#and in the meantime. i hope this is satisfactory <3

[mysacredmuse]

crying and begging for sub Aven hcs (gn!reader with unspecified anatomy please 🙏🏻)

no need to cry and beg no more, sub! aventurine hcs are here for you, my dear gender neutral friend 🫡 I see aventurine as a heavy switch, so exploring his submissive side more was fun !! eheh :) this is more oriented towards his kinks, I hope that's okay ! :)

reader: gender neutral in all departments

cw/tw: nsfw - mdni!, sub! aventurine, slightly brat! aventurine, dom! reader, mentions of wax play & sensory play in general, spanking, tying up, marking, aventurine sending videos of him masturbating & riding dildo, body worship, collars, edging, denial, shoe humping, toys, overstimulation, cock cage

dividers by @/cafekitsune :)

• Aventurine • As a submissive •

Aventurine is a heavy switch and he loves being dominant and submissive equally. It all simply depends on you, he doesn't mind you using him as you please, even as a dom, he tends to still show his submissive tendencies <3

but alas, when he is being submissive, he loves collars. He loves when you choose a collar for him, the way you wrap it around his neck and praise how good he looks with it. Bonus points if you also use the leash as you let him kneel in front of you, pushing him away with your foot, yet pulling him by the leash as you make him wait until you decide he is allowed to touch you <3

anytime you do something like that, he turns into a little pleading mess, eyes becoming desperate and soft as his body twitches with eagerness, pathetically begging you to let him do something to you or the very least - you do something to him <3

when you let him to just hump your foot like a dumb little toy he is, he turns into a pathetic man, thanking you for letting him give his aching cock some not even remotely satisfactory relief as he slides his cock and balls over your foot or a shoe

he loves toys and encourages them ! He finds it quite thrilling to have a vibrator in his ass or around the tip of his cock - maybe even both if you feel up to it, especially if he has some business to do or gamble at the casino while you play with him from home or any other business you may be attending to in the meantime

sometimes, you tell him that for every round he loses - he will get edged or denied, requiring frequent reports. Sometimes, he lies that he lost, eager for you to play with him. To his misfortune, his lies are quite evident, so you decide to make him cum in his pants while at the table, overstimulating him purposefully <3

more to add, sometimes he loses on purpose just to get edged and denied by you until he gets home, if not longer. Additionally, it's even more exciting to him if you are with him at the casino, especially if that's the time when you make him cum in his pants. Simply because that usually means that you will excuse yourselves to the bathroom in order to clean him up, while degrading his pitiful and quite pathetic state <3

he adores sensory play, being tied up and spanking with different tools :3 Aventurine especially loves wax play when he is tied up, the feeling of the candle melting on his chest almost always makes him cum very easily. He loves when you drip wax on the back of his thighs, his ass, tummy and back as well. If you decide to add some ice play as well as feather play - he is cumming constantly. Adores different sensations getting mixed together on his body and admires the marks that are left afterwards <3

additionally, his favorite spot to do sensory play on are his nipples as they are quite sensitive. Either in the ways mentioned, you sucking on them or simply sliding your thumbs over them is all going to bring him a quick and intense orgasm <3 so often, he will beg for you to do that to him, eheh

as for tying up - he loves handcuffs and all sorts of shibari! Anything that may leave him with marks afterwards is his favorite which is also why he loves when you do it with your own teeth - biting and sucking on his skin until he is covered in countless hickeys all over his body <3

when you punish him for one reason or the other by telling him that he isn't allowed to cum for certain amount of time - he will be good and obedient. For a day, if not less. As soon as that passes, he is sending you videos of stroking his cock, bouncing on a dildo while he moans and whimpers like a pathetic slut, whining your name out each time he cums. He knows that he will get a punishment for that, but that's exactly what he wants <3

as for spanking mentioned - he loves to lay over your lap with his ass at display, twitching underneath the heavy slaps of your hand until his skin burns and bruises. He even tries to slightly hump your thighs or somehow slide his cock between them, only to be spanked with a tool of your choice, bruising his ass even more <3 Aventurine is also not opposed to being tied up in shibari while getting spanked, it's very fun to him, especially because all the twitching and quivering makes his body all marked up by the ropes <3

adores praise and degrading, especially if you mix them up! Call him your pretty little fucktoy, cute yet dumb slut, desperate bitch and follow up that you will turn him into a good boy - he is happy, gaze lovingly looking at you <3

