Prompt - Tokoyami gets turned into a baby. I wrote this ages ago and it’s just a few oneshots drawn together that are fluffy and sweet. Mostly, of course, since I love angst.

.

He couldn't talk normally anymore - the only thing coming out of him were soft gurgles. Raising a hand for his eyes to see, he widened when he noticed how small they were, and how they felt unused, unlike his usual rough hands. Reaching up to his head, he felt along his feathers - they were plush and rounded at the end, nothing like the sharp ended fully black feathers he used to have. "W'at?" He squeaked out, then squeaked again at the sound of his voice.

There appeared to be only certain words he could get out of his now even smaller beak. Looking up, he tried to see if he could find any of his friends, who were supposed to be nearby. They'd been training in the fields of U.A, and Tokoyami had only gone into the bushes close by to grab something Bakugou had accidentally tossed in there.

He found said item, and picked it up - usually, it wouldn't be that big in his hands, but the item was practically the size of him. Tokoyami began to waddle back in the direction of voices, clutching the object to his chest. Fumikage was now so small that the bushes and trees surrounding him almost scarred him, however for some reason Dark Shadow wouldn't come out. The bird knew that meant he was at an age where he hadn't developed his quirk yet - so younger than two, since he was an early child and developed his quirk around three, rather than five.

Stepping out onto the short grass, his eyes searched for the training students, and he saw Shoji - or well, he saw large arms, a tall, sturdy body and a white mop of hair that he knew was Shoji. For some reason, this baby version of him let out a giggle, stumbling towards the six-armed quirk user, raising his hands and making grabby fists at him, dropping the item on the floor.

It made a loud thump, startling everyone there and making them turn to look at the offending sound, being met with a baby version of their friend, who was now looking like he was going to cry at the loud noise. Bakugou let out a choked splutter - the other students there, all from Class 1-A, stopped training and rushed over. "Is that-"

Midoriya and Shoji got there first. The green-haired teen knelt down, looking the young bird in the eyes. "Tokoyami?" He asked softly. The kid swiped a hand across his teary eyes, sniffling. "Is that you?"

He looked at them - he was dying inside from crying at the loud noise, and the last thing he needed was for them to all know he was still him inside. He didn't want to show that kind of weakness. Tokoyami decided to pretend like an actual child. Fumikage nodded stiffly, reaching out his tiny hands and clutching at Mezo's trouser leg, pulling at it gently.

The man plucked him up and held him securely against his chest. "I think it is him, but he's like, actually a baby. The Tokoyami we know isn't in there right now." Bakugou scoffed out, coming over and poking the bird on the head. He let out a childlike whine. "Definitely."

Kirishima smacked Katsuki on the back of the head. "Dude, that's not cool man, don't hit the kid!"

Shoji and Midoriya took this opportunity to begin walking back to the dormitories as Bakugou tried to fight the red-head, being held back by the rest of the training group - Sero and Mina. Mezo bounced the young kid in his grip, and Fumikage gave what they could only assume as his version of a smile with a beak, but it was none-the-less cute. "What are we supposed to do now?" Izuku said, looking and cooing at their friend. "Do you think it'll wear off, whatever it is?"

The six-armed teen smiled under his mask at the warm, tiny body in his arms, wrapping all of his baby fingers around Shoji's pinkie. "I think it must be someone's quirk, so yes, I think it'll wear off." He said softly, his usual whisper making Fumikage look at him, their eyes meeting. "For now, looks like we've got a seriously de-aged Tokoyami to look after."

.

"He's got to be around one years old." Yaoyorozu said, watching at the young kid played with Denki, trying to run after the blond-haired boy, who kept leaping over the very small child. Fumikage couldn't run fast - the only clothing the young kid had on was a ripped bit of his cloak to made a smaller cloak; Nothing had shrunk with him. Nada.

Mineta growled at the sight of all the girls cooing over Fumikage; he leapt forward, scooping the child into his arms. "I'm a master at children!" He said loudly so everyone heard him. They all turned to look at him, murderous intent in their eyes.

Tokoyami began sniffling at being in the pop-off quirk users short arms. The grip was unnaturally tight and he squirmed uncomfortably, looking around for a savoir. He knew just who it would be.

Mezo came charging through, snatching him out of Minto's grip. Shoji was his boyfriend after all - he also seemed like the kind of guy who really likes children. Fumikage smiled, burying his head in the crook of the tall mans neck. "Don't touch him." Came the deep voice from the six-armed teen. The whole room was probably gobsmacked. "Ever."

.

"Toko, nooo!" Midoriya laughed, picking up the spoon from where the bird-headed child had thrown it on the floor. Fumikage was currently sat on top of the dorm table, wearing clothes Jirio and Yaoyorozu had hand made - it was a little horned blue hoodie, making it seem the child had two baby horns sticking out on his forehead and some loose black jogging bottoms. "You need to let me feed you!"

Sticking out his tongue, the baby snorted, turning away. A tap on Izuku's shoulder meant someone else was nearby. Koji was smiling at him, or well, down at him. He nodded at the spoon. "Children are creative and are stubborn - I had a little brother growing up who was exactly like Tokoyami. They just want to feed themselves. Here, let him try."

Although that definitely was not the reason Fumikage wanted nothing to do with the green-haired student (It was actually the choice of mushed up bananas and kiwi - disgusting), he still allowed the spoon to be passed to him. Looking at Koda's hopeful expression, he sighed eternally and began to eat, but plastic spoons and beaks didn't exactly go very well together.

Just a day in the life of Fumikage Tokoyami he supposed.

.

"Oh God, is he sick?"

A hand was touching at his feathered head - Fumikage let out a cry, trying to push it away. "He's warm, I think he has a fever!"

The shouting wasn't helping his sore ears, and his throat was raw from sobbing. A pair of hands wrapped around him, bringing him up and into someones chest. An icy hand was placed against his feathers, and he was bounced softly. "There there, Toko." The voice said - it was deep and calming. "I've got you."

People were bustling around them, Fumikage could hear the worry in their tones - he must not be looking so good. "Shoto, has he cooled down yet from your ice?"

So it was Todoroki holding him, he thought wearily, it all connecting. "N-No." Came the confused voice of the man holding him. "He's burning up really fucking badly."

Hearing the top-hero's son swear and crack under the pressure made Tokoyami's fear bubble. Someone else touched his arm, and he was handed over to a warmer pair of hands. "I don't think blasting him with cold will heal him." Came the voice of the woman holding him. It was Tsu.

The frog-quirk user sat down with the bird in her arms, rocking him slowly. "I've already sent Sato out to grab some baby medication, ribbit." She said calmly, stroking a hand through his fluffy feathers. "For now though, I say the best option is to bathe him - Sero, go turn the bath on - make sure it's actually warm, it being cold won't accomplish anything."

Footsteps bounded off, and the couch dipped when someone else sat on the side. "C-Can I hold him?" It was Uraraka. "I always wanted a baby sister or brother when I was younger." She confessed. No one else must be in the room anymore, all rushing off to grab things for the kid. "And he looks so small."

Being lifted into the air was something he'd grown accustomed too, and he opened his eyes a little to be met face to face with the brunette. "Hey, he's awake!" She spoke softly, but her voice was high in excitement. "Hey Toko'!" She cooed, brushing back at his feathers. "Tsu, when Shoto said he was burning, I didn't think he actually meant it. My, little one, how sick you really are!"

.

Bakugou growled. "Why do I have to bathe him?"

Kirishima sighed, holding the child in his arms as they passed Sero, who gulped, giving a thumbs up to the hardening-quirk user. Pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand, only using one to carry the small kid, he stalked ahead of Katsuki and into the bathroom. "Because we haven't done anything with him yet and we want him to trust us?"

"Bathing him is not the way to trust." The explosive teen retorted. Fumikage had to agree - how was stripping him fucking butt naked allowing him to trust them? However, he was glad it was these two - Kirishima was a real man, and wouldn't hold any sort of blackmail over him after this was all done, and Bakugou would just forget about it. "We're legit taking his clothes off, Kiri."

"No, the boxers Momo made are staying on, we ain't that mean."

Both the bird and the blond let out a sigh, and the child reached up his arms slowly so Ejiro could take off his cat shirt, which he'd sweated all the way through. "Feeling tired, little man?" The red-head asked softly, sitting the baby on the toilet seat, taking off his socks and shorts. "That's alright, you just doze. It's got to be good for you cause of how sick you are right now, huh."

The feeling of warm water surrounding him made him relax - it was really weird having people bathing him instead of just taking a shower and being ready in less then five minutes, but at the same time it was comforting for some reason.

"Hey, Kacchan." Kirishima looked desperate from what Fumikage could see out of half-closed eyelids. "Please take a photo, I think I'm going to die of cuteness. He's falling asleep on my hand!" He was leaning face first against the students hand, beak poking through his fingers. He sighed internally.

Great. Proof of all of this for after it's worn off.

.

"So, looks like you're staying here with me!" Iida smiled at the boy, walking into his blue dorm room, plopping the still sick child onto his bed. "Sorry you couldn't be with Shoji, but he sleeps too deeply - I however can make sure you don't get hurt! I have very maternal instincts!"

Tenya was super excited it seems, to have a young child in his hold and needing on him for everything. Fumikage supposed Tenya always wanted to know what it was like to be his big brother caring for him when he was younger. He muttered softly, and the teen stopped his rambling. "Did you just say something, young Tokoyami?"

"Sleeps." He said, yawning tiredly. He watched with satisfaction as Tenya died in front of him, clutching at his heart in a brotherly way, clearly absorbing the shock of the boy speaking.

"I got to hear your first words!" Tokoyami realized that around this age he was practically mute, and he wondered if that's why talking was so hard. "Awesome!"

A phone was jostled around before steadying and facing the tired child. "Say it again!" Iida encouraged quietly, smiling like Fumikage had never seen before. How could he deny the man the shame of saying he couldn't catch the second time he spoke on camera?

"Sleeps!" He whined louder, and he's certain if he had lips, he'd be pouting. It wasn't for the camera really; he was just so tired and frustrated and exhausted. "Please." He sort of made the tone of his voice sound pleading, and the phone went on charge quickly, and soon, he was secured in bed, being hugged by the mess that was definitely the next Sonic.

.

It was around seven when Iida woke up and got changed into casual clothing. Following the incident with Tokoyami, the school was on high alert and had canceled school in case the villain or whomever had done this was still on campus. All class 1-A were told only to leave the dorms if needed. Sato gathering medicine counted as a need, apparently.

"Did he sleep alright?" Came the bouncy voice of Denki as Iida carried the half asleep boy in, cradled in his arms, head resting sleepily against his chest. "He still looks tired."

Straightening his glasses, the Representative smiled. "He is still fighting off the illness"He reminded his friend. "- and yes, apart from a small night terror, he was just fine."

Shoji was there to take the bird child into his arms. Tokoyami inhaled his scent tiredly and relaxed reaching a hand out to snag the students T-Shirt, smiling, half-daydreaming, half-sleeping. "C'mon Fumikage." The six-armed teen said quietly, prodding his feathered cheek. "You need to eat and take your medication before you can sleep again."

Sato waltzed in, smiling brightly at the kid. "Hey, Toko'," He said, coming closer to the pair. "Guess what? I made you something!" Mezo took a seat at the table, adjusting the child so he was sitting on his lap and using it as a booster seat to be able to see over the table like a normal person. "Ever tried Oreo pancakes?"

Fumikage looked at his teammate, who was holding out these freshly baked pancakes with some weird crushed up black substance mixed in. It smelt amazing though, and he reached out a hand to try and snag some of it. It was, of course, pulled away from him. "Knew you'd like them!" Sato was so happy that he'd shown interest. "They're just a bit hot, Fumi'."

The fact they didn't trust him enough anymore to deal with his own food's temperature was slightly annoying, but it didn't stop him taking the medication held out to him by Sero while waiting for breakfast to cool down.

When the plate was put back down, he noticed all the pancakes had been cut up into even-sized squares, and their was a fork he could use on the side. Leaning slightly off his boyfriend, he was more awake as the stabbed at the pieces, shoving them into his mouth quickly, making a happy noise that sent Sato stumbling with happiness.

Maybe being a kid wasn't so bad after all.

[danganronpa-21]

B1 with komahina?

All Hajime wants to do is take a nap. Nagito intends to make sure that doesn’t happen.

___________

For Hajime Hinata, living on Jabberwock Island was regularly a test to his patience.

In defence of everyone else, though, he did do this to himself. Technically people wouldn’t have really noticed too much if he just went back out into the real world and started calling himself by Hajime Hinata, because hey, he only looks suspiciously like Izuru Kamakura. There was no proof that the two were the same person, right?

At least, that’s what the others told themselves, for the sake of justifying Hajime’s decision to stay with them. Really, they didn’t know why he chose to stay, especially when he seemed so overwhelmed with them sometimes. It seemed like every day he’d get caught up in one of Kazuichi’s hare-brained schemes, or get looped in to doing Hiyoko’s dirty work. And if he wasn’t serving and spending time with the other members of the island, he was usually being exasperated by what they did when he wasn’t around. On Jabberwock Island, you only made the mistake of doing something Hajime disapproved of once or twice a week. Otherwise, Mikan would start to fear for his blood pressure. And you’d start to wonder if he might really up and leave someday. Sometimes the other islanders would wonder if Hajime might leave, if it weren’t for his boyfriend. Well, that was more something that they joked about. They knew deep down that Hajime loved and cared for them. His relationship with Nagito, the most chaotic person on the island and the biggest test to his patience, would be proof enough of that.

And of course this particular day was no exception. No, he could not have one moment’s peace, so long as Nagito was around. After being put through a long day of anonymous charity work for Future Foundation, all Hajime had wanted to do was take a nap in his cottage. Considering all of the work he’d put in for the foundation, he figured he deserved it. To just curl up in his bed, with a plush pillow under his head and a soft blanket draped over his body… to sleep and sleep until he felt like he’d recovered from the poor sleep he’d had the night prior. That had been his ambition for the day; one that seemed like a foolproof plan. Except for, of course, one tiny problem:

He couldn’t find any pillows.

None!

The moment the realization dawned on him, he didn’t even bother fighting off the groan that tried to escape his lips. His eyes scoured the room desperately in search of at least something, a throw pillow, a neck pillow, a memory foam one… He couldn’t have cared less. He didn’t even care what pillow it was! It could have been one of Ryota’s creepy anime body pillows for all he cared! He just wanted somewhere soft to rest his head. Somewhere soft, and squishy, and comforting… Somewhere that would let him drift off so much easier than the old mattress that sat on his bed. Though he slept on it every night, he never cared much to think about where it came from. He was almost certain that it had been dug out from somewhere unmentionable. He was technically a prisoner, after all. They wouldn’t exactly be sparing him many comforts.

But damn it, at least they had the decency to give him a pillow! A pillow that someone had so rudely stolen. It had been there earlier in the morning after he woke up! What kind of jerk steals a pillow, Hajime grumbled to himself. All of the others should have pillows anyway, there isn’t anyone who should need more. And if they did, it would be a simple matter of asking the foundation for more. Clearly, whoever had stolen Hajime’s pillow was out to get him. That was the only logical explanation. Whoever they were, he was going to make them understand just how wrong it was to steal another man’s pillow, and he could be certain that they were really going to get it. It was just plain wrong to interfere with someone else’s nap like that! They were going to pay, no matter who they were.

Something Hajime had to tell himself twice, as deep down, he knew the pillow thief was probably Nagito.

Now, to be fair, he sort of did tend to assume that everything that went wrong was Nagito’s fault. Not because he didn’t love Nagito — the two had been dating for almost a year now — but because he tended to be a little bit of a troublemaker. While the foundation had done a successful job in getting him some treatment for his more… unusual tendencies (such as his confusing desire to construct bombs on the regular), he still held a tendency to be a bit of a prankster. Especially to Hajime, who he claimed was “obliged to put up with him” on account of their courtship… which was sort of true. But if he were being completely honest, Hajime sort of liked all of Nagito’s little pranks. He always found that there was something charming about his boyfriend’s fit of cute giggles when he was being mischievous. Like his whole face lit up with this sort of glee that he didn’t always show otherwise. After all, Nagito did spend more time than what was healthy talking about what a pathetic person he was. So those moments where he could see his expression twist into one of merriment, where there was little worry on his mind, they meant the world to him. 

However, just because he loved him didn’t mean that he would get away with being a pillow thief. As nice as it was to help people, Hajime dreamt of this nap all afternoon. So whether or not Nagito was cute when he played pranks or not became irrelevant. He fully intended to get his pillow back, and take the nap of the century… whether Nagito liked it or not. He didn’t get a say in the matter.

_________________

Nagito knew he had a say in the matter.

As captor of all of the island’s pillows, truthfully, Nagito did manage to get a lot of say in how these things played out. 

In his defence, his pillow thievery wasn’t to torture his boyfriend. Oh no, quite the opposite. Knowing that Hajime would have probably had a long, hard day, Nagito just wanted to do whatever would allow his partner the opportunity to just relax for once. So he stole his pillows, as well as the pillows of everybody else on the island. Which sounds like something a jerk would do, but he hadn’t done it with the intent to hurt anyone. He did it with the intent to make Hajime happy. He did it with the intent to build his boyfriend the pillow fort of his dreams.

If he were allowed to toot his own horn he would confess that his fort was starting to look pretty darn good. It had seen a sturdy construction, a cheerful decoration, and a meticulous refinement from the inside out. He’d managed to use everyone’s pillows in such a way that would compliment the structure, and keep it from tumbling down with the two inside. Akane and Nekomaru’s pillows were used for the outer walls; they preferred flatter pillows on firmer mattresses, so they were better for support. He’d tossed in Mahiru and Ibuki’s pillows on the outside, too, for the sake of adding a little colour. The two of them had such exciting pillowcases, he’d remarked, his eyes dancing over the green plaid and splashes of neon colours. Such fun reflections of the girls’ personalities! His own pillows were supportive pieces to the ensemble, just as boring as basic as he found himself. But hey, at least they gave support to what spaces needed it. He figured that they should carry the brunt of the weight, so that the more exciting pillows could shine just like their owners did. 

Hajime’s pillows were kept on the inside. They would probably find the best use in there. He found it funny how alike they were to Hiyoko’s or Fuyuhiko’s… all soft and plush, smelling like clean bedsheets and ocean breeze. He couldn’t help but sigh as he breathed in the scent — Hajime always smelled like that. Always smelled like a peaceful calm that Nagito had never known. He couldn’t help but relish it. Just like he hoped Hajime would, when he came in and discovered this pillow fort of solitude. 

The fort was close to completion. All decked out in pink fairy lights and “borrowed” bed sheets, with everyone’s pillows all around to support it… Just a pillow or two more and he could start making the hot chocolate he’d been planning on brewing. Actually, should he do hot chocolate? Jabberwock Island was already hot enough on its own, especially considering it was the middle of the summer. It certainly didn’t help that Hajime was also the hasty type. He’d probably get so excited about having something nice done for him that he’d burn his tongue within the first four seconds. Maybe a different beverage would be the superior choice.Would lemonade be a suitable option? He stopped to ponder the thought. Lemonade was cold and refreshing. He was pretty good at making it, too. His luck always allowed him the perfect combination of sour and sweet, but he usually ended up spilling some of it. He’d need to ask someone else for help with delivering it to the fort, to avoid that unfortunate course of action. But who would be a good choice for that…? Most of the others were busy. Perhaps he could ask Peko, he thought. She had been kind enough to lend him a hand a couple times as of late, when she wasn’t trailing after her new group of friends. If he did decide on lemonade, she’d be the first person he called over.

He supposed he’d need to get access to Hajime’s  laptop somehow, too. Being one of the survivors of the simulated killing game, he received certain privileges that the others did not. One of such privileges was his personal laptop, which he was technically expected to use for work rather than personal leisure. It was a producer of documents and phone calls to mainland (usually to Makoto Naegi, who kept in contact despite his resignation). In this case, though, Nagito hoped for it to be a producer of movies. As a reward for good behaviour, he’d managed to get a couple of movie discs to watch. He and Hajime would use them from time to time when they were bored, but since they actually had this whole set-up now, he figured that there would be no better time to use them. Thankfully, his boyfriend’s laptop would probably be where he expected it to be, in his cabin. He often took it home after doing the day’s work, so Nagito thought perhaps he could beat him back to grab it.

Underline word here being “thought”. A familiar pounding at the door silenced that thought almost just as soon as it was born.

“Hmm?” The former lucky student mumbled, lifting his head from his pillow fortress of extreme joy. Though he knew it was exactly who he thought it would be, he still felt inclined to call out. “Hajime, is that you?”

The answer from the other side of the door was sharp and blunt. An even further proof of what Nagito already knew. “Yes,” He snapped, “I’m sure you know why I’m here.”

Because your pillow is gone, Nagito thought to say, but he didn’t utter them. Instead, he chose to plod up to the door and open it, being greeted by Hajime’s unchecked exasperation. His brows had lowered over his hazel eyes, and though he tried to hide it, Nagito could see that the other man’s jaw was clenched. His lips were even curved downward, a displeased frown apparent on his typically neutral face. It was unlike Hajime to frown quite so intensely. If he had been more vain, he might have worried about frown lines, with the way he was scowling. I must have gotten him bad this time, Nagito thought. 

“Quit stealing all of the pillows!” 

He blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the outburst. What a drama queen, he snickered to himself. He couldn’t help but melt into a relaxed smile at the other’s frustration, mostly on account of the fact that he knew it was flimsy. That grouch wouldn’t last three minutes against Nagito’s pillow fort of love and happiness.  “Hello to you too, Hajime.” 

“Don’t give me that!” He threw his arms up in the air dramatically for a second, following promptly by folding them across his chest. The chest that he’d puffed up a bit, Nagito noted, to show that he meant business. Still, he could barely believe it. He could act big, but everyone knew he was a teddy bear on the inside. “You know exactly what you did, at least own up to it when I confront you.”

Could he take this further? Seeing how sour Hajime was, he kind of wanted to. His ability to push all of the right buttons just made him think about how perfect they were for each other. If he couldn’t mess with him in this way, he might have worried that they weren’t meant to be. It was good that he could tug on his lover’s leg.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

Hajime’s eyes narrowed. “Bullshit!” He gestured to the area behind Nagito, which did, in fact, make all of the stolen pillows incredibly visible. He almost snorted at the mental image of how this whole thing probably looked. The only thing that kept him from doing it was the want to push things further.

So he pretended not to see them. “What are you getting so worked up about? Tough day?”

“Yes,” The other party answered, his scowl slowly transitioning into a childish pout, “I’ve had a long day and I’m exhausted, Nagito, so I just want my pillow. I just want to relax.”

Nagito let out a cheerful hum. “That’s why I stole it.”

“Seriously? You would steal my pillow when I’m tired just to antagonize me?”

He couldn’t help but laugh at his partner, bopping him playfully on the nose. “You’re silly, you know that? Of course I’m not doing it to antagonize you,” He moved aside, gesturing towards the fortress, “I’m trying to help you, see?”

It was almost funny how quickly Hajime cycled through expressions when he caught wind of what Nagito had actually done. At first there were the parted lips and double take of surprise, then the flushed cheeks and the rubbing of his neck, and then finally the bright eyes and warm smile of admiration. That was all it took for Nagito to know that he’d done incredibly well. I wonder if he’s all that embarrassed, he wondered internally, having accused me of toying with him when all I wanted to do was help.

When he finally spoke, his voice came out soft. “You… built me a pillow fort?” So soft that Nagito had barely caught it, amongst the roar of the waves and the cries of island birds. “So I could relax…?”

He nodded, sticking his tongue out at his boyfriend playfully. Sure, he didn’t want him to feel bad about how he’d reacted, considering it was justified. But he definitely did want to tease him about it, just a little. “Yep! I was thinking we could do like, a movie night or something. I was just going to see if I could sneak in and grab your laptop.”

If Hajime hadn’t been embarrassed before, he was now. Nagito could see it in the way that he averted his gaze, turning his head more towards the ground. He never did like to admit too much when he’d made a mistake.

“Are you going to say sorry, now?” 

“Sorry.” 

“Sorry for?” He pressed further, bouncing on the heels of his feet. 

“Sorry for getting all high-strung about the pillow thing… You were just trying to do something nice for me.”

Nagito couldn’t help but giggle, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to Hajime’s cheek. He swore he could feel the other man’s face heat up at the action, still unaccustomed to such affections somehow. The fact that he would still blush madly despite their almost year of dating only made him giggle more. 

“It’s okay. I know what you’re like when you’re sleepy. Now what do you say we go get your laptop and some lemonade, and settle into our pillow fort?” 

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Hajime replied, giving a cheeky wink, “Maybe we can even sneak a couple of cookies out, too. Mahiru was in the kitchen baking some last I checked.”

“Ooh! I like the way you think, Hajime!”

[starberrywrites-ships]

Sleeping Stars

Hubert x Bernadetta 

All Hubert wanted to do was go home, and see his wife. But of course, it seemed too much to ask. But in the end, he got what he wanted.

Read on AO3: HERE 

Stupid.

That’s what he was. Stupid.

Did he really think this meeting was going to fly by? As if those obnoxious businessmen were actually going to corporate for once? Clearly his expectations were set too high. He felt frustrated, angered at the thought of his current situation, sitting in this stupid chair, in this stupid clothing with these stupid people.

All he wanted was to go home, eat, and see the person who he owes everything to after a broken promise of returning early.

“Uh- Mister Vestra?”

Hubert brings his attention to the owner of the voice. Completely unaware of the fact he wasn’t even paying attention. It was late, or, early in the morning. One in the morning to be exact. It doesn’t prove to shock him he was slowly falling unconscious. Hubert straightened his back, sitting properly in the chair and clearing his throat. “My apologies . . . What did you say?” His voice was groggy.

“I just talked about finalizing-”

“Oh thank god . . .” Hubert said, accidentally interrupting his coworker. Deciding it’s best not to comment on his words and ignoring them instead. “Put the papers on my desk. You should all be grateful I decided to let this meeting continue an hour past the discussed time. I’m taking a leave tomorrow. No one should contact me unless someone is dying. You’re all dismissed.”

And without a second thought, Hubert left the room.

“ . . . Would it be a bad time to tell him I still need his signature?”

- - -

Hubert never thought of himself living in the city again. While his wife doesn’t particularly like the shining lights, loud cars and rude people, she said it was fine as long as she gets to stay inside their apartment. Which she does.

The night breeze definitely calmed him down as he drove. Hubert preferred the sound of the car engine compared to the annoying music played on the radio. It was nice. But he’s still mad. Those idiots were lucky he was too tired to yell at them or else they would have gotten an ear full.

- - -

Dragging himself through the halls of his apartment, Hubert finally arrived home. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his keys, inserting them into the lock. As he entered through the door he began to notice the lights still turned on. And what seemed to be the sound of the tv still playing. Pulling his sleeve back, he read the time on his watch. A sour expression reaching his face. “Is she really awake at this hour . . .”

A sudden warmth found itself around Hubert’s ankle, restricting his movement. Dropping his eyes towards the floor, being greeted by a black cat. “Ah . . . Hello, Spooky.” The name was pure irony. It wasn’t his idea but it was the best name out of all the others so that’s what the couple went with. “Where is your mother?” Hubert asked. As if the animal understood him, Spooky began to walk towards the living room while Hubert followed.

Soft snoring was heard coming from the couch. Or the floor in front of the couch. Stuffed animals, pillows and blankets covered the ground in front of the tv. Bowls of popcorn, gummies and a water bottle pushed to the side. Bernadetta was fast asleep, cuddling with her hedgehog plush and Animal Crossing playing in the background. Her head dropped in an uncomfortable position as it failed to keep sturdy.

Hubert lets out a small chuckle. “At least she’s asleep . . . Though I should move her. “ He said to no one. A quiet twinkle sound caught his attention. Looking at the TV and watching as the shooting stars sparkled in the sky. “So that’s why she’s not in bed,” Hubert remembered every conversation he had with Bernadetta about how rare shooting stars were for her.

He has a debate with himself. Letting out a sigh. “I suppose collecting a few more can’t hurt . . .” Hubert sat on the ground beside his wife, lifting her body a bit to let the small girl rest her head on him. Wrapping his left arm around her and bringing her closer, as he began to press the A button on the joy cons.

[jenovahh]

The Honey Pot - Ch. 12 - Lies

When you first wake, it is to the sound of beeping.

“Have you finally woken up? It’s certainly taken you long enough.”

And a familiar voice.

Prying your eyes open, you push yourself to sit up, running a hand through your hair. Wiping the sleep from your eyes, you feel an I.V. has been inserted in your arm, groaning at how it tugs the cord. Glancing at the clock it is only past noon, making you wonder how long you slept. Last you had been awake, you had been...fighting?

Zenos.

Clarity strikes you like lightning, making you turn to the voice you had heard earlier. Zenos is seated in an overly plush lounge chair, flipping through a book. He too, is dressed in hospital robes, his arm also hooked up to an I.V. Once he feels your stare he finally looks at you, giving you a strangely pleasant smile. “Good afternoon.”

You only stare at him dumbly, noting how aside from the I.V., he looks relatively fine. There’s hardly a bruise on him despite the blows Lambard landed on him, and you have to wonder if there’s treatment that only good money can buy.

But he’s alright.

Thank the Twelve, he’s alright.

“Still out of it are you?” He asks, gently closing the book and setting it to the side. Standing, he towers over you as he nears your bed, taking your chin in hand to turn your face this way and that. His touch makes you aware of the bandaging on your face, as well on other parts of your body. “Granted you have nearly slept for twenty-four bells. The entire ordeal had clearly taken a lot out of you.”

Pursing your lips you jerk your face from his hand, burrowing yours in your lap. You open your mouth to speak but find your throat is parched, looking around for water. With a sigh, Zenos hits the call button to summon a nurse. “Really, my beast, you act as if you’ve never been in a medical facility before.”

Fixing him with a glare, you refuse to speak to him out of spite now. A nurse is at the door within seconds, asking if anything is the matter. Zenos orders them to fetch water, and they’re gone in a flash. While his back is turned you take the time to scan him for injuries. He looks like he hardly needs to be in the hospital, and is in the robes just for show. “See something you like?” He teases, turning around to face you.

Your face flames red noticing at how his muscles seem to intentionally flex underneath the loose robe. “As if.” You rasp, throat still dry. Deciding to interest yourself with the curtains instead, you sit in silence until the nurse returns with water. “Is there anything else you need?” They ask, to which you shake your head, graciously accepting the small pitcher from them. You pour yourself a glass as they shuffle out, chugging the entire thing in one go, surprising yourself with your thirst. “Much better.”

Zenos hums in affirmation, coming to stand by your bed once more. Fixing him with a look, your curiosity gets the better of you. “Where are your bandages?” You ask, watching him smirk.

“I tore them off.” He replies with a shrug. When you tilt your head in confusion, he continues, “From what I was told, I had only been hit while I was unconscious. Nothing but minor soreness, and I do not bruise. You’ve seen this yourself, haven’t you?”

Thinking back for a moment, you realize for all the times you’ve handed his ass to him, he’s never bruised. Not only did he look sturdy, but his body also played the part. “If you’re feeling so great why do you still have your I.V. in?” you ask, giving him a deadpan look.

“Appearances, my beast.” Walking over to the window, he throws the curtains open, causing you to groan as your eyes adjust to the sunlight. Sitting up, you see several news vans parked outside, reporters bustling to try and get into the hospital, stopped by a wall of security. “We have been all over the news since last night. I am under orders from my father to garner public sympathy.” He drawls, as deadpan as your expression.

“As much as I would enjoy going home, I had been informed that you are actually required to be monitored for another day or so. I’ll stay here with you until you are well.” He moves to sit back down in the chair, missing how your cheeks flush. “They want to make sure you suffer no permanent side effects from the gas, as well any internal bruising from your fighting…” His lips curl into a devious smirk. “Which, from what I was briefly told, you were quite the sight.”

Blood drains from your face, body going rigid, but Zenos doesn’t take notice. “What...what were you told?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Livia was only able to give me the basics. I’m sure she is currently typing up a full report to give to the police as we speak.” Zenos says as he reclines in the chair, fixing you with a smile. “She told me how you saved me, my beast.”

“Isn’t that my job?” You huff, feeling sickened by the pride in his eyes.

“Of course. But it is the savagery you displayed. The lengths you went to to protect me.” He rumbles, grin growing larger with each syllable. “How you killed to protect your prize.”

It’s all too real too suddenly; your hands can feel Lambard’s head in your hands, can feel the bones in his neck snapping, his hollow eyes staring blankly at you--

The machine behind you beeps in a frenzy, a nurse rushing into your room making a beeline for your bed. “Ma’am, are you alright?!” He asks, eyes scanning over your monitor.

“Where are you hiding?! We know you’re in here!”

“We just want to take you away to somewhere nice…”

“You must stay safe for me, my friend. You can’t let them know of your power…”

Your head is pounding. These voices, these images...where are they from?

“Sir we must ask you to leave while we calm her--”

“Her breathing is slowing, quickly, bring medicine so that she may sleep--”

Your eyelids feel so heavy.

It is time to rest.

After your “episode” you are ordered to stay at hospital for a few extra days in solitude, much to Zenos’ apparent annoyance. They are only able to deter him with the need to be cautious and keep you from having another episode, as they are unsure what caused it. When you are questioned on what had happened you merely play the fool, knowing that were you to tell them the truth, Zenos would threaten the information out of them, and that’s not something you could afford. You overhear the doctor’s feed Zenos the lie that you had an adverse drug reaction, which he seems to buy, if his stoic nod is anything to go by.

You allow yourself to rest, the days in the hospital your first time in months not being stuck to Zenos’ side. The circumstances aren’t ideal of course, but you will take what you can get. The thought of calling Y’shtola and Lyse comes to you more than once, but you wouldn’t be surprised if every action of yours was now being closely monitored by Zenos, or at worst, Varis. You pray your friends are alright, and not unnecessarily worrying for you. Already you can hear Y’shtola’s voice fussing over you, Lyse’s chirpy voice pepping you up…

“Well don’t go and make that face, eh?”

Jolting from your reverie, your eyes dart to the door, finding Ardbert standing there with some “get well” balloons. Giving you a shy smile, he hurries in, shutting the door behind him. “Hey there.” He greets, stepping into the room. Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, you realize this is the first time you’ve seen him outside of his work uniform.

“How did you,”

“Lied. Told ‘em I was goin’ to go see my sick, dying grandma.” He snorts, setting the balloons on the nearby nightstand as he pulls a chair up by your bed. The casual air immediately relaxes you, your lips quirking into a smile before you can help it. “If someone does come in here, I’ll just say you were so cute I had to come talk to you.” He adds with a wink, making you laugh.

“And Zenos? He doesn’t know?” You ask, reaching for the button to adjust your bed to sit up a bit more.

Ardbert shakes his head, leaning on the bedside railing. “His lordship hasn’t left the house since he could go home. Think he’s still playing up the ‘injured son’ bit for Lord Varis.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “When I heard the hospital had banned him from visiting you, I figured now was any good a time to visit as any.” He beams, brown eyes twinkling.

Your heart warms at his genuine concern for you, struggling to find the right words to say. “Thank you, Ardbert. I really appreciate it.” You decide, knowing that those words alone don’t do him any justice for the friend he’s been to you.

Shaking his head, he reaches for your hand and takes it in his. “It’s nothin’. I’m more worried about you, you know.” He murmurs, his voice suddenly serious. His cocoa eyes hold your own. “I’d watched the news about what happened; hoping to find out what happened at the opening. It was a right mess outside.” He begins, holding your hand in his warm one. “Most the general public knows is some gang tried to take out Lord Varis and Lord Zenos. No one knows what happened inside…” he trails off, casting you a wary look.

“What I mean to say...what I want to ask,” he takes a deep breath, clutching your hand tighter. “Are you okay?”

You know what he’s asking, and find it hard to answer. It’s hard to hide anything from Ardbert; he seems to know you as well as you know yourself. You want to tell him as much as you want to lie; that you’re fine, that there’s nothing to worry about. But anytime you think on it too hard, the feelings become too real too suddenly, your brain begins throbbing to where you can hardly think straight. Those images flash through your head again--

A tight squeeze from Ardbert’s hand grounds you, pulling you from your mental prison. “Honey.” he whispers harshly, eyes scanning your eyes. “Something happened didn’t it? Something happened and,” he stops himself, frowning deeply. “I should’ve said something, should’ve had you run while you had the chance,”

You shake your head furiously. “Ardbert...it’s fine. I’ll be fine.” You grin, returning his squeeze. He clearly seems doubtful (with hints of remorse), and you fumble to change the subject. “Why don’t we see what’s on TV?” You offer with a smile, grabbing the remote and clicking the TV on.

“Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, we have breaking news to share with you today. Varis zos Galvus, known CEO of Galvus Enterprises, has just announced his formal bid for prime minister of Kugane.”

Your smile falls immediately.

“Now as you all may know, Sir Galvus had quite recently suffered an attack when opening his new hospital to the public. He has since been recovering at his estate, but had time to offer a few words to the public when asked why he would announce his place in the race after such a traumatic incident. Here’s what he had to say,”

The screen cuts to a small press room, Varis sitting primly at a large table with several microphones before him. His usual frown is in place, his eyes look harder, more serious as he looks directly at the camera. Several reporters are abuzz with questions before Varis silently raises one hand to quiet the room. Pointing to a reporter, he nods.

“Sir Galvus, you’ve been recovering from nearly being kidnapped! Why not spend time recovering instead of preparing to take on Lord Hien in the upcoming election?”

There’s the sound and sight of several cameras flashing, but Varis doesn’t blink an eye, looking as poised and relaxed as ever.

“For now, I have sated the public with the knowledge of my good health after this ordeal. In truth, I was attacked by a gang, determined to deliver me to an unknown buyer where one can only presume he was to have my life. Thankfully, my team of highly skilled bodyguards made sure I came to minimal harm.”

He pauses, reaching to take a sip of water. The room is quiet except for the light hum of machinery and flashing cameras.

“I will admit, I have been planning for this bid for quite some time. But only after this incident have I decided to take it seriously. Not only did they try to auction off my life; but also my son’s.”

Several gasps fill the rooms, more shuffling as reporters take notes.

“Due to this inexcusable, unforgivable action, I have decided to come forward earlier than planned with my bid to run in the race against Lord Hien. Once I have fully recovered, I plan to release more information about my campaign. For now, I appreciate and thank you for your understanding in these months going forward.”

With a slight bow, the camera cuts back to the newscaster, but you do not hear them.

Varis is running to be a world leader.

Kugane’s biggest crime boss, running to be a leader of a nation.

“Oh boy.” Ardbert sighs.

You couldn’t have said it better yourself really.

Once you stop wincing in pain from a bruised rib, the doctors give you the all clear to return home, but to refrain from rigorous, physical activity. Which of course, did not go over well.

“Zenos, for someone who unexpectedly knows a lot of things about anatomy you are being, dare I say, ornery about me needing to fucking rest.” You ground out, tempted to throw you the nearest hard object at him from your bed.

He stands in the doorway, looking annoyed and put out, and it would be cute had he not literally attempted to drag you out of the bed, leaving you having to (also literally) kick and scream at him to leave you alone.

“I suppose I have no one but myself to blame. I forgot how weak and frail you were after you had bared the brunt of my might.” He preens, arms crossing over his tight shirt. You swear you feel your eyebrow twitch in irritation, but decide you really don’t feel like having this fight right now.

“Look. I get you miss having your ass handed to you, but I’m pretty sure you want me in top physical condition. Would you really accept a victory against me when I’m less than one-hundred percent?” You ask, grinning smugly as his bottom lip pokes out in a barely noticeable pout.

“Very well, I shall allow you your rest.” He concedes, making you release a tension you didn’t know you had. “However, you are to not leave your bed except to bathe and relieve yourself so you may recover as quickly as possible.” He doesn’t bat an eye as you reach for your alarm clock to chuck at him.

You miss.

“When you are finally feeling well enough for physical activity, we will have to slowly get you used to it again...I am loath to do even more waiting, but as you said, I cannot have you in less than top shape.” He finishes snootily, and you hate you can’t get up to wrap your hands around his neck lest he take it for you feeling like a spring chicken and hauling you off to train.

“Just...please leave.” You sigh, exasperated.

“Make sure to get the rest you crave so dearly, my beast. I’ll know if you set a foot outside your room otherwise.” He calls over his shoulder, stepping out the door.

This was the man you put your life on the line for.

Once again, you would take what you could get. Sure, you were a prisoner in your own room, but at the very least Zenos left you alone. A doctor would swoop by nearly every two hours to monitor your condition (and make sure you were still in bed you were certain), and all your food was brought to your bedside. You felt lazy being waited on hand and foot, itching to get up for any kind of exercise or activity, but unable to risk Zenos descending upon you. Ardbert would thankfully keep you company by sending you texts on your phone, keeping you distracted during the day.

It was when night fell and the house was quiet that fear paralyzed you.

“Did you enjoy it?”

Your eyes are wide as dinner plates, curled in on yourself as you clutch your head in fear.

“Why so scared? You didn’t hesitate to even kill me…”

Lambard lies on the ground, head twisted unnaturally…

As if someone had broken his neck.

“You’re a murderer now. But maybe not really? Raubahn said any crimes you commit will be wiped clean from your record...all those men you’ve maimed. All those bones you’ve broken, all the blood you’ve spilled...the law may forgive your crimes but do you think the Twelve have turned their eyes away?”

Your head is pounding, both from crushing your hands over your ears in an attempt to block out his lies, from pinching your face together in pain.

“Why did you do it? Was it to not jeopardize your mission?”

You nod furiously, tears streaming down your face.

“Liar.”

You gasp as you hear a strangled choke, eyes shooting open and to your horror, Zenos stands before you, his sword thrust into Lambard’s throat. His eyes glow a fierce red like a demon, bright and unnatural as he gives you a wicked grin.

“You killed him to save me.”

He steps on Lambard’s body as if it is no better than the dirt beneath his feet, closing in on you. Tearing your hands from your ears, you try to backpedal away from his looming approach as his features are cast in dark shadow.

“And I am so proud of you. So proud, for becoming as monstrous and savage as I knew you could be.”

He does sound proud, he does sound happy, but the words he speaks only make more tears flow forth, whimpering as your back hits an invisible wall, leaving you nowhere to run.

“Will you give me the same pleasure?”

He twists his sword just slightly in his hand, the sheen of Lambard’s coagulating blood glinting in the light behind him. You tremble in fear as he finally stands over you, a merciless grin on his face.

“Show me that same savagery, my beast. Howl.”

He raises his sword, angled for your neck.

“Howl!”

You scream as you shoot up in your bed, hands clamping over your mouth to mute the shrill pitch of your own voice. Tears stain your hands as your entire body is wracked with shivers and shakes from your sobbing, your lungs trembling as you try to gulp in air. Falling back on the bed, you sob and you sob, crying for so many reasons, your brain cannot process them all and you fall into a dreamless slumber.

“You look like hell…”

Ardbert has whispered to you as he watches you escort Zenos to the car, eyes filled to the brim with worry. You offer him a weak smile, trying to do your best to comfort him, but you know it falls flat. Zenos has not paid him any mind, and enters the car, you following shortly behind him.

You feel like hell.

Fully recovered after two weeks of rest and rehabilitation, you’re back to work as Zenos’ bodyguard and gym buddy, doing your best to retain any sense of normalcy. If Zenos has noticed a change in your demeanor, he’s not said anything, possibly content with you giving him the same level of skill you had promised. Your teasing and scathing remarks are absent, whereas you now only speak when spoken to, following orders to the letter.

Only Lyngsath and Ardbert seem to take any notice of your change. Lyngsath does his best to cheer you up with your favorite dishes, even going as far as to go against Zenos’ orders to pick from a select menu to maintain your physique by baking cookies and cake. You wish you could tell him anything, but you would rather him live in his ignorance as the prestigious head chef for the Galvus family.

It is only on a return trip home after work that Zenos deems to finally speak up about your crushed spirit, though as usual, his methods are anything but normal.

The car pulls up to the estate, the majority of it’s windows already darkened for most staff have gone home due to Zenos working particularly late hours tonight. A weary exhaustion sets into your bones and you cannot wait to drag yourself into a hot shower and eventually climb into your plush bed.

Zenos won’t let you have that luxury however.

Stepping from the car, his frigid eyes are upon you and though you feel their frosty glare, you pay little attention to it, eager to get him across the threshold so your work day may end. Hand laid brick clicks under your shoes as you head to the door, but you don’t get far as Zenos’ quickly moves to block your path. It is in these moments you really feel small before him, his stature allowing him to loom over you.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asks, features cast in shadow as he approaches. Instinctually, you step back to keep even space between you, the prey to his predator.

“What do you mean,” Your query is cut off with a yelp as he swings his fist at you, your hand coming up to catch it in your own, managing to only wince slightly at the impact. Shoving it away, you put more distance between you two. “Zenos, what in the seven hells,”

“Show it to me. Show me the same savagery you had shown Lambard.” He demands, slipping into his fighting stance. His business wear somehow manages to stretch to account for his rippling muscles, making you take another step back.

“Don’t play around! It’s late, and I want to go to bed.” You laugh shakily, but his eyes show he’s one hundred percent serious.

With no more words, he strikes out, showing you his full speed that has you fighting to keep up due to your exhaustion. You quickly take notice of your surroundings, fighting to keep as much distance between you as possible. Zenos won’t have it however, practically stalking you down with each ilm of space you put between you. Eyes widening, your fight instinct turns into flight, and you make a break for it.

Adrenaline fuels you with a mix of other emotions as you fight to round the front of the estate. Thankfully there are no metal gates preventing entry into the back, merely tall bushes that create a natural pathway to the gardens in the back. You hear his footsteps pounding behind you, his long legs allowing him to easily keep pace as you duck around another bush and further into the gardens.

“Why’re you chasing me?!”

“Don’t let her get away!”

Your head pounds as visions assault you, face clenched tight as you run vault over the rows of flowers and small plants, considerate of the gardners even if you feel like you’re running for your life.

“How could she have done this? She’s just a girl…”

Your breath gets caught in your throat, you hesitate for one second too long, and Zenos arms lock around you sending you both crashing into the ornate fountain in the center of the yard. You claw and you kick and you scream, mouth shutting tight as your body fights to keep water out. The arms around you don’t budge and you struggle harder, black curling in the edge of your vision.

“There she is!”

Your head is pounding, hard enough to make you scream.

“Stay here, Honey. You have to stay safe--”

Someone is screaming. Is it you?

“There was just this girl here? But then who killed all these men…”

“Honey!”

You lash out without thinking, as you’re pulled bodily from the waters, lungs gasping for air. You thrash wildly like a mad woman, unable to get yourself free. “Get off of me! I’ll kill you! I’ll end you--”

“Calm yourself!”

You’re twisted suddenly, back against the marble wall of the fountain that you’re still halfway submerged in. Your jaw is captured in a strong hand, forcing you to look into ice blue eyes.

Those eyes alone catapult you back into the present. Zenos stares long and hard, blue eyes searching your own. He’s pinned your arms to your sides, legs on top of your own to keep you still. “What has come over you?” He asks in a harsh whisper, his eyes scanning your face. You wonder what you must look like to him, for it is the first time you see something aside from apathy or bloodlust in his eyes.

You swear you see something akin to concern.

“What has changed you, my beast…?” He asks with palpable confusion, uncaring that his expensive suit is now ruined, that his lustrous hair now clings to his face. “What secrets do you hide?”

Tears spill from your eyes, standing out against your skin even though you’re soaked with water from the fountain above. You gape like a fish, wanting to say something, anything, but no words will come out. Is it because you can’t speak? Because you don’t know what to say?

You don’t even know yourself.

Pursing his lips, Zenos’ expression goes gravely serious. “Let’s not worry about it, for now.” He decides, shifting to hook his arms underneath you. Standing, his broad figure shields you from the droplets of the fountain as he moves you both from under its spray. “Perhaps...not everyone is meant to kill.”

The statement is said casually, almost as if he was musing. What a sorry pair you two must make, soaked in water, Zenos’ shoes squelching with each step he takes as he trudges back toward the estate. You hang there limply in his arms, offering no resistance as he manages to get the back door open.

“If I must keep you from making the final blow in order to return you to your natural state...so be it.” He murmurs, shoes squeaking against the polished tile in the hallway. You slowly cant your head to gaze up at him in a daze, unsure if you heard correctly. From here you can see the sharp edge of his jawline, how the shadows dance along his face in a much more attractive fashion, compared to...compared to…

He grunts as he manages to get your door open with an arm full of you, stopping in the middle of the room. He sets you down on your feet gently, not dumping you on the floor as you would expect, and the surrealness of it all is so jarring all you can do is stare blankly at him. Silently, he reaches to brush hair that’s sticking to your face away, eyes unreadable. “Rest, my beast.” He murmurs, voice oddly soft.

Dropping his hand back to his side, he leaves you there and steps out your room and into the quiet hallway.

“Your bodyguard...Honey was it? Are they unwell?”

Zenos glares at the source of the voice. “Father.”

Varis stands slightly further down the hall, golden eyes twinkling in the darkened hallway. Dressed to sleep, he still has a rather imposing figure.

To anyone that wasn’t his son, of course.

“The police have finally allowed us to take a full look at the report of the incident.” Varis begins, voice quiet, but Zenos is not fooled. Holding up a stack of paper, Varis waves it lightly. “Have you taken a look at it?”

Zenos lips are a thin line as he doesn’t let up his glare. “Will you deign to share it?” He growls.

“Of course.” Varis chuckles, holding out the documents with an outstretched arm. Zenos snatches the papers from him, eyes quickly scanning over the police report. “I thought you had told me that your little bodyguard could not kill.”

Frowning, Zenos resists crumpling the papers in his fist. “I had not lied. On several trips she had been too soft to kill, only able to follow my orders to injure those who needed...discipline.”

“Ah, but it seems that she can kill...with the right motivation.” Varis hums thoughtfully, eyes pointedly looking at the police report. “Livia spared no detail in her report. Her efficiency, her ruthlessness, it is unmatched.”

An ugly feeling rears itself in Zenos’ chest, already knowing that tone from his father. “That is why she is mine.” He snaps, unable to stop himself from crushing the report in his hands. Any normal man would cower in fear beneath the glare Zenos gives his father, but Varis looks at him as a parent would look at their child throwing a tantrum.

“So you say.” Varis grins coyly, beginning to stride down the hall. “Rest well, my son.”

Filled with rage, Zenos stands still as he waits for his father to go upstairs. The wall looks incredibly good to put a fist through right now, but he remembers you are resting, hopefully asleep not but a few fulms behind him. Taking calming breaths, he does his best to smooth out the wrinkles he caused in the papers, glancing over their dried ink once more. Lips pressed in a thin line, he stalks upstairs, making a beeline for his office, not bothering to turn on the light as he sits in the chair and turns his computer on.

Bathed in the blue glow of his computer screen, he sighs, hand impatiently tapping on his lap as he waits for pages to load.

He should’ve done this long ago.

He blames himself for being in this position; once again his father yearns to take something from him. He would not lose his only challenge to whatever trauma tormented her mind, and certainly not to his father.

Not again.

He had his suspicions you were not who you said you were; he was no fool. But perhaps he was a little too eager for the challenge you presented that he was willing to overlook all the signs that hinted at potential lies. Lies, that were he not careful, his father would undoubtedly find out.

With their power and influence, it was no issue to dig deep into one’s background; even if they were doing their damndest to hide it. What were you hiding from him, and why?

The moon hangs high as he digs deeper and deeper, growing more frustrated at various forms of encryption and shadow anytime he found a lead. You were hiding something, but finding out was proving more trouble than it was worth this late at night. He must rest, so that he wouldn’t be exhausted in the morning…

Wait.

There.

Clicking through several links, he finds a lead, leaning forward on his desk as he finally finds what he’s looking for, eyes narrowing before widening in surprise. Your real name, your residence, your origin, but the thing that stands out the most is:

Police Officer.

You’re a spy.

Zenos sits there in silence, unsure what to do with this information, the pieces finally clicking into place.

You’re a cop. A cop most likely sent to infiltrate and take down his father.

Father.

His fists ball up, chest heaving a huge sigh. The “right” thing to do would be to inform his father. Should his father’s company fall, he would lose his only means of amusement, his life would be dull, he would be cursed to be stuck in this empty, ephemeral world--

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had someone make me work as hard ‘til I’ve met you.” You grin, sweat slicked skin glistening in the fluorescent light of the gym. You’ve pinned him again, foot on his chest as you grin down at him in triumph.

“Is that so?” He asks, unable to hold back his own smile, despite being bested again. It falters for a moment as you reach out a hand toward him, wiggling your fingers as you remove your foot from his chest.

“Yeah. I still hate getting up at the ass crack of dawn, but...you make it worth it.” He passes off the redness in your cheeks as exertion. Standing to his feet with your aid, he stares down at your glowing face, something warm bubbling deep within him…

Without thinking, his hands click the necessary functions to erase it all.

Whether the police will notice, he doesn’t know, but he does know he will be damned if he lets his father find out you are a cop. He had let his father get away for too long.

No longer.

When you wake, you feel refreshed, having slept deeply. For the first time in awhile, you had slept soundly through the night, completely free of nightmares. The sun shines gently through your window, warming your skin, and for the first time in weeks, you feel ready to meet the day.

Dressing for your morning workout, you step out into the hallway, finding the staff as busy as usual. Your stomach rumbles as you make your way down the hall, choosing to deviate instead to grab a piece of fruit from the kitchen before heading to the gym for your workout with Zenos. You chose not to think too hard on his actions last night, saving it to dissect another time. It wouldn’t hurt to thank him at least, by grabbing an extra apple for him from the kitchen.

“It has been far too long, Emissary.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, overhearing voices from the foyer up ahead. That sounded like Varis...what world leader is he rubbing shoulders with?

“Indeed, once I had heard of the incident concerning you and young Zenos, I felt it prudent to visit as soon as I was able.”

The next voice is smoother, its baritone rich like a fine brandy. Curiosity gets the better of you and you deviate to the foyer, wanting to see who could be the owner of such an amazing voice. Creeping close to the wall, you slowly peek your head around the wall.

Varis stands in the middle of the foyer, dressed for the day in a tailored suit. But it is not him that grabs your attention.

The man before him stands far shorter, closer to Ardbert’s height. Cleanly cut silver hair adorns his head, reflecting the gentle light of the sunrise. He too wears a suit, though his is pure white with gold accents, highlighting his slim figure.

“You honor us with your concern, Emissary.” Varis bows slightly, showing deference, but there’s a slight tightness in his voice that doesn’t escape your notice.

“It’s nothing, Varis. I only intend to stay for a few days at most, to catch up…” His red eyes drift over to your hiding spot, a slow smirk spreading across his lips. “And to give my thanks to your dutiful bodyguard.”

[queenslasharchive]

Believe

A gift for @chaoskirin, never stop believing. 

“I believe in Santa Claus

Like I believe in love

I believe in Santa Claus

And everything he does

There’s no question in my mind

That he does exist

Just like love I know he’s there

Waiting to be missed…”

A long long time ago, in the land of ice and snow, there was once an ivory-haired foundling left on the steps of a winsome little cottage in the center of an ever-wintery forest. 

Why ever-wintery you may ask? 

Well, it was a place where snowflakes never stopped falling, where rivers never broke apart into grue. A place where it could be Christmas Day all year round, everything imbued with a certain sort of magic. 

That little cottage in the wood, made of strong sturdy arctic firs and draped with gossamer strings of icicles, the sort that almost looked like the trailing strings of fairy-lights and tinsel, to grace the pine boughs of a Christmas tree decades later… belonged to a family of tiny elves by the name of Kringle, toymakers by trade and a burgeoning family by choice. 

They called their new baby boy, Nicholas. 

The world would come to know him as Saint Nicholas, Santa Claus, and Kris Kringle. 

But three wan boys with big dreams and empty pockets, would come to know him as John Richard Deacon, their Deaky. 

-X-

Strangely enough THE Santa Claus, was rarely, if ever, at the North Pole (which on a map, was actually called Polaris).  

He could usually be found fixing something in the apartment he shared with his bandmates, a wrench held between his teeth as he tinkered away. He had been building and inventing toys since he was in the cradle, so the process of creation was nothing new to him. Yet he would still be at a loss for words when Roger would trot over, as John was laying flat on his back, fixing their shitty fridge once again, and plopped down, straddling his stomach. (Which was not round and jiggly like a ‘bowl full of jelly’, thank you very much, modern culture. He was sort of chubby yeah, not gonna deny that. But dear lord, every caricature depicted him as some obese old man. It was almost enough to give him a body complex. Almost).

“Hey Deaky?”

Rog started with that annoyingly inquisitive tone of his and John merely grunted at the knee in his ribs. 

“How did you learn to fix stuff like this?”

Because I was raised by toy-making Keebler elves in a magical winter-wonderland forest. 

“Practice.”

Roger asked a lot of questions like that. 

Most people liked to write him off as the dumb blonde of the band, (obviously there to do little more than pose and look pretty, while playing on his kit or laying on an album cover), but in practice, Rog was anything but. 

“Hey Deaky?” 

John hummed as Roger’s hand stilled from where it had been carving through his long pale ponytail, bushy as ever in the confines of it’s scrunchie. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask, why is your hair all white? Are you albino?” Ever the biology major.

Magic, Roger. 

“I dunno, I was born with it.”

Which wasn’t to say that Brian and Freddie didn’t ask difficult questions as well, but they were rarer events. Most of his quirks he could easily explain away to them. Like Fred when he shoved eight cookies into his mouth at once. The impatient boy was just lucky they were still soft out of the oven, or he probably would’ve choked to death and they’d be out a lead singer for the band. 

As it stood, Freddie flopped over the arm of their couch’s nasty love-seat, hands folded over his mouth, making several guttural sounds better suited to a porno than a reaction to baked goods. 

“Good, huh? Or are those just the sounds of despair?”

Freddie made a noise that sounded a bit like how Cookie Monster must have in the throes of passion. 

“Funny, the way you go on, I’d always thought you could fit more in your mouth.”

He caught a faceful of moist towelettes for his insolence, but it was so worth it. 

“How in the world did you learn to cook ambrosia, darling?” Freddie asked, once he could finally breathe again. John shook his head and tucked in his chin to hide the smile. 

“Tante taught me.” Tante Kringle, his elf mother. 

Fred’s brow had crinkled and his lips pursed in confusion. “Tante?” 

Deaky did the washing up with a smile on his face. “Yes, it means Aunt in German. She and my uncles raised me.” Brushing a stray clump of snowy hair out of his eyes, just because it was white didn’t mean he could see through it. Freddie came up behind him to wrap his arms around his waist, pressing his curved seashell ear onto John’s back to hear him breathe.

“What happened, Deaky?”

Fred sounded so sad, but John merely tossed his hair aside (Freddie insisted that it stay long for their glam look) and pressed a little kiss to the crown of their singer’s head. 

“My parents abandoned me on their doorstep as a baby.” 

“They did what?!” Freddie sounded so bloody broken up about it that John had no idea what to say. It wasn’t a big deal anymore. He was raised by the most unbelievably loving elf family. (Part of him wished that the boys could meet them, you know, without freaking out). 

“It’s alright, Fred. I never knew them and my family loves me very much.”

Freddie pouted, arms wrapped around John’s tummy. “Still.” 

****

Roger snorted as he watched one of the many TV movies leading up to Christmas, “Hey, did you lot know that Santa’s got a pilot license?”

Freddie had laughed into his cornflakes, sitting cross-legged on the living room rug in his underwear. Brian didn’t look up from his textbook, or the leaning Tower of Pisa he’d constructed out of notes from each of his dozen classes, frantically studying for his next final. John nodded, of course he knew, it was his license. Thank you, American Assistant Secretary of Commerce. 

“So Bri…” Roger trilled, rolling over until his blonde head was all up in Brian’s face, covering his frantically written notes, in a way that reeked of suicide. The fire in Bri’s eyes could have deforested the Congo. 

“Do you believe in Santa Claus?”

“No. He doesn’t exist, he’s a social construct. It’s impossible. No one can go deliver gifts around the world in one night or go down a flue over and over, especially not a man that size. Suffice to say, reindeers can’t fly and could never carry that many presents. Now kindly bugger off, so I can study.”

Thank you, Mr. Analytical. 

…Whatever happened to magic?

Sometimes he really wanted to pull A Year Without A Santa Claus and see what went down without him.

But then he’d remember his family, waiting up in the snowy hilltops for him and just how hard they worked for the joy of children each holiday season and he could never pull shit like that. Not when they relied on him so much. 

Tante would pull him into her lap as a little thing and smooth out his hair with her dainty glass hands.

“Our boy, our Kris, our little Saint Nicholas.”

-X-

“I believe in Santa Claus

But there was a time

I thought I had grown to old

For such a childish rhyme

He became a dream to me

‘Til one Christmas night

Someone stood beside my bed

With a beard of white…”

-X-

As usual, Christmas Eve came far too soon and he was frantically packing up in the dead of night to get the show on the road. 

Making sure his boys were safely tucked into dream-land before creeping out into the living room, dressed in a pair of obnoxiously red flannel pajamas, snow boots and a white parka the same shade as his hair (the suit would be waiting for him in the sleigh, along with the toys and everything else sent along by his ever-vigilant family). His cheeks were round-peach rosy even in the cold and tugged on a pair of fleece mittens with a practiced hand. He was just walking around the couch to grab his discarded polka-dotted scarf, when his foot connected with something worryingly plush and startling human. 

Roger groaned as he sat up like Frankenstein’s monster, holding his stomach where John had inadvertently kicked him. “Hey Deaky, what’s the big idea?!” 

John was at a loss. “I just saw you… you were asleep in bed…” He waved his hands around as if that would remedy the problem. 

Rog just rolled his eyes, “Nah, that’s Fern. The girl I brought home last night.”

“…and you’re not asleep with her?”

Roger cringed as though John had suggested he drop Freddie’s hairdryer in the bathtub, while he was in it. “Well, you know Johnny Boy, when a man loves a woman, or a man loves a man, or a woman loves a woman, (let’s be inclusive here)… sometimes if they’re too close together they…” Cue several vulgar hand gestures. “I wasn’t sure if you lot wanted to hear that.”

“Yeah well, I didn’t. But now I can see it. Thanks for that.”

Roger grinned like a greedy kid on Christmas morning. 

“No problem, Deaks!” Then his eyes narrowed in on John’s outfit and the small clutch of luggage in his keeping. “Where are you going?’

The young bassist blanched. “Oh, you know.” A vague hand gesture. “My family needs me to rush home for… reasons.” I have to go fly around in a red suit handing out presents to children. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

He tried to grab everything he needed and make a beeline waddle for the door, but Roger was far too fast for him and basically galloped over, to wrap those skinny noodle arms tight around his waist, stopping him in his tracks. Fuck. 

Instead of doing the sensible thing and asking him why he had to go, or if there was anything he could do to help, Roger screamed for Brian and Freddie at the top of his lungs. Yelling about how there was a Christmas emergency and John was trying to flee the country. 

Thanks Rog, thanks a whole fucking lot. 

Freddie hurled himself out of the bedroom, tinsel wrapped around his neck and candy-cane pasties on his nipples. It complimented the tight yellow star boxers down below that left nothing to the imagination, leftovers from their wild Christmas party the night before. “Wha’s going on? Deaky’s going on the lam? Who did we kill?”

John’s will to live. 

“The last of my sanity.” Brian groaned, scrubbing a hand through his half-flattened curls. “What is going on?”

Roger instantly let go and pointed the finger at John, like they were still in primary school and he’d stolen Rog’s Hello Kitty eraser. “Deaky’s trying to run off and join the circus!”

“No, I’m not!” He was about to rip out chunks of his own hair though. “I just have to go home for a few days…” Nope, I’ve got to go be Santa. 

Freddie was aghast. “But Deaky, you’ll miss Christmas! I thought we were going to celebrate together.” He looked so sad about it. Dramatic Queens, the lot of them.

John pinched the bridge of his nose. About to launch a long winded apology and partial explanation. Until he got distracted by Roger, who was running about and gathering up all his shit like some sort of small opinionated human tornado. 

“Rog, what are you doing?”

“Packing!” The drummer squeaked, squishing himself between the love-seat and the pull-out couch to dig up his other sock. “We’re coming with you!”

Roggie, you can’t just…

The familiar symphony of hooves touching down on the roof, dislodging more than a fair bit of snow, sounded high above their heads and John contemplated using his wintery magic to knock the boys unconscious. Alas, Bri just crinkled his nose. 

“What on earth was that?”

John grimaced. “My ride.” 

-X-

When he got up to the roof, Donner was all up in his face with that wet nose of hers, the others not far behind her. His loyal reindeer queen. His fuzzy baby girls that he’d raised from the very moment that they’d tumbled out into his arms. They knew his scent, the funny choked-off laugh mimicked by all around the world, they loved him. (Yes, his sleigh ran on fierce girl power. Male reindeer didn’t have antlers this deep in the wintertime).

He trudged through the surprisingly thick snow to be able to reach out to all of them at once. 

The boys were openly staring behind him. Keeping a wide berth, but ah hell, what did John have to lose? Might as well give regal disaster Freddie the time of his life. John took the shy singer by the hand and led the scrawny boy towards the rarely skittish creatures. 

“Hold your hand out palm up, so they can sniff you.”

Freddie was adorably incredulous, whispering over and over under his breath. “I’m being sniffed by a caribou. I’m being sniffed by a caribou. This is the best day of my life. I’m being sniffed by a caribou.”

Brian cleared his throat, eyes unblinking as he worried at his bottom lip absently. “John. Why are there caribou on our roof?”

“They’re uh… reindeer… That’s the term they prefer.”

Bri nodded, waiting a suitable amount of time before. “Right. John. Why are there reindeer on our roof?”

“They’re my ride.” He sounded sheepish as could be, drawing a hand through his ever-mussed ivory hair, pretty sure that Brian was inches away from pulling a Santa Clause and shoving him off the roof to die. 

“Your ride home is… in a sleigh drawn by reindeer? Were the red-eye all booked up?” Disbelief written across his soft features, plain as day. 

“Uh no. You um… caught me red-handed. I actually have to make some deliveries first.” 

The toy bag was resting in the back. It was magic, you see, the correct toys wouldn’t appear in his sack until he had reached the intended home. The children sleeping softly in their beds, eager for what the next day would bring. 

“You have to make deliveries in a sleigh drawn by reindeer on Christmas Eve?” Brian rolled his eyes skyward, those bony arms crossed to hide the way they trembled. “I think I know this story. Isn’t that Santa Claus’ job?”

John shifted side to side, clearly uneasily. “Well, yeah. Though can you really count it as a job when I’ve never gotten paid?”

Bri looked more frozen than the ice freezing on the edges of his curls. “Excuse me, what?”

“You heard me, Bri.” 

“Um, no. I didn’t hear you, because Santa Claus doesn’t exist.” And this was the man who thought he was so much better than those who called Galileo crazy, for suggesting that the world didn’t revolve around the earth? Wow. Irony. 

John rolled his eyes, because this was going nowhere and he didn’t have any time to lose. 

“Look, believe whatever you want. But I don’t have time for this. Take Freddie and Rog and go back inside. I’ll be home in a few hours.” 

He moved to climb into the sleigh and change clothes. But not before seeing an eager Roger sitting in the front seat, beaming from ear-to-ear and practically bouncing where he sat. “Oh fuck that, come on boys! Let’s go save Christmas!” The drummer crowed, arms spread as wide as could be. 

“Rog, Christmas isn’t in danger.”

“It will be if you don’t get a move on, Santa Baby.” A finger reached out to poke at his soft middle and John blushed all the way up to his ears, as Roger began to hum the opening lines of the song.

“Fuck you.” Honestly, he didn’t mind and could give a shit. (At least it wasn’t Little Drummer Boy, for the thousandth time).

“Aw, don’t be shy, Johnny! It’s cute!” Roger squirreled his arms around John again, who rolled his eyes before hugging back, loathly.

“Rog, you are so on the naughty list, for life.” Enjoy coal, bitch. (Okay, so maybe he cared a just little bit). 

“Let’s save Christmas!” The naughty blonde simply crowed, throwing out his arms like he was preparing for some sort of grand entrance at a ball (as the princess). 

John pouted as he moved to check all the rigging, he wasn’t taking them with him. He wasn’t. 

Spoiler alert: He took them with him. 

-X-

‘“So you’re too old for Santa Claus”?

He said with a smile

“Then you’re too old for all the things

That make a life worthwhile…

For what is happiness, but dreams

And do they all come true

Look at me and tell me, son

What is real to you?”’

-X-

He cracked the reins to get them soaring into the air, even though the girls knew exactly what they were doing.

His boys seemed the opposite, a complete motley of emotions. Brian was scowling like a sullen little boy, and holding onto the edges of his seat for dear life. Roger was still bouncing around like a little kid on a sugar high, so no change there. And Freddie was trying to avoid looking down. 

“Fred, you okay?”

Soft swallow, “I’m not much of a heights fan, dear.”

“HA! Deer!” Yes, Roger was most certainly still drunk from drinking his body weight in spiked eggnog earlier. Or maybe that was just Roger. John unceremoniously reached over and dropped the reins in Freddie’s hands.

“Drive the sleigh for a minute, yeah? I’ve got to get dressed.” He ordered absently, as he climbed into the back to change into the proper attire. The response from the boys was immediate, Roger froze and stared over at Freddie with unspeakable horror. Freddie himself clutched onto the reins with trembling hands and Brian was flabbergasted, as usual. 

“Freddie can’t even drive a car, Deaky!”

“Oh we’re gonna die… we’re gonna die!” Roger moaned from the back and Freddie whipped around with a venomous scowl on his face.

“Thank you so much, darlings, for the vote of confidence!”

John tucked his discarded parka around Freddie’s narrow shoulders. “It has to be him. Nobody else has the song power needed to keep this thing up.”

Roger snorted into his hand. “Fred’s good at keeping stuff up.” Fear momentarily forgotten. 

Brian eyes were practically suspicious slits, “Song power? Is that a thing?”

Freddie looked like a mix between nervous and intrigued. “Do we have to sing Christmas carols to stay in the air?” 

Nope. 

“Definitely.”

He dressed in the back as quickly as he could, fortunate enough that his warm suit was tucked safely amongst the floorboards. He hastily handed off pieces of his clothing to whoever looked the coldest, as he was serenaded by the worst Christmas carolers he had ever heard in his life. If the sleigh really did run on song power, oh they would have been dead long ago. 

Roger wolf-whistled as he climbed into the front in full-regalia. “Looking good, Deaky!”

John flushed all the way up to his ears and Freddie frantically passed the reins back. A few of the reindeer tossed their heads and gave him scathing looks for being under-siege by such an unexperienced driver. 

“You aren’t singing.” Brian deadpanned. 

“I don’t have to, I’m Santa.”

-X-

Once they’d hit all the bloody homes in Britain, Brian was sitting there blinking in shock. “How in the world…? It’s been minutes!” (What could he say? He’d had a slow start). Bri’s stubbly jaw was half-hanging open like a shutter door somebody had forgotten to close. 

“Stand up, Bri.” 

They were flying through the air faster than the speed of light, the ocean swirling, curling and sloshing beneath them. Brian looked at him like he’d just suggested jumping into it. 

“Stand up!”

Brian rolled his eyes and did as requested, so John dropped the reins into Freddie’s hands again, as he pulled Bri over to the edge of the sleigh. They were flying at a height that turned the clouds into cotton-candy and brought the stars ever closer. He tightened his arm around Bri’s tiny waist to support him, watching as those dark eyes filled with wonder once more. A wide, childlike wonder. Mirroring the face of a little boy who had once believed in magic. 

Brian May, Hampton. He’d asked for space-related paraphernalia every year for Christmas during his childhood. The one year he’d asked for a bike instead, John had personally attached planetary stickers and streamers to the handlebars. 

Bri, when did you stop believing? 

His hands reached out to touch the stars. 

“Hey, Bri, do you know what they see when they look up at us?”

Those doe eyes were enormous as he shook his curly head. When did you stop seeing the magic in the stars?

“What?” A little smile playing in the corners of his mouth. 

“A shooting star… Make a wish.”

That lovely smile took full center-stage again, a man who believed again, in something more. 

Merry Christmas, Brimi. 

-X-

“Just believe in Santa Claus

Like you believe in love

Just believe in Santa Claus

And everything he does…

Wipe that question from your mind

Yes, he does exist!”

-X-

They flew around the world in a matter of hours. 

Even when Freddie begged to be left in Japan (they’d had to bodily put him back into the sleigh, “Just leave me here to enjoy my life!” Fighting for freedom with all his might). Roger was groaning with a sore distended belly from eating all the bloody Christmas cookies that John had shoved in his direction. (“What the hell? Why did you eat them all?!” Roger pulled his big pouty face. “You said they would be upset if you didn’t!” John rolled his eyes skyward before ordering that if Rog had to puke, he more certainly wasn’t doing it in the sleigh. Magic could only go so far.)

And Brian was looking around like he was seeing the world with new eyes. 

John made sure he dragged each of them down the chimney at least once, to give them the full-experience of laying down the presents and experiencing the whole shebang. 

Their only issue occurred in America. Where they hadn’t noticed a little girl in a fuzzy green nightie asleep on the couch overlooking the tree. She had sat up with a stuffed snake cradled in her lap. 

“Santa?”

All four of them had frozen. (Why he’d thought it was smart to bring all of them at the same time was another matter entirely). John had turned though, with a practiced smile on his face, it wasn’t the first time he’d been caught by a pair of curious little eyes. 

“Hello, love. You should be asleep.” 

She had rubbed at her eyes with a tired little smile. 

“Sorry, Santa.” 

“It’s alright, little one. I’m sorry we woke you up, my friends are helping me deliver gifts tonight,” He looked around with mock-furtiveness and spoke in a stage-whisper. “They’re a little new at this.”

John gently tucked her in on the couch. “Merry Christmas, Aeryn.” She smiled that child’s gummy grin and pressed her stuffed snake ever closer. 

“Merry Christmas, Santa.”

But nothing was better than looking in the backseat of his sleigh, the one that had seen many lonely Christmases in his time, and seeing all his rough-and-tumble boys curled up together instead of empty space.

Brian’s head pillowed on Freddie’s shoulder. Rog curled up across both their laps. Freddie flopped over like a deflated bouncy castle. 

For a moment he wondered if being Santa meant giving himself the best Christmas present as well, for when he looked at the boys he’d miraculously accrued… perhaps he already had. 

The sleigh touched down in the center of the small elfin village that he’d helped to build so long ago, all of the icy grandeur patterned around that tiny cottage in the ever-wintery wood. The house that had served as his school, his workshop and his home beyond all else.

He hurled himself out of his uncomfortable wooden seat (they really needed to invest in better padding) to careen over to that same little cottage and the old elfin queen who waited for him there. Tante Kringle opened up her arms and he bent in two to hold her close, even as his knees grew damp and icy cold from the snow beneath them. He couldn’t help the sob that escaped his chapped lips.

“Oh how I’ve missed you my little Saint Nicholas.”

“I’ve missed you too, Tante.”

She pressed a familiar kiss against his forehead, tracing the path of a snowflake. “Did you have a lovely Christmas?”

“The best I’ve had in a very long time.” 

Her hands crested on her rounded hips and she tsked in his direction. “And have you called your mother yet young man? You know she’s been waiting to speak to you for millennia.” 

John groaned and rolled his eyes skyward. “Let her, I do have eternity, you know. And she abandoned me! She can wait.” He flashed her his token impish grin, only this one came with a forked snake tongue and slitted red eyes. His birth-mother’s calling cards. 

Oh you didn’t know Krampus had birthed Santa Claus?

Well, that dears, is a story for another time.

-X-

John carried his limp sleepy boys inside, one by one, and gently tucked them in on their messy couch. Brushing his chapped lips across every forehead within reach. “Happy Christmas.” He whispered to each and every single one of them. 

The boys who had ‘saved’ Christmas. 

But he lingered a moment afterward, saying a little Christmas wish of his very own. 

It doesn’t matter if you lot don’t believe in Santa Claus. That’s not something I would ever force anyone to do. But promise me, that you’ll believe in something. Anything. Even when everything is dark and there isn’t a Christmas light in sight? Believe. Believe in hope, believe in the future, believe in yourselves. That is all I want for each of you. That’s what I’m designed to teach. A belief in something incorporeal. Something beyond the limits of the possible. 

Yet when they woke up hours later and fervently asked about how things had gone, had everything gotten delivered in time, oh god was John really Santa Claus? He had merely raised an eyebrow, sipping at his hot cocoa. 

“Wow, you three certainly got plastered at that Christmas party last night. I wonder what was in that eggnog…” Smiling to himself with a knowing sort of look. 

Already getting ready for next year. 

-X-

“Just like love you knows he’s there

Waiting to be missed

Just like love I know he’s there

Waiting to be be missed…”

-X-

(MERRY CHRISTMAS! 

Features the song: “I Believe in Santa Claus” from the Rankin/Bass Christmas special. :D)

[austennerdita2533]

A/N: Here’s the Part 3 to my TO 5x06 Road Trip AU. Full of all the fluff, pillow talk, feels, and bed sharing Klaroline deserve! I hope you like it because I almost gave myself a feels attack writing it. *angel halo*  

On FF.net: (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

On A03: (Here)

Happy reading!

xx Ashlee Bree

In The Stillness of the Dark

Klaus kicked a foot free of the sheets. He rested it atop the comforter and exposed his pant leg to the knee as Caroline reached up to extinguish the lamp. Dousing the room around them into comfortable darkness, and privacy.

After a shower, a phone update from Freya, some takeout with a side of Runaway Daughter strategy, a cheap bottle of wine from the convenience store down the road, three episodes of Game of Thrones on the TV, and an argument that sprouted over who loved the left side of the bed more (which Klaus won - but barely - by declaring that “old sleeping habits only ripen with age, sweetheart, and I doubt you want me accidentally invading your space whilst we sleep”), the two of them had settled into bed for the night (he on the left, she on the right) with nothing more than a blanket and too much history between them.

However, as they lay down face-to-face, pillow-touching-pillow, a gentle kind of trust and contentment descended. Draping over them both like a blanket that tickled their nerves clear through to their toes. Freeing them of the awkwardness, but not the fluttering tension, they might’ve endured in this scenario years ago because their connection was no longer frightening. It was no longer unbreachable, or avoided for ‘reasons’—

And neither was he.

This borrowed bed, with this Hybrid mastermind tucked inside of it only inches away, felt familiar to Caroline in a way that was warm. Plush. Cozy. Safe. And promising. Which, ironically, were all things she needed but weren’t those she believed she’d experience with a man like him, or with any man at all. Ever. And sure as hell not all at once…after years of supernatural plots, enemies, teaching, magical kids, and widowed dreams.

It was a natural and comforting feeling, though, the weight of Klaus beside her, the smell of his damp curls and cologne-soaked skin so close she could almost taste it. So close she could almost taste him again.

He was daunting in all his Henly-wearing, sweat-pantsed glory, though. Like resin she couldn’t rinse from her heightened senses.

He was shiver-eliciting in ways Caroline once refused to acknowledge, but now couldn’t help but see and admire clearly. No longer afraid of what that revealed about her, or what it meant about them someday.

Like a rock against her side, Klaus was sturdy and smooth.

Propped on one elbow, his wisdom peaked out from the stubble of his jaw, dark and worn against his fair ageless cheek, as he placed the remote on the nightstand. Wit battling with tact each time he glanced back to chat with her in those low, drawled British tones. Assurance mixed with calculation creased his forehead, too. Just above the eyebrows. It gave him a cheshire cat aspect sometimes when he was determined to be appeased or knew he was right, which occurred at regular intervals throughout their acquaintanceship, but not constantly by any means. Vulnerability marked the lines of his form if one knew where to look, after all.

And Caroline did.

Around the eyes, across gripped-white knuckles, behind twitching muscles and hardly audible sighs, between long stretches of unblinking silence: these were the places she located Klaus’ fears and feelings of inadequacy. It was also where his deepest desires hid in plain sight.

Entranced, her interest piqued, she never could help but analyze everything about him she could glean.  

For instance, although he never moved or flinched nearer since they lay down, Klaus regarded the small distance between their bodies so softly, so acutely, that Caroline wondered why he never tried to make it disappear, eradicating the gap between them completely. It would’ve been easy for him to accomplish. Simpler than a reach-and-scoot; faster than the time it’d take for her to decline. It wouldn’t have taken long at all for him to swallow her like a giant spoon coming for the light of the moon.

There was something about how his smile spread to stretch across his lips gradually, gingerly, however; curling upwards to melt the shadows of his face into gold because their companionable vicinity was like champagne to him - not necessarily his first choice, but worth every fizzy sip she offered - which told Caroline he’d drink up the barest drop of hope he could find in her. It reminded her, again, how he was the kind of man who not only waited with relish, but stuck to his vows with purpose that never strayed.

Klaus owned a patient heart. And his had stayed with her, it seemed.

The fact that he refrained from touching her again, particularly when their pinkies hovered mere centimeters apart under the covers, was evidence of this. It not only showed great restraint on his part, but greater disappointment and regret on hers. Though she wasn’t sure why? Not at first, anyway.

As it happened, Klaus and Caroline were stiff from travel, emotionally drained, and drowsy - but not drowsy enough to keep from thinking in silence, apparently. Or from staring. A lot.

Eyes met eyes like magnets. Or like boomerangs which had finally circled back around to an inevitable destination.

Their locked gaze became unobtrusive in its intimate fragility because serenity gusted over them like beams of moonlight from the window. Trickling in with milky whites to shoo away the demons they each carried in their heads that rattled bones of insecurity and doubt. Rankling them together in acceptance of this one moment, of this one shared night.  

Bad timing, obstacles, and awaiting problems and responsibilities seemed to diminish the further they snuggled into their pillows. The world around them shrinking and shrinking and shrinking until it left them alone together in silhouette, no more than two. Just her and him.

The dimness heavy’d their yawns in such a manner that Caroline knew it wouldn’t be long before their tired lashes fell to rest against their cheeks as the hum of the heater lulled them into the quiet after goodnight; especially, now, since the pitch of their voices was diminishing to that of a whisper and slurred syllables already. For the only reason conversation held out at all was because, despite the lateness of the hour, neither one of them wished to be the first victim to surrender to sleep.

“I don’t need to worry about any Edward Cullen-type surprises from you tonight, right?” Caroline said as she slipped her right hand, flat, under her cheek, to nestle against the mattress.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well? Do I? You are an Original.”

Klaus scratched at his chin, chuckling, “I believe I don’t quite follow your question, love. Can you rephrase it for me, by chance?”

“Just tell me if you have any other weird Original-exclusive abilities. I think I deserve to be made aware of them all before it’s too late, don’t you?”

“Before it’s too late?” he said.

“Yes.”

“Too late for what? For me to read your thoughts, to convince you bunny blood will never fill you up? Specificity would be helpful here, I think.”

“Oh, please,” Caroline rolled her eyes. “Don’t be daft. Not only do I not adhere to the bunny diet, but you of all people aren’t telepathic. Like…at all.”

“Not since I met you, that’s for bloody certain.”

She frowned at this but said nothing. Klaus rubbed at the corners of his eyes then peered at her sagely as he plopped his chin in his palm, and sighed,

“Listen, if you mean to ask if I sparkle in the darkness after midnight, then the answer is no. I do not. I prefer to turn my diamond-glow off whenever I’m in shared sleeping quarters, you see, so as not to appear overindulgent, inconsiderate, or rude. I assume you know I would do this for you of all people? Clearly,” he added with a sweeping gesture at his perfectly unlit skin and the clock behind him, which read 1:02 A.M., as if this facetious remark explained everything.

“You’re ridiculous,” Caroline replied with a snort. “Are you always like this?”

“Rarely.”

She humphed.

“So, what, I’m the exception then? I bring it out in you in full-force or something?”

He shrugged. Letting her think whatever she wished. “Ridiculous questions deserve ridiculous answers, sweetheart.”

“I only wanted to know if you’ll be able to sleep tonight, that’s all,” Caroline said drily.

“Ah.”

“Is that so terrible?”

“No. That’s, uh - it’s actually…” Struggling for purchase, Klaus flipped onto his stomach and crossed his forearms under his chin so he could blink at the headboard. “Why couldn’t you have asked me that to start, Caroline? You and I are above these silly pretenses. We always were,” he said, side-eyeing her softly.

“I know I just—” she exhaled sharply, “You have a lot on your mind with Hope, your family, New Orleans, and you’re sifting through many questions and frustrations with magical complications, and I…well, I didn’t want to provoke you into a discussion about anything unless you wanted to share your thoughts with me. That’d be—and I’d never want to make you feel, you know…”

“You’re cute when you’re ruffled,” Klaus cut in.

Caroline skirted past the unexpected flattery, but not without pausing to blush first.  “Anyway, the point is I’m here for you. I’ve got your back either way, whatever happens.”

“You’re—but I’m so—?” His voice was thick. “Thank you,” he choked out.

“I mean, I’m not afraid to kick you in the ass when occasion requires it, but I also know when it’s wrong or inappropriate to prod. So, yeah,” she puckered her cheeks, “I figured it’d be easier to warn you about what’ll happen if I catch you watching me sleep like Cullen instead.”

“Which is…?” he said with a quick change of tone and subject.

Caroline’s lips twitched upwards, broadening into a smile as she tilted her head to consider him, “I’ll freak.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep,” she said with an overemphasized pop of the ‘p.’ “And I’ll retaliate in ways you can’t imagine, mister.”

“That sounds serious, indeed.”

She nodded, jostling her elbow at him, “I am part monster, you know,” she winked.

“Well, then,” he drawled and cracked his knuckles, “I suppose it’s too bad I left my Caroline Forbes handbook packed in my suitcase, now, isn’t it? Or I’d jot this detail down straight away for safe keeping.”

“I think you can remember it.” You remember everything else, she wanted to say but didn’t.

“Perhaps,” Klaus acquiesced. “That said, I find there are no incentives worthwhile enough for me to try at present, do you? And I’m a man who needs motivation. Besides,” he tapped his index finger against his lips, leaning in with a devilish glint, “to stop me you’d have to gouge out my eyeballs. So go on,” he smirked in challenge, “I’d love to see you try.”

He grinned at Caroline’s reaction: a sharp intake of breath followed by a rustle of covers, a playful shove, a squeal, a pillow to his face, and an ‘Oh my God, you are such a freaking creeeep! I can’t believe you said that.’

They rolled and tousled for some minutes afterwards, their separate sides long forgotten. Giggling all the while. Klaus repeatedly (and unsurprisingly) allowed himself to be pinned to the mattress by her knees, which she used to her advantage at long last by securing his wrists against the headboard then pressing her forehead against his until he froze, the sea of his irises flecking with gold waves as he became prey instead of predator. And happily so. That’s when she threatened to compel herself her own private town to sleep in if he couldn’t promise to keep his eyes closed til morning, or to at least try.

Klaus relented without too much protest after that.

When Caroline lauded her easy success as they curled back beneath the covers, however, he told her it was because he’d hate for her to be lonely. “You deserve better than that,” he added as he reached to pull the sheet over her shoulder. Fingers ghosting over her bare skin.

Something about the way he said it - flat with no sarcasm, no hesitation; pointed in sincerity but also reflective in a way that scratched at rawness in his throat - twisted knots in her belly so hard she could barely breathe. Or speak. Or do anything except reel, astounded and gawking. To know that Klaus distinguished between “alone” and “lonely” so profusely, the fact that he considered how those things affected a person in big or small ways, touched Caroline’s heart almost as much as it saddened it. For how long had he felt this way, himself, over the centuries? How often in her young, ageless life already had she?

A keen pang fluttered in her chest at this: revealing another thumping tether of similarity.

Then, before she realized it, one of her hands had slipped out from under her head of its own volition and reached forward to palm his cheek. Tenderness bursting toward him in a rapid rippling stream,

“So do you,” Caroline said like the coo of a dove, “so do you.” Her fingertips trailed circles along his jaw, lingering by the corner of his mouth only to drop against his forearm with a pinch after a moment. “Now get some sleep. You’re old as dirt and probably need more under-eye concealer in the morning than I do.”

“After you, love. Ladies first and all that,” Klaus smiled.

“Creep,” she breathed in reply.

Caroline shut her eyes and listened to the symphonic thud thud of his heartbeat after that. Too cozy to remove her arm from where it clutched his in caress. He didn’t seem to mind. And when she stirred a few hours later, cradled against his chest on the left side of the bed, breaking her own rule to study the smoothness of his closed eyelids, to map the constellations of freckles on his neck; plucking at her own curiosities about his soft defenselessness and longevity in the stillness of the dark while he slept, she found neither did she.

[gwenore]

The princess of Avonlea. Part 4.

Finally got part 2 of @dekujin‘s gift done. I really do love these two and especially here as they are so utterly fluffah. Hope you enjoy the fluff too! 

“Yes! I want to come home with you!” the animatronic light up, filling with excitement as she hardly could stand still.

Rum had to smile at her excitement. He still was quite concerned with how Neal would react when he saw Belle… after all she was rather… unusual.

“Well… we should perhaps finish most of the shift at least… but try to leave before the sun comes up… are you certain… that thing isn’t here?” he looked around a bit nervously.

Belle glanced around as well.

“He wasn’t here when I woke up…” her voice was hesitating.

“Perhaps we should stay at the office… it is right at the exit,” he really did not wish to stay in this run down theater. Not after what had just happened.

“Oh? That does sound exciting. But… are we coming back here?” she then asked.

“I don’t believe so… unless there is a reason too,” he explained. Belle blinked and nodded her head. That made sense…

“Um… may I bring something?” the animatronic princess questioned. Rum was quick to nod his head.

“Of course,” he said, hoping that she would not wish to bring the giant animatronic dragon. He hardly thought that he would be able to get that thing out of the theater… not to mention get in the car. He didn’t even think that the was able to fit it in the small house that he and Neal lived in.

Belle was very excited rushing past the curtains seemingly trying to search for something. At least it didn’t seem like it wasn’t the animatronic dragon at least.

Soon the animatronic princess emerged with a children’s book in her hands.

“This!” she showed him. Rum looked at the blue plush bunny on the cover, before nodding his head.

“A book?” he asked.

“Yes, I don’t know where I got it, but I have had it for such a long time… I think someone gave it to me… but… I don’t remember when I got it… but I have had it for such a long ting time… I really do not wish to part with it,” Belle said as she held it close.

Rum smiled softly to her.

“Of course you can bring it. It is clearly important for you,” he assured her, reaching out and touching the cold metal of her arm. Belle smiled happily, clutching the book closer, truly happy that she did not have to part with it.

“Thank you,” she said, gazing at him. The security guard felt his heart flutter in a way that it had never really done before.

Once again he felt himself staring at her with adoration and… love…

He blinked, having to gently rub his hand against his forehead, covering his face slightly as he gathered his thoughts.

Yes… it was love that he felt.

That was the reason why his heart fluttered the way that it did. He was in love.

But… she wasn’t human. Could she even love the way a human could?

Rum didn’t know…

… but he didn’t care either.

Humans had hurt him… especially those that had claimed to love him. For the longest time… he thought that he was unable to really love anyone other than his son. He had no desire to change that.

In some sense he feared humans. It perhaps explained why he had no desire for even friends and companionship.

But her…

He felt safe with her. She was… wonderful.

Swallowing down a bit he smiled towards her.

“Is there anything else you wish to bring?” he asked. Belle shook her head.

“No, just this,” she lifted the book towards him to show him again.

“So… are you ready to leave?” he then asked. Belle’s eyes slowly wandered towards the small stage with the spinning wheel.

Why did she feel like he was still watching her?

“Yes, let us leave now,” she insisted, taking his hand in hers, starting to pull him towards the exit. Rum followed her, his mind putting off the difficult logistics about what was going to happen when he actually brought her home.

But… he would cross that bridge when he got to it.

  The rest of Rum’s shift was spent in the small security guard office. Rum had been enjoying some tea, watching the animatronic curiously touch the things in his office.

He continued to tell her stories, but for the first time these were not some fanciful tales that he had come up with, but more about his real life.

To him they sounded dreadfully boring, but she was just as excited as before.

He told her about his son, which also fascinated her greatly, asking questions about him, which Rum answered with pride.

Because of this it did not take long before the sun started to rise on the horizon as the clock chimed 6 am.

“Well… we should get out of it before Mr. Jefferson shows up,” he mentioned her towards her to follow him.

“Yes! This is very exciting!” she said with a happy sound. “How are we getting out of here?”

This really was like something out of a fantasy book for the animatronic.

“There is my car, come let me show you it,” he said as he took her hand, leading her out in the parking lot where the sun had not yet reached. He opened the door for her to the passenger seat, Belle all the while staring in amazement.

“It drives on its own?” she asked.

“Well… with the help of gas. I will get you some books which can explain it to you better than I could,” he said, Belle nodded her head.

“I would like that,” she said with a happy smile. Slowly the animatronic sat herself inside, the truck groaning a bit due to the weight of her metal body, making Rum worry for a moment if his old truck could handle it.

Still it seemed like even if the truck was old, it was sturdy. Luckily it wasn’t a long drive. So he slowly moved to the other side, getting into the driver’s seat.

“When I turn this key it will start to make sound and soon move. It is acting exactly as it should… so you don’t have to be afraid alright?” he assured her. The animatronic blinked her eyes before she nodded watching as Rum buckled her in.

“Alright, I will be brave…” she whispered softly.

“You are brave… but you will have to be brave a bit further,” he gave her a comforting smile, which made the animatronic answer the smile.

“I will,” she nodded her head.

Being assured that she was indeed alright, Rum turned the key and the truck roared to life. He felt her tense beside him… even though she didn’t have the muscles to tense.

“It is fine… it is doing what it should,” he reached his hand over, taking hers. She nodded.

“I can handle it… it is actually exciting…” her voice was low, yet he could see her glowing eyes darting around, taking in everything.

Rum let out another laugh, finding that he admired her greatly.

“Are you ready for it to move?” he then asked. Belle nodded her head quickly. With that the security guard put the car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot.

  The drive back home to his house has never been more exciting for the security guard, though he was a bit worried as the animatronic practically was leaning out the window.

“I never knew this world was just outside Avonlea!” she said excited.

“Well… the world is big… but...” Rum paused a bit. “It is also dangerous. I am scared that if people figure out you exist they will… they will destroy you.”

Belle looked over at him, before she nodded.

“He would say that too… that the humans would destroy us…” her voicebox crackled slightly. Rum felt a shiver go down his spine. He still felt terror simply thinking about… that thing.

“Well… he might be right... which is why we need to keep you a secret,” Rum said, Belle nodded looking a bit concerned. Rum simply took her hand gently.

“But we will still find a way to show you the world, I promise you,” he whispered softly towards her. This made Belle light up and she nodded her head.

“That is a deal!” she insisted.

“A deal,” Rum nodded.

  Arriving at the small house that he and his son shared he moved to help her out of the truck.

“So… this is my house, I know it isn’t much…” he began, but she quickly shook her head.

“No, I love it!” she insisted rushing over to the door, looking a bit in the windows. Rum laughed a bit of her before he slowly walked over an unlocked the door, and invited her inside.

The animatronic moved slowly, her blue eyes lighting up the house.

“So this is where you live,” she said before an excited sound came from her voice box and she rushed over to the bookshelf in the corner.

“You have so many books!” she exclaimed running her fingers over them even as she was clutching her own.

“Well… you can read them as you wish,” he laughed softly.

“Truly?” she turned towards them.

“Of cou…” the security guard could not even finish his sentence before he was hugged tightly by the animatronic princes.

“This is the best gift anyone has ever given me!” her voice box was filled with such joy that it made the security guard’s heart skip a beat.

Standing like that he had not heard that a door had opened and that someone had been roused by the sound of the excited princess.

“Papa…?”

“Neal… uh… there is someone I want you to meet.”

  Heavy steps resonated through the empty abandoned amusement park, as clacking of metal and parts moved across cobblestone street. Air from pistons sounded like heavy breathed as jagged metal teeth scraped against each other.

Yellow eyes broke through the darkness of the park.

His princess was stolen.

And he would have her back!

A low broken laugh passed those rusted teeth as the beast of Avonlea wandered out of the gates which had defined his world for so long and out on the open streets of the sleepy town of Storybrooke.

[beautifully-disastrous]

Nightstalkers

Haha, you thought it was ONE drabble, buT IT WAS ACTUALLY TWO!

It was a cool evening, when she told me. When I learned about the secrets running through my veins. We were sitting by the fire, snowflakes falling through the velvety, clouded night outside. Me on the plush, faded green rug that covered the well-loved, deep brown wooden floor. Gran on her rocking chair, one of a pair, a pale tan, sturdy wood. The second chair was for Pa, Gran’s husband. He’d been dead for years, now- Long before I was born- But sometimes, when Gran thought I was asleep, I heard it creaking alongside her chair, I heard her talking to Pa. And sometimes, in a faint whisper, I heard Pa’s voice, too. Responding. But tonight was not one of those nights. Tonight, as the firelight turned the cream walls of our small living room orange, Gran took me on her lap. I protested, of course.

“Gran! I’m almost 8 now! Too big for laps!”

With that secretive, knowing smile of hers- The playful one that pulled at the wrinkles on her face, the dappled remains of freckles across the pale tissue paper skin on her face- She leaned towards me. In a stage whisper, she told me, “Don’t you know, Jessie? You’re never too big for laps. Laps are just too small for you.”

I thought, for a few moments, before conceding. Gran had a point- As I got older, maybe everything else shrank and I just stayed the same. I climbed onto her lap, looking up at her in hope. Gran told the best stories, and she almost always did it at the fireplace. The gray woman did tell me a story, then- But a true one. A sad one.

“Once upon a time,” She started, for back then, all the stories started with that. “Once upon a time, there was a kind of creature. There weren’t many of them- Just one family. They were as black as night, with the bodies of serpents but the fur and face of wolves, and horns. They had stars in their coats and kindness in their eyes. The creatures each had a special ability- And what they had was completely unique. Some could see the dead, some could freeze a storm in its, and all inbetween.”

I interrupted, of course. I couldn’t hold the question back, curiosity bursting from me in the form of sudden words. “But don’t people go to Heaven after they die? That’s what Mrs. Harvie says!” My teacher- The only one in our village, really. A young woman from out of town, talking about Christianity.

Gran frowned slightly, disapproving. “Some. Not many, though. Just the ones that want to. Some of them want to stay here, more than they want to go there. But not many can see them. Hush, now, dear. Let Gran finish her story.” With a small boop to my nose, causing me to giggle and her smile to return, she continued. “But those creatures lived in the woods near a village, this village, in fact, and the villagers did not like that. They didn’t understand the creatures, and called them Nightstalkers, Starstealers, any number of mean names.”

I piped up once more, face scrunching in confusion. “But Gran, if- If the creatures were nice, why didn’t the villagers find out?”

Gran gave me a pat, shushing me again. “Some did. When the creatures found the kind villagers, the ones who not only helped the Dragons, for that was what the creatures truly were, but those around them as well, the Dragons shared their gifts. Only one Dragon for each person- But even when the mean, nasty villagers had driven the kind creatures away, the gifts remained. And when the kind ones had children of their own, their children had the gifts, too.”

I blinked, wonder lighting up on my face. “Do we have the spooky one- The dead one? Is that why you still talk to Pa sometimes?”

Gran gave me a smile, and a nod. “Yes, dear. Very good work, figuring that out on your own. The villagers fear us, though, the Dragonborn and their gifts. Which is why it’s a secret- Do you promise to keep it one?”

I nodded vigorously, earnestly. With honesty in every word, I exclaimed, “Promise! Cross my heart and hope to die!” I promised, with one hand on my heart, crossing it. The other hand, though… My other hand was behind my back, with fingers crossed. And soon, unbeknownst to me or Gran, Pa’s chair wouldn’t be the only one empty of it’s warmth.