#Because I bike in the morning while I shake trees and hit rocks

[obsidiancreates]

Shawn Acachalla, Interdimensional Psychic Detective (Part 1)

(I'M CONTINUING MY NICHE INDULGENCE FOR ME AND @poltertoast, SHAWN GETS ADOPTED BY THE ACACHALLAS AU IS A GO)

Shawn Spencer went missing when he was 8 years old. It was quiet, unnoticed, and the last time anyone saw him was when he had a fight with his father and stormed into his room and shut the door.

Henry Spencer had waited until morning to try and talk to his son, knowing it should have been sooner but shame burning in his veins over what he’d said. He’d never been good at confronting his own faults, especially not with Shawn. But when he’d opened the door the bed was empty, and a few of Shawn’s favorite items were missing.

Henry tore the house apart, and then the station, and anywhere else he thought Shawn might go hiding- while Maddie did the same to the Guster’s house. It was only when a crying, shaking with worry Gus handed over the only trace of evidence that Henry and Maddie knew they wouldn’t find him.

See you later buddy. A simple note, in Shawn’s handwriting, that Gus said had been stuck to the outside of his window with a piece of chewed up gum.

Shawn Spencer ran away from home after a fight with his father. After a year the case was officially considered cold by everyone but Henry. After ten, Henry and Maddie accepted that they couldn’t keep the marriage up anymore, no matter how badly they wanted Shawn to have his whole family when he returned home- and he would. Henry knew his son wasn’t dead, no matter the pitying looks saying so got him at the station. Gus knew it too, and Shawn and Gus were so close that they might as well be psychically linked if Henry believed in those kinds of things, so it’s as good as the word of God to him that Gus never gives up either.

Gus grows up. He wins a spelling bee, he gets into a good college, he ends up in pharmaceutical sales and constantly visiting doctor’s offices, hospitals- Henry is pretty sure he ended up in that job so if Shawn appeared in a hospital one day, Gus would be able to get to him right away. Henry puts off retiring for years, but eventually he does- so he can focus on one specific case.

And then, twenty years after Shawn Spencer went missing, Spencer Acachalla steps out of the woods, spots a missing persons poster, and gets sidetracked.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shawn Spencer is 8 years old when he runs away from home because he’s not wanted anymore.

He sneaks out of his room, puts some of his favorite toys and CDs in a little handkerchief from a cowboy costume Gus lent him, ties it to the end of a stick, and sets out. He won’t leave Gus with nothing- not when Gus is the thing he’ll miss most- so he climbs up to his friend’s window and sticks a note to it before walking away from home for the last time.

He mostly walks, runs, travels by foot. His dad would notice his bike missing right away, and he’d come find him. Shawn doesn’t want him to find him. Not when he knows it’s just because adults have to go looking for kids who run away. Even ones they don’t want.

“We talked about this, Shawn! I never want to hear you say that again!”

“I don’t wanna be a cop!” He’s not sure if that’s true, really. But he’s sick of his dad never letting him even imagine being something else for just a little while. 

“Shawn, you have a gift and that gift comes with responsibility!”

“None of the other kids have to be responsible!”

“Because the other kids are idiots! You’re special, Shawn, and you need to act like it!”

“I don’t want to be special then!”

“Too bad, kid, because there’s only one of you.”

“Well then have another kid and make them be a cop!”

“I'm not going to have to have another kid just so I can tell people that I have one that’s not a disappointment!”

Shawn runs inside before his dad can see he’s crying.

Shawn kicks a rock. “Stupid memory,” he mumbles. “I hate being so weird.”

The rock hits a tree, and Shawn looks up and realizes he’s at the edge of a forest and the sun is starting to come up. He pulls a little map out of his pocket, and after a minute he’s pretty sure he knows where he is. If he goes right through the trees, he should be able to make it out of Santa Barbara entirely before he runs out of the candy bars he brought for sustenance. 

He readjusts his little stick and bindle and walks into the woods. Within twenty minutes he regrets the choice because he’s covered in bug bites, scrapes, and mud.It’s as he slaps another mosquito going for his neck that he misses a root and trips.

“AHHHHHH!” He tumbles down the little hill, closing his eyes as he’s sure he’s actually falling off a great big cliff!

And then he lands on… pavement.

That’s not out in the woods.

He opens his eyes and looks up to see a wobbly, water-like circle in the air above him, showing the same forest he’d just been falling through, and then the circle is gone and he’s staring at the closed gate of a driveway.

He sits up, quickly taking in his surroundings. A large driveway and front yard, pool to his right and playhouse to his left, safe to assume this is a house where kids live. The first window he sees is looking into a living room, and he can just make out the top of a bald head. He keeps low to the ground, and looks around for any sign of how he got here other than the weird circle.

Nothing. It’s the middle of a suburb, and it’s definitely not in Santa Barbara.

And then the bushes separating him from the playhouse rustle, and he gasps and whips around. A boy, maybe a couple years older than him, tumbles out of the bushes. They meet eyes. And the boy grins.

“SALLY!” He springs up and grabs Shawn by under the arms, lifting him up. “NEW BROTHER!”

“NEW BWOTHER?” a girl closer to Shawn’s age falls out of the bushes next. The two kids look nothing alike. The boy is tall, somewhat slim, with pale skin and bright blue eyes and slightly wavy black hair. The girl is short, pudgy, tan skin and brown eyes, with very curly dark brown hair. Adoption? It’d make their declaring him a new brother make a little more sense.

“I’m not an orphan,” Shawn protests. “I’m a runaway. See?” He waves his bindle in the boy’s face.

“Wow! A runaway! Just like Papa!”

“Alrigh’ what’s goin’ on out he- WHO IS THAT?!”

The bald head makes an appearance at the front door. It belongs to a large man with a strong southern accent, stronger facial hair, and even stronger love of denim clothing. He’s large in every way possible: he’s tall, he’s fat, and his presence feels like it takes up the whole yard.

“I found a boy on the driveway and I want him to be our brother!” the boy declares.

“BILLY! No takin’ in strays!”

“But Papaaaaa!”

“I told yer mama that we ain’t takin’ in no more-”

“Told me what?” The woman who comes around from the side with the pool- the yard must wrap around the whole house then- is just like the others in that she shares absolutely no resemblance to any of them. Her long red hair is tied up in a neat bun, her green eyes are brighter than any Shawn’s ever seen in real life, and even though she’s on the slim side he can see a tightness in her sleeves that suggests muscle. Which is probably due to the giant crowbar she’s holding perfectly aloft with one hand like it’s easy as breathing. Shawn gasps a little again, eyes going wide.

But the woman looks delighted the moment she lays eyes on him. “Oh my goodness! Billy, did you find a new brother?”

“I did Mama I did!”

“Well hey there lil’ guy!” She walks closer, the crowbar just… disappearing from her hands. Shawn’s eyes go even wider. “My name’s Mama Gertrude, what’s yours?”

“Um… Sh-Shawn.” 

“Well that is a very nice name.”

“Gertrude, I know what yer thinkin’-”

“How’d you end up in our yard, Shawn?”

“I… don’t know.” When no-one scoffs or tells him he should know, he decides to go on. “I um, I ran away from home and then I tripped and suddenly I was here.”

Gertrude turns and looks at the man in the doorway- presumably her husband. “Let’s just feed him and hear out why he ran away.”

“Wh- no! No, no! Gertrude, we are not takin’ in any more kids!”

“Oh, you shut your yap.” Gertrude scoops Shawn out of the boy- Billy’s- arms and yeah, yeah Shawn knows for sure now that this lady is absolutely jacked. He’s so confused by how quickly this is all moving that he doesn’t even protest when he’s carried into the house, into a small dining room, and plopped into a chair.

“Looks like we’ve got… apples!” Gertrude looks above the table, and a dozen apples just fall out of the air.

Shawn’s mouth drops open. “How did you do that?”

“Do what, hon?”

“Make apples out of nothing!”

“I… don’t understand.”

The girl and Billy hop into seats across from Shawn, and Billy gasps. “Mama, Mama! He came from a portal so maybe he’s from one of those weird dimensions where they can’t spawn things!”

“Oh! Poor little guy, is that true?”

“Uhhhhh… I think so.”

Papa shakes his head. “That’s worse! Gertrude, this kid’s gonna get the government on us! I ain’t goin’ back to jail, Gertrude-”

“The government won’t come after him, it was just an interdimensional portal, we get tons of those around here!” She waves off the concern while blowing Shawn’s mind in the same sentence. 

“I’m in another dimension?” He looks around. It doesn’t look very otherworldly. 

“You’ll weally like it hewe!” the girl says. “We’ve got toys an’ waffles an’ Fweddy-”

“Fre- Sally, I told’ya to get that dinosaur outta my yard!”

“Awww, but Papa, he’s so cute!”

“He tried to eat me!”

“He did eat you, hon.”

“He is not allowed! In my yard!”

“What if we put a gate on the pool and put him there?” Gertrude reasons. Shawn misses out on Papa’s response, because he hears shuffling and gets up and looks outside and there’s a real living and breathing dinosaur in the yard.

“See? Fweddy is adoweable!” Sally squeals from beside him, making him startle because he hadn’t even heard her walk up. “Wanna wide him?”

“Ride a dinosaur?” Shawn grins for the first time since the fight with his dad. “Yeah!”

“FWEDDY!” At Sally’s call, the dinosaur looks up and stomps over. It nuzzles her affectionately, and then she grabs Shawn’s hand and holds it out. “Meet my new bwother!”

Freddy sniffs Shawn’s hand, and after a tense moment where Shawn thinks he might die by dinosaur bite, which would admittedly be pretty cool, Freddy nuzzles his hand too and kneels down. Sally hops on top, and helps pull Shawn up.

“This is awesome! I gotta tell Gus about-! … Oh.” Shawn slumps. “I guess I can’t.”

“Awww, look at that, Acachalla! Kids, look down here!” Gertrude waves for them to look at her, holding a camera the size of her head up. “Smile!”

Sally grins brightly, and Shawn musters up a small smile. Gus would love this, even if the dinosaur isn’t the same as the big head he made…

“Me too, me too!” Billy jumps up onto Freddy’s back. “Hahaha! Let’s ride him down to the 7-11!”

“NO! NO YOU KIDS AIN’T TAKIN’ THE DINOSAUR TO MY STORE- hey, wait. I have the place insured. … LET’S GO, KIDS!” Papa runs out ahead of them, and Sally and Billy cheer. Shawn can’t help but get swept up in the idea of destroying a store with a dinosaur with adult permission, and his smile becomes more genuine.

He will tell Gus about this someday. Someday when he’s so awesome his dad will never be able to call him a disappointment again!

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shawn stays with the Acachallas that night, and the next, and the next, and then before he knows it he’s been there for six months and he has his own room, own clothes, and own spot at the table. And he knows this world is definitely more fun than the last one.

He’s ridden a dinosaur, watched the people he’s starting to genuinely be able to consider family phase through walls and fly up in the air, watched Billy fall out of the treehouse and die and then disappear and walk out from the house giggling about coming back from the dead, watched a cop come to the house and then turn into a bird and stop caring about the building-destroying dinosaur because “birds don’t care”-

“I’m never going to be a cop,” Shawn had declared the next morning, and the response had been mostly support- and a little confusion about why he said it.

That had been about three months in, and had been when Shawn told them about why he ran away finally, and when Gertrude had pulled him into a hug so tight it literally crushed his bones- which surprisingly didn’t hurt, even though it had killed him.

He saw his own body for a few seconds after that, and then he was back in it and standing in the backyard, and Mama Gertrude was running out and apologizing and he realized maybe I can do that stuff too.

And now, six months in, he spawn himself a breakfast burrito and chows down while Sally eats a stack of waffles taller than she is and Billy eats a whole watermelon, rind and all. Papa munches on some bacon while Mama Gertrude eats a bagel with cream cheese, which had been glowing green earlier that morning but seems fine now.

“Awe you gonna stawt coming to school with us?” Sally asks Shawn out of nowhere. Shawn groans.

“I don’t want to go to school in a world where I can ride dinosaurs!” 

“We have dinosaurs at school too! And lottsa friends and also cool classmates like Godzilla and ghosts!”

“You go to school with Godzilla? I take it back, count me in!”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shawn has lived in Little Butts, North Carolina, with the Acachalla family for a full year and still goes by Shawn Spencer. Mostly because he’s still not sure this is all real, but he really hopes it is.

It’s at the exact one year mark that he comes face-to-face with ‘the elder god trapped in mortal form’ that lives in the basement alongside what Sally calls “Uncle Jewemy” but Papa calls “that shadowy thang down there”. He doesn’t realize it’s the alleged elder god at first though, because when he walks downstairs he just sees a kid a year or two older than him with giant glasses, a too-big sweater vest over a button-up shirt, and the messiest and brightest orange hair he’s ever seen.

The kid turns to look at him and jumps back. “Who the heck are you?!” His voice is a little weird, like everyone else Shawn has met in this world. Sally talks like a baby, Billy always sounds like he’s yelling, Mama Gertrude’s voice is almost unbelievably motherly to a parody-like degree, and Papa’s accent comes and goes by it’s own will.

This kid’s voice is almost like he’s slurring his words, and even though he hasn’t said any “S” sounds yet Shawn is certain the kid has an intense lisp. He also has braces, and Shawn gags for real when he realizes they’re entirely covered in rust.

“Who are you?” Shawn says back.

“YOU DON’T KNOW WHO I AM?! I AM THE MIGHTY SPENCE, YOU ABSOLUTE NERD!” Hmm, he said those S’s okay, but something in Shawn says that might just be another one of those “quirks” of the way people talk here.

“Hey, between us, I’m not the nerd here,” Shawn says, crossing his arms and trying not to look like the unintimidating 9 year old that he is. “You’re the one wearing a sweater vest.”

“Oh, that’th it.” Yup, there’s the lisp. Shawn hasn’t let his deductive skills fade away, even though the people here are way harder to predict than in Santa Barbara. Well, that one was kind of obvious to “predict”, but he’s counting it because his dad isn’t here to tell him it doesn’t count.

“Who’s wakin’ me up early?” Papa Acachalla grumbles as he walks down behind Shawn. “Wh- SPENCER!”

Shawn looks up at Papa, but Papa is staring at the boy. Shawn looks back at him. 

“Your name is Spencer? … You don’t know a Henry, do you?”

“Uh, no! I am The Mighty Spence, I don’t jutht know, peasanth! Who the heck ith Henry?!”

“No-one.” Shawn looks up at Papa Acachalla, who’s now holding a shotgun- a familiar sight when something happens that Papa didn’t expect. “Who is he?”

“He’s supposed to be in the basement!”

“Wait, he’s the elder god?”

“Sure is, now git! Git in the basement!”

“You can’t make me!”

“I sure can! Shawn, go get Gertrude!”

Shawn runs upstairs. “Mama,” he says, because just like Papa is Papa Acachalla’s title Mama is Gertrude’s, and it fits her perfectly. “There’s a kid downstairs who Papa says is the guy in the basement.”

“Oh, him again?” she says with a yawn as she sits up. “I keep telling Acachalla we should let him out, but he keeps saying Spencer will destroy the world or collect another cult following… I’ll go handle this, sweetie, you go back to bed.”

Shawn goes back to bed for all of five minutes before sneaking back down. He watches Mama Gertrude give Papa Acachalla a talking to, the kind that he shivers just being a viewer of, and with a mumbled agreement Papa turns to Spencer and says “Fine. Since we’ve got one Spencer already up here, ya can come up here too. But yer still sleepin’ in the basement!”

“Acachalla…” Gertrude says in a warning tone.

“An’... the kids’ll help you decorate it.”

Spencer watches Papa warily. “What do you mean by another Thpenther?”

“Shawn’s last name,” Mama Gertrude sighs.

“WHAT?! NO, NO! I REFUTHE TO LIVE IN A HOUTHE WITH THOMEONE THEALING MY NAME!”

Shawn makes a split second decision and says from the stairs, “I can use Acachalla.”

All three downstairs shout in alarm, and if he was still in Santa Barbara Shawn would be worried by the way Papa swings around his shotgun, but he’s not in Santa Barbara so it really doesn’t matter. Even if Papa shoots the wall, it’ll just go away eventually all on it’s own- probably. Sometimes it doesn’t, but that’s rarer than when it does.

Instead of getting scolded for staying up late, or eavesdropping, or getting caught eavesdropping by “blowing his cover”, Mama Gertrude grins when she realizes it’s just him and sweeps him up into a hug. “You mean it?”

He hugs her back. She’s always really warm and her strong grip is always very careful now, after that first incident. She always pays a lot of attention to him, especially when he spins some tall tale or talks about something he likes or makes wild declarations of a new passion or interest. She smells a little like metal, but it’s nice. 

“Yeah,” he says with a firm nod. “I’m okay with Shawn Acachalla.”

#psych #venturiantale #taleblr #psychusa #psych usa #psych 2006 #the acachalla family #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

req’d by @impersonatingawriter

a brisk morning plan

#theshitpostcalligrapher #calligraphy #shitpost #Because I bike in the morning while I shake trees and hit rocks

[javier-pena]

bloodstain

Chapter 2 of The Hunt

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Rating: Mature

Warnings: mentions of death and trauma | very brief mention of blood | brief description of a panic attack | still a lot of hurt and just a little bit of comfort | misunderstandings | mild to moderate language | but maybe there’s also a ..... soft scene ...... | Din’s hands

Notes: First, let me start with saying that at this point taking a bullet for Dani @javierpcna​ doesn’t feel like it would be enough. She literally drops everything whenever I send her a new or revised chapter to look over and i cannot thank her enough! I kinda surprised myself with how quickly I finished this chapter, but that’s also thanks to Dani because the highlight of my day is sending her small snippets of what I’ve written and having her reply with “?????”. I also want to thank all of you who read the first chapter and left comments and sent messages, it means the world to me! I was so nervous about sharing this with you all, but I’m so glad I did. And finally, let me end this with saying happy birthday, Chrisann @darksber​!!! I hope you have a fun birthday and I hope you enjoy the second chapter as much as you enjoyed the first one.

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The snow comes over night. The cold, clean smell is the first thing your mind registers, even before it has time to make you feel confused about the strange bedsheets wrapped around you. And then you remember.

The screams.

The blaster shots

The fire, the blazing heat engulfing you, burning your skin.

Those men on their speeder bikes, laughing, looting, taking whatever the fuck they want.

And you, unable to stop them.

The feeling of cold, all-consuming despair makes a shiver run down your spine, makes you curl up in a tight ball beneath your blanket and shake so violently it makes you feel sick. Then you cry, and with the tears comes the heat until you’re so hot you feel sweat collect at the nape of your neck and run down your back in icy beads. After yesterday, you hadn’t expected there to be any tears left, but there are, so many, and they don’t stop, they seem to be endless, like a river flowing, rushing, tumbling over rocks and down a precipice, drowning everything in its way.

You hate those men, you loathe them, you want them dead, torn apart by wild animals, you want them dead after they beg you for their miserable lives, you want them dead and forgotten. That anger and that lust for revenge that seem to take up every cell and atom in your body are what finally helps you to stop crying. They don’t help you to calm yourself �� you are anything but calm – but they help you to focus your rage on one goal: kill them all.

Because with the memories of the pain and the despair and the utter helplessness you felt yesterday (and still feel today) comes the memory of him. The Mandalorian. And remembering him means remembering the hope you felt when he offered his services, when he pledged himself to your cause. Shit. You shake your head. He did no such thing. He accepted a job. He only cares about the money, he doesn’t care about the cause. Yes, he will help you achieve your goal, but he’s emotionally detached from it. And you need to remember that. You need to remember it for your own sake because as soon as you assume anything else, it’ll get messy.

And he terrifies you. He terrifies you so much, especially in the light of day. Because the morning sun makes him feel real, solid, and so much more dangerous. And you have a feeling you shouldn’t keep him waiting.

You finally sit up and roll your neck and shoulders to relieve the pain the previous day’s labors have left behind. You couldn’t defend yourself against the Mandalorian, even if the muscles in your body weren’t screaming with pain. You don’t know what’s wrong with you. You don’t know why you would trust a complete stranger like that after everything that has happened to you, why you would trust a complete stranger who could snap your neck like a dry twig. Being around him feels like being constantly held at gunpoint. One wrong move and you’re dead.

But you need him.

Maker, you need him.

You get out of bed and stretch, then run your hand over your face to dry it off. There is a bowl of water on a small table next to the bed. You have to break the thin layer of ice that has formed on the surface, and when you splash it on your face, it is freezing, but at least it makes your burning cheeks feel numb and it eases the stinging in your eyes. You know you look a mess, but you don’t care. You get dressed in your soot-blackened clothes and then leave the small room. You have no idea if you’ll ever sleep in a bed again.

***

The morning air is icy cold. Two suns have risen, but the third one still hides behind the trees. The air is foggy, misty, and clouds of smoke pass you by. The settlement is already busy. In a shop next to the inn, a man heckles with the vendor in a raised voice. Two farmers lead a small herd of tauntauns down the street, while everyone tries to get out of their way. In the distance, a child is crying. It smells like fire and snow and life. You hate it.

The everyday noises are overwhelming to you; the melody of a hammer hitting metal in a nearby forge makes your skull vibrate, the voices of people talking makes you want to cover your ears with your hands and yell at them to shut up, the reverberations of the tauntauns’ claws against the frozen ground makes you want to take cover somewhere and hide until nightfall.

But you don’t run or hide or even just turn around to take a breath. Instead, you focus your attention on the Mandalorian.

He is waiting for you outside the inn. A thin layer of snow has collected on his shoulders, a sign he’s been standing motionless for a while. Even though the morning sunlight is pale and makes everything look hazy, you see him clearly. So clearly that you have to squint your eyes when you look at him. His beskar armor glistens from the sunlight it reflects, so much that the people on the street turn their heads to look at him. The wisps of smoke rushing past shroud him, but it’s not enough to dim the dancing shimmers. He carries a long staff strapped to his back, a kind of spear you’re pretty sure he didn’t have with him the previous night at the inn. And his face is hidden behind the helmet again, which probably shouldn’t surprise you, but it does. All of this just makes him look wrong. He looks so out of place standing in the middle of this dirt-poor settlement it makes you want to pretend you don’t have anything to do with him.

So you focus on what’s behind him. In one hand, he holds the reins of three orbaks, in the other a small bundle. He presses it against his chest like he’s holding a small child, not a lifeless piece of cloth. The orbaks are big, wooly beasts, dark grey in color, with two long, dangerously pointy tusks hanging from their mouths. Two of them have saddles strapped to their backs, the third one is laden with crates, saddle bags, even two long guns. The more you look at it, the more weapons you spot. What does one man need so many for? So much baggage will just slow you down. The bandits already have a day’s head start and travelling on heavily loaded orbaks will give them even more of an advantage. But this is probably the best the Mandalorian could do – the settlement is so poor, not even merchants sell speeder bikes – who would be able to afford them?

You shudder and wrap your arms around yourself, painfully aware that the fire destroyed everything except for the clothes you’re wearing. But they’re not enough to protect you from the bitter cold. You can see your breath hovering in a pale cloud in front of your face when you exhale slowly, you can feel the snowflakes on your bare lower arms as you walk toward the Mandalorian. You have no idea how he can stand there like the cold is nothing to him. Beskar doesn’t protect against low temperatures. To you, this is just further proof of how much he’s not human.

“Here,” he says, as you stop in front of him, holding the bundle out to you.

“What’s this?” you ask with a small nod at him, the bundle, and the orbaks. You don’t take it.

The Mandalorian looks behind him, then back at you. “Supplies,” he says.

You take the bundle from him and untie the chord that’s tightly wound around it. Folding back the thin cloth, you unwrap a long, dark brown leather cloak with fur linings and a thick, woolen scarf. The scarf looks itchy but feels very soft against your skin and the coat lies heavy in your arms, like a dead animal. The sight of these clothes leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, and you don’t move to put them on. Instead, you stand there, pressing the unwrapped bundle against your chest, and look at the Mandalorian with raised eyebrows.

“What’s this?” you repeat.

He doesn’t reply, just nods and makes a gesture with his now empty hand, motioning you to hurry up.

You don’t. You just look at him, shivering more and more with each passing second. You’re not sure if it’s from the cold or from the anger you’ve been feeling since yesterday, since waking up this morning, since unwrapping the bundle; everything is stoking up the fire, feeding your flaming rage

“Listen,” you start. You try not to let your feelings get the better of you, but it’s impossible. You don’t quite know yourself why this small gesture enrages you as it does, you just know you need to set some boundaries right now. “I don’t need your pity,” you continue. “I don’t need you to look out for me. I can take care of myself.”

The Mandalorian huffs. “This isn’t a gift,” he says, his voice completely level. “I’m paying for it with your money. I’m not forcing you to wear it, but if you go on the journey like that,” he nods at you, “you’ll freeze. You’re no use to me dead.”

You feel heat rush to your face and settle in your cheeks. Without another word you put on the coat and tie the scarf around your neck. The coat rests heavy on your shoulders, weighing you down. It’s a size too big, but snug, and you stop shivering immediately. You run your left hand along the right sleeve under the pretense of fixing it, but you just want to feel the material under your fingers. It’s softer than it looks, which just serves to make you feel embarrassed and … stupid.

You feel stupid, so, so stupid. Did you really expect him to make you a gift? To look out for you? To care for you? You hired him to do a job and he’s just making sure you stay alive long enough to pay him. Much like the owner of a racing stable would do with his fathier. You scold yourself for having misread the situation. You blame it on the exhaustion you still feel, on the trauma you lived through, on the need for human connection you had no idea you even felt. There is no way to come out of this situation without feeling like a fool, so you just decide to ignore it. After all, it’s best if you just forgot about the whole thing. All you need to do in future is to be more careful around him so you don’t misinterpret his intentions again.

“Supplies?” you ask to distract yourself.

You wish you could see his face when he says, “Were you just going to follow them on foot with no food or weapons?” Because it doesn’t sound as if he’s mocking you, even though he should be. Hell, you should be mocking yourself. But he just sounds genuinely curious, as if this is a discussion about a topic you’re both not emotionally invested in, not a question of life and death.

“No,” you answer slowly, then look away. You have to admit you hadn’t thought about it yet, you were too focused on the idea of hunting those men down that you didn’t even consider you needed tools, supplies, food, and a means of transportation. “Thank you,” you add.

The Mandalorian gives you a curt nod, accepting your words of gratitude. You’re glad he doesn’t press the subject, any subject really.

Without him, you would have been dead within a day.

***

It is still snowing when you and the Mandalorian leave the settlement behind. As you begin your journey into the unknown, tiny snowflakes settle in the fur of your orbak, making it appear white instead of dark grey. It blends in perfectly with your surroundings, where everything is light shades of blue, grey, and brown. And white, so much white. You squint your eyes and yet the light still stings to the point you tear up. You envy the Mandalorian his tinted visor and you wish you had something similar to protect yourself. Alvorine’s three suns hang low, their pale blue light filtered through hazy clouds. Everything you see is blurred and too bright to look at directly – it makes you feel vulnerable and exposed. Even as you enter the cover of the trees, their bare branches do little to help keep out the light and the snow and so you lower your eyes to your reddened hands holding your orbak’s reins as you trust the Mandalorian to lead the way.

The air is cold this morning, so cold you tie your new scarf over your mouth and nose and still feel it sting in your throat. Your face, still raw from crying, stings too. Your hands are frozen shut around the reins and you can’t feel your fingers. When you try to move them, the action is painfully slow. You shiver despite the heavy coat on your shoulders as you sit hunched over to give the cold air less opportunity to cover your body with icy touches. You would never admit to it out loud because you’ve already embarrassed yourself enough for one day, but the Mandalorian was right – you would have frozen to death within a few hours of leaving the shelter of the settlement.

You raise your head briefly to look at him riding ahead of you, but he is the brightest object in a 10-mile radius, you think, brighter than your orbak’s fur or the snow-covered ground. Back in the settlement, you already noticed how the suns’ light reflects off his polished beskar armor, but out here in the forest with nothing around to distract your gaze, he is like a homing beacon, like a bright, blazing fire lit in complete darkness. This brazen display makes you shiver; he is on top of the food chain, too quick and powerful and deadly to hide his presence. He could be spotted from miles away by someone on a sentry tower and yet the person keeping watch wouldn’t stand a chance. The Mandalorian would catch them sooner or later, no matter how well they were trying to hide. Nothing can escape him, so there is no reason for him to hide his presence, to sneak from cover to cover like a thief in the night.

He frightens you.

What is also bearing down on you is the silence surrounding him, you and your orbaks. Yes, there is the sound of their hooves against the frozen ground, the swoosh of their fur every time they shake their heads, the soft thud whenever they brush up against a branch, making snow glide to the ground. But that’s it. That’s all you hear. The Mandalorian travels in complete silence. His armor doesn’t squeak or thump. You cannot hear the sound of his slow, steady breathing. Even his hands lie completely silently on the nape of his orbak’s neck, the reins resting against the worn leather of his gloves. And you envy him those gloves because the further you travel into the forest, the colder it gets, and the stiffer and more unresponsive your fingers get.

You cannot recall the last time you felt this uncomfortable. You wish there was something to distract you from – well – everything. Yes, you’re grateful the Mandalorian doesn’t ask you personal questions because you buried your old life beneath wet soil and dirt yesterday, and with it you buried any desire to share it with a complete stranger. He also doesn’t ask you about the men you’re hunting, and you feel like he doesn’t have to because he just knows. Maybe he talked to the people back at the settlement, maybe it’s the years of experience he’s had hunting people for a living or maybe it’s just instinct – he knows where he needs to be going, he knows what kind of equipment to bring along, and he knows what the best strategy is to catch his quarry.

You don’t know any of these things. And the more you stray from the bare minimum of human civilization and into the wilderness of Alvorine, the more you realize you wouldn’t stand a chance without the Mandalorian. You would’ve frozen to death if he hadn’t given you the coat. Or you would have starved, or died from exhaustion from trying to carry all your supplies yourself. You would have gotten lost and eaten alive by a wild beast. Or you would, by some miracle, have caught up with the men, but would’ve gotten killed by them because you didn’t bring a weapon. By the look of it, the Mandalorian brought enough for a small army. And the more you think about it, the more you are prepared to admit that you were never seriously planning on going after the bandits. You are prepared to admit you were just looking for a way out so you wouldn’t have to live with the pain. One or two rash decisions made from a place of hurt and despair, one or two unplanned steps can mean death on Alvorine. While wallowing in your revenge fantasies, you weren’t thinking about Brea – you were just thinking about yourself.

But somehow – and this time you’re convinced it’s because of his instincts – the Mandalorian offered you a chance at success, one you might not even have wanted. He listened to the people in that inn and decided helping you with your cause is the right job for him. You’ve never heard of a Mandalorian like that. You always assumed they were only interested in money or the thrill of chasing down the rich and the powerful, in letting them know that no amount of credits can keep them safe. But here he is, content with spending a week or more in the forests of Alvorine, hunting down base criminals for the ridiculous amount of 240 credits. It doesn’t add up. And you would ask him about it if he wasn’t an unapproachable, withdrawn man, covered in impenetrable armor. You would ask him if he didn’t terrify you so much.

You wish you could talk to him about … something, you just don’t know about what.

But he makes that decision for you. “Are you hungry?” he asks.

His voice cuts so unexpectedly through the silence that you flinch. It somehow surprises you that he is real and not just a concept you’ve made up in your mind, and idea to help you live out your fantasies of revenge and vengeance.

When you don’t answer, he turns his head to look at you. You squint when you return his gaze, trying to make up your mind whether you are hungry or not (something that feels impossible when all you are is terribly, terribly cold), but then he pulls on the reins of his orbak and brings it to a halt in the middle of the path. He glides down from the animal in one swift movement; a small cloud of freshly fallen snow rises up when his feet hit the ground but there is still no sound and this is starting to unnerve you. It takes him a few steps until he’s next to you, the top of his head reaching your shoulder, even though you’re still mounted high on your orbak, and then he says in a rough, almost unkind tone of voice, “I asked you a question”.

And you remember the deal, you remember having agreed to doing as he tells you. It’s just, you don’t have an answer for him. So you just shrug.

He grabs the rein of your orbak and you finally – finally! – hear his movements make a sound, a low creak as the leather of his glove brushes against the leather of the bridle. The orbak shakes its shaggy head but he doesn’t flinch. His visor is directed at you and you know he expects an answer from you. He’s growing impatient, you can tell from the way his shoulders tense as he lets his gaze wander over your body.

“You’re hypothermic,” he observes, and as the words leave his mouth, so does the air you’ve been holding in and you start shaking uncontrollably.

Now that he’s pointed it out, there is no denying it. You’re cold, so, so cold, frozen and raw, you can’t feel your own lips, your nose, your cheeks. Your fingers are lifeless lumps against the coarse fur of your orbak. If the animal would decide to bolt at this very moment, you wouldn’t be able to hold it back. You’re not even sure you could climb down from the beast right now. Of all the deadly dangers of Alvorine it’s the cold that has finally gotten to you. It’s laughable, and you would laugh, if you could feel your face.

“Can you dismount?” he asks you then.

This is a question you can answer. “I think so,” you say, even though you know you can’t. Your legs are like two solid bricks of ice, too stiff to be moved.

“Do it then,” he says, and it sounds so much like a challenge that you’re determined to show him you can do it.

He doesn’t watch your pathetic display though. He lets go of the rein and walks to the third orbak that is carrying most of your supplies. You’re grateful for that because as soon as you try to dismount, you feel your body tense even more until you glide down from the orbak with a disgraceful plop and land in the soft snow with a force that knocks the air from your lungs. The sounds you make draw the attention of the Mandalorian back to you, but he doesn’t rush to your side to offer you help. Instead, he turns his attention back to the task at hand, looking through one of the bags strapped to the pack animal. You’re convinced he rolls his eyes under the cover of the helmet.

You try to get up, and you manage after two fruitless attempts. Your legs are shaking, but at least they’re supporting your weight. Walking on them is another topic you’re not prepared to cover yet. And then you feel it again, that hot sting of embarrassment you felt this morning, trying to make itself known by speeding up your heart rate and adding a feeling of nausea to your general discomfort. You push it down without batting an eyelash. There is no reason to feel like this, especially if you compare yourself to the Mandalorian. Not everyone can be a ruthless killing machine, immune to environmental influences.

Then he’s back by your side, and with a gruff, “Hold this,” he pushes a heating pad into your hands. You’re not sure at first if it’s switched on because you don’t feel anything, but when you move it around in your hands looking for the on button you notice it’s cranked up to the highest setting.

“You need to tell me when you’re cold,” the Mandalorian continues in the same gruff tone of voice, while he unscrews a flask.

Once it’s opened, he pushes it into your hand with such force you stumble backwards. Your whole body tenses at the contact and you realize you’re completely alone with him. There is not another living soul around for miles except for the three animals next to you, and they won’t come to your aid if he suddenly decides to kill you. And he could. He is so strong; you had no idea how strong until he pushed you back like that with a motion that didn’t seem to take any effort at all. And with another effortless motion, he could close a hand around your neck and squeeze until there is no air left in your body. You wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Drink,” he orders.

You do. It’s a hot liquid – tea, you think – but with a bitter taste to it. It warms you up instantly, much quicker than the heating pad does. You still can’t feel your fingers.

“Just tell me next time,” he repeats. “Losing a finger to hypothermia is a nasty business.”

And now you do feel embarrassed again. You’re a burden, you’re slowing him down. You already lost a quarter of an hour because you can’t handle a bit of cold. It’s not surprising he usually works alone. No one is able to keep up with him, least of all you in your weakened, exhausted state.

But you can’t turn back. You refuse to give up so easily.

You nod to show him you’ve understood his instructions. Then you let your gaze wander around, looking for something to distract you. You can feel heat rising to your cheeks, and it has nothing to do with the warm drink or the heating pad. You know it doesn’t because you’re still shivering. But you’re not going to apologize to him. For some reason, you feel like he would just brush it off, act like it’s no big deal. But it is to you, and you wouldn’t be able to bear him acting nonchalantly. The other possible response to an apology from you would be him trying to comfort you and you definitely. don’t. want. that. The mere thought makes your heart beat so rapidly it feels like it’s going to explode any second. The mere thought of one of his hands resting on your shoulder in a comforting gesture makes you want to run. You don’t want him to care for you because it’s entirely at odds with his character, his whole being. He is here to hunt and kill, not to hold and comfort. And this is what you need right now – a killer, not a caretaker.

You take a few steps, walk past him toward a fallen tree to calm your nerves. The deep breaths of cold air you take make you cough, but he doesn’t even flinch. Good. You’re usually not like this, you’re usually not someone who can’t take care of themselves. After all, you’ve lived on Alvorine your entire life, you know how harsh the winters can be and how dangerous the cold is. But yesterday’s events broke something in you, and the realization that you might never recover from it begins to dawn on you, take hold of you with a grip icier than the snow clinging to your worn-out boots. The weight of what happened to you slams into you with full force and you have to lean against a tree, its rough bark scraping uncomfortably against your cold, bare hand.

And then you see it – the bloodstain. One single, impossibly small, impossibly red bloodstain on the virgin-white snow. And everything stops.

You lurch forward and fall to your knees to examine it more closely. Yes, it’s definitely blood. You raise your head to look around, but you can’t spot anything out of the ordinary, just trees and snow and your own footprints. Your breath comes in short, labored bursts, and you suddenly don’t feel cold anymore. In fact, you don’t feel anything at all.

“What is it?”

The Mandalorian is there, crouching by your side. You point to the small, red dot, and he raises his hand to touch his helmet. His body grows rigid as he examines it, all the while not moving an inch. You don’t want to hear his verdict, don’t want to hear the conclusion he’s come to. That bloodstain stirs something inside you, a panic with such deep roots you feel it taking over your entire body, growing like weed, choking all other feelings, all life out of you.

Something in your body language must have given away this panic you feel, because suddenly the Mandalorian turns to you and says, “I need you to calm down.”

You nod, unable to speak. Then you turn your head away from him and throw up.

“Hey,” he says, and something in his voice catches your attention. It sounds almost … soft.

You turn back to him, running your hand over your mouth. “I’m sorry,” you apologize.

“I’m going to look around,” he tells you. Then he raises his hand as if to comfort you, but you flinch away from him. His hand hovers outstretched between the two of you for a brief moment before he lowers it again. “Just stay here. Try to eat something. I won’t be long.”

He pushes himself off the ground, towering over you. You stand up too, your legs shaking, but before you can embarrass yourself more by stumbling into him, he takes off in a slow-paced run and you stare after him until the trees swallow him up. And then you’re alone. Alone with three orbaks and your panicked mind.

It’s not Brea’s blood, you tell yourself.

But what if it is? a different voice asks.

It’s not. It snowed during the night, and we’re too far behind those bandits. It can’t be hers.

It can, you know it can. They could have left her here to die.

There would be more tracks.

Then why are you panicking? Why did you throw up?

You can’t argue with that. Instead, you sink to the ground again, bury your head in your hands, and scream. You scream so loudly that even though the sound comes out muffled, the orbaks still move their heads nervously. A few trees away, a flock of birds takes off, chittering in disapproval. You scream until your lungs begin to burn, until your throat stings, until you feel like you’ve just sprinted ten miles. Then you grow quiet.

***

When the Mandalorian returns, it’s almost dark. You’re not freezing anymore because you spent the last two hours or so pacing up and down the path through the undergrowth you’ve made earlier, your mind racing with scenarios of him not returning before nightfall. You fear the nights on Alvorine and you know you should have told him about the dangers these forests hold. Because how could he have known that it’s almost impossible to survive a night out in the wilderness? Almost because if anyone could do it, it would be him.

When he returns, the pauldron on his right shoulder is smeared with dirt and his chest is heaving with silent pants, but he’s alone. You’re simultaneously relieved and disappointed.

“We’ll make camp here for the night,” he decides without so much as a greeting.

You open your mouth to tell him how dangerous that would be but then close it again when you remember the nearest settlement is miles and miles away and you wouldn’t reach it in time before nightfall. You don’t have any other choice.

He sends you to collect some wood while he moves to tie up the orbaks. You scold yourself for not having done that earlier when you were waiting for him, but you had hoped it wouldn’t take him quite as long and he would be back sooner. As you move around, picking up the driest branches you can find, you glance over at him from time to time. He is lost in his own task, tying the reins to nearby tree trunks, patting one orbak’s neck, then scratching another one’s muzzle. They trust him, stand completely still in his presence while he circles them, examining them for any injuries or anything that might cause them discomfort.

Finally, curiosity gets the better of you. “What did you find?” you ask, as you break a big, dead branch into two parts.

“Nothing,” he replies in his brusque fashion you’re slowly getting used to. “A dead animal.”

You nod, then focus on the task at hand. Your small discovery and subsequent … breakdown? … panic attack? … you don’t know what to call it, has already cost you so much time. You could’ve covered twice the distance today if he hadn’t stopped here because of you. But … this isn’t a rescue mission, you keep forgetting about that. This is a quest for revenge, and those bandits will be there, no matter how long it will take you to find them. It doesn’t matter if it takes you two days or two months to reach them.

“Did you eat?” the Mandalorian asks you, interrupting your train of thought.

You shake your head and he sighs. Then he reaches into one of the saddle bags and pulls out a ration pack, tossing it to you. He proceeds to clear away the snow around the small pile of wood you’ve collected before doing something with his arm, so flames shoot out of the vambrace, igniting the stack. You can’t help but stare in fascination because you’ve never seen anything like it.

It doesn’t take him long to get a fire going. You grab one of the two bundled up, coarse blankets from the pack orbak and spread it on the ground next to the heat source, huddling up close for warmth and protection. You tear open the ration pack and begin to eat.

“I should’ve told you before, but it’s dangerous out here at night.” Your mouth full, you watch as the Mandalorian sits down opposite you, the fire between you. The warmth spreading through your body and your steadily filling stomach make you talkative. “There’s monsters in these woods.”

He chuckles softly but you’re sure it’s just your imagination. There is no way you could’ve heard a sound like that over the crackling fire. But before you can ask him about it, he raises his hand to remove the dirty pauldron from his shoulder, and you’re so distracted by that piece of steel being lifted off the body it usually protects that you stop thinking altogether for a moment. It’s stupid, you know that, but a part of you still thinks he might be a machine, and seeing that pauldron being removed from his shoulder feels almost forbidden, like you’re the audience to some ancient, sacred ritual you have no right to observe. You lower your gaze to the flickering flames.

“I’ll keep an eye out for those monsters,” he assures you, and you’re not sure if he meant for it to sound mockingly, but it doesn’t.

You still don’t think he fully believes you.

“Alvorine is a dangerous planet,” you tell him in a quiet tone of voice. “It might not seem like it compared to what you’re used to, but to us the dangers are very real.” You’re still not looking at him, but there is no point – you can’t see his face anyway.

“I believe you,” he says. “But fire is usually enough to keep the monsters at bay.”

As a response, you nod, even though you’re not sure he’s watching you. So you finally raise your head again to look at him. The pauldron is back on his shoulder, but his gaze is directed at the orbaks.

“I’m going to feed them,” he tells you. “They’re getting restless. Try to get some sleep.”

You nod again and stretch out on the cold, hard ground. Shivering, you pull your coat tighter around yourself. The fire is barely warm enough to keep your fingers and toes from falling off, and once it dies down, there won’t be anything keeping you from freezing to death. Briefly, you’re considering pulling the blanket out from beneath you to use it as a cover, but then you wouldn’t have anything to protect you from the cold ground. With a sigh, you close your eyes, trying to ignore the discomfort. Instead, you focus on the sounds around you, on the branches brushing against each other when a cold breeze tears at them, on the orbaks huffing impatiently and almost nervously, and on the crackling fire, the heat that makes a piece of wood snap in half ever so often. And then you hear another sound, footsteps, and your eyes snap open again.

The Mandalorian towers over you, and it’s the first time you were able to hear him approach. Instead of feeling proud of yourself, you bolt upright, adrenaline pumping through your veins. Whatever happens next, you know you don’t stand a chance against him. He slowly leans down, and you try to get away from him, but your muscles are frozen stiff and don’t cooperate. His arms move as if to grab you and a strangled cry escapes your throat.

But it’s just a blanket, just the other blanket, and he wraps it tightly around your shoulders. “Here,” he says with a low grunt. If he noticed your alarm, he doesn’t comment on it.

You look at his helmet reflecting the light of the dancing flames, and you wish you knew what was going on beneath it. Is he offended? Annoyed? Or maybe just as cold and exhausted as you?

“What about you?” you ask, grabbing the coarse material to hold it tightly against your body.

“I’m not cold,” he answers, standing up again. “Get some sleep. I’ll wake you before sunrise.”

You watch him walk back to the other side of the fire and settle down on the cold ground with just his cape to keep him warm. And for the first time since you met him, his stoic presence doesn’t fill you with dread or panic or trepidation – he just makes you feel calm.

tag list: @bella-ciao​, @chattychell​, @darksber​, @filthybookworm​, @frannyzooey​, @khalysa​, @leannawithacapitala​, @magicrowiswritingstuff​, @mothandpidgeon​, @mbpokemonrulez​, @mrsparknuts​, @mxsamwilson​, @mylifeofcalculatedchaos​, @pescopadral​, @piscespussybabe​, @something-tofightfor​

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #mando x reader #star wars #din djarin #pedro pascal #fanfic #the hunt fic #lmao i'm still a coward though and currently asleep #tw: flashing gif

[q-u-a-rantine-high-school]

ASRA Pt. 2

Pairing: Lucio x GN Apprentice

You can find the first part here by @sisi-halloway

No warnings for this part, though the first part is NSFW

Fic under the cut, Enjoy!

After your last fight you'd been hoping it'd be exactly that, your last, but here you are. Fighting… again. Although, considering the way the last one ended this was probably inevitable.

"YOU DON'T EVEN LEAVE THE DOGS HERE!" You scream, tears welling in your eyes as your voice shakes.

"Well, they are my dogs, they go everywhere with me!" Lucio shouts back.

"And then what? You just leave them in a hotel by themselves? Take them to the fucking club with you?" You yell, genuinely curious.

"Of course not!" He says, making a face like he thinks you're an idiot.

"Then what!? Leave them with a friend? If you're not going to do anything with them, then just leave them at home! With me! I can take care of them, and at least I'll have somebody to keep me company, even if they're just dogs!" An offended whine sounds behind you.

"What about Asra, huh? What happened to him?" Lucio asks tauntingly.

"OH, WILL YOU SHUT. UP. ABOUT ASRA!" You scream once more.

"You know what. I'm done. I'm tired of yelling. I'm tired of this childishness." You say calmly, putting your hands up as you turn, walking out the front door.

"Sure, yeah, run away from your problems. back to Asra, I bet." Lucio says.

"Oh, you're one to fucking talk." You say before slamming the door shut being you.

You start walking, just needing a break from all the yelling. For a moment you do think of going to see Asra. Just to talk, maybe have some tea. But you push the thought aside, that would probably just make the situation with Lucio worse.

So instead, you decide to head to the park. There's a nice gravel trail in a small forest-like area near the edge of the river. There's lots of trees and plants, and not many people go on the trail, so no one will see you cry.

When you get outside you run into a small problem. It's raining. Hard. And you don't have an umbrella or even a jacket. You start walking anyway. Well, even if there are some people on the trail, they definitely won't be able to tell you're crying now. You still get some weird looks on the way to the park, probably because you're walking out in the pouring rain with no jacket.

Once you get to the park, you find the trail you were thinking of and start walking. Once you've been walking for about… seven(?) minutes, maybe. You stop and find a big rock to sit on and enjoy the forest and sound of the rain. All the while, hot tears stream down your face along with the cold rain.

~~~~~~~~~Page Break~~~~~~~~~

Lucio throws his head back with a long sigh before getting up from his place on the couch. He looks at the clock on the wall near the hall and walks to the door to get his shoes and jacket. It's been an hour since MC left and they haven't come back, and with all this rain he's willing to admit he's getting a bit worried.

After He's tied his boots and thrown on his jacket, he grabs his keys and opens the door. Before stepping out though, he looks back at Mercedes and Melchior, "Be good, I'll be back." And with that he shuts the door.

As he walks briskly down the apartment building stairs he almost hopes MC has gone to Asra's when he hears thunder and the sound of rain beating down harder on and around the building.

Once outside he throws one leg over his bike and puts on his helmet. He starts the engine and sets off to find his MC. I'll start at the park, and then the bakery down the street if they're not there.

~~~~~~~~~ Page Break ~~~~~~~~~

"MC!" You hear from behind you. You've since left the rock and continued walking, albeit slowly compared to your usually fast pace, down the mixture of gravel and dirt path.

You turn to see Lucio standing a ways back on the path. You look at him for a few more seconds before turning away and continuing to walk. You hear the crunching of gravel underneath boots before a hand grasps your arm, turning you sharply.

"What are you doing?" He asks. "Taking a walk." You respond snidely with a glare before turning, or at least trying to. He stops you before you can get halfway around, "In the Freezing fuckin' rain?.. ...you're just taking a walk..?"

"Yes."

There's a long pause before he turns, tugging on your arm. "..... We're going home." He states.

You yank your arm out of his grip and he turns slightly. Looking expectantly toward you. You stand your ground and continue glaring. He sighs, running a hand down his face. "Jesus Christ" he mutters before turning to face you properly.

"Look, you're just gonna have to take a break from your dramatics, standing out in the rain waiting for some apology like we're in a damn movie, so I can take you home." He says, gesturing with his hands.

You take a step back and look at him as though he just grew three heads. "My dramatics!?" You start.

"Yes, your dramatics." He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms.

"Oh, you've got some nerve." You all but snarl.

"Yeah, and you're really gettin' on em' today, sweetheart."

"AUGH!" You throw your hands up, fingers curled in claws, you gaze settling on the branches above you. You've had enough and turn sharply and your heels and start to quickly stomp off, but Lucio is quick to catch you. This time picking you up off ground, settling you bridal style in his arms.

You thrash about hitting and pushing his shoulders, but his grip is firm and he's not letting go, so you give up, crossing your arms and pouting.

You get to his bike and he sets you down for a moment, but keeps a good grip on your wrist so you don't run off. After he's settled on the bike he looks at you and you begrudgingly throw your leg over the seat and sit behind him. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you lean against his back and rest your head on his shoulder. He revs the engine and backs out of the spot he's at, and just before you take off, you shut your eyes.

~~~~~~~~~ Page Break ~~~~~~~~~

Lucio pulls into a parking spot and pulls the key out of the ignition. After he kicks down the kickstand he slowly and carefully maneuvers out of his spot Infront of you and picks up your (mostly)sleeping form. He carries you the way he did before, careful not to wake you.

Once he gets to your front door he scrapes the edge of his boot on the door. After a few moments and some rustling behind the door, it swings open to reveal Mercedes chewing on a rope attached to the doorknob. Lucio steps inside, turning slightly as not to disturb you.

When you get inside, Mercedes stands on her hind paws and pushes the door shut with her front paws. Lucio carries you to the bathroom and sets you on your feet, keeping his hands on your arms until he's sure you won't fall. He then steps aside to turn on the water in the tub. Then he turns back to you. "Get undressed." He tells you as he walks past.

He goes to your shared bedroom and digs through the closet to find you both dry clothes. He comes back to see you standing there, still in your rain-soaked clothes, your eyes still closed.

"I thought I told you to get undressed." He says, setting the clothes on the bathroom counter. You open your eyes to stay awake enough to stand without swaying. You look down at the trail of water leading in and out of the bathroom.

"You're making a mess." You say groggily

Lucio walks across the hall to get towels from the closet. "Really? Thats what you're worried about right now? The mess on the floor." He starts, "Your lips are blue." He sets the towels on top of the clothes and leans on the counter. "Now take. off. your. clothes."

You still stand there, looking at him as if he hadn't said anything. He sighs and gently pulls you toward him. Once you're undressed he sets you down in the tub and turns to pick up the wet clothes on the floor. He throws all the clothes, including his own, in the laundry and heads back to the bathroom. He closes the door so the dogs don't bother you and sits behind you in the tub.

He runs his fingers through your now wet hair and begins to quietly wash you. Once you're clean and rinsed you both just sit there for a few more minutes before Lucio stands and steps out of the tub and pulls you up to stand as well. He wraps you both in towels, grabs your clothes, and gently guides you to your bedroom. He dries your hair with a spare towel, then does the same with his own. When he pulls the towel away from his face he pauses, watching you slowly sort your clothes and start to get dressed. He nods to himself before doing the same.

~~~~~~~~~ Page Break ~~~~~~~~~

It's a few hours after dark and you and Lucio are laying in bed together. You're snuggled close, your head on his chest, his arms around your waist. After a few more minutes of silence Lucio speaks up.

"I'm sorry…" he whispers, almost inaudibly. You lift your head to look at him curiously. "For everything. The fighting, the constant leaving…. everything." He says, ashamed of himself. You look down for a moment, then back at him.

"I can't forgive you yet, not just like that. But I will, soon, just not now." You whisper finally. He nods, seemingly reassured. "That is if you aren't gone when I wake up in the morning." You add. "Of course." He smiles.

You settle back into the position you were in before. After a few more minutes of silence, Lucio speaks again. "I love you." He says. You open your eyes and stare at the wall for a moment, but you eventually respond.

"I love you too."

#the arcana #first fic #lucio morgasson #lucio x apprentice #gn!mc #the aracana mc #the arcana lucio #the arcana apprentice #count lucio #gn!reader

[artxyra]

I got another request! So, Jason is Red Hood at the time when he sees Marinette clutching a backpack (it has the miraculous box inside and some essentials and clothing) as she was falling from a portal (even tho a cloud was covering it so it looked like she was falling from the sky) into a river. He jumps in, saves her, and says something like "Holy sh*t I just saved an angel" He stays hidden for 2 weeks helping her until the fam meet her. [Anything you want from here but end goal is daminette]

It was close to midnight when the Red Hood notice that something was up. Little did he knew was that his next encounter with someone would have changed his entire life. He looked up to the cloudy night sky that always plagues Gotham, nothing felt out of the place. Well, the moment lasted into his begins to see a silhouette of someone falling from the sky. The person was coming down fast, real fast.

Rushing to what he presumed to be the persons landing grounds, he failed to realize that the person wasn’t going to reach the cold hard concrete ground but the river not far from him. As the person was falling quickly than anticipated, he ditched his jacket and ran towards the river.

Splash. Splash.

He breaks for air pulling the formerly falling person with him to shore. Back on dry land, the Red Hood was finally able to get a good look at the person he saved.

“Holy shit, did I just save an Angel?” He whispers to himself brushing back strands of dark hair that clings to the girl’s face.

Looking around for any signs of help coming, he picks the girl up into his arms and disappears into the night, not caring that it was his night to patrol.

Marinette woke up the next day with a massive headache. Quickly leaning upward, she calls out for Tikki as she searches through the blankets looking for her backpack. It hasn’t registered to Marinette that wasn’t at home nor was she in Paris anymore.

Tikki flies up to Marinette, giving the panic guardian a sense of reassurance.

“Where am I? Kaalki?” Marinette finally takes in her bearings as she touches face noticing the lack of glasses that is the horse miraculous.

“Kaalki’s fine, Marinette. Your entry coming here was rather shaky.” Tikki states keeping close to Marinette as the realization hits her. Turning to the side table, Marinette sees the horse miraculous and puts.

“Kaalki, where did that portal send us?” Kaalki finally appears but she scoffs and looks around the room.

“The portal sent us to a place called Gotham. In the Americas, apparently.” Kaalki answers before flying off to who knows where.

“Gotham, like in the Batman comics?” Marinette says before groaning resting her hand over her forehead and lay back down. All she could do is think, how was this possible.

“Hey Angel from the sky, you alright in there?” A voice startles her out of the bed. She stares at the tall muscular man in front of her. He has a turf of white in his dark hair, blue eyes, and wearing the worst kind of leather jacket she has ever seen in her life.

Racking through her brain, she tries to find the words to say in English, “Uh… and you are?”

“I should be asking you the same, but the names Jason, and you look like someone who has been trucked over, twice,” Jason says cautiously take a few steps forward.

Marinette’s shoulders relax. “I’m Marinette.”

Marinette walks over to Jason, shaking his hand, thus creating one of the most cherished siblings’ bonds ever created in the city of Gotham.

Over the course of a week, Jason quickly learned that Marinette’s English wasn’t that great (she knew basic English, but then again who doesn’t know anything past basic English), he also learned that Marinette was only sixteen almost seventeen, just a year younger than this youngest brother. Marinette had learned that Jason lives by himself in this rundown apartment complex, though he does spend a handful of times over at his adoptive family’s house. She also learned he really enjoys guns and rock music, so of course they bond over Jagged Stone’s latest new album.

At the beginning of her second week in Gotham, Marinette was growing anxious and a little stir crazy. After Jason had left to go to work, she decided that it would do her and the kwamis well to leave the apartment and explore. She doesn’t know why, but she found herself drawn to the park.

Pulling out the remains of one her sketchbook, she finds a dainty little bench underneath a tree far away from people. Looking around, inspiration hits her, so she begins sketching out an outline.

Marinette doesn’t know how long it has passed until a ball dropped in front of her. She sets the sketchbook aside and is immediately greeted by black Great Dane wagging his tail. Marinette giggles before bending down to search for a name tag.

“Titus?” Marinette mutters before scratching Titus’ head and neck.

Titus nudges the ball towards her getting the message to Marinette. She managed to play ball with her new furry friend until a concerned voice calls out the dog’s name. The person she assumes is Titus’ owner walks in fury towards her direction.

“Hi, he came over to me…” The owner cuts her off turning his attention to the dog who wags his tail in the owner’s face before walking over to Marinette. Marinette tries and fails to conceal her laughter.

The owner sighs and turns his attention to Marinette, “Damian.”

“Damian,” Marinette test the name, “Well you have a very nice dog. Actually, I’m very thankful for him pulling me out of my zone.” She holds out her hand. Damian shakes it after a moment of eyeing her down.

“Titus does have a tendency to do that.” She’s beginning to wonder if Damian was a person against small talk or better yet talking about himself.

Marinette bends down to say goodbye but not before wishing to see him and Damian again in the future.

Damian turns to Titus who does the same, and Damian could have sworn that he says a smirk on that dog’s face.

After their first encounter, Damian and Marinette continuously met at the park. Their second encounter was by pure accident. Marinette had wanted ice cream the following day and decided to enjoy her soft serve back on that dainty bench. Titus wanted to get out again, so Damian took him back to the park around the same time. After that, they decided to meet at the park every day around the same time.

As another week past by, Marinette finally began to wonder what was going on in Paris. She doubts that any besides her parents would care that she was missing, but she can’t help but wonder whether that person (or group) that was after her left Paris alone.

As Marinette grow closer to Damian, she did the same with Jason. He even took her to the shooting ring for practice one night and was blown away by her aim. Jason now swears that if Bruce doesn’t adopt his newly claimed sister then he would find a way to do it legally.

After having Marinette to his lonesome for two weeks, Jason decided that it might be best to introduce her to the family against every bone in his body. He knows that Marinette is hiding something, but it also seemed like she didn’t know what she was hiding also.

“Hey Pixie-Pop, you would you mind coming with to B’s house?” He asks on that faithful Sunday morning, which is odd considering Sundays were the days he typically leaves Marinette to herself.

“Sure,” She pauses for a moment, “Are you sure that they wouldn’t mind? I hate to be—” She rambles on getting a chuckle out of the older male.

“Nah, Pixie-Pop, they wouldn’t mind.” He tells her easing her growing anxiety.

Marinette smiles up at him before rushing into the guestroom that slowly became her room.

On the back of Jason’s bike reminded her of her Nona. In fact, every time she rides with him it’s a constant reminder of her Nona, the rush of wind blowing through her hair. The feeling of someone close to you knowing that you’re most likely being protected. Marinette had dreamed of getting a bike of her own when she older and in case she can never return to Paris perhaps Jason would be willing to teach her.

“Jay-Jay this a house, it’s a mansion.” Were the first few words upon entering the Wayne Manor grounds. Jason laughs it off by rubbing her head and motioning for her to follow him.

“Sup nimrods, I’m back and I brought a guest. Treat her right and there will be no bullets shooting tonight.” He calls out to the group of people settled into the room.

Marinette squirms underneath all the glances she was receiving but upon seeing the familiar sight of green eyes and a certain Great Dane, she slowly became at ease.

“Hey Damian, I didn’t know you lived here.” Well, ring the alarms because immediately she is greeted by screams of all kinds some projected to the green-eyed teen while one was projected to her.

Ignoring the commotion that is aimed at him, Damian curtly nods to Marinette as Titus rushes over to her. “Hi, Angel.” Cue another round of commotion.

So, dinner was a complete mess, well not like food is thrown everywhere kind of a mess but it was an emotional disaster. Tim was knocked over the table, the like of caffeine and sleep finally getting to him. Dick and was having a heated conversation with Jason about Marinette, all while Bruce sat there in silence. Secretly he was hoping for the chance of grandchildren in the future if this girl can make it through with his family.

Once Damian had finished his food and notice how uncomfortable Marinette is, they managed to disappear down the halls to who knows where. Alfred walks in shaking his head all while cleaning up the dishes.

Marinette ended up moving into Wayne Manor just days after the dinner at the request of Jason who ended up tag-teaming with Bruce. It didn’t take her long to figure their secret identities and it wasn’t long after that when they question her as to why she was declared missing and presumed dead in Paris. Let just say that was another heated conversation because it unleashed a whole lot of emotions.

Damian finally worked up the courage to ask the bluenette out after her staying with them for over a month. Both of them were too afraid of ruining the friendship they created. Not long after they started dating, Marinette learned that the people who were after her in Paris were a part of some cult under the name League of Assassins. This is then prompted Damian to talk about his past and Marinette telling the family that she had known their identities for quite some time. It didn’t them long to meet the kwamis and adding Ladybug to their personal alliance.

Marinette only went back to Paris after some convincing from the Batfamily to at least give her parents some sort of closure that their daughter is safe. She took Kaalki to make the trip easy. Her parents were, of course, mad at her for not contacting them sooner, but after she explained everything it was Sabine that had some choice words to say to some “old co-workers” of hers from her early teen and adult years. As much as they didn’t want Marinette to leave, her parents knew their daughter was happier in Gotham than she ever was after the whole Hawkmoth ordeal and even both that. Her missing person case was closed, and Marinette went back to Gotham with the promise to come to see them again in the summer.

Damian and Marinette finally shared their first kiss with each other after a couple of months of dating. It was Titus that pushed them to do at the park underneath the bench where they meet.

Permanent Tag List: @vixen-uchiha | @i-is-mysterious | @kuroko26 | @maribat-is-lifeblood | @marinettepotterandplagg | @loveswifi | @ladybug-182

Unspecific Tag List: @g-arya | @jardimazul | @jeminiikrystal | @zalladane | @bluerosette23  | @dast218 

#maribat #platonic jasonette #daminette #ml x dc #mlb x dc #dc crossover #ml crossover

[lesetoilesfous]

i dunno if they're open, but can i request from the kiss prompts, 30) kiss in the full moon, with NB!Handers? basically a Hawke who uses they/them pronouns, only goes by Hawke, and no specific descriptors or mentions of their sex? =)

Hey anon! I had way too much fun with this, thank you so much for the request!!! I really hope you like it. I am also going to be adding NB!Handers to my preferred pairings list specifically because of you :D <3

(If you’d like me to write you a dragon age fic, send me a prompt from here!)

@dadrunkwriting Pairing: NB!Handers

Characters: NB!Hawke, Anders

Tags: modern AU, post All that Remains, reference to mental illness, reference to police violence, reference to abusive institutions (the Circle is really, really awful y'all), reference to gun violence, smoking, strong language, everyone's an adult here Anders is just broke (hence the bike)

Rating: Mature

“I knew I’d find you here.”

The Kirkwall marina is quiet and mostly empty - boatowners have retired below decks with the rise of the moon and stars, and the place is mostly closed to the public otherwise. Anders had seen Hawke’s jeep, first, when he’d padlocked his bike to the iron fence. Now, as the wind pulls ripples across the ink-black bay, he finds the person in question.

Hawke is wearing a heavy brown leather jacket covered in patches, their long brown hair wavy with the humidity and blown about in the wind. They’re sitting on a stone pillar near the pier, staring up at the wide full moon. It’s such a clear night that Anders can make out the craters on it, and it’s harder to see the stars in the immediate radius of the moon, which diffuses into silver rainbows in the dark. The ocean falls in soft sighs against the thin beach, and ahead of them the bay closes between two promontories, which are darker black against the deep blue night.

Hawke looks back at Anders at the same time as their mabari, Dog, lifts her great head, sandy ears pricking in his direction. Anders waves at them both, trying to rearrange his features into an expression that doesn’t show exactly how worried he is. Instead, he folds himself awkwardly to sit on a pillar beside Hawke. The stone is cold even through his jeans, and Anders can feel a hole working its way through his battered converse. He’ll worry about that tomorrow.

For a long moment, Hawke is quiet, and the two of them sit there in the dark, listening to the eerie rattle and creak of the boats in the Kirkwall marina. Then Hawke says, softly, “I didn’t think you’d come.”

Anders looks at them, but they’re still staring ahead at the bay, and the moonlight skidding silver over the water. Their nose is smooth and bumped a little with the scar of an old break. Their eyebrows are thick and dark, as are their eyelashes. Their brown eyes glitter in the starlight. They tuck a clump of wavy hair back behind their ear, which is braced by silver cuffs over the shell and a row of hoops along their earlobe. Anders breathes, and the air is so cold that it tastes sweet.

“You didn’t tell me you were going to be here.” He’s trying for a joke, but even Anders can hear the way it falls flat as he feels the smile plastered onto his lips slip a little.

Hawke looks at him, and their eyes are rich and dark and brown and beautiful. There are thumbnail bruises of purple sleeplessness beneath them, too. They speak again, hushed as if the pair of them were in a cathedral and not a car-park outside a half empty marina. “Still.”

Something in Anders’ chest lurches as the wind makes the trees and grass behind them hush a sighing chorus to the sea. He shrugs, and feels the awkwardness of it across his shoulders. He’d never eaten well, in the Circle, and his body as a result felt stretched out and distended: he wasn’t fat or muscular enough to pull off the broadness of his proportions, but ever since he’d hit puberty what food he could get just didn’t seem to stick. He pushes away the memories of old hunger and focuses on the present, instead. “Yeah, well, you’re an idiot.”

Hawke huffs a laugh then, one of their canines hooked a little in front of their other teeth. They look down at their hands, where their nails are chopped short and painted with haphazard, chipped black polish. “Maybe.” They bite the inside of their cheek, and swallow twice before they speak. “I just. Keep thinking that if I dream it hard enough I’ll be able to go back and save her. You know? Like I’ll figure it out, somehow. And this time I won’t be too late and -”

Hawke cuts themself off, blinking rapidly, their dark eyes brighter in the moonlight. Anders swallows the lump in his own throat, and the urge to lean across and squeeze their arm or something similarly saccharine. With a feeling like chewing on breaking glass, he forces himself to pull up his memories of the months following Karl. It’s difficult - most of that time is a blur spent flinching every time he saw a templar in kevlar. Too many nights spent waking up with the sound of a bullet in his head. Anders winds his fingers together, squeezing them tight enough to hurt to ground himself back in the present. He can feel Hawke’s dark eyes on him, their gaze questioning. Anders looks up instead at the moon, and calls himself a coward.

“After...After Karl I, couldn’t really think straight. For a while. I mean, not that I ever thought straight.” Anders tosses half a grin in Hawke’s direction, but they don’t smile back, just watch him, quietly. Listening. Anders always feels as if he doesn’t know what to do with all that attention. He isn’t really used to people respecting him when he speaks. He doesn’t want to waste it. He clenches his teeth, and the wind whispers over the back of his neck, pulling at the hair in his ponytail. “But, um. I didn’t really feel like I woke up until I... Let myself accept that this is just. What the world looks like now. Without him in it.” Anders’ eyes burn, and he blinks rapidly and hopes that Hawke doesn’t notice the way his breath hitches.

If they do, they don’t say anything, instead fishing a packet of cigarettes from their pocket, lighting one before offering him the pack. Anders takes it gratefully, slipping a cigarette between his lips and leaning forward for Hawke to light it. Their lighter has a bright, chipped progress flag on the casing, and Anders can’t help but find it reassuring, for all the cliche. The cigarette lights, and Anders breathes in deeply, savouring the warm ache of it and breathing out a long gust before he speaks again.

“It’s like. They were part of another chapter. And you’re already onto the next one. And you kind of, have to stop trying to go back to those pages, otherwise you’ll miss what’s happening in these ones.” Anders laughs, and scrubs at his cheeks, feeling the graze of his stubble and wishing he’d remembered to shave. “Sorry, that’s stupid.”

“No,” Hawke says, firmly, taking a drag of their own cigarette and breathing it out in a gust of smoke before they speak. “No, that makes sense.” They look at him sidelong, then, and when they blink a tear runs rapidly, silently down their tanned cheek. “I don’t know how to keep reading.”

Anders rests his hand against the stone he’s sitting on. It’s rough and cool. His eyes move from the great belly of the moon to the dusting of stars over the horizon, trying to trace the shapes of the constellations. “I think…” He says, slowly, sounding the words out as he says them, “It starts with this. With people you care about. Quiet places. Places where you feel like you can be everything you are and feel everything you’re feeling without holding it in. Places where you feel safe.”

Hawke shakes their head, and their hair falls over the shoulder of their jacket, catching on the ridges of their patches. “I don’t feel safe.”

Anders ignores the wrench in his chest at that, and takes another drag of his cigarette before he looks down to meet Hawke’s eyes. “You will.” Hawke holds his gaze for a long minute after he says it. Then they nod, once, and glance away, bringing the cigarette back up to their lips.

For a while they sit there in the quiet, smoking, peaceful. Dog has rested her head on her thick paws, and Hawke is careful to tap their ash far away from her. Eventually, the ever-present blur of memory and feeling at the back of Anders’ head threatens to overwhelm the silence, and he tugs his phone out of the pocket of his coat. It’s an old suede thing with feather detailing he’d got second hand. Isabela teases him about it, but it always makes him feel safer than anything else does. He figures that’s enough. Anders taps the cracked screen of his phone, blinking at the blue light. Hawke glances at him, their brown eyes almost black in the dark.

Anders tilts his phone screen at them. “Mind if I play some music?”

They blink, once, then nod, and take another drag on their cigarette. “Sure.”

Anders hits play with a sense of near physical relief, and the tinny, soft sound of some alt rock eases into the air between them. After three songs Anders has finished his cigarette. After four, Hawke has finished theirs. For a moment, they sit there, unmoving and terribly still. Anders sits forward, feeling the weight of his phone shift in his pocket as he does so. “How are you feeling now?”

They offer him a shadow of a smile, heavy coat and baggy jeans disguising long lines of wiry muscle that Anders couldn’t forget if he tried. “Better. Anders?”

“Yes?” Anders wishes he didn’t feel as much like a heroine in some silent film, but Hawke always seems to have that effect on him. They make him feel like some damsel in need of saving. They make him want to be a hero.

Hawke’s lips curl up into a crooked smile that creases the corners of their eyes. “Thanks. For coming out here.”

Anders shrugs and lies. “It’s nothing.” When Hawke snorts, he goes on, grinning, “No, really. What else was I going to be doing? Now my friend, on the other hand. This poor sap is opening his free clinic at 5am this morning which…” Anders gets out his phone, tapping the home button. “Is in about three hours. Now that idiot, him, yeah, I’d feel sorry for. But luckily neither of us know anyone so masochistic.”

Hawke huffs a laugh, their voice rough and climbing into a giggle as they squeeze their eyes shut, scrubbing at their cheeks. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” They say it with a smile.

Anders tilts his head, and tries to ignore the warmth that flushes through his chest whenever Hawke looks at him like that. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”

Hawke shrugs, and pushes their hair back over their shoulders, moving so that they’re facing him, their legs spread wide and their jacket hanging loose over a white t-shirt. They look up at Anders boldly. “You’re my idiot.”

Anders’ flush pushes its way up into his cheeks and on into his ears, the cold of the early morning forgotten in the way that Hawke is staring at him. “Really? I must have missed the memo…”

“Anders,” Hawke’s voice is soft, and as they speak they rest their hand on Anders’ cheek. Their skin is soft and cold with the night air, and Anders leans into it as if he’s lost at sea and their touch is the only thing keeping him from drowning. It takes him too long to unstick his tongue from the roof of his dry mouth.

“Yes?”

Hawke smiles at him, warm and soft and indulgent, and their thumb strokes gently across his cheek as they lean forward. “Stop talking.” Their breath is warm as it blows across his lips, and smells faintly of cigarettes. And then they’re leaning even closer, and they’re kissing him. Their lips are soft and taste like cherry chapstick, and Anders doesn’t care as they tilt their head, the scar on their nose scratching softly against his skin, the warmth of their breath filling his lungs. Hawke licks into his mouth with a hunger that feels like burning, and Anders opens for them, lifting his hands to cradle their head and pull them closer, his fingers tangling in their thick, soft hair. Anders’ heart feels as if it’s going to beat its way out of his chest and that’s meaningless against the way the world is spinning, every inch of him lost except the point where his cheeks brush Hawke’s, where his chin bumps theirs, where their lips move to lock and loosen around his own as they move.

When they pull back, Anders isn’t sure he remembers how breathing works. But they grin at him, and their eyes are silver in the moonlight when they lean forward to bump their foreheads together, cradling the back of his head. Sighing, they shut their eyes. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Anders breathes, and swallows, lips wet and sore with the force of their kiss, wrists resting loosely on Hawke’s strong shoulders. Above them, the moon is bright and full and beautiful. Anders tries to speak past the lump in his throat. “Do it again?”

Hawke looks up at him, and their eyes are almost black in the dark. Then they kiss him.

#nb!handers #dadwc #nb!hawke #anders #my fic #da2 #anon

[lokis-little-kitten]

Teaching Assistant 12

Loki his lads turn out to be rather nice. Evan has short haze hair and deep brown eyes. He is tall and lean like Loki but with much fewer muscles. He is a dom and does a lot of pet play with his partner. He is rather playful and a bit of a clown but a very loyal one. 

Luke has blonde hair and blue eyes. Not as tall as Loki but he has more muscle which makes him look bulky. He is kind and sweet as he is a Daddy Dom. You knew pretty quickly that he would be one of your favourites. 

James is tall, dark and handsome. He is a sadist and seems the most dangerous but Loki told you you had nothing to worry about. James is a fair man and straightforward. 

Micheal is quieter and he is a switch. He has a Mistress at the moment and is quite soft. He is very caring towards everyone. He has short black hair and dark brown eyes. He has dark skin and quite some muscle on him. 

Loki walks towards the couch and sits down with you still wrapped around him like a monkey. ‘’Hello there, what is your name,’’ Luke asks who is sitting next to Loki. ‘’I’m Y/N,’’ you whisper back at him. Hesitantly you shake his hand and then hide in Loki’s neck. ‘’She’s a shy one,’’ Luke chuckles. Loki tells you all of their names and ‘titles’ but just leaves it there. 

‘’How is Eliza,’’ Loki then asks Micheal while slightly rocking you. ‘’She’s great, we’re thinking maybe take a sub,’’ he beams. ‘’For real,’’ Luke asks with a smile. ‘’Yeah… John might know a girl for us but that is still in early stages.’’ ‘’Still,’’ Evan chimes in, ‘’big step even thinking about it.’’ Micheal just nods this time and sips his beers. 

‘’But, back to this cutie. How did you meet,’’ James asks with a smirk. ‘’She wrote some rubbish BDSM stories and so I offered to teach her the ropes,’’ Loki simply explains. ‘’She then turned out to be a little… I think. We are figuring this out at our own pace.’’ You only nod a little looking around the room. 

‘’Loki?’’ Loki looks at you and kisses your cheeks. ‘’Yes dear?’’ ‘’You promised me a bath,’’ you pout looking at him. ‘’That is true. Be a good girl now and then I’ll allow you a nice bath tonight, huh?’’ He kisses under your ear which causes you to giggle. 

‘’Okay,’’ you mumble and nuzzle your face into his neck. Loki chuckles but then goes back to the conversation with his friends. They drink some beers and chat. You eventually mingle in some conversation. Your answers stay short. It’s a little daunting to be in a room full of men. 

Eventually it is Luke who walks to a cupboard in the corner. He opens the doors and frowns. “I could have sworn you had a bunch of board games here,” he calls. Loki stands up after peeling you off of his lap. He takes a look at the cupboard as well, as if he had forgotten he even had it. “I think those are downstairs as well. I didn’t use them much anymore.” He then walks towards the table next to the front door to grab his key chain. This strikes you as odd. You sit up a little to take a better look at what he is doing. 

“Luke, we can go grab them from storage,” he explains and holds up his keys as he opens the door. Immediately you shoot up from the couch. Quickly you grab his arm and look up at him. You try to beg him to stay with your eyes alone. 

“You can come with me, dear, don’t worry.” He places a kiss on your hair and rubs your back. He tells the other lads he’ll be back in a few minutes. You go into the lift all the way down to the storage area. You hadn’t been here before yet. 

Loki confidently guides you to the right storage box once underground. Even the storage boxes in this building are posh. It nearly looks like these are flats as well. The ground is hard wood and the hallways are rather light. 

Loki finds his box and opens the door. He flicks on the light. Together you walk in. Luke immediately looks out a few board games. You are more so occupied with other things. Loki has quite some storage cabinets with files, old books and boxes stored in them. Everything is in a set place so the storage box is very neat. There is one storage rack with large moving boxes. Some of them have kink labels on them. One has BONDAGE written on it in Loki’s neat handwriting. Others have things such as Masochism/Sadism, Impact, Humiliation, Non-Con and there was a box with Age play written on it. 

You want to pull out a box to take a look but Loki catches you. He wraps his arm around you and kisses your shoulder. “What are you looking at?” You giggle as he does and you point at the label of the box, Non-Con. He chuckles and pushes the box back into the rack. “We’ll talk about that later, love.” He pulls you away from the boxes and towards the rack with a collection of board games.

“I was just curious,” you counter as you look through the games. You feel a bit more comfortable now that it is only Luke along. 

“That’s good to hear,” Loki replies as he pats your bum playfully. You just start browsing through the games together with the other men. You pull out a few that seem fun and hold those under your arm. 

When everyone has a few Loki calls it quit and you guys go back upstairs. When you return to the flat the others cheer a little overexcited. Their arms are up in the air with their hands in fists. You put the games on the counter and look at the ones Loki and Luke grabbed. 

James joins you as well to take a look at them. “What would you like to play,” he asks as he also starts to browse. You then see Loki or Luke had grabbed The Game Of Life. You pick it and take it to Loki. “Can we play this one,” you ask in a small voice as you lean into his side. He takes it from you and let’s you hide your head in his arms. He agrees and starts setting up the game. You quickly pick your favourite colour pin before the others choose theirs. 

“Loki,” you whisper. You sit tightly against him with your arm around his. “After this game I’m going home. Early morning tomorrow.” He kisses your forehead as you tell him this. 

“Of course. Whatever you need.” You cuddle a little closer and start the game. It’s fun to play with the other men as well. It helps you let loose a little more. You do stay close to Loki but you manage to talk a little more now. 

When the game is over you grab your stuff. You are absolutely exhausted. It was late already and you had an early class. You were dreading the drive home but knew you had to. You didn’t want to stay over at Loki’s. No matter how nice it was, everything was moving very quickly and you needed your space and boundaries. 

Loki brings you downstairs and helps you seek out your motorcycle. He notices you rubbing your eyes and moving a bit slowly. “Can you drive back yourself or do you need me to drive you?” Quickly you shake your head. 

“No, I can do it myself. I need my bike at home and I don’t want to risk someone seeing us.” Loki reluctantly agrees and then presses a gentle kiss on your lips. He rarely kissed you there so it took you a little by surprise. 

“See you tomorrow. Be a good girl and sleep tight.” He also kisses your nose after saying that and pulls you a little closer. 

“You too. I will be.” 

“I will who,” he asks you as he pulls you a little closer to him again.

You put your arms around his shoulders and get on your tippy toes. “I will be good… Daddy.”

A pleased smirk creeps on Loki’s lips. “Good girl.” After that and a last kiss you get on your back and start the drive home. 

Once you’re on the road the fatigue really starts to catch up with you. Your eyes feel heavy and you can’t concentrate on the road as much as you would like. The lights appear much brighter and cloud your vision. 

Luckily you live close by. Just one more traffic light and a few more turns. The intersection, however, was a busy one. When you arrived you were shocked to find it was broken. There was no one directing the traffic anymore either because it was so late in the evening. No other vehicle is approaching so when it seems clear you cross over. 

When you nearly reach the other side of the intersection a small car suddenly comes from around the corner. It was going very fast. It hit the breaks but it was too late. It hit you. You are knocked off your bike and hit the pavement. You land on your collarbone. The air is knocked from your lungs as you are thrown across the asphalt. Eventually you come to a stop when you hit one of the traffic light poles. You gasp for air but the shock prevents you from breathing for a moment. Eventually you’re able to suck in some air again and start to couch. 

The driver from the car runs up to you. He has his phone against his ear. You can’t hear what he’s saying. Your ears are ringing. The street lights blur your vision more than before. You can feel yourself slipping into unconsciousness. 

You try to stay awake. You count to ten, list the names of the days of the week, list up the classes  you take at Uni and recall your phone number. 

The blinds from your helmet are popped open. An ambulance worker is in sight. He calls something to his college but you still can’t hear him. You’re too out of it to worry about anything. 

Eventually the ringing becomes less when the ambulance worker sits down next to you again. He is a middle aged black man. 

“Stay with me dear, we’re gonna get you to the hospital,” he tells you but you don’t reply. He shines a light in your eyes. You try to squint and look away from it. 

Now that the adrenaline starts to fade you start to feel the pain. Your entire body aches. Your collarbone and ribs in particular. 

Quickly you are hauled into an ambulance. Once in there you get a neck brace and your helmet is removed. They soon start padding at your head, take a blood sample and give you an IV. You can only watch as they work on your. 

The pain starts to fade away again when the IV is connected to some bag of fluids. The ambulance workers kept telling you things but it didn’t register. You felt so terribly tired. You just wanted to go to sleep. You didn’t. You started to count again and name the days of the week. You look outside and see the trees, flats and street lights pass. 

Eventually you get to the hospital. They roll you out of the ambulance and into the ER. They got you into a room where they started their tests. One woman then looked you in your eyes and smiled. “I’m doctor Nelson, I’m gonna take good care of you. What’s your name?” You choked out your name and started to cry. 

“I’m gonna take good care of you Y/N,” doctor Nelson replies. “Is there anyone I can call for you?” You tell her no and then she joins the other people working on you. The next thing they did was take an X-ray of your chest. They then checked your neck and took off the brace when you were cleared. A doctor looked at the X-ray. 

They discussed some discussion doctor Nelson addressed you again. “Your left collarbone is broken. It’s a complicated break so you need surgery. Do you consent to that?” You quickly do and only a moment later you are brought to the surgery room. Once in there they put you to sleep. 

The anesthesiologist tells you to count to ten for him. You start for him. A bright light is shining above you and doctors in scrubs start to come in. The closer you get to ten the more blurred everything becomes. Your eyes feel heavy and soon they close. 

[sweeethinny]

Trick or treat, sweetie?

I wanted to do something for Halloween, but I'm a little skeptical, and spirit stories and these things don't really do much to me BUT thinking about Sharp Objects and all the True Crime cases I’ve heard, I managed to write this, and I think I did something decent thanks to the hinny discord that helped me choose the costume for our couple

It was Halloween day, which meant that almost all teenagers in town would lie to their parents saying they were going to get candy when in fact, they would be in the forest drinking, making out behind the rocks, or throwing themselves into the clearing that was there close by.

Ginny would be no different.

She had convinced Harry to wear a couple costume, not because it was just tacky and funny, but because his ass would look much better on Princess Leia's costume than it did on her. Also, she was much more suited to Han Solo than Harry.

‘’You look great.’’ She said, hitting his ass as soon as her boyfriend came out of the bathroom, still fixing his wig on his head

"This shit itches" Harry complained, sitting on the edge of his bed so that Ginny could straighten the clip that held the fake hair back. "You look hot." His hand also hit her ass, staying there. "Your mother would die if she knew we were like this.''

‘’She knows, and she said that as much as you look good in white, you should wear Han Solo’s clothes’’ Ginny kissed him quickly, squeezing his chin and sucking on his lip ‘‘I disagree. I think men in skirts are sexy’’

‘’I’m happy that I like your beauty standard’’ The boy stood up, putting the last details before looking at her ‘’Ready?’’

‘’I’ve always been’’ Ginny lifted her chin, taking his hand and pulling him out of the room. Of course Lily asked the two of them to stop for a photo, commenting to James about the two being beautiful and that Harry should start wearing a cape like that more often because it did so much for his shoulders.

‘’Behave yyou two! I don't want to go to the police station to take out two stupid teenagers'' James warned them before they left the house, which Harry promptly confirmed and calmed them down about the two of them being home before one in the morning (everyone knew it was a lie, but at that day they would all pretend to be true)

‘‘Han Solo who should drive’’ Ginny reminded him, sitting in the passenger seat while warning Hermione that they were already on  way

‘’If he had a driver’s license, for sure. For now, let me do it.'' Harry left his hand on her thigh, as he always did, following the old path they used to reach the clearing, passing through the town square where the children were having fun, gathered to start picking up sweets or throwing toilet paper at someone's house, and going straight until they reached the street of the pig slaughterhouse, to finally reach the road.

‘’Mione said she’s also going’’ She said ‘‘Do we have to buy anything?’’

‘’No, I left the drinks with Seamus yesterday. We just need to get our nice ass over there’’ Harry smiled ‘‘I hope you won’t be jealous when everyone looks at mine, instead of yours’’ Ginny laughed, denying and shrugging

‘’Feel free, I’m not jealous’’

‘’Ah, sure’’ Harry used all his sarcasm, barely taking his eyes off the empty road ‘‘It’s ugly to lie, Han’’

‘‘I’m not lying’’ She defended herself ‘’When did you see me jealous?’’

‘’Yesterday when that girl flirted with me at the market’’ He barely stopped to think, which made her a little irritated, even though she was amused

''Ah, so you admit it was a flirtation'' Ginny tossed her hair behind her shoulders, crossing her legs and looking out the window, seeing the city a little further away now ''I remember you saying it was just her way''

‘’But she’s like that. Ask Nev’’ She looked at him, arching an eyebrow and holding back laughter

‘’Nev didn’t have sex with Kimbely’’ Ginny argued

‘‘I don’t know’’ Harry shrugged ‘‘She is very friendly’’

‘’And what do you know about that?’’ She poked, still staring at him with a raised eyebrow and a smug smile on her face

‘’Nothing, just what-- What the fuck!?’’ Harry braked the car with much more speed than was recommended, the noise echoing down the empty road, seeming to shake the trees that lay there. Ginny bounced forward, her body being stopped by her seat belt, but her head hit the panel, causing an irritating pain.

When she looked up to look at the road in front of her, a curse escaped her mouth, staring at the woman standing in the middle of the road, all dressed in white while carrying an ax dripping with blood.

‘’Do you think we should see if everything is okay?’’ Harry asked, gaping at the scene, still staring at that woman

''I think you should back up and runaway from here'' She replied, scared to death ''It's the fucking woman in white, what are we still doing standing around?'' The woman in white , the urban legend of that small town that, a few years ago, had been the local of three brutal deaths.

The three girls were not even fifteen when they disappeared, one at a time; the first disappeared in the summer, some said that she had run away with her boyfriend, others said that she had killed herself in the clearing, and it was only after three weeks of searching that her body was found, on the roof of the pig slaughterhouse, all dismembered.

The second was in the fall of that same year, but she had not been gone for more than three days, and her body was found hanging from the traffic lights on the main street, exposed for all to see.

In the meantime, the parents were already in a panic, and no more children or teenagers were seen alone on the street, the doors were closed before six and no one left the house at night. For a city with less than 5,000 inhabitants, that was the biggest terror they had ever faced.

The third disappeared after a year, on the anniversary of the death of the first, she had disappeared after going for a bike ride on the way to a friend's house, and for months no one had any news or evidence of the disappearance. On the anniversary of the death of the second, her body was found half on the roof of the slaughterhouse, and the other half, hanging from the traffic lights.

It was chaos.

When a truck driver pleaded guilty - a few months of panic and terror for everyone in the city afterwards - everyone pretended to be more relieved. He never confessed the reason for killing the three girls so brutally, but it didn't matter, the population would pretend to be peace again. Even if one of the boys who lived on the way to the clearing, claimed that he had seen a woman in white carrying the body across the road, dragging it into the forest.

The police always denied it, saying that there was no chance of a woman committing something as horrible as that, but the population never let themselves forget the legend. Sometimes, someone said that he had seen a woman dressed in a great bloodstained robe walking around the city. Another said he had seen her in the clearing. Another said that she was always around the slaughterhouse ..

And now, there was a woman in a white dress full of blood, an ax in her hand, in front of Harry's car, looking like the devil as she looked at them.

Her hair was blond and looked dirty with dirt and something Ginny hoped was not dried blood, her eyes were big and dark, like two holes in her pale, almost skeletal face, and all over her bust were marks of scrapes and cuts.

‘’The car doesn’t want to start’’ Harry almost screamed, turning the key and seeing that nothing was changing

''What?! No! I will not die! This shit will call and we'll go over that motherfucker'' Ginny shouted in response, nervous to the last strands of hair for seeing that the woman was starting to walk, using her free hand to clean what looked like blood dry, from her cheek.

''I do not know! Damn!’’ Harry hit the steering wheel, and the horn barely seemed to startle her, and maybe, she was already less than two meters away from them

‘‘Where’s the knife I always leave it here?’’ Ginny opened each compartment, shivering as she rummaged through Harry’s mess looking for metal

‘’She has a fucking ax, what the fuck are you going to do with a knife? She will kill you before you can say the word ‘Please’ ’’ He looked at her, looking like a piece of paper so white, then turning forward and moving the key again

‘’Harry, she’s getting close’’ Ginny whispered, terrified that the woman could hear her trembling voice

‘’I know, I’m trying’’ The blonde was walking more and more, starting to laugh like crazy, loudly and laughing with her head back, dragging the ax on the road floor, causing a terrible sound of the blade on the asphalt

''Trick or treat, sweeties?'' Her voice sounded loud but at the same time it seemed to be whispered, her black eyes blinked towards them both, and the moment she got close enough to touch the hood of the car, lifting her ax and ready to break the windshield, Harry managed to turn the key.

The noise of the engine echoed and the tires sang with the sharp reverse they made, moving further and further away from the woman who now ran towards them

‘’Go over it !!’’ Ginny screamed, terrified of how fast she could be

''I'm not going to jail!'' He also shouted, changing lanes so he could accelerate and got out of there, but he couldn't avoid when the woman threw herself on top of the car, rolling over the hood and falling on the road, staying still dirtier than before, but not looking dead. She was still laughing out loud and was able to move, looking like she wanted to get up.

'’Don't you dare stop. I swear Harry, I'll kill you!’’ Ginny felt her heart racing to the point of thinking she was having an attack, barely able to breathe properly ‘’ Accelerate and let’s go ’’

‘’Shit Gin!’’ Harry stepped on the gas, much faster than the law allowed, and left, feeling completely shaky ‘‘Damn I think I’m going to pass out’’

''I swear to you, if I hadn't gone to the bathroom before we left, I would have peed in my pants'' She took a deep breath ''What the fuck was that?'' Ginny asked, still looking back as if she expected see her again

''I do not know! Where did that fuck come from?’’ He said

‘’From hell’’ Ginny said. Harry had the audacity to laugh, but he didn't seem very happy ‘’I need a strong drink’’

‘’Me too’’ He replied, parking the car in the middle of the trees and listening to the sounds of music and conversations, some headlights were on and you could see the bodies walking from side to side. Harry squeezed Ginny's thigh, as if to confirm that she was there. ‘’Do you want to drink and then have sex in the back seat? I think I need to discharge the adrenaline’’

‘‘I don’t think you’ve ever come up with anything as good as this’’

#hinny #hinny au #harry x ginny #Harry Potter #Ginny Weasley #Harry and Ginny #halloween

[cynicallystiles]

Seasons of Love: The One with How They Met

Disclaimer: Moodboard made by me. Pictures found on Google!

Author: @cynicallystiles

Request: @itrocksmysocks​ basically requested this by making me obsessed with the triplets a year ago.

Warning: Swearing maybe.

Notes: The long awaited series is here! The whole thing still isn’t finished ahead of time like I wanted. So, we’ll see if I actually stay on schedule with this one. Credit to @thotmendes​ for imagining the triplets into existence about a year ago! Thanks for your patience! Please COMMENT/REBLOG if you enjoy it!

Pairing: Kallie Hayes (OC) x Mendes Triplets

Masterlist Series Masterlist

SOL Teaser Chapter Two

Words: ~3.5k

Anais Nin once said, "Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born."

The first encounter Kallie had with the triplets was a memorable one. This could be because she didn't know they were triplets. She had just moved to town with her family and started her first day in the middle of October.

Kallie was just eight or nine years old, but she was nervous about starting a new school way behind the other kids. Once her parents dropped her off with the principal, she was led to a small classroom. The teacher smiled brightly as he welcomed her in.

"Hello! It's very nice to meet you..." he trailed off, expecting her to reply. Her gaze was anxiously flitting around to all the other students staring at her curiously. So, he cleared his throat.

With a slight jump, she whipped her head back to him. "Kallie, sir." She held out her little hand and gave him a firm shake. Well, as firm as an eight-year-old could give an old person with hands the size of baseball gloves.

"You're very polite! I can't wait to meet your parents," he beamed at her, not noticing the small flinch of her eye. Things don't always go nicely when her parents come to school. It's why she's always on her best behavior. "Well, I'm Mr. Flannigan."

He stood up straight and turned toward the class with a smile that was bright against his tan skin. "Class...this is Kalliope Hayes." So, he already knew her full name before she came into the room?

There was a pause as the students ceremoniously said, "Hi, Kalliope!"

Mr. Flannigan nodded as if the response was what he wanted. "Kalliope, why don't you tell us three fun things about yourself, and then we'll go into the lesson plan for today?"

Funny. He phrased it as if it were a question. But, when adults ask questions like that, they're more likely strong suggestions. So, she took one step forward and cleared her throat.

"Hi," she squeaked out. "My full name is Kalliope but I like Kallie better. Three things about me are..." She stalled a moment, forgetting every single fun thing about her. "Uh...I like bike riding...I'm really good at holding my breath!...and...I've never ice skated?"

Her green eyes look up to the teacher for approval as everyone claps politely. He's about to point to her seat when a small voice cuts him off. "How long??"

"Huh?" She asks as she scans the other kids for the voice.

The boy in the last row, second from her right and wearing a forest green hoodie peers past the rest of the students. "You said you're really good at holding your breath! How long?"

"Um, like, thirty-five seconds? I think," she responds uncertainly. It's been a while since the last time she had her sister time her. His brown eyes stare at her for a moment longer.

Then, he nods. "Nice." He grins at her in approval. She smiles a little wider in response and Mr. Flannigan tells her to take the only open seat left.

She walks toward the back, finding the open seat next to the kid who had questioned her breath-holding skills. As Mr. Flannigan starts the lesson plan, the boy leans over and offers his hand.

"I'm Shawn!" The eagerness of his voice makes her relax. Maybe she just made her first friend here. She takes his hand and shakes it a little. "Let's make up a secret handshake later at recess, okay?" She nods enthusiastically before they turn forward in their seats to pay attention.

Later at recess, Shawn and Kallie are standing under one of the shady trees on the playground, mixing an unnecessary amount of steps to their secret friendship handshake.

"Hey, Shawn! Come play tag!" Some other kids begin to call him to play games with them.

He looks over at Kallie. "Wanna come play?"

"No, thanks," she shakes her head causing her light brown hair to rustle in the wind, "I don't really like tag." He shrugs and squints at her a little, but accepts her answer before running off to join the game.

She decides to take a stroll along the fence to see if she could find some cool rocks to take home for the new garden her parents were gonna plant. As she does, she sees a boy crouched down with his hands cupped around something. He's wearing a jean jacket over his white T-shirt.

As she approaches, she calls out excitedly, "Watchya got in your hand?" The boy startles, his hands opening to let a frog jump out. He hurriedly reaches out and catches it again as Kallie takes a step back. She notes how carefully he cups his hand around it.

"A frog," he says plainly and he sounds slightly similar to...who does he sound like?

Her face contorts in minor disgust. "Why?" Is all she asks. When he turns to look at her, her eyebrows knit together in confusion. "I thought you went to play tag!"

"What?" He asks in genuine ignorance.

She looks him over and her brows come even closer together. "How did you change your clothes so fast, Shawn?"

"I'm not Shawn," he rolls his eyes with a sigh.

"What do you mean? You said your name was Shawn in class today," she reminds him.

He silently sticks his tiny closed fist through the fence to release the frog toward its home. Standing up, he wipes his hand on his jeans. "That's my brother. I'm Raul." He sticks out his frog contaminated hand.

"Oh, so you're like twins?" She swallows her squeamishness and shakes his hand quickly, then wipes it on the back of her shorts.

He shrugs. "You could say that." With that, he walks past her without another word. She turns and watches him run to another group of kids who are playing on the monkey bars.

She heads back to the tree, collapsing against its bark to enjoy the rest of recess. Her relaxing doesn't last long as something drops into her lap from above. "Ow!" She exclaims and opens her eyes to find a notebook in her lap.

"Sorry!" A voice calls out from above. She looks up quickly and finds an increasingly familiar face looking down at her.

His puppy dog eyes match his apologetic smile. Kallie sighs deeply. "Now, when did you get up there??" She was seriously starting to think she'd never woken up this morning.

"I've been here all recess!" He replies with an adorable smile. "Can you hand that back to me?" He asks, laying on his stomach to reach down.

She stands, stretching on her tiptoes to hand it back. Kallie then sees that he's wearing neither a green hoodie nor a jean jacket. Instead, he's wearing a blue, plaid button-up shirt. She frowns. "Don't tell me there's another one of you?"

"Huh?" He quirks his eyebrow for a moment. "Oh! You mean my brothers! Shawn and Raul?" She nods, but in her mind, she hopes it stops at three. Already, she could tell she'd never be able to tell them apart. "I'm Peter!"

"Why are you in a tree with a notebook?"

"It keeps me from getting hit by the dodgeballs while I'm trying to draw." He scrunches up his face like it's obvious. "Duh," he adds on.

The apparent obviousness of the statement makes her giggle. "What are you drawing?" She asks curiously.

He pauses for a long moment, sizing her up. Then, an adorable grin spreads across his lips. "Climb up here, and I'll show you," he half-invites, half-challenges her.

"Okay!" Without hesitation, she rolls the sleeves up on her Princess Belle shirt and scales the tree with only minimal effort.

Peter watches her settle in on the branch next to him in awe. "That was really fast!"

"Thanks!" She beams at him. "My sister can't climb so when she chases me with gross stuff I had to find somewhere to hide," she informs him happily.

He laughs and scoots next to her as he opens his notebook across both of their laps. Slowly, he flips through the pages to show her the different drawings. "These are really good!" She compliments him.

"Really?" He asks shyly. Kallie nods vigorously and continues to marvel at the sketches. Peter smiles and watches her admire his work for a few minutes more.

But, they're not alone for much longer. "Kallie? Where'd you go?" She looks over the notebook below them. Shawn is looking around the base of the tree.

"Up here!" She giggles. His head turns toward the sound of her voice. "Peter was showing me some drawings!"

Shawn covers the urge to frown with a bright smile. "Come down! We gotta finish our super-secret handshake before recess is over," he reminds her.

"One second!" She calls down and turns to Peter. "I gotta go. Thanks for letting me see your notebook!" Then, she carefully climbs down the tree.

Once she hops onto the ground, Shawn slings an arm around her shoulders as he leads her away. "Our handshake is gonna be so awesome! And it'll be just for us! You know what else? You can come with me and my family to our lake house to ice skate in the winter since you've never been!" He chatters happily as he leads her further away from Peter.

From that day on, the two of them were inseparable. That day was the first time the boys had gotten jealous or competitive over Kallie. But, it wasn't the last.

It was disorienting at first, never knowing who was who. Except for Shawn, of course. Kallie could always tell which one was Shawn because out of the three, those two were the ones joined at the hip. Not to say that she didn't grow close with the rest of the boys. Just that Shawn was who she was close with first.

Throughout the years, they were like the Four Musketeers. Getting into all kinds of trouble and mischief. They enjoyed the best of their times throughout the year at the Mendes' cabin in the Muskoka Lake District. Since the very first year they became friends, their parents were kind enough to bring her along on all of their little trips.

Occasionally, her parents and sister came along. Which was nice because a majority of the other parents didn't take kindly to hers. She loved that they were so kind and included them in their trips. That cabin became like a lifeline to them as the years wore on.

They shared every holiday, celebrated every event, and recovered from unexpected hard times at that cabin. Christmas time? They went to the cabin. Someone's birthday? The cabin was there. The worst time of their lives? The cabin saw that too.

The four of them could never imagine not having that cabin, or each other to get through life. Which is why it hurt all the more when they got the news. After graduating high school, the four of them went on to university. Together.

While they all had different majors, it was hard to find time for each other at first. So, they made it a rule to have dinner every Saturday night at one of their dorms. Rotating between them as hosts to the gathering. Which became easier when they all moved in together after the first two years of having to live in the dorms. They were now coming off of their third year of university with one left to go.

As the four of them piled into Shawn's Jeep for the trip home with their bags stuffed in the back, excitement floated through the air to finally be able to relax for a time before heading back to Toronto for the most important year of schoolwork.

"Shotgun!" Kallie, Peter, and Raul call at the same time as they race toward the front seat.

The three slam into the side of the vehicle with laughter. Looking to Shawn to be the referee, he rolls his eyes. "Kallie got there first," he chuckles.

"C'mon!" Peter groans.

"You always let her have it," Raul mumbles as he slides into the backseat.

"My Jeep, my rules," Shawn shrugs and buckles into the driver's seat with a chuckle.

Kallie happily hops into the front seat, smiling at Shawn before turning to grab her seatbelt. "Thank you!" As she buckles it, she exchanges a secret glance with Shawn and he winks at her.

"Anytime," he responds as she bites her bottom lip to contain her laugh.

With that, the four set off toward home. Well, more like toward the cabin. They were planning on stopping at their houses to see their families first and then spend the rest of the summer in Muskoka.

Half an hour later, the boys drop Kallie off at her parents' house before heading down the street to theirs. "Dinner at ours at six?" Peter confirms as she grabs her bags out of the back.

"Mhm," she replies and walks around to his window, while Raul gets out and gets in the front seat. "And then breakfast at mine at ten tomorrow?"

He nods with a grin. "We'll be here!" She mumbles a 'perfect' and leans through the window to kiss his cheek and he kisses hers at the same time, something they've gotten in the habit of doing when they part ways. Shawn shifts his grip on the steering wheel as he watches them in the mirror.

"See you tonight!" Raul calls as his eyes trail after her, lower than they should be when she disappears into her house. Shawn reaches over and slaps the back of his head. "Ow!!" He rubs the new sore spot with a chuckle as Shawn pulls away from the curb.

Later, as promised, she enters the Mendes household as if she lives there. She's right on time for dinner, but it's unusually quiet around the house. "Hello?"

"In here!" Someone calls after a long moment of silence.

Kallie makes her way into the living room where the brothers are seated on the couch. "Hey! What's going on? Why is it so quiet?" She questions as she sits in between Shawn and Peter's legs, stretching her own across Peter's lap and resting her feet in Raul's.

"Mom has news," Shawn says surprisingly seriously. It's then that Kallie notices the shock on their faces and that Karen is sitting in one of the other chairs.

She leans her torso back into Shawn and shrugs. "What is it? Bad news?" They nod and she looks at Karen as she takes a deep breath.

"Well, sweetie," she begins sweetly. "As I've just finished telling the boys..." she pauses, gathering the strength to tell her. "We've decided to sell the cabin."

Kallie's expression falls into the same shock that the boys wear and she feels like her whole body goes numb. "Wh-no. H-how...why-no!" She finally stutters out.

"I'm sorry. I really am. I know how much that cabin means to you all," she sighs. "But...we just can't afford to keep up with it year-round anymore. Especially, since we haven't been back since you all were in high school."

Her eyebrows furrow together in confusion. "Wha..." she breathes out, unable to think straight. To stop her mind from spinning, she focuses on the things around her.

Like the feel of Shawn's heartbeat against her back and the rhythm of his breathing. Like the goosebumps on her legs caused by Peter lightly tracing his fingers over her knees. Like the cold metal of Raul's rings as he squeezes her ankles comfortingly.

"When are you selling it?" Raul asks, taking charge of the situation. It's something he tends to do as the oldest of the three brothers. When things get tough, he steps in to steady everyone.

Karen shrugs. "We haven't found a buyer yet."

"Well," he sighs. "Then, we're still gonna go out for the summer. And every chance we get until you sell it. We can clean and pack up stuff along the way."

She smiles gratefully at him. "Thank you, honey. I hope you all enjoy the summer there...you deserve it before your last year at university!" She smiles, the tension slightly diffused but not dissipated. "Dinner will be ready soon."

Then, she silently heads to the kitchen to leave the four of them alone. Kallie shifts her body to stand up and face the boys. One hand goes to her hip as her eyes train on the carpet. With the other, she pushes some loose strands of hair behind her ear.

"I'm gonna..." she trails off, not having any words. "I'll be outside," she whispers and immediately exits the room.

Shawn leans forward to stand up. "I'll get her-"

"No. Lemme handle it," Raul interrupts and follows her without another word.

Sitting back down defeatedly, Shawn looks at Peter. "The hell was that about? Thought I was her best friend..." he grumbles.

"We're all best friends," Peter reminds him. "Besides...they have been closer since the twelfth grade." He shrugs and pulls his sketchbook out of his bag.

Shawn's brows crease together and then rise on his forehead. "You don't think they're-" He stops himself short because he doesn't even want to go there.

"What?" Peter looks up from the sketch he's working on. His face falls flat when he sees Shawn's panicked look. "Oh my god! They're not. Raul isn't even Kallie's type," he scoffs and focuses on the bright green irises he's drawing, only slightly concerned that Shawn may be right.

Shawn twists his features into an offended sort of confusion. "Her type? We all have the same face!"

"Yeah, but none of us are dating her...are we?" Peter scoffs dismissively.

"No," Shawn grumbles as he sinks further into the couch and crosses his arms grumpily.

Raul steps out onto the porch, barely squinting his eyes at the now-setting sun. Kallie's ash brown hair catches the light stunningly, almost as if it were milk chocolate silk. The red undertones give her hair a cinnamon-like shine you can only see under the sun. He sits next to her on the top step as she hugs her knees to her chest and rests her chin there.

He doesn't say anything as he leans back, letting his palms press into the wood. Time ticks by and he doesn't talk. She doesn't talk. Her body just slowly tips toward Raul until she's collapsed into his side. He feels her sigh heavily and he scoots closer to circle his arm around her waist.

"This isn't the end of the world," he promises like he always does when she gets like this. She huffs, annoyed that he seems to always downplay her sadness at first. "I'm serious."

She sits up, turning on the step to stare at him direly. "Oh, are you? I couldn't tell," she deadpans. "I know it's not the end of the world, Raul...that doesn't mean this all still doesn't suck," she murmurs as her hands move to her words.

"Life's allowed to suck," he chuckles. She watches the light dance in his hazel eyes and sighs. "You're even allowed to wallow about it," he continues.

She throws herself into his lap dramatically. "Then, let me wallowwww," she whines playfully. He rests his arm across her torso.

"But-"

"No...no buts," she begs as she turns her face into his stomach to hide. She curls her legs up until she's almost in a ball on her side.

Raul gently strokes her back. "But," he says pointedly, "you're not allowed to wallow forever. Eventually, you have to pull on your big girl pants and show life who it's messing with."

"You're so lame," she laughs and ventures a peek up at him.

He tilts his head and smiles smugly. "Got you to laugh didn't I?" She nods slightly. "I know how much the cabin means to you. It means that much to all of us," he soothes her.

"I somehow always forget that you guys feel it too," she whispers.

Raul moves his hand to brush her hair out of her face. "I'll make you a deal," he begins. Her attention peaks because he always offers her the same deal and she'd never pass it up. No matter what it is. "Suck it up for now. You can wallow when the place is actually sold."

"What do I get for pulling on my big girl pants?" She challenges.

He scrunches up his face in obvious sarcasm. "What do you always get?"

"Prom night?" She replies hopefully.

"Prom night," he confirms mischievously.

#shawn #shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes x oc #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn imagine #shawn fanfic #shawn fanfiction #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes smut #shawn peter raul mendes #mendes triplets #raul #raul mendes #raul mendes fluff #peter mendes #peter #peter mendes fanfiction #peter mendes fanfic #peter mendes imagine #raul mendes fanfiction #raul mendes fanfic #raul mendes imagine #peter mendes fluff #entanglement #love triangle #seasons of love #seasons of love series #shawn mendes x reader

[maribatshipper]

Trollhunting Lantern Chapter 1

A/N: This was written down long before Wizards, about two/three years ago, so this is an alternate universe.

“It’s Marnie & Campo, on River 94.9!  We play the best music mix from the 80s till now!”

The song “Hungry Like The Wolf” starts playing as two strange figures fight in the early morning light. Technically, morning shadows. They don’t touch the light.

“Yield, Trollhunter Jim!” One of the figures exclaims.

This figure is terrifyingly tall, has glowing yellow eyes, and a crimson coloured armour all around him, only revealing the glowing eyes. He has a long sword in his right hand the same colour as his armour.

The other figure, who has now been identified as Jim, replies, “A Trollhunter never yields, Venjo! I’d rather die!”

Jim is a tall creature that looks like he was once human. He has teeth pointing out of his bottom jaw, blue skin, horns on the top of his head, messy black hair, blue eyes, and red/black armour on with a sword made of the same material as his armour.

A human female with brown hair, a white streak and hairclips in her hair, reddish-brown eyes and purple armour jumps into the fray.

“& I’ll kill you if you kill him!” She exclaims.

Venjo smirks, “Terms accepted Trollhunter. Flesh-bag! This is not your battle!”

Jim smirks, “I can take him, Claire. Get out of here. Stay with Blinky.”

Claire smirks, “And let you have all the fun?’

Venjo jumps at Claire, who dodges and slams into him with her armour.

She smirks, “I gotta thank Merlin for the armour.”

Jim scoffs, “You’ve already thanked him a dozen times!”

Venjo slams into Jim, causing Jim to come dangerously close to the sunlight.

“Master Jim! Careful!” Another male voice calls.

Jim jumps away from the sunlight and slams into Venjo. Venjo gets thrown across the ground. Jim holds his sword towards Venjo.

“Your reign of terror will soon be over, Venjo!” Jim frowns.

The sunlight touches Jim’s armour, causing it to burn. Jim panics, & Venjo takes this opportunity to kick him in the face. Jim flies away, close to another beam of sunlight, with his sword in the sun. Venjo gets up, ready to run into Jim. Jim reaches into the sunlight to grab his sword, burning his hand. Claire keeps Venjo occupied while Jim shakes the sparks off his hand. Venjo hits Claire away, into the sun, which doesn’t affect her has much as it does the other two creatures.

“There is nowhere left for you to run, Trollhunter! Give me the Amulet!” Venjo yells.

Jim looks towards the circle on his chest. He jumps up a tree, trying to get away from Venjo for a short while. But every now and then, the branches snap underneath his weight. Jim stops and looks around for Venjo, when Venjo hits him from behind.

“OW! That was worse than your breath!” Jim groans.

Claire jumps on the branches too; her weight being supported more than Jim’s and Venjo’s. Venjo pushes Jim close to the end of the trees, where the sun is shining.

“It ends here, Trollhunter. It’s either me or the sun. Either way, you’re doomed.” Venjo laughs.

Claire hits Venjo away from Jim, who is burning.

“Doesn’t matter. The Amulet will find a champion. That Trollhunter will stop you and your schemes.” Jim groans.

Claire gasps as she realises what he’s saying.

“JIM! NO!” She screams as he jumps into the sun.

As he burns, he turns to stone. He smashes as soon as he hits the ground. Claire runs towards Jim’s remains.

“No! No, Jim, no.” Claire cries.

 ***

An alarm goes off at 7:00 playing “Eye of The Tiger”. A girl climbs out of bed. She has brown, curly hair, blue shining eyes, and looks like she’s only 13. She sings along to the song as she gets changed. She slides to the kitchen and cooks herself some scrambled eggs. She sets the table for the rest of her family, with six plates on the table, at six chairs, then she removes a plate. She puts milk, Milo Cereal, oats, and Rice Bubbles on the table. She continues to sing. Her family comes out with a smile on their faces.

“Face to face, out in the heat

Hangin' tough, stayin' hungry

They stack the odds 'till we take to the street

For the kill with the skill to survive!”

A boy slightly taller comes out and yells, “Shut up, Scarlett!”

The girl now identified as Scarlett ignores him.

“It's the eye of the tiger, it's the dream of the fight

Risin' up to the challenge of our rival

And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night

And he's watchin' us all with the eye of the tiger!”

The boy yells, “If you don’t shut up, Scarlett, you’re gonna regret it.”

Scarlett stops, then looks at him.

“You know, if you had taste, and were a proper brother, Nick, you would be encouraging me, not patronising me for being happy. I have every right to be happy. You, Nicholas, should be happy too. But you have no idea what it’s like to be happy anymore. You don’t even know what it’s like to work at Maccas! I had to slave over a grill, a HOT grill, & clean it while it was still on!” Scarlett frowns.

The boy now identified as Nicholas smirks, “How many jobs have you had?” thinking he has the upper hand.

Scarlett retorts, “How many jobs have you kept for more than a month?”

Nicholas stumbles, and two young girls laugh.

“Thank you, little sisters. Now I must be off, to my ACTUAL and real job. Unlike your big brother here, who, A, I didn’t put a plate out for, because he needs to learn to do things himself, and B, is a freeloader.” Scarlett smirks.

Scarlett walks out the door with a satisfied smirk. She grabs her bike and sees someone.

“Hey Greeny!” Scarlett exclaims.

A girl with short red hair, a yellow shirt, blue eyes, and a few bruises rides up and sighs, “What did I say about calling me that? I’m trying to keep my secret, and if you blurt that all over town, they’ll figure it out.”

Scarlett giggles, “No one’s gonna find out, Bracha. When someone calls someone else a Greeny, they think the person is either a vegetarian or a person who cares too much for the environment. Not…”

Scarlett points to a little green ring on Bracha’s right hand.

“I get it. I just don’t like it. What if there are other people who know about them?” Bracha asks.

Scarlett sighs, “It’s fine, Bracha. Talking about Extra-terrestrial’s is all the rage now. People are even going to storm Area 51 according to the internet. They won’t find anything. It’s all been moved to Area 49b.”

Bracha asks, “What makes you say that?”

Scarlett giggles, “It’s what my Arcadian friend Eli told me before he told me that he had to study abroad in Cantaloupia.”

Bracha asks, “Cantaloupia?”

Scarlett giggles, “I believe he actually meant he was visiting an alien planet to be the human ambassador or something. Speaking of, have you visited any new planets?”

Bracha smirks, “Akaridian-5. The species there are made pretty much entirely of energy, and their hearts they call “Cores”, and if someone dies, as long as their core is intact, they can come back to life through regeneration chambers. Or that’s what I gathered from the peace treaty. Queen Aja seems to be a wonderful queen. She recognised me as being human though.”

Scarlett asks, “Are they blue?”

Bracha falls off the bike in surprise.

“How did you know?” She asks.

Scarlett hops off her bike to help Bracha up.

“I’ll show you later. Let’s just say, Eli knows two. He was surprised I was actually sixteen. He swore I was alien.” Scarlett replies.

“Scarlett...”

Scarlett stiffens.

“Did you hear that?” Scarlett asks.

Bracha shakes her head.

“Scarlett...”

Scarlett notices a few rocks. She points to the rocks and sneaks over, as if a snake were going to jump out.

“Scarlett!”

Scarlett gasps, “Rocks are saying my name. If I get a ring from digging in that, and it’s green, I’m requesting to be on your team.”

Bracha makes sure no one is around and whispers, “In brightest day, in blackest night, no evil shall escape my sight, let those who worship evil’s might, beware my power, Green Lantern’s light.”

A green costume forms around Bracha, and a mask appears over her face. She thrusts her ring towards the pile of rocks and what appears to be a laser goes over them.

“I’m getting an energy reading, but it’s not a Lantern energy. It’s something else. It registered the stones as k-spar.” Bracha frowns.

Scarlett turns and sighs, “Take that off. Someone could see you.”

Scarlett picks up a rock to show a glowing blue object.

“An amulet?” Bracha asks.

Scarlett sighs, “I thought it would be a ring. I was hoping. So I could hang out with you more often.”

Bracha’s green outfit disappears. Scarlett looks up and sees something white in the trees, then it disappears.

“Ever get that feeling you’re being watched, but you find no proof of it?” Scarlett asks.

Bracha nods.

“Let’s go. I’m gonna be late for work. Besides, if something does happen, I’m sure we can fight them off. Or you can.” Scarlett jokes.

The girls hop back on their bikes and ride off.

Meanwhile, above in the trees, a creature with blue skin and six eyes gasps.

“It chose a female human?” He asks.

Claire sighs, “I’ll keep an eye on the green girl. You keep an eye on the new Trollhunter. I have a feeling this isn’t going to be like Jim’s time as Trollhunter.”

 ***

 Scarlett smiles, “Will that be all for today, Ma’am?”

A woman replies, “That’ll be all honey. Too much damage to my account.”

Scarlett giggles and receives the payment. As the woman leaves, someone pats Scarlett on the back.

“Well done, kid.” A guy smiles.

Scarlett replies, “Well, like you said, Jack, at Macca’s, we strive to put a smile on every seat. Correct?”

Jack smirks, “Good job. You going soon?”

Scarlett sighs, “I gotta do some mopping, but I’ll go after that. Red bucket for customer space. Right?”

Jack smiles, “Right again, Scarlett. I’m going on break. Seeya tomorrow?”

Scarlett replies, “Sure Jack.”

Scarlett washes her hands and gets the mop. She mops the customer’s area, and a familiar figure comes up behind her.

“Anything interesting happening in there?” Bracha smirks.

Scarlett rolls her eyes, “Nothing really. I barely even know anyone outside of work. They are all old enough to be my cousins!”

Bracha smirks, “That’s rich. You have, like, fifty cousins. Half of them are much older than you. And they are on your mother’s side. I haven’t even met your father’s side.”

Scarlett smirks, “You & I both, kiddo.”

Bracha frowns, “I hate that nickname.”

Scarlett giggles, “I call everyone that looks young kiddo. Especially if they are younger than me. Like you.”

Bracha sighs, “Alright, Alright. But I still don’t like the name.”

Scarlett rolls her eyes and sighs.

“I’m done my mopping. I have other work to do. Seeya later, Greeny.” Scarlett smirks.

Bracha sighs, “Don’t call me that.”

Scarlett walks away and notices a young girl sitting down with a white stripe in her hair. It reminds her of Disney’s Princess Anna. Scarlett continues walking into the staff only area. She goes into the staff break room, where her workmates are having fun on their breaks.

“Is she still following you around, Scarlett?” A girl with blonde hair asks.

“She’s my friend. I’ve told her she can stay around as long as she doesn’t come into the staff area and doesn’t pick any fights. Besides, it’s safer when I ride home.” Scarlett replies.

A tall guy sighs, “Well, it’s none of my business, but a girl seems to have taken an interest in the two of you.”

Scarlett sighs, “Who, Caillou?”

Caillou replies, “A customer. Her name is Claire. She’s got a white stripe in her hair.”

Scarlett frowns, thinking.

“Could she know? No, she couldn’t know. Or maybe she does know Bracha’s Identity. Maybe that’s why she was looking at us.”

Scarlett sighs & realises her shift is almost up.

“Got to go, guys!” She smiles.

“Seeya later, Strange Scarlett.” Everyone smiles.

Scarlett laughs as she goes & grabs her bag. She shoves a jumper on so people know not to go to her for food now. She signs out & walks into the customer area.

“Scarlett! You ready to go?” Bracha calls.

Scarlett sighs, “Sure.”

 ***

 Scarlett frowns, deep in thought while riding.

“You okay, Scarlett?” Bracha asks.

Scarlett answers, “Yeah... I’m fine. It’s actually about a customer. I’ve been told she took an interest in us. She had a white stripe in her hair. Funny thing, I could’ve sworn I saw her in the forest, but no one was there.”

Bracha stares at her ring.

“Well, maybe the ring went haywire and didn’t see her.” Bracha suggests.

Scarlett smiles, “Well, we gotta split now. Seeya, Bracha. Good luck with the GLs.”

Bracha smiles, “Call me if that thing does anything.”

The girls split up and go to their separate houses. Scarlett opens the door and walks in.

“Hey, Scarlett!” Her father smiles.

“Hi Dad! How were the busses in Brisbane today? Anything special?” Scarlett asks.

Her father says, “Just your normal day. There were a few grumpy customers. I met a weird old man. I think he was at a costume party. He had armour on.”

Nicholas comes in and says, “Hi, Michael.”

Scarlett gasps, “That’s Dad to you!”

Michael sighs, “I’ll deal with it, Scarlett. How about you tell your mother about your day?”

Scarlett smirks. She knows not to get her Dad angry. She walks into the loungeroom.

“Hi Mum. How was Joshua today? Did he give you a hard time?” Scarlett asks.

Her Mum says, “Not really. He was actually quiet today. And you know that’s hard for your brother.”

Scarlett nods.

“Hey, Heather, where are the Wasabi nuts?” Michael asks.

“In the pantry!” Heather answers.

“I’m gonna put my stuff away.” Scarlett smiles.

“Alright honey. Your dad and I have to visit someone. Can you take care of your sisters tonight?” Heather asks.

Scarlett answers, “Sure Mum. As long as Face-ache is gone before you go.”

She walks to the room she shares with her sisters.

“Scarlett’s home!” The youngest exclaims.

“Hi, girls. Oriel, did anything happen today?” Scarlett asks.

The girl with sandy blonde wavy hair replies, “Sophie wanted to hang out. But since Nicko’s here...”

The girl with straight brown hair growls, “I really want to-”

Scarlett sighs, “Crystal, I know what you want to do, but it’s not that simple. If he hurts you again, do all you can to fight back. Just use a broom to whack him. By the way, I’m in charge tonight.”

Crystal frowns.

“Ring-ring-ring, Ring-ring-aling. Ring-ring-ring, ring-ring-aling. Get your phone! When someone calls. Get your phone!”

Scarlett answers the phone.

“Hello.”

“Has it done anything yet?” Bracha’s voice asks.

Scarlett sighs, “Nope. Nothing yet.”

Bracha asks, “You’ll tell me when it does something, right?”

Scarlett giggles, “Yes. Should I Pinkie Promise to ease your worries?”

Bracha sighs, “Alright.”

Scarlett rolls her eyes, “Cross my heart, hope to fly, Stick a cupcake in my eye I will tell you when it does something.”

Bracha giggles, “Thanks. I’ll ask tomorrow. Got to report in for the corps.”

Scarlett smiles, “Got it, Bracha. TTYL!”

Bracha hangs up.

“She still a Lantern?” Oriel whispers.

Scarlett’s sisters are the only other people that know about Bracha’s secret.

“Of course. It’s rare to be fired from her job. She’s still one of them.” Scarlett smiles.

“Girls!” Heather calls.

All the girls run towards their Mum.

“It’s time for us to go. Scarlett, you’re in charge while we’re gone.” Heather smiles.

Crystal hugs Mum & Dad first and gives them both a goodbye kiss. Oriel gives them a goodbye hug.

“What? No kiss?” Michael asks.

Oriel exclaims, “Yukky!”

Everyone giggles. Scarlett gives them a hug & a kiss.

“Seeya later guys.” Scarlett smiles.

Michael and Heather walk out the door. Scarlett’s sisters almost immediately run to the TV. Scarlett pulls the Amulet out of her pocket.

“What exactly are you?” Scarlett whispers.

Suddenly, all the girls hear a crash in the basement. They see Joshua is sitting on the couch. Crystal and Scarlett grab brooms and Oriel stays with Joshua. Scarlett opens the door and walks down with a torch in her mouth. Crystal stays behind in case something comes up behind Scarlett. Scarlett holds her broom like one would a katana.

“I hope it’s not snakes.” She mumbles.

She goes over to a pile of boxes and looks behind it. She notices strange footprints on the floor. Meanwhile, something comes up behind her.

“Lady Scarlett!” It exclaims.

Scarlett turns as fast as she can and whacks the creature with the broom. She now sees it has six eyes.

“Ow… Master Jim wasn’t so violent on his first encounter.” It comments.

Crystal comes down and goes to hit it when Scarlett grabs Crystal’s broom.

“Before we start attacking, and sorry, it was instinct, what are you?” Scarlett frowns.

The creature smiles, “I am Blinky. A troll. And you, Lady Scarlett, are the Trollhunter.”

Scarlett and Crystal exchange glances, look back at “Blinky”, then laugh. Blinky frowns in confusion.

“Sorry, Blinky. We just had to get that out of our system.” Scarlett smiles.

Crystal grips the broom again and goes to hit Blinky. Blinky winces when Scarlett grabs the broom, again.

“As you can see, Crystal’s prone to hit things that she doesn’t understand. I have adapted after living with her for thirteen years. Now, better explanation please before she hits me.” Scarlett asks in a deadpan voice.

“You have to fight evil trolls.” Blinky replies.

Crystal seems happy with this answer, then runs upstairs.

Scarlett sighs, “I’ll grab a mattress.”

She pulls a mattress out from behind some other boxes and puts it near the stairs as Crystal pulls Oriel and Joshua downstairs. Joshua acts like nothing’s different, and Oriel screams, promptly fainting on the mattress.

“You need to go before my parents get home. Either that, or get another beating, only from my mother. GET!” Scarlett orders.

Blinky leaves.

 ***

 Scarlett throws water on Oriel, and Oriel gasps.

“What was that for?” Oriel coughs.

Scarlett replies, “Simple. You fainted after seeing a troll. Crystal’s fault. She showed him to you. If I end up hanging out with him, getting rid of evil trolls, you two have to cover for me. Especially you, Crystal.”

A knock is heard upstairs.

“Mum and Dad!” Crystal gasps.

Scarlett orders, “Not a word. Oriel, shower.”

They run upstairs. Scarlett prays it’s not Nicholas. Oriel runs to the bathroom and the others finish running to the door. They open the curtain to see-

“Nicholas. I jinxed it!” Scarlett mumbles.

They open the door and scowl.

“What are you doing here, you monster? Didn’t Dad tell you that if you’re not back before Eight, don’t come back at all?” Scarlett asks.

Crystal growls in a growl that sounds like a lion’s growl.

Nicholas scoffs, “You’re not Dad.”

Scarlett feels her face go red in anger when suddenly, Crystal jumps on Nicholas and pulls his hair out, little bit at a time. Scarlett stares in shock when Oriel comes down, shower finished, and stares, slack-jawed.

“Is Crystal…?” She asks.

Scarlett nods, “Uh huh.”

Oriel pulls Scarlett’s phone out and records the ordeal.

“This is going to be awesome.” Oriel smiles.

“What is going on here?” everyone hears a voice asks.

Oriel stops the recording and hides the phone while Heather and Michael stare at Crystal and a boy that looks like a jigsaw puzzle with a few pieces missing.

“What did you just do?” Heather freaks out.

Michael just stares in shock.

“Uh… Mum, Dad, He had it coming for eight years. She’s done enough for both of us.” Scarlett sighs.

She pulls Crystal away from Nicholas and takes both of the girls to their bedroom, and collapses on the floor.

“This day went from normal to the craziest day I’ve ever had in my sixteen years of living. And I bet this is just the tip of the iceberg.”

 ***

 Nicholas comes back from the hospital, with his face and left arm in a cast. Heather walks upstairs and sits on the bed.

“I’m very disappointed in you girls.” Heather sighs.

Crystal frowns, “I’m sorry Mum. But he deserved it after all that he did to us!”

Scarlett keeps quiet, feeling ashamed.

“I know, but it wasn’t right. I know you have… issues, honey, but you should not do it. Scarlett, I know you were in shock, but please, take her off next time.” Heather frowns.

Scarlett nods. She walks over to the window and stares out.

“I understand Mum.” Scarlett frowns.

“I hope you all will be more responsible in the future.” Heather sighs as she walks out.

Oriel facepalms, “I can’t believe we let this happen.”

Crystal frowns, “Not my fault. He had it coming for years!”

Scarlett just continues staring out the window, a blue glow emanating from the amulet she now has in her hand.

“We have bigger fish to fry now. Like what showed up in our basement.” Scarlett whispers.

The girls stare at Scarlett.

“So, what do we do, Trollhunter?” Crystal smirks.

Scarlett giggles. It’s funny how her family can be upset and angry one second, then can be happy as Larry the next.

“Well, first, I need to find out more about this thing. It seems to be connected to Blinky. I have a plan.” Scarlett smiles.

Oriel frowns, “What are you doing?”

Scarlett whips out the phone.

“Hi, you’ve reached Bracha. Unfortunately, I am unavailable at the moment, but I will call you back as soon as I can. *Beep*”

“Hey, Bracha. Big news. I have to tell you something in person. One question I have to ask though. Ever heard of a Trollhunter?” Scarlett says into the answering machine.

 ***

 Scarlett looks at her glow-in-the-dark watch and sneaks out the window. She looks at her sisters as they put pillows under her blanket. Scarlett gives them a thumbs up and walks as far as she can down her yard. Living in the middle of nowhere gives you a fairly big property to live in. She stops near the dam. She never goes this far from fear of snakes. Especially at night. She looks at the Amulet, which is glowing blue. A language comes up, which Scarlett finds familiar. Maybe Japanese or Chinese. It changes to another language, and another, then English.

“For the Glory of Merlin, Daylight is Mine to command.” Scarlett reads.

A few blue lights start going into the left side of her chest, and she floats into the air. Armour appears around her, which is slightly bigger than herself. The Amulet is right where the blue lights went. The armour glows blue, then changes its size so it fits perfectly.

“Awesome. Now my sisters will want one.” Scarlett laughs.

She holds out her hand and as another blue light goes into her hand, putting a sword in her hand, only slightly bigger than she can hold. It drops to the ground, making her groan in pain.

“I hope it works for this sword too.” Scarlett sighs.

The sword slightly shrinks to fit Scarlett’s muscles.

“Much better. So this is what that guy meant.” Scarlett giggles.

She waves the sword around and gets it stuck in a tree. She relaxes, then the armour and sword disappear, and the amulet falls onto the ground.

#Trollhunters #Green Lantern #Tales of Arcadia #DC #Crossovers #OC insert

[lstories]

Timor and Cole

No Fear story (part 3)(soft, safe, vore, fearplay)

Butch, Brock, and Brutes' POV:

The three grabbed their bikes and started to ride off leaving their beaten victim to whatever fate had planned for them. They laughed at what happened and started to plan on what to do to the other's. Butch and Brutes laughed at Cole and everything that happened but Brock couldn't stop thinking of the forest. Something was off about it, the branches falling and the scratches in the trees. There's too much to think about, there was so much horror and (TONK!). A rock was thrown and hit Brock on the head and he fell off his bike. "Hey, what's going on were making a plan here and you haven't said anything" Butch said, him and Brutes were sitting on their bikes and laughing at Brock. "I was just thinking" Brock said rubbing the part of his head that was hit. "What, are you regretting what we did" Brutes said "No. I was thinking of the forest. There was deffenetly something big in there." Brock said, his eyes starting to fill with tears from the pain. "Oh so now your afraid of the dark, big monster's deep in the forest come to eat ya. Let's go check it out, there's an opening nearby if we head back to the edge of the forest." Brutes said laughing and starting to ride off with Butch.

Brock had to fallow for a few reasons but most importantly is that when he's friends with them he won't get hurt by them, at least not as much as Cole. They kept riding but had to go at a slower pace due to Brock having a head injury made by them. As they rounded the final corner the forest loomed over them. Needless were already falling on them and Brock started to shake in fear and Butch started cracking some jokes to cheer him up. All three of them started to laugh and make jokes but they saw the opening to the edge of the forest and looked in. The darkness seemed to consume all the light but it looked like there was things moving under the cover of darkness. They parked there bikes on a nearby fence and started to walk over to the large opening. Brutes tried to convince Brock and Butch to go into the forest with him but the denied and made excuses to not go in. While they were arguing, they started to hear screaming from the forest. Soon, running from the darkness of the forest was... Cole? How did he get this far out... and what could scare him? Cole was never scared by anyone or anything and if something in that forest was scaring him than it had to be world endingly scary they all thought. Cole almost made it out before tripping on something and falling to the ground, immediately spinning around onto his back and crawling away. Then they saw it, a dragon slowly walked out of the darkness towards Cole.

The dragons scales started to gleam as it walked out of the shadow's and into the moonlight. It showed it's teeth, getting ready to kill. The dragon pinned Cole to the ground slightly growling. Cole couldn't breath, gasping for any breath of air while his entire chest was being crushed. All three of them were stunned at what there were seeing too frightened to move. Brock wanted to run over and help Cole but he didn't want the wrath of the dragon to fall upon him. He tried to move his feet to start running back to his bike but he couldn't even move his head to look away. Cole started to scream as he was picked up by the dragon and was thrown into the air. The dragon opened its maw as Cole fell directly in screaming and flailing all the way down. Cole was still screaming and pleading in the dragons mouth and when it closed its mouth, it all stoped. It was quiet again. With one wet gulp the dragon swallowed Cole, down the small lump in its neck went. Fear filled every part of their bodies but all they could do was stare at the dragon. The dragons eyes were glowing in the darkness looking up then its eyes settled on them. The dragons head slowly turned never taking its eyes off them. Its scales stated to shake and soon the dragon was invisible. A loud thud was audible but none of them could tell from where and a deep voice it spoke "RUN" The invisible dragon shouted at them. Screaming they ran to there bikes and rode off and around the corner. They rode for almost 10 minutes, Butch and Brock following after Brutes.

"What do we do. What's going to happen" Butch and Brock asked Brutes. All of them were out of breath from riding so hard for so long. Brutes had no answer's, his body was still shaking and he swore he felt cold. "d-dragon" he whispered "what?" Butch and Brock said trying to figure out what to do. "We have to tell everyone about the dragon in the forest. It killed Cole, we have to warn them!" Bruted said with panic and fear in his voice. "Tell who, no one's going to believe us" Butch said with fear lingering in his voice. "His dad's the chief of police, when his son goes missing he'll have to put out a missing persons report and he might believe us." Brutes said contemplating what to do next. "Why don't we go and tell him now?" Brock asked, confused as to why he they didn't just tell them. "You remember what happened last time we went to the chiefs house at night. We're getting back at him by messing with Cole. We have to tell him in the morning." Brutes said fear still taking hold of his mind. "I'll meet you guys there tomorrow" Butch said. They started to ride back to their homes, but no one saw the shadow falloing brock.

Timor and Coles POV:

Timor was having the time of his life. Sprawled out on soft grass and full of food and fear. Timor never needed more food than a few apples a week and having that much food in his stomach with a new clear mind felt amazing. He had only needed to feed off fear every so often, it just depended on the type of fear and how much he ate before he needed to feed again. Three kids with pure, raw, untapped fear was the best thing he'd ever fed on. Cole couldn't stop celebrating in Timor's gut. "DID YOU SEE THEIR FACES! PRICELESS! I COULD HEAR THEM IN HERE! THEY SCREAMD SO LOUD!" Cole was practically bouncing off the walls of Timors stomach as Timor tried to hold him in place. "Stop moving Cole or I'm going to swallow some dirt." Timor said, tired and exasperated. Cole couldn't stop moving around he was just to excited to see what they would do. It hurt Timor a bit that Cole was moving around so much but it didn't exactly feel bad.

"Is there anything I could do to make you stop moving around so much?" Timor begged as Cole practically jumped in Timor's stomach. "Ummm... you said your family were the dragons of emotions. Tell some stories of them." Cole asked finally settling down and resting against Timor's stomach walls. "All right fine. You know I'm the dragon of fear, my siblings are the rest of the emotions. My grandfather used to be all the emotions ruling over the world's as some sort of God or something. He had his minions as a way to keep the emotions of the world's in perfect balance and when he died he gave me and all my siblings one of his emotional armies and responsibilities. I was given his fear of course and his demons to help. I don't want to stop them or distract them so I let them stay in their own world. They are sentient after all and there job is to keep fear in the world. It's what they feed off of too so it's not like they can't keep fear in the world if they want to live. I want to help them but honestly I don't know if I can so I let them make their own story's." Timor said a little bored and tired. "So your demons scare people so that the world doesn't run out of fear. They don't sound very nice." Cole said with a bit of sadness in his voice. "Their a bunch of cuties. Their your monster under your bed, in the closet, on the darkest part of your chair, the shadows in a perfectly lit room. If they wanted to hurt someone they could but they don't, they just need to make fear. Their not bad, it's just what they were made to do. Sometimes one finds someone so helpless, starving and lost in a forest or stuck in an abusive family. They sometimes try to help humans instead of scaring them" Timor said trying to keep his mind off sleeping.

"So what would happen if the world did run out of fear?" Cole asked starting to nod off to sleep. "Dont know, it's never happened before because none of my families armys have ever stopped spreading any emotion" Timor said on the verge of passing out. "Where is your home I, must take you back now." Timor started to sit up, his hands nearly slipped on his wings. "Auctly... umm... I was wondering if I could stay here for the night." Cole asked sheepishly. "You... want to sleep in my stomach..." Timor said a bit confused. It felt amazing to have Cole in his stomach and he was already very tired. "Ya. Ok, you can stay in there for the night. I'm tired anyway" Timor said flopping onto his back again. "Thanks, I was getting tired too" Cole said, his eyes getting heavy. It didn't take long for both of them to fall asleep. "sleeping inside a dragon. Not how I thought this Friday would go." Cole thought, Timors heartbeat slowly lulling Cole to sleep.

End of the no fear story.

#safe vore #soft vore

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

Can you make one that says: “...because I bike in the morning while I shake trees and hit rocks.” Thanks!!!

gotta do the morning vibe checks

Askbox is currently closed as I work my way through these older asks

#added to notepad #impersonatingawriter

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Kira Vol 2 (1)

The Mistress

CHAPTER 1: Where The Heart Heals

Loki x fem!Reader (Kira)

Series: A new chapter begins in Kira’s life. Old secrets, new confessions, surprising allies and unexpected meetings. All of them have one name in common. Loki.

Chapter content: soft feels

Warnings: none

Word count: Okay. I’m putting it out there. I wrote this for myself. And that’s what I am trying to do right now. I don’t know how regular I will be with this but I will be writing when I feel it.

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

If I could feel this again... The heaviness of your eyes feels like a blessing even when the warmth of the sun is gently stroking your forehead, delicately whispering sweet nothings to wake you up. You know your mother has already woken up for she is the reason the door is open and that chilled winter air is nudging the sun rays to get as much of the playfield over your exposed skin as it can. The teasing play going between the two forces becomes a soothing episode for your nerves, enjoying the lazy winter morning with the sparrows chirping on that one malacca tree still standing in your front yard. The chill draft that swirls to lands on your unaware fingertips, brings with it the familiar dissatisfied woof and one rage-filled yelp, making you smile even with your eyes closed. You can even hear the disgruntled remarks of some boomers out on their morning stroll cursing your poor babies for growing so big and healthy and barking at any stranger that was not welcome in their territory. If I could feel this every single day...

Your eyes finally open from a dreamless sleep, ready to bask in the lukewarm light directly hitting your eyes. The bliss is incomprehensible; to wake up to the sight of the green that is surviving the winter chill in the garden right outside your room. A few sparrows are looking for an early grub in the pots kept right outside your door, seeming to catch a glance or two in your direction when you stir and let your head rest on your hands to watch the life of winter make you grateful for this morning. More grateful when a familiar spotted figure jumps down from the neighbour's wall and passes by your door with the quietest yet graceful gait. "Kitty!" you exclaim without any voice escaping your hoarse throat, making you chuckle at your own failed display of excitement. A long stretch that cracks a few knots and makes you squirm while you squeeze your eyes shut; that is what it takes to finally convince you to get out of the cosiest quilt on this entire planet. It is a task to find your socks under the huge green buffed up fabric but you do not want to step down till you are sure your sensitive feet are secure. Once the pair is found after a round of tossing and turning the poor quilt, you are ready to open your door and step into the garden. And what a sight it is! The balmy morning sun is bringing life out into the streets. Children fresh out of school for their Christmas holidays are riding their colourful bikes around while their parents or guardians spew caution at them. Vendors are out with their carts and wagons, bringing about fresh produce while the riveting bark of the bike that brings the fresh milk for some households waits for the man of that particular house to bring out their vessels. The air has the perfect crispiness of winter twirling all around you. There is no doubt that the sun has colluded with the sweet-smelling chilly breeze to bring the blood to your cheeks and fingertips. The bliss that this simple day can be for an entire lifetime... A whine followed by a protest-filled howl catches your attention in the moment you are taking in this rare morning. Turning your head to look across the fence, you watch those familiar sharp blue eyes looking you with a sour expression. Right. This drama queen. The protest does not stop. "I'm coming," you groan, "I'm coming," you stress as you walk across the garden to open the gate and walk barely five steps across the narrow road to greet the fluffy boy pretending to be mad at you while vigorously wagging his tail. "We literally met last night, you dumb husky!" you coo through your teeth while scratching Ghost behind his ear. "You stoopid loving boi. My best floofy boi." You call out as many names as you can to the huge beast that wants to lick you clean but isn't getting the chance to. So, instead, he decides to take your wrist into his mouth, continuing to whine at the same time, wanting to keep you there till he loses interest in you. "I blame your mother for not training you to respect me, you dumb floof," you state as you make him look you in the eyes, "I fed you and bathed you and played with you when you hadn't even opened your eyes. And this is how you repay me? By giving me scratches and sticking drool all over my elbows?" Growing uncomfortable- and a double chin, the way you are holding his face- he huffs and jumps away from his fence to let you know he is done with you for the day. "Ungrateful bitch," you mutter in his direction while he looks for more leaves to chomp on, "I still love you." Ghost does not even side-eye you. He knows you stand there smiling at him while he goes about eating anything green in his sight, only bothered when he hears the rev of a car pass by. The attention span to that little distraction is short-lived too. "Okay," you sing in a way you think might get on his nerves, "I'm going back then. You won't get to see me till our late night walk." Any little hope that this dog with an attitude would actually look up at you is gone when the same car comes back. Let's see if that car can feed you pancakes. Still looking at the white-furred beast, you are hurt right in your feels to watch his huge paws go up on the fence again to judge whoever sits in the car that has stopped right by the side of your house, the panting paused to scrutinise the strangers in the SUV with tinted glasses. "Really," you nudge his lower jaw as you address him with a simmering gaze, "I get a howl and yank on my hand but some stranger gets a full minute of silence?" You nudge his jaw again, not really liking the point-blank stare he is giving to whosoever is getting out of the car behind you. You are about to nudge him the third time when a voice freezes your hand mid-air. "I guess he does not like my presence that much." The heaviness of the voice with a gravity of its own stops everything around it for an elongated moment. Even with the cold surrounding you, the warmth that engulfs your chest is far more evident over your skin once all the nerves light up at the thought of turning around and finding him standing there. So, you do. And the smile that escapes you is far brighter than this December sun. "Heimdall."

 It is heavenly to hear his name from you after what seems like months stretched into ages. What acts as a balm to his heart is watching your face with carrying the same perfection it did the first day he met you; maybe even lovelier. If he had a sister... "Kira," he sweetly announces into the air before wrapping his arms around you for a hug; something that you gladly welcome, and embrace him back. "I missed you," you squirm into his coat, smelling the mildly spicy cologne he is wearing. Heimdall chuckles. "Who's bothering you? Just point me and I'll take care of the rest." You giggle and draw yourself back to look at those warm honey eyes. "I missed you because I hadn't felt like someone was spying on me for the last two months. Almost felt weird." You shrug, pressing your lips to stop the smile from pouring out while Heimdall groans. "I'm never ever going to hear the end of, am I?" he closes his eyes and sighs. You shake your head before snickering. The pleasant meet-up makes you forget about the prying neighbourhood that has eyes everywhere, lurking behind every curtain to look at this strange, well-built man coming out the blue in an expensive vehicle to hug you- a single woman who should have been married by now instead of meeting strange men, according to them. From the rooftop to the eyes that are pretending to buy vegetables and groceries, everyone is centred on this tall dark and handsome man putting all their sons and husbands to shame. "So-" you poke him in his abdomen- still surprised it's hard as a rock- "what brings you here?" A knowing nod and a deep inhale is all Heimdall gives you for a moment, his habit making his eyes wander everywhere to look for anything unusual. "I...uhh...well-" he inhales through his teeth this time- "we wanted to check in on you. Wanted to see how you were doing. Because everyone misses you back home." "Oh." You feel your breath stuck in your throat. Your inner voice is already elbowing the corner of your nerves, wanting to hear you speak the name for yourself. But you just shove her back into the sleepy comfy corner for the moment. "Yeah," Heimdall smiles, "Zair misses you because he, and I quote, 'cannot even with this new temp some boomer hired in Kira's place'." You snicker. Typical Zair. "Yigrette misses you because it's mundane living with men in the house after a while." "Aww," you feel for your sweet keeper. "Fenrir misses you too, obviously. He has made your bedroom his bedroom. And it has been hard getting him to come out of there now." That floofly baby. I miss him too. Ghost hears that thought and the very next moment, his paw comes to tap on your shoulder and look at you with every ounce of judgment his blue eyes can hold towards you. "And Robert too, now that he is all healed and is ready to take more bullets." "Noooo," you groan into your palms. That idiot. You wait and watch Heimdall smile at you, standing there as your inner voice is wondering- with her face resting in her palms and legs in the air- if there is anyone else who is missing you. "Soooo...-" your voice trails away as you wipe your thoughts by rubbing your hands on your pyjamas- "everyone misses me, huh." Heimdall is about to nod before he stops and creases his brows, forcing you to furrow your own brows in return. "Mm...not everyone though." You can feel the little sinking feeling before your heart has even taken a dive from the board it currently stands on. "Hm?" is all you can bear to say. "Oh, it's Loki. I was talking about Loki. He doesn't miss you," Heimdall shakes his head. And your heart doesn't even do a routine; it just takes a sad plunge into whatever waits for it down in the pits of unwelcoming sadness. "Oh," you inhale the cold air to soothe your insides that are simmering now for some reason, "that's...good. That's good. He isn't missing on work. Or cursing me for not being there to do my work." And just like that, you are trailing into a long train of afterthoughts to console yourself. "That means he is doing pretty well in my absence...which is good...for uhh...for the company. Hmm." Heimdall cannot help but smile at the sorry look on your face to think that your boss does not care about your presence- or absence in this matter. Those y/e/c eyes are at the verge of questioning some major emotions as they let the Watcher's words sink in. It takes a lot more than a dig at lips by his perfect teeth to stop him from giving it away. "No," he finally blurts out, grabbing your attention while internally cursing himself to put you through that for a few seconds of entertainment, "you are thinking in the wrong direction." This time you look at him in confusion. "Heimdall, what are you tryin-" "He does not miss you," he continues, still looking at you when his arm extends by his side to open the door to the back seat of the SUV and relish the two-second delayed reaction, "because 'missing' would be an understatement."

 The last thing he remembers is the blur of the days that have gone by till he is once more standing at the single path of stone decorated with everything that he declares too delicate for this world. Deep inside he has nothing but love for them. Everything too pure for this universe resides in this little ecosystem at the edge of where his world begins. From the ferns and creepers to the fishes and flowers- every little cell has a story of surviving all those perils to come down the path of evolution as much more beautiful. He stands right there and stares straight down the path that leads to the corner that he had begun to cherish some time ago. He pauses his day there, before every break of dawn and every splay of dusk, waiting. What exactly he waits for, no one knows. Some onlookers think he has gone much more insane after the brawl he barely crawled out alive from. They wonder what he keeps looking at in that corner, watching the sun both rise and set there. Some feel empathy for him. Yigrette walks by the lounge every single day to witness this little ritual of her master. Her soft heart aches a little for she knows somewhere he feels the absence of the one little alum that settled all the dirt inside him till it was present in the murky waters. But she does not know the depth of that emotion, neither does she want to insult her master by trying to measure it somehow. And the last time she sees him, he walks towards that edge in the night. He remembers stepping barefoot on that cold stones carrying the chilly impression of the foggy weather outside that has shrouded the vastness of his estate into one quiet graveyard where even the lights of the city do not reach. The distance- thought not much- feels worth an eternity for him as his heart accelerates. The only thought riding the unstoppable train inside his mind is the ghost of a chance of seeing you there. The lights turn on once he enters the space- they turn on for him to stare at the empty space that was once thought of as a decent wing to match the rest of the house, not really knowing what weight it would hold in the future. And here he stands, contemplating whether this part of his house had ever felt so bland before. So...hollow. He is slowly killing himself on the inside to refrain himself from touching anything for the fear of diluting your essence- or whatever is left of it- and instead, he does what he has watched you do a hundred times over. The tiles are cooler than they were the last time he laid down on them. The only time he entered your abode. That time when he watched over you for endless nights till he has to be forced to sleep for his health and yours. But how could he? You were surrounded by wires and tubes, and beeping machines that scared him even at the slightest beep. He rose up to look at you for any movement of discomfort when he himself was experiencing pain that would have bedridden any other ordinary man. Not wanting to get away from your side, he laid himself down out in the lounge. And then he found out why you did this after a long day. It feels nice to let the cold floor take away all the unnecessary thoughts swinging inside his head. Little fears that crowd his mind dissolve and drain down into the ground. Then, for the first time in the past few weeks, he lets his conscience paint a picture of you drowning in happiness. Even as the fear erodes the edges of his heart- that you are happy somewhere other than here- he finds comfort in your smile that is still fresh in his mind. Even though the dark clouds loom on those waves- the thoughts that tell him you have forgotten him- he still lets your laughter roar through his existence. A delicate experience in the cold of December.

Today sleep comes earlier than he anticipates. His eyes are heavier than they usually are. He wants to give in to the arms of slumber because the last time he slept like a baby was when you were healing. He wants to walk towards the lullaby of this pretty siren till he notices it is the first time he has felt such sleep take over him ever since you have been gone. Hold on a second... He opens his eyes- barely- and gets up on his elbow. "Yigrette," he wants to shout but the name is just a questionable statement as he feels his limbs get heavy. There is a silhouette of a figure patiently walking towards the lounge that is a hazy picture to his eyes. But his brain still works enough to realise he has been somehow made a victim of forced unconsciousness. Feeling his face touch the cold tile of the floor, he vows to take them by the throat- whoever spiked his drinks or meal and made the terrible decision of knocking him out cold. And everything goes dark. Dark...till he can hear a familiar giggle somewhere in the void. Along with a sweet aroma that brings to the surface memories that were feared lost. His heart wants him to reach out for that voice that is beginning to clear the fog inside the dense forest that is his mind. And so the heart does what he does best, it slows down too much to let the brain jerk him awake. The sun shines right over his face when a door opens somewhere, flooding his being with brightness through and through. He has to make an effort to open his eyes after a much-needed sleep, watching the rays hit his smaragdines till they are filtered and washed away by the one face he longs to see for the rest of his life. "Loki?" you call out with the softest emotion on your face as the sun rays reflecting inside the car lets your features shine for him. He blinks; still trying to figure out if it is a dream or if you do stand in front of him.  "....Kira?" That voice wants to give all its strength to call out your name, wanting to bring you into existence if you are a figment of his imagination- something that is his worst fear of all. And there you stand with a smile painting your lips for him, taking his first conscious breath in this new morning away. And all he wants is to pray to some force to not let this be a twisted nightmare. "It's good to see you...sir." And that full-toothed smile melts him- front, back and sideways- while the world watches from windows and roofs, questioning Fate and her strings, for better or worse.  If I could feel this again...I would want to feel it with you.

#loki #loki odinson #loki god of mischief #Loki Laufeyson #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki fluff #loki smut #smut #fluff #loki series #marvel #mcu #marvel fic #loki fic #loki fanfic #mcu fic #mcu fluff #mcu smut #marvel fluff #marvel smut #marvel loki #mcu loki #marvel fanfic #MCU fanfiction #avengers #heimdall #kira #maladaptive-ninja-returns

[hobbitsnapes]

The Red Hoods Protègè chapter 11

Older Damian Wayne x ofc

(Photo made by my lovely friend @tyuuniverse)

Summary:Red hood has taken a young vigilante under his wing and subsequently changes Damians life forever. (I suck at summary’s)

The cold autumn air send a shiver up Jason’s back, goosebumps covering his hands and neck as he sped down the street on his bike.

His heart clenching tighter the closer he got to the one place he swore he’d never come to again.

The small patch of trees along the hill no longer a comfort, but like a pathway to pain, anger, and fear. His heart grew so tightly that it’s restricting his breaths to fast and shallow. But he sped up, fingers clenching so heavily that they start to cramp up.

The tall building that towered high into the sky, that he once called his home, now more similar to walking into nothing but heart wrenching memories of pain and anguish.

He stepped off his bike onto hard gravel. The crunch of the rocks on his boots and the pounding of his heart brought him back to the first day he came here. The tall building towered high into the sky. The fountain still as pristine as the last time he saw it. Beautiful marigolds have a warm glow around the plain brick ground.

He walked up to the large oak door, it had weathered slightly over the years but still kept its firm dark color. Is heart pounding as he reached for the handle. His hand firmly grasping the handle as he walked in.

The pounding of jason's boots against the hardwood flooring was the only sound to be heard in the long hallways. The blood rushing through him so heavily that he could hardly hear his own footsteps.

He walked into the library, still almost exactly the same as, he can’t even think about it without the pain in his heart to return.

He walked over to the very book that to most, would never even look at due to the array of other books that reached to the creeping. He graves for it, the sound of creaking was heard as the bookshelf opened into a long dark staircase.

He started down slowly, the smell of stale air and dust hitting him as if it was his first time going down the long staircase.

His heart pounding so heavily and the blood rushing through him was so loud in his ears, he hardly heard all of the conservative gasps of what was once his family.

His eyes locked into Damian, his face turning into shock as Jason marched towards him.

His fist landed into damians face, knocking him to the ground. He picked him up and slammed his fist into his stomach, Damian letting out a pained groan. Damian shot up and tackled Jason to the ground, but before he could land a hit Jason swing his much larger body over his. He slammed damians face into the ground repeatedly. His fists bleeding due to the blows he was giving. He heard someone come up from behind him, he swing his fist back and into his pocket, pulling out a pistol. “COME ANY FUCKING CLOSER AND I SWEAR TO GOD ILL PAINT THIS FUCKING ROOM IN RED!” He took his gun and smashed it into damians face. Blood covering his face. He picked Damian up by the back of the head and slammed him into the table beside them. He smashed his face into it before throwing him into it, breaking the table into pieces from the force.

Fists repeatedly hitting one another as both men are yelling. But before Jason can land another blow into damians face, his pocket starts to vibrate. The soft lullaby of if I go I’m goin momentarily stunning Jason. He knew that she'd find out where he went this morning. Having been stiff and in a rush to leave. The momentary stop of Jason was enough for Damian towns a hard hit into jason's face. Twisting him around and into the pile on the floor. Knocking all the wind from him. Jason slammed his head into damians nose, knocking him back due to the large cut on his nose.

Jason kept delivering blow after blow into him, all the while screaming in his face. “YOU DID THIS!” “YOU HURT MY DAUGHTER!”

Bruce and the rest of everyone watched on in horror. Knowing if they intervene then Jason would shoot Damian then them all. The ringing of the phone shocking all of them. Bruce walked over to Tim and bent down to his ear. “Hack into jasons phone and put it over the loud speakers. You have 30 seconds before he kills Damian.”

Tim ran over to the computers, furiously typing as his heart pounded so heavily he thought he would vomit. While he never truly liked Damian, he couldn’t sit and watch him die.

The loud ringing around the room stoping both of the men. Jason pulling his now blood soaked hand high, but stopped as he heard a tearful cry was let out around the room. “D-dad? Please stop this, I-I know you’re doing this because you, you love me. But please don’t do this. I’ve lost enough people by knowing them. Please come home dad. I l-love you.” Tears filled jasons eyes at the sobs wrecked from her. Her hiccups between words clenching at his heart. He threw Damian to the ground, looking him in his now bloody eyes. “The only reason you’re alive, is because unlike you. I don’t want to break her heart.” And with that, he walked away.

“What the fuck was that!” She yelled as Jason stepped into the door. Her heart pounding out of her chest. Her eyes stinging again as she looked at him. A busted lip and a black eye starting to Form. His nose had a large scrape across it. Broken caterpillar’s surrounding the cut. “I did what has to be done. Now we are done here I’m not to get into an argument with you.” He barked out. His stance tall and riged. “Oh hell no we aren’t! Do you have ANY idea how stupid that was?!” Tears were collecting in her eyes due to the anger and pain she felt. Her hands starting shaking due to it. “I said we are done here! I did what I had to do because HE HURT YOU!” At this point jason is right in front of her, towering over her. “NO! YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO DO SHIT! YOU DID IT BECAUSE THEY HURT YOU! YOU LET YOUR ANGER DRIVE YOU CONSTANTLY AND IT'S GONNA GET YOU KILLED ONE DAY! YOU'RE NOT INVINCIBLE BECAUSE YOU'VE GOT A GUN AND ANGER ISSUES! Do you have ANY idea what could’ve happened! That wasn’t red hood killing robin. THAT WAS JASOJ TODD KILLING DAMIAN WAYNE! YOU COULDN'T GET OUT OF THAT AND YOU WOULD BE IN PRISON AND LEAVING ME LIKE EVERYONE FUCKING DOES!” Tears are streaming down her face as she spit out those words. Her hands now in balls as she shakes from sobs wrecking her. Tears falling down jasons face as his heart breaks as he hears the pain in her voice. Knowing that he hurt her this time.

She fell down to the ground, Jason’s arms holding onto her before she hit. Sobs shook both of them as she clutched into him. “I’m so sorry bub. I did it because he hurt you so bad, I was so angry that I let my anger out and in turn hurt you. I’m so sorry.” Jason sobs out into her hair, his heart clenching, as if a bullet shot through his heart and the shards of glass embedded into it. “He hurt me so bad dad, but I can’t let you do something like that. I everyone in my life, I can’t lose you too.” Her sons slowing down slightly. Her head resting in his neck as they both lay on the ground. “I promise you won’t lose me.”

Damian lies there in his bed, his head propped up from the multiple pillows that both Alfred and dick keep coming in to check if there's enough. His eye throbbing along with a general ache all around his body. His nose broken and bleeding. A large gash covered majority of his left cheekbone. The butterfly bandage doing little to help it.

But those were all secondary to the pain he feels in his heart. How could he fall for someone so heavily. Each time he saw her, his heart pulled towards her. It felt as if she had a magical pull that drew him in. Her crystal clear eyes glowed whenever he’d stare into them. Each time she smiled, a light flutter of warmth filled his heart. Each laugh she let out, was like an angel singing to him. He wanted to continue doing anything to hear it again. It felt as if there was a magnetic field that she had. Whenever her soft skin touched his, it was like shocks filled him, but at the same time soothed him. How could someone, so incredible, be able to take out a knife or a gun, and kill another person? Someone that was so kinda and gracefully perfect, with a heart of the purest love, be capable of doing something as taking someone’s life?

In his case, he was raised from birth to kill. If he hadn’t learned and accepted it, he would be killed himself. But she knows it’s wrong, right? God, why did this have to happen? What’s the point of this, falling so deeply for someone that you know is doing wrong, someone who is polar opposite to the person you fell for?damian gets up to go into the large bathroom. He flicks the light on and stairs himself in the crystal mirror. The room is quiet. Only the soft ring of the night outside can be heard. At least that was for everyone else. The sound of her agonizing scream that was ripped from her when the blade hit into her shoulder. The wrench of pain in her voice clouding his mind. The look of sheer pain and heartbreak gracing her face when she recited her once perfect life. Even knowing what she’s done, who he thought she was, what turned to be a lie, or at the very least not the full truth, it shot through his heart when watching the tears falling down her face. His heart breaking as he watched hers break. Knowing he did this to her. Jason was right, while she is a monster, who knows right from wrong, he broke her. All the while she broke him.

Damian let out a yell as he smashed his hand into the mirror. Small shards of glass falling around him. The sting of the shards deep in his hand nothing compared to the pain in his heart as tears fall down his face. He ducks his head down and sobs overpower him. Small wails that he tries to keep in echoing around the room. His eyes burning and each cut on fire from the hot tears falling down his face. Why, why did he have to fall for her?

All the men are in silence, as they clean up the broken pieces around the room. The table was destroyed, all the papers strewn around the room, covered in blood. A large gasp leaves Tim, causing all of them to turn to him. “Guy, Jason said that she was his daughter right?” Bruce tilts his head slightly, remembering the blood curdling scream from Jason when the night happened. “Yes, why?” “It’s not his actual daughter. Guys, you need to come and take a look at this.”

All the men gasp at what they see. The report did nothing to warn of the horrors that the crime photos gave. Alfred puts a shaky hand to his mouth. Tears collecting behind his shut eyelids. Tears stream down dicks face at what they see. The photos of her mother nothing but a bloody heap on the ground, barley recognizable as a human and not from a horrible accident. The photos of her father haunting even to them. Bones popping out of the skin and black bruising covering majority of the skin. But neither of those came close to the photos of what happened to her. Deep gashes so far in you can see bones popping out. The muscle was torn to shreds so heavily, it resembles what happens when flesh goes through a meat grinder. But what truly was the worst, was the deep gashes of the letter j and ha has all over her upper back.

Tags: @comic-nerd-dc @psychovigilantewrites @comic-brew

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne fanfiction #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne #older!damian wayne #red hood #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake imagine #batfamily #batfam x reader #batman #dc #dc imagine #dceu

[hairasuntouchedaspartoftheamazon]

Okay Tumblr, I’m about to do a stupid thing and ask for validation on some of my original writing. I’ve been working on a novel for a while now, and while I don’t have nearly as much to show for it as I would like, I do have this prologue. 

The story it is is attached to is long and complicated and queer and magical and I love it. My question to you fine internet denizens is: after reading this prologue, would you keep reading this book? 

(If you have follow up questions about this story at all, please ask because I love blabbing about this and I’m considering making a side blog just about this story because I want to develop it and hopefully get it published one day)

My buds: @a-l-ias @madre-des-leones @books-andbiscuits @chihuahuapowersgo @oopstheregoesthatlifeofmine @ivneess @elissastillstands @i-am-triple-a @becca-becky @goddess-of-fluff (You are all under absolutely no obligation to read this, I just think you’ll get a kick out of it)

So, without any further ado, I give you the prologue to Cheshire Moon:

Prologue: In Which It’s The End of the World As We Know It

Here is the boy on his bicycle. It is a dark and stormy night, a strange night for a bike ride. A Monday night as it would happen. Just goes to show that even after the events collectively referred to as “the Apocalypse” have ravaged the Earth and destroyed the capitalist institutions such as bureaucratic schools and offices that made certain weekdays widely hated, Mondays are still, and will always be, awful.

So here is the boy on a bicycle twenty years after the Apocalypse. He is pedaling madly through woods that had once been somewhat tamed. The woods were made of pine and maple and oak, the staples of a Northeast American forest, but they were also more than that. See, when nature is left to its own devices, even forests once populated with such things as marked hiking trails and outdoor recreation areas can turn into something quite different. This forest, once a nature preserve belonging to the state of New York, was now a wildwood. Things not quite friendly and not quite mundane and things not evil but also certainly not kind to trespassers lived in the dark spaces between these trees.

So here is the boy on a bicycle, riding through a wildwood full of dangerous things not kind to humans on a stormy Monday night twenty years after the Apocalypse. This is odd for three reasons.

First, as previously mentioned, it was a rainy night. And not a little drizzle, May-Day morning kind of rain that you barely needed an umbrella for, but a sky-splitting, earth-shaking, world-flooding howler of a storm. Each bolt of lightning ripped the sky apart; every roll of thunder shook the ground; the howling wind threatened to send even the oldest trees crashing to the ground. Surrounded by all of this, beneath the trees and in the mud, was the boy on his bicycle. 

The bicycle was the second odd thing. Despite the absolute hell it’s rider was currently putting it through (he wasn’t biking on a path, you see, just careening through the underbrush as it suited him; scratching the paint, splattering it with mud, and getting half a forest worth of sticks stuck in the wheel spokes), it was a very nice bike. A ten-speed, all-terrain, for-serious-athletes-only sort of bicycle. In another life, it would have been the property of some over-achieving businesswoman, the sort who did triathlons on the weekends and polished it with special bicycle wax three times a week. In this lifetime it had been stolen from an abandoned sporting goods store and aggressively spray-painted black because its new owner had been in a mood that day. There was also a laptop precariously duct-taped to the handlebars. Surrounding the ancient laptop was a clear plastic container, which several hours earlier had been looted from an old Target store and taped over the handlebars with extreme prejudice to protect the computer from the coming rain. 

The third odd thing was what the rider of this bike was doing. He wasn’t just soaked to the bone while pedaling full speed through the dark and rain and underbrush, with no light to guide him other than the faint glow of the computer screen. He was also singing at the top of his lungs.

“It’s the end of the world as we know it! It’s the end of the world as we know!-oh!-” He swerves to avoid a tree- “Oh, it! It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I FEEEEEEL FINEEEE!” He had a deranged smile on his face, the kind adrenaline junkies get when they’re doing something supremely idiotic while enjoying themselves immensely, and couldn't be damned to care about the consequences. He was quite possibly insane, more likely sleep-deprived.

Just then, the computer started beeping. The boy quickly brought the bike to a stop, crashing through a puddle and narrowly missing a large rock that would have brought this story to an end much quicker. Still singing nonsensical lyrics to himself- “Lenny Bruce, Lester Bangs, birthday party, cheesecake”- he dismounted, taking something small and electrical out of the bag he wore over his shoulder.  He hit the device a few times, cursed twice, and hit it again before it finally turned on with a beep and a few flashing lights. The light illuminated his face, pale and tired and shivering. Splashes of mud on his face gave the appearance of more freckles than he actually had. He wiped his long, rain-drenched hair out of his eyes to peer at the computer screen before punching some coordinates into the handheld device. A map appeared on the smaller screen. Blue vector lines appear, joined by two small dots, one green, one red. As he moved, the red dot moved. “Excellent,” he whispered to himself before walking deeper into the woods, leaving his bike behind. It would be the last time he saw that bike.

Walking through the rain was much harder than biking through it. Every minute or so, he had to stop and pull his boots out of the shin-deep mud. Twice he slipped, spreading mud all over his front. He refused to think about the state of his hair, despite the fact that it smelled like some of the wet matter coating it might not be mud. He slipped a third time, and the device in his hand went flying off into the wet night, never to be seen again. He paused for a moment, staring pitifully at where his device had disappeared before proceeding to curse loudly and creatively in at least three languages; insulting not only the stupid forest and the gods-damned rain, but his own stupidity and the idiocy of his informant for failing to tell him about this job before it became a time-sensitive matter that resulted in him being covered in enough mud to pass as a very short golem……

He went on like that for awhile before continuing his walk. The past few days had been incredibly frustrating, and there was a lot of bottled up anger to be released. As absolutely no one listened, he cursed the Trader caravan who treated him worse than the dirt on their boots, the scavengers who’d stolen his good knife last week, and the state of his life in general, gods give him a sign that he shouldn’t end it all right now, just climb up a tree and get struck by lightning…

A particularly loud crack of thunder erupted just then, followed by a bright burst of lightning that was a bit too close for comfort. It seemed like the gods were calling him on his bluff. With a world-weary sigh, he shoved his frustrations back down and continued walking into the woods. First and foremost was the mission, he reminded himself. There would be time for pity parties later.

It seemed like the universe was mocking him at that moment; as he gathered his convictions, the storm worsened. He would have said it was impossible, but the rain came down harder, as if trying to tell him that just lying down in the mud forever was so much simpler than trying to be a hero, who was he anyway, to try and save the world…He began to sing again, attempting to combat the darkness of the weather and his mind. “Eye of a hurricane, listen to yourself churn, world serves its own needs, don’t miserve your own needs…” He walks to the tune of the highly appropriate song, keeping his head up and eyes peeled for his destination.Finding anything in this weather would take nothing short of divine intervention, possibly by multiple gods, but find something he does. There, on his right, almost outside his field of vision, a faint glow in the darkness of the night. He smiled, a wild thing, before running full tilt towards the glow. 

As he got closer, it became clear that the glow was coming from the ground itself, a golden line stretching as far as the eye can see in either direction. The glow is slowly intensifying, but he’s arrived in time. He takes another device out of his bag, this one about the size of his head. It looked like if someone had melted down several computers, a tacky bachelor’s pad worth of chrome plating, and a rotary phone before mashing them all together and drenching the entire thing in white paint. That really wasn’t far off from the actual process used to create the gadget, which was of his own invention. He was rather proud of it, especially as it was one of a select few of his projects that had been completed without any magical assistance whatsoever.

With the golden glow lighting his way, he steps forward and gently places the SaviorBlob(that was what he had named the blobby thing) directly onto the line, aligning one of the sticky-outy metal bits towards magnetic north. Then he takes a carefully measured number of steps to the right, taking a second SaviorBlob out of his bag and placing it on the line. Again, he takes a carefully measured number of steps to the right, watching his feet while taking a third and final SaviorBlob out of his bag. He’s adjusting the magnetic alignment when he hears a loud grunt. He looks up. Then he starts running. 

A roar erupts from the massive creature straddling the line. Something vaguely resembling the idea of an arm erupts from the darkness, grabbing the boy by the back of his jacket and bringing him face to face with the rotting corpse of something that had never been properly alive. Desperate, he throws the remaining SaviorBlob at the creature’s face with surprising force, but it bounces off harmlessly. The creature roars again, throwing the boy up in the air only to snatch him up again, this time around the waist. With another arm, it sweeps the SaviorBlobs off the line, sending them flying into the night. 

Satisfied, it returns its attention to the boy trying to free himself, slowly pulling him closer as it opens it’s stinking maw wide. The boy watches, eyes wide, heart pounding. He waits. He waits. Then he strikes. A second before the darkness would swallow him whole, he pulls a knife from his boot and drives it deep into a mass of twisted flesh. 

As the creature flails, he rips off one of his many necklaces and shoves it down the creatures throat, kicking away at the same time and falling to the ground. His jacket is torn to pieces, tangling around the arm covered in dark acid from the creature’s mouth. 

The creature roars and lashes out, clawing at it’s wound with one arm and pinning the boy by his leg with another. The touch is dirty and so cold it burns, the antithesis of everything alive. The boy screams for the first time. Another twisted and corrupted limb is pressed to the glowing line, and the creature rears its head and sings, a single high piercing note a human could never hope to replicate. 

The boy struggles, trying to pull away from the pain, but he’s stuck fast. As the creature continues to sing, the light of the line grows brighter, turning from golden to white hot. The air itself is resonating with the impossibly high note, the whole world shaking as the boy tries to twist free and cover his ears from the onslaught of pure noise. With a final cry of pain, he escapes the creature’s hold, trying to run, trying to get as far away as possible...BOOM. The world goes white. He flies through the air, hitting a tree with a CRACK. Darkness falls immediately.

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

I WILL TAKE ANY AND ALL CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM

I WANT TO MAKE THIS GOOD 

I WILL ALSO BLAB ABOUT THE CHARACTERS SO MUCH, SPOILER THEY”RE ALL QUEER AND MOST ARE POC. 

#Cheshire Moon #Cazi's Writing #my writing #original writing #Marcelo Doran #Artemesia Benitez #Miriam 'Chevy' Johnston #Jashik Agni #Kals Katsaros #okay writing my OC's names as tags for the first time gave me such a rush #like #they're real and they matter

[brittle-bone-gabe]

Mistletozier

Summary: For years Richie has been trying to get Eddie under the mistletoe, each time it was a failure.  Pairing: Eddie x Reddie (Reddie)  Read Ao3: Here 

                                                           1989 

“Eddie, Eddie!” Richie called as he climbed down into the Loser’s clubhouse. The rest of the Losers were busy today, running around shopping, having to stay home alone and weren’t allowed to leave the house, so Eddie was the only one that Richie could bother. “Eddie!” He called again, standing at the bottom of the ladder, watching the smaller boy sit on the hammock. He had a shower cap over his head to make sure no spiders fell on him and his winter coat still on, reading the assigned homework they were given for holiday break. “You’re seriously reading that?” Richie asked, walking over to him. 

“Unfortunately,” Eddie replied, his eyes skimming the page he was on, “I need to get a good grade or I’ll fail and then my mom will have a fucking stroke or something.” 

“Hopefully...” Richie mumbled. 

Eddie’s head shot up, glaring at him. “Richie!” 

“What?! You can’t tell me you like being bossed around all the time.” 

“She’s my mom, dipshit.”

“Oh, excuse me, I thought she was your mommy.” Richie yelped when Eddie threw his book at him, having barely enough time to cover his face with his arms before the book made contact with him. “Don’t be that way, Eddie Spaghetti,” he said as he tried to squeeze his way into the hammock, but Eddie was making it difficult.  “I’m trying to call a truce here, Spaghetti!” 

“Then stop calling me spaghetti!” Eddie said, trying to kick the taller boy out of the hammock. “I was here first!” 

“Wait!” Richie grabbed Eddie’s ankles to stop him from kicking at him, “I have a question for you.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes, knowing that it had to be a joke. Richie just didn’t say ‘I have a question’ and actually asked a question. He knew it would be something like... ‘Oh, has your mom said anything about me?’ ‘Do you think you’ll hit 5′5″ before you turn thirty?’ Either way it pissed Eddie off and was ready to fight him. 

“What.” It wasn’t a question, Eddie really didn’t want to know what the question Richie had for him was. He watched as Richie fished through his front pocket, trying to find the thing he brought with him down in the club house. Eddie flinched when he pulled his hand back out of his pocket, assuming it was going to be a middle finger. “What the fuck is that?” He finally asked, tilting his head to the side at the small plant looking thing Richie was now holding; it was slightly flattened from being in his pocket, it had a small red bow attached to the top with some fake looking berries plastered on it. 

“What’s wrong, Eds? Never heard of a mistletoe?” 

“A... what?” 

Richie wasn’t sure if Eddie was being serious or actually never heard of a mistletoe before, but either way... he was in love with an idiot. He dangled the small, plastic plant over his head, looking up at it as if he had no idea why it was there. Did he really want to go through with this? Did he want to tell Eddie what the mistletoe was and what the tradition was behind it? Richie had this whole thing planned out; he was going to surprise Eddie by hanging the small plant above the hammock before the smaller boy showed up, and when Richie ‘noticed’ it, he was going to point it out and kiss Eddie before he knew what was happening. Although, he wasn’t expecting that Eddie would make it here before him, the idiot left his bike propped up against the tree.

“A mistletoe!” Richie tried again, holding it out so it was hovering over him and Eddie, who looked up at it. “You know what it is?”

“Uh... no? Wait, is that a flower?” 

“What? No. It’s a-”

“A plant? Is that a plant?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“I have a plant allergy, Richie!” Eddie shot up from the hammock, almost knocking Richie out of it as he did. “Ever heard of allergic rhinitis?!” 

“Wh... no?”

“Hay fever? You’ve heard of that?”

“Isn’t that just seasonal- Eddie! It’s not real! It’s plastic, fake!” 

“Yeah, it’s seasonal allergies, idiot. But did you know you can get that shit in the winter too?” Richie sat back in the hammock, dropping the mistletoe on his chest while watching Eddie rant about allergies. Great. This plan wasn’t working out well, he wasn’t trying to rile him up, but here they were. “Most of the time seasonal allergies is caused by a grass and pollen allergy, but in the winter it’s mostly due to dust mites. Do you know what dust mites are, Richie?” Richie could only nod, using his foot to rock the hammock. “They-”

“It’s not real, Eddie,” he tried again, interrupting Eddie’s ramblings, “th-the plant, not... whatever it is you’re talking about.”

“You say it’s not real, but how do I know you’re not lying to me?” Eddie asked, folding his arms across his chest with a small pout.

“Why would I purposely trigger your allergies? It’s just a-” 

Eddie scoffed, throwing his hands up in frustration before zipping up his winter coat. He grabbed his book, turning to face Richie who gave him a weird look, like he was stupid or something. 

“Whatever that is I don’t want it,” he finally said, walking over to the ladder. “I’m gonna go home and take some allergy pills before they get worse.” 

Richie watched Eddie go up the wooden ladder, his mouth opened as he wanted to say something to try and stop him. It was too late. Eddie was already heading out to the snowy outside, leaving Richie with many things to say, none of which would ever get spoken. God, why were the cute ones so stupid? Richie sighed, fidgeting with the mistletoe that was now in his hands. 

Maybe someday. 

                                                            -----

                                                           1993

This was the final Friday for the students at Derry High School before holiday break began. Everyone was excited for their two week vacation, ready for presents, laying in bed doing nothing all day, food, and spending time with family. Well, everyone was excited except for seventeen-year-old Richie Tozier; when he learned that Eddie was going to be gone for those two weeks starting tomorrow he was extremely upset. Something about seeing family. Either way, Richie was still upset, there was something he wanted to try to do before he left, hopefully this year it would work. 

“How do I look?” Richie asked his best friend Beverly as he put on the headband with a mistletoe hanging above him. “Stupid, right? I want it to look stupid.”  Bev leaned over, planting a kiss on Richie’s cheek as for tradition. “Eugh!” Richie said dramatically, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand. “Cooties.” 

Beverly rolled her eyes. “Yes, you look extremely stupid, Trashmouth.” Richie had a goofy smile on his face, giving two thumbs up. “I’m sure Eddie’ll get it this time.”

The memory made Richie shudder. He remembered he told Beverly all about how his first time trying this worked out, that Eddie had no idea what a mistletoe was and freaked out about hay fever and left him behind. Hopefully now that Eddie was older he would get it this time, or maybe he’d be awkward enough and ditch again. Which is what Richie swore up and down what happened last time, there was no way someone has never heard of a mistletoe, right? Right. Okay, Bev was right, he got it this time. It was going to be cute and give something for Eddie to remember while he was gone with family this Christmas. 

“And how do I look?” Richie pushed his semi-curly hair back, readjusting his glasses to make sure everything looked right. 

Bev licked her hand, scrubbing the speck of dirt that was stuck on Richie’s cheek. “Golden. Go get ‘em.” She patted his back with a smile on her face as he started off towards Eddie’s locker. She watched him squeeze through the crowd of the hallway, shaking her head. Honestly she couldn’t believe that Richie and Eddie weren’t together yet. 

Richie was tall enough to be able to see over most of the crowd, his blank expression changed into a huge smile when he saw Eddie searching through his locker. Yes, okay, perfect. This would be his year. He would get Eddie to kiss him over this stupid tradition, he swore to god. Even if he had to bluntly spell it out for him. K-I-S-S M-E, Y-O-U I-D-I-O-T. 

Eddie had his backpack on the floor as he was moving the textbook from the morning periods to his locker, switching them out with the afternoon periods textbooks. He used to carry them all at once so he didn’t have that anxiety of rushing to go to his locker, but since he went through two backpacks in the year he had to stop doing that because his mom was getting mad about buying him new ones. Of course, she blamed Richie for roughhousing with him, causing the backpacks to break. No... it was just because Eddie didn’t want to make an extra stop at his locker. 

“Helllooo, Eddie!” Richie said long and dramatically, pulling the locker door open some more so he could stand in front of it, leaning it up against the other lockers with his shoulder. 

“Hey, Richie,” Eddie said, not even looking at him as he was putting books from his backpack to his locker, “what’s up?”

“Ooooh, nootthiiin’” He reached up, poking at the mistletoe that was dangling down over him, the little bells jingling as he did, trying to get Eddie’s attention, but he wasn’t budging. Richie frowned. “Eddie. Eds. Eddie, my love.” Normally that last one caught his attention. “Bitch, pay attention to me!” 

Finally Eddie looked up at him, finally noticing the mistletoe above them. “Oh,” he said, standing up, rolled his hoodie sleeves up so they were above his forearms. “Mistletoe. Whose that for, Richie?” 

Richie discreetly bit his bottom lip, trying to get the hint across. Notice, you idiot, notice, Richie was thinking to himself. Maybe out of the blue Eddie would gain the power to read minds and kiss him.

“I dunno,” Richie said, trying to sound smooth, “whoever’s under it I guess. That’s how mistletoe’s work, right?” 

“Huh...” Eddie reached up, jingling the fake plant. “That’s actually really cute. Did you know if you were you to eat mistletoe it could technically kill you? It can poison you.” 

Richie wanted to strangle the hell out of the shorter boy in front of him for being so oblivious. Why was he being like this? Did he not get it? Was he just nervous about this? Oh, shit, maybe Eddie wasn’t gay or bisexual or anything and Richie was making him uncomfortable.

“Oh... yeah...” Richie was trying so hard to not sound disappointed as he took off the headband. “Yeah, I found it at the pharmacy.” He put it on Eddie’s head so it was hanging over his face now. “You know what a mistletoe is, right? Like, what the tradition is?”

Eddie’s face turned a light shade of pink that Richie could see clearly under the bright lights of the hallway. With shaky, anxious hands, he reached up and took the headband off from his head, holding it back out to Richie who sadly took it. Of course he knew the tradition was. Well, back then he didn’t, the first time Richie tried pulling this stunt Eddie had no clue what was going on until he went home to ask his mom what a mistletoe was. He would never forget the look on her face when he went on to explain that Richie had one and held it over them in the hammock that day, she was looked stunned and confused, acting different around Richie since. They both noticed, and Eddie would always apologize, but Richie couldn’t care less about that. 

“Yeah... Yeah, I...” Eddie trailed off, looking into Richie’s eyes, seeing the desperation and sadness there, “I think I know the tradition.” He moved his backpack from the floor, slinging it over his shoulders before nudging Richie out of the way so he could close his locker. He had opened his mouth to speak, but the warning bell indicating that it was almost time to start the first afternoon class interrupted him. “I gotta go, Richie,” he squeaked, making himself small as he moved past Richie, he couldn’t bear to see the sadness that now took over Richie’s face. 

Richie let out a frustrated sigh, twisting the mistletoe headband in his hands until he could feel it crack under the pressure. Goddamn it. Fuck. This was the second time Eddie’s dodged the fucking mistletoe and Richie’s heart was, as cliche as it sounded, broken. 

As Eddie was maneuvering through the crowded hallway of rushing teens trying to make it to their class on time. Of course he fucking knew what the mistletoe meant. Whoever stood under it meant that they had to kiss. Something Eddie always wanted to fucking do. He’ll admit, he had no idea what it meant the first time Richie pulled that shit when they were fourteen-years-old, but once he found out he kicked himself for not knowing and taking advantage of that. And today? What the fuck was that? Admittedly, Eddie was caught off guard with Richie’s stupid headband, but he had the chance to kiss him again. 

‘Do you know the tradition?’ 

‘Of course I know the tradition, but I can’t kiss you if the mistletoe is on my head, we both have to be under it,’ Eddie wanted to say at that moment. He smacked his forehead in frustration, why didn’t he speak up? 

                                                         -----

                                                          2019

Richie and Eddie have been dating for a total of three years. Ever since the whole being called back to Derry, Maine after all these years, all these memories flooded back and made Richie break down. He remembered all those nights where he would sneak out of his house in the middle of the night and go to Eddie’s house, climbing through his window and they would stay up all night just to talk about whatever. He remembered carving their initials in the Kissing Bridge, hoping that it would somehow magically bring them together. It wasn’t until it started snowing in Chicago this year when Richie remembered all those sad attempts at trying to use a mistletoe to get Eddie to kiss him for the first time. He cringed, at the same time he thought it was cute. 

This would be the year, Richie thought to himself as he set the plastic bag of Christmas decorations down on the kitchen counter that Eddie had sent him out to buy. I’m gonna get it to work this time, he thought as he pulled out the mistletoe from the bag, the one thing that wasn’t on Eddie’s list. He would get a kiss out of this mistletoe or die trying. 

Richie started running around the house, trying to decide the perfect place to place the mistletoe. Doorway? Cliche. Front door? Too cold as it was too snowy outside. Thankfully Eddie was out right now, but Richie just received a text from him saying that he was on his way home. Fuck. He didn’t have a lot of time left.

Richie looked up. Oh. Perfect. 

He stood up on the coffee table that was placed in the center of the living room, having to stand on his toes as he was reaching up to place the mistletoe in the perfect spot. He could just barely reach, but... fuck, he may need tape for it to stick. Did they have tape? Somewhere, right? Eddie’s been wrapping presents like a madman lately. 

Once he jumped down from the table he scrambled into the guest bedroom that Eddie was using to wrap presents. Moving things around until it was all on the floor desperately looking for tape. How could he not have tape? This was bullshit. 

Oh... that’s why Eddie went to the store. He said he ran out of tape and wrapping paper. 

Back out to the kitchen, Richie started going through the junk drawer that they could hardly open since they had so much junk in it. There had to be something in here that would make this stupid piece of plastic stick for five minutes. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Richie mumbled in between the mistletoe that was placed in between his teeth as he was going through the drawer. “C’mon... this shouldn’t be so fucking hard. ...Aha!” He announced happily, even though he was the only one at home. When he turned around he saw their tan Pomeranian looking up at him, his tongue hanging out as he was wagging his tail. “What the fuck are you looking at, you little bitch? ” Richie asked the dog playfully before reaching down to give him a pet. “Such a good boy,” he knelt down to pet him some more. “Such a-” the dog snatched the mistletoe out of Richie’s mouth, running off with it. “Hey! No! Bad boy!” Richie yelled after the small dog. “Peanuts! No! Drop it!” 

If anyone was looking from the outside looking in saw this six-foot-something man chasing around this small Pomeranian it would be the perfect skit. Unfortunately, this was a pain in the ass for Richie, all he wanted to do was surprise Eddie and finally get that stupid holiday kiss he wanted since they were kids. Was that really so hard? 

“Peanuts! Down! Want a treat?” He was trying anything and everything he could to get the dog to stop and drop the mistletoe. Thank god it was fake, Richie recalled that Eddie said something about if you ate a real mistletoe you’d get poisoned and die. If anything happened to this dog Eddie would kill everyone. “Treat, treat, treat!” Richie said in a high pitched voice, trying to get his attention as he held up the dog treat. 

Peanuts stopped, looking up at the treat in Richie’s hand, still holding onto the plastic plant as he was wagging his tail. 

“Yeaaah, this has your attention, huh?” Richie said, waving his arm slowly side to side, watching as Peanut followed his every move. “Sit!” Peanuts did what he was told, plopping down as soon as the word left Richie’s mouth. “Now... drop it!” Peanuts tilted his head to the side, not quite understanding what he was supposed to do. ‘Drooop iiit...” He growled out of frustration, just wanting the damn treat. Richie held the treat out so it was directly in front of Peanuts’ nose. The small, fluffy dog dropped the mistletoe, snatching the treat from Richie’s hand as he went into their bedroom to eat it underneath his bed, as he did whenever he got a treat. 

Richie let out a thankful sigh, picking up the mistletoe that was now covered in dog slobber. Oh well. Whatever, he got what he wanted. He grabbed the hot glue gun from the counter, going back to stand on the coffee table. 

As soon as he was finishing up gluing the mistletoe to the smoke detector Richie could hear Eddie’s car door slam shut in the driveway. Oh, fuck. He cut this too close. Richie started blowing on the glue, hoping it’ll make it stick in place just for five minutes. Once it seemed stabled, he hopped down, pushing the coffee table back into place just as Eddie walked through the door. 

Sweat was covering Richie’s forehead as he stood directly underneath the mistletoe that was up too high for Eddie to even notice, refusing to move from his spot in front of the couch. Eddie raised an eyebrow, knowing instantly that something was up with his boyfriend. 

“What’cha doin’?” Eddie asked instantly, dropping the bags down at his feet. 

“N..nothing,” Richie responded with a goofy smile on his face. “What’re yooou doin’, hot stuff? How was the store? See any babes?”

Judging by how Richie was acting, Eddie knew that he was up to something. A prank? A date? He could never tell with Richie, he was always mixing it up. 

“What did you do?” Was the only thing that came to Eddie’s mind to ask. “Where’s Peanuts?” 

“Ah...” Richie started to explain, but had to stop to catch his breath, “the little devil is contained with a treat and nothing else. Nothing... that could poison him. I assure you, my sweet, sweet, Spaghetti, I did nothing wrong.” 

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “What?!” 

“He’s fine! He has a treat!”

“Don’t... call me spaghetti!” 

“Sorry, Eddsie.”

“Oh, that’s new...” Eddie folded his arms over his chest. “What are you hiding?” 

“Why don’tcha come here and I’ll tell you.” 

Eddie noticed that Richie hasn’t moved a muscle since he entered the doorway, out of character for him for sure since any time he entered the house Richie was there to hug him and kiss him. 

“No.”

“What? Eddie, come here!” 

“No, not until you tell me what you did.”

“Just!” Richie stopped, whining in frustration. “Come here! I’ll tell you! Please! Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, plea-”

“Shut up! Okay!” Eddie kicked off his snow covered shoes onto the rug, shrugging off his winter coat before making his way over to Richie cautiously just in case this was a prank of some kind. “You talk so fucking much, you idiot.” He stopped about a foot away from Richie, who looked to still be in distress. “What? I’m here.”

“Clooooser!” 

“I am not getting any closer until you tell me what you’re up to.” 

“I’ll tell you!” Richie held out his arms to him, wiggling his fingers. “Come here!” He couldn’t help but giggle, causing Eddie to raise an eyebrow before taking a step back. “Uh, wrong way, my sweet Eds. C’mere.”

“You did something.”

“I did do something,” the smile somehow grew on Richie’s face if that was even possible. “I won’t- No, I can’t tell you until you come stand.. right...” he pointed to the open area directly in front of him, “here. I know you’re curious. Or... maybe afraid? Just know I am not hiding anything from you this time.”

“Like how you hid the fact you killed my favorite plant while I was away for a week?” 

“Mhm!” Richie hummed happily, nodding. “Better than that!” 

Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes as he stood where Richie had directed him to. He had to look up at the taller man at this point to look into his eyes. When he did, he noticed the mistletoe that was hanging from the smoke detector. 

“Are you fucking serious?” Eddie said, looking back down to look at Richie. 

“Third times the charm, right?” Richie asked with a single arm shrug. 

“But the smoke detector? Seriously? Do you know how dangerous that is, Richie? Say there was a fire, the smoke may not make it up there properly because of the-”

Eddie was cut off when Richie bent down, pressing his lips against Eddie’s cold ones from being out in that Chicago winter. He had both hands on Eddie’s hips, bringing him closer until their bodies were basically pressed against each other, sharing body heat. Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie’s neck to bring him down closer, deepening the kiss as best as he could from where he was standing. 

“I want that off of the smoke detector,” Eddie mumbled against Richie’s lips. 

“Mmm... may have trouble with that,” he responded once he pulled away, “I super glued it. Mistletoe tradition all year ‘round, baby!” He pumped his fist in the air. 

Eddie reached down, grabbing the empty wrapping paper tube that Peanuts was trying to drag around earlier, bonking it against Richie’s face, his glasses almost falling off. 

“Beep beep, Richie.” 

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