he isn't bratty often, besides previously mentioned. Usually he is quite soft, worshiping you in every way he can, begging you to use him as your personal sex toy. Begging you to punish him, begging you to let him touch you (and when he does, he immediately starts worshiping every inch of your skin), begging you to call him a filthy or a sweet name. He doesn't care, he needs you in such a primal way and he isn't afraid to show it <3

sometimes, he asks you to put a cock cage on him for as long as you want to while you slide the feather over his caged cock, edging him with such a light sensation. He also loves when you guide him what to do or how to touch himself. Whether it's you guiding him for how long to stroke his cock, at what pace, speed and so on or guiding him how to ride a dildo like a good little boy - he will do it all for you, only for you <3

#aventurine x reader smut #aventurine smut #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #aventurine x yn #hsr x reader smut #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x y/n #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr smut #hsr imagines #gender neutral reader #muse's writings #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader

[avoverud]

here's my hot cobert summer writing challenge product!

i'm going on vacation for a few days, but hopefully i'll find some time to organize the finished product of everyone's work. in the meantime, take mine <3

i had a headcanon once for pre-canon cobert, i never did get to writing more than just a synopsis, but i decided that i was going to be productive for once in my life and actually have it written down. so here we are :)

my prompt was "saying i love you breathlessly", to be honest it's not so much a prompt as me sticking the word breathlessly into the love confession but um.

and i decided to have some fun with the ending and see if anyone noticed :D

HAPPY.

Robert sighed, standing in his dressing room. A cold, biting wind whispered across the sky, and the rain went pitter-patter against the windows. The atmosphere itself felt heavy, something the viscount did not appreciate. It felt like the weather was mocking him.

Couldn’t it just pretend that everything was fine? 

Robert certainly was.

His life so far had not been the most.. satisfactory, what with his mother grilling him every time she saw him, and Rosamund giving him looks when they passed each other in the candlelit corridors. Mainly his mother. And of course it was all about his new wife. She was quite the talk of the town. Cora this, Cora that.

He envied Cora, just a little bit. She didn’t have to sit through lecture after lecture about how they were dependent on Americans now, and oh my was this the best course of action, and oh well at least they could save the estate. 

But she wasn’t happy. He could tell, and it hurt him every day seeing her struggling to fit into the mold society (and his mother) had set. She didn’t deserve that. But what else could he give her?

It was funny how a four letter word could describe her when no other adjectives could. It was funny how a four letter word could encapsulate someone like her, could sound so foreign yet so perfect when it was spoken. 

Cora.

She was so beautiful, the room seemed to light up whenever she entered. He already knew he loved her, had loved her for while, however improper it was to say it. He just wanted to be with her without anyone glancing surreptitiously their way. He just wanted to hear her laugh, that was all, to tell her that he loved her. But he couldn’t. 

It was ridiculous and he knew it. But deep inside, he felt like he had cheated her out of something. That he hadn’t earned her love, because he hadn’t. That maybe if she knew the truth when he had courted her, she wouldn’t have married him. Someone like Cora deserved better than him. And so he pushed her away.

Suddenly realizing that he was still in his dressing room, Robert pushed open the door to the hall and headed downstairs, his hand trailing lightly on the banister. One day this would all be his. His and Cora’s.

Passing through the Great Hall, Robert opened the door to the library. Not that he expected to see anyone, of course. 

But there she was, and his heart did the funny little jump it did every time his eyes met hers.

“Oh!” said Cora, looking up from her book. Yes, she was very beautiful, Robert thought. Even in the shadow that the rainclouds cast, she seemed to glow.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” he replied, briskly. “I’ve just come to get a book.” Well. Not really.

Cora’s gaze trailed him to the desk, where he stopped.

“..Do you remember what occasion tomorrow is?” she asked, a little hesitantly. Robert turned to face her, lifting an eyebrow.

“Well, it can’t be your birthday,” he said, half-heartedly. “And it’s not a holiday, I don’t think. No, I don’t remember.” It was no wonder that he didn’t, with everything happening so fast these past months. It was probably just a special guest coming over to dine with them. “Tell me, then.”

“It’s our anniversary,” Cora said, putting on a small smile, trying to hide the sting of disappointment. 

The words seemed to hang in the air.

Upset that he had forgotten, Robert’s next words slipped out of his mouth. “It doesn’t matter much, anyways.” I should not have said that.

Cora stared at him in disbelief. “It doesn’t?” she questioned, not really wanting to hear the answer.

“Well, everyone thinks I only married you for your money.”

“And did you?”

The question was inevitable, wasn’t it? The answer was even more so. He knew, she knew, but they had left those words unspoken. And now what was he supposed to say? It was one of those decisions he knew he would regret before he even made it, but he did it anyways. “I suppose, but-”

The book Cora had been reading clattered to the ground as she stood up, facing him. Tears filling her eyes, she fled from the room. She didn’t know why, but she couldn’t stay there, not with the emotions that were flooding the room, spilling onto her. She couldn’t stay to see the expression on his face.

She needed air.

Then it was silence. A terrible, heavy silence that made Robert feel sick. Expecting to hear the sound of Cora’s door slam, he glanced back out the window for a second. His eyes widened in shock.

Cora was running down the path, her hair twisting in the wind. The raindrops shattered on the pebbles around her, glittering like pearls in her hair.

I don’t understand, Robert thought, his hand pressed against the glass. And all of a sudden, his feet were taking him into the hall, past the front doors, into the rain, to somehow set this right, whatever it took. It was too late to go back now.

The rain sloshed around him as he raced across the gravel path. She had stopped, standing there, beautiful in a sad way. He couldn’t bear it, he couldn’t, wouldn’t let her be sad. Not anymore.

He realized that maybe, just maybe, there was something he could give her.

“Cora?” he whispered, when he had reached her at last. “Are you alright?”

She laughed, taking a breath before replying. “I’m sorry,” was the first thing she said. “I shouldn’t have done that.” She bit her lip slightly, turning her head away. “It’s not been the best year, has it?”

“No, it hasn’t,” Robert admitted. “But you shouldn’t be sorry. I should be.” He couldn’t stop himself from rambling on. “That you were so unhappy. For bringing you here.” His gaze dropped to the ground.

Cora’s cheeks were flushed from the cold as she studied the expression on his face. When she finally, spoke, it was with that familiar lilt in her tone. “I’m not sorry you did, Robert.”

And oh, the emotions that seemed to rush to his head. He wasn’t even quite sure what she had just said to him, because at the moment everything seemed to be spinning. But he didn’t care, not as long as she was here. And she didn’t blame him for everything.

He told her, somehow he did, and he meant it with all his heart.

“I love you, Cora,” he told her, breathlessly.

She was silent, the raindrops coming down even harder now. Her blue eyes caught his for what seemed like forever.

“Cora? This might sound silly, but- you- we- we will be happy, won’t we?”

It was freezing, but neither of them could feel it. The rumble of thunder was distant as Cora laughed. “Very, very happy.”

And as Robert leaned down to press his lips to hers, maybe they weren’t the three words that he had so desperately wanted to hear these past few months. But he believed them, all the same.

#pressing the post button scares me #hot cobert summer writing challenge #cobert #robert crawley #cora crawley #downton abbey

[rewiringwithpsilocybin]

DAY 40

Like yesterday, energy levels are running at full volume which suggests that the lull experienced a couple of days ago was temporary.

My overall resolve to tackle alcohol, overeating and procrastination, which suffered a minor slump during my back issue, has returned too.  

Meantime, the Microdosing Institute has sent me a link from a professional microdosing program in Peru on how to achieve lasting change. 

This is what they say: “Microdosing psychedelics is not taking a magic pill that will just make you feel better and keep bad things away. It’s understandable some microdosers would approach psychedelics this way since it’s how palliative pharmaceuticals work, and the instant magic sure feels like it’s there. Expanded states of consciousness work differently, though, and the real magic comes from the gained ability to learn and transform.”

Hmmmm . . . They use the word "magic" a lot!

To be fair though, I was hoping for the magic pill, but now it appears I’m going to have to work at it as well! 

Based on the “50 integration elements” which contribute to a successful microdosing program, the centre also provides a comprehensive flow chart (see above) which illustrates the system in clearer fashion. 

So, after sourcing the psilocybin and educating myself in section 0, I’ve been monitoring the effects and states in section 1. For section 2, I’ve been gaining insights as I endeavor to identify, analyze, understand, realize and confront any issues.

Onto Section 3. Taking action with measurable goals, tangible actions and measurable results - still work in progress. 

So far, I’ve been sticking to a fairly strict regime of exercising, meditation, writing, practicing music, working, developing some business-related proposals, learning some new skills and eating more healthily. 

My goals at the beginning were to reduce procrastination, overeating, alcohol consumption and smoking as well as gaining energy and provoking some creativity. Oh, and as my daughter reminded me - feeling more intelligent.

On the procrastination front then, the microdosing program has been “satisfactory”, as one of my old teachers used to say when you had aced a test. 

I’m especially happy with my resolve to write this blog on a daily basis. 

As I explained before, smoking operates hand in hand with alcohol, like Anthony and Cleopatra – kill the latter and the former commits suicide. 

I’ve transgressed around four times in the last 40 days. Much much better than my average score. 

The least successful has been the last one, overeating. And that's despite successfully completing a ten-day fast. 

This one seems to be the most deep seated. And therefore will probably require some professional help. 

One of my friends recently told me about her therapist who is also familiar with microdosing. A consultation seems like a sensible course of action.  

Moving on . . . Energy levels have been generally excellent. No complaints there.

Creativity? Needs more focus perhaps? Or "must try harder", the almost universal three-word summation of entire semester's work employed by lazy UK teachers in the 1970s. Seems like they could have used an injection of creativity as well.

#magic mushrooms #microdosing #mushrooms #self help #psilocybin #self improvement #terrence mckenna

[clumsyclifford]

PS, any chance I could convince you to write some fluff to balance the sad bits you've been writing? I'm worried about the consecutive angst/emo/TW stuff you've created. (Are you okay? do you need someone to be there with you?) IF and only if you feel inspired enough, maybe a "surprise we got married in the middle of quarantine" Lashton fic where no - not even Malum - knew except maybe like 2 random witnesses? -🕷

spidey anon, pat yourself on the fucking back for somehow getting me to write fluff. really can’t explain that with anything except that it is probably affected by the sheer joy i feel from listening to music with cam for seven hours straight <3 anyway. this isn’t Exactly what you said but it’s not, like, NOT what you said and i was gonna write more but then i thought i’d just never finish it and i felt like you deserved something nice so i am just going to give it to you as it is hope you enjoy

-

Luke finally learns why Ashton’s been restless all week when he pulls out the ring.

“No,” he says immediately, before Ashton can even open his mouth. A look of confused distress appears on Ashton’s face. “I mean, not no. Just, like, no, you aren’t proposing to me now.”

“I one hundred percent am,” Ashton says, sounding exasperated and fond. “Shut up, don’t act like you weren’t expecting it.”

“I wasn’t expecting it!” That’s mostly true. Although it doesn’t mean Luke hadn’t been hoping. “But I don’t want you to propose in quarantine, how un-romantic is that? I can’t think of anything less romantic.”

“Nothing? At all?” Ashton narrows his eyes. “I could have proposed while you were in the bathroom. Just stood outside the door and gone hey, Luke, marry me?”

Despite himself, a thrill runs down Luke’s spine at the words. “Fine,” Luke says. “That would have been less romantic, but only barely. Come on, Ashton, it’s not like being engaged is going to change anything about our situation. We’re stuck at home together anyway.”

“Yeah, but,” Ashton says, “and hear me out on this one: I’ll get to call you my fiancé.”

Luke blushes. “That’s really nothing.”

“You won’t be saying that when I’m calling you fiancé,” Ashton says smugly. “Now if I could please get on with it.”

Luke sighs. “I could always say no.”

“Then you’ll say no,” Ashton says, shrugging. “And I’ll just keep asking.”

Of course he will. Ashton’s nothing if not persistent. To a fault, some might say.

“Alright then,” Luke says, trying to sound as defeated as possible to mask the giddy feeling filling his gut. “Go on.”

Even before Ashton starts talking, Luke knows that in no universe would he ever, ever, ever be idiotic enough to refuse a marriage proposal from Ashton Irwin. And he really wouldn’t even want to.

“Alright, well,” Ashton says, and Luke notices that his knuckles are white from holding the small velvet box, and his free hand is shaking. The steadiest grip of anyone Luke’s ever known, and Ashton’s hands are shaking. It hits Luke, the enormity of this question. “First of all, I want to say that I love you. I’ll love you if you say yes. I’ll love you if you say no. I’ll love you if you break up with me and go fall in love with — with Michael.” Luke snorts. “I mean it, Luke, I really will. Like, you’re it for me. I know that’s what everyone says, but you really are. I can’t even imagine — quarantine without you. Life without you.”

“Grim,” Luke says under his breath, and Ashton laughs nervously.

“Yeah,” he says. “Grim as fuck. I’m not going to waste all my words on this, because — well, for starters because you just said you’re planning to say no, so I’ll save my really mushy romantic stuff for when I know you’ll say yes.” Luke huffs an unsteady laugh. Ashton’s hand is still shaking, and Luke reaches unthinkingly across the table and clamps it between his own palms. Ashton gives him a grateful smile. “But also because you already know it. I don’t think I need to remind you of all the reasons I love you. I will if you ask, though,” he adds, and Luke smiles. “But mostly I think the beauty of a proposal is that it’s not as much about what we have been, but what we will be. We’ve both been here for our whole relationship. You know what’s happened. I don’t need to remind you. I’m just asking if — if you want to see what it can become. What more we can be.” He takes a deep breath, and Luke squeezes his hand. “So, Luke. Cards on the table. Will you marry me?”

And it’s cute that Ashton phrases it as a question, as if there could ever be any more than one answer. Luke swallows thickly. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

“Wait,” Ashton says. “Really?”

“Of fucking course really.” Luke comes around the table without releasing his grip on Ashton’s hand. “God, stop being nervous, Ashton, I’d love to marry you, I’ll marry you literally tomorrow if you want.”

“You were going to say no,” Ashton says, sounding dazed. “What — I really thought you were serious about that.”

“Ashton,” Luke says, falling into a kneel so he can be eye level with Ashton. “I am so ridiculously in love with you I think the only thing that could stop me from wanting to marry you would be actual death. And even then, I’m pretty sure my ghost would haunt you until we figured out necromancy.”

Ashton laughs; Luke recognizes the way his shoulders fall a bit, sees the tension drain from his posture, the stress evaporate from between his brows. “Oh, the fucking ring,” he remembers, and flips the box open, pressing it into Luke’s hand. Luke gazes down at the silver ring with a growing feeling of anticipation, something akin to impatience, if it weren’t accompanied by such elation.

“It’s so pretty,” he murmurs. “Understated. Perfect.”

“I thought you’d prefer understated,” Ashton says, pink-cheeked.

Luke draws Ashton into a kiss, wondering if he can somehow diffuse the warmth pooling in his chest before it grows too hot and burns him. Ashton twists his fingers into Luke’s hair, and they stay that way until Luke’s knees start to feel sore from the tile and he has to pull back. 

“I’d marry you tomorrow,” Luke repeats, breathless, and this time means it seriously. “Let’s just get fucking married, Ashton.”

“That’s the idea of the proposal,” Ashton says, freeing his hand from Luke’s hair but resting it instead on Luke’s shoulder, fingertips drumming against the back of his neck. “We can’t get married tomorrow. As much as I would love to.”

“Why not?” Luke challenges. “We don’t know when the next time we’ll be able to do a proper wedding ceremony will be. This pandemic could last another year, another two. I don’t want to wait a year to be married to you. I don’t want to wait a month, Ashton.”

“You’ve really flipped on this,” Ashton says. “Luke, our parents will kill us. Our bandmates will kill us.”

“Whatever,” Luke says. Adrenaline is racing through his veins, and love for Ashton, although if he’s honest with himself all of his blood is tinged with love for Ashton anyway, has been for years. Ashton is what keeps his heart beating. When he bleeds, it’s all love. “We can have a ceremony later, when it’s safe, I just want to be married now. My husband, Ashton Irwin. Doesn’t that sound good?”

“My husband Luke,” Ashton breathes, and Luke can see the moment he succumbs to the idea. A dry smile creeps across Ashton’s face, and he drops his forehead against Luke’s. “Luke Hemmings, my husband. God. Okay. Fine. Let’s get married tomorrow.”

There’s no stopping the grin that stretches Luke’s mouth ear-to-ear, nor the way a furious stampede of cows/horses suddenly makes itself at home in his stomach. “Getting married tomorrow!” he whisper-chants. “Mikey and Cal are going to kill us!”

“Lauren and Harry will end my life,” Ashton adds, mirroring Luke’s smile. “Your mum will have my head.”

“Oh, she will,” Luke says, nodding in agreement. “But I’ll just go, hey, mum, can you not speak to my husband that way?”

“Jesus,” Ashton says hoarsely. “That sounds so fucking good.”

Luke chews on the inside of his lip. “Might keep using it, then,” he says. “If you ask nicely.”

Ashton shakes his head, with obvious difficulty. “Get up, you absolute menace, we need to eat dinner still.”

“Fine,”  Luke says. “After dinner, then.” He smirks as he pushes himself to his feet, and Ashton swallows.

“Behave,” he says sternly. 

“I’m behaving!” Luke protests. “Why can’t I try and seduce my own husband-to-be?”

“Because we are having dinner,” Ashton says, rolling his eyes and pushing his chair out to retrieve their food from where it’s warming in the oven. “You can seduce me after.”

That’s a pretty fair deal, but Luke still pouts for another moment, because he has a reputation to uphold. “Hey,” he says, settling into his chair as Ashton brings the food out. “Does this make you the housewife? I feel like you do most of the cooking and cleaning.”

“I’m pretty sure that makes you the trophy husband,” Ashton returns, taking his own seat.

Luke snickers. “I can deal with that.” There are much worse things to be than Ashton Irwin’s trophy husband. That’s already a million miles above boyfriend. And frankly, any way Luke gets to be Ashton’s husband is perfect for him.

#am i OKAY LKFJGKDFGJKJ please like.......yes......im fine...... #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #lashton #lashton fic #5sos #5sos fic #fic #my fic #i cant believe i just wrote fluff #like i JUST wrote it. in the last hour or so #sat down and wrote this #just for you spidey <3 #and the OTHER cool fun sneaky news is #i have also nearly finished the cake prompt you sent #FINALLYYYYY #i am slowly. SLOWLY. getting shit done #and i have ONE other fluff thing in the works that you will all be seeing soon HOPEFULLY #so uh. wish me luck w that #and in the meantime. i hope this is satisfactory <3 #love u lots #anonymous #ask #answered

[beansthough]

•SECRET SANTA•

To: @smogs-0

From: Beansthough:D

I hope you like it! I tried to mix my writing style with your own for this! Also I hope you like Tommy as the main pred, he’s my favorite when it’s sbi so I had to write it with him, lol.

Tw: vore, some angst, unwillingly vore, fear.

{A Holiday Treat}

The holiday season was in full swing. Tommy always found this time of year quite enjoyable. It was a time for celebration, and of course tasty holiday treats.

The Demon hybrid had recently gone off to college and gained an apartment of his own. It wasn’t his first holiday season alone, but it would be his first in his new home. Despite the excitement in the crisp air, he couldn’t help but to feel a little down.

It was of course only his Demon hybrid instincts messing with his mind. He had yet to really bond with anyone in the new area, and he had found himself having far more acquaintances than friends. He was left feeling a little empty inside.

So what better way was there to cheer him up other than some good old holiday candies?

Not wanting to leave his warm and cozy apartment, Tommy decided to order a delivery online. He had heard his fellow college attendees chatting about an amazing sweets store that only had the best Christmas candies.

A sharp toothed grin appeared on the hybrid face as he scrolled through his options. It was a mystery holiday package that caught his eye.

The description of the package said it contained three main treats and an assortment of other candies. Tommy clicked the check out button with a satisfied sigh. His sweet snacks would be here soon. In the meantime he would curl up on his couch and take a quick nap.

———————————

The doorbell rang and Tommy sprung to his feet. His nap had been quite satisfactory, but his growling stomach was stretching its limits.

He opened the door to find a box with various Christmas decorations on every surface. He bent down and gently picked up the box and brought it inside. He got a whiff of fear as the lid of the box shifted slightly.

Oh did that smell make his mouth water.

He rubbed his hands together and gently took the lid off the box. He was met with a pleasant sight.

In the box sat 3 tinies. They sat huddled together in a corner of the box. They seemed to be incorporated into different Christmas treats.

The first one that caught his eye had bright pink hair. He examined the tiny closer and found that he had peppermint crumbs and chocolate drizzled over his head. He locked eyes with the tiny and was met with a harsh glare. It was poorly masking their fear as Tommy could clearly smell it clearly.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he slowly reached into the box and gently pinched the tiny between his index and thumb. The tiny struggled and let out an aggravated shout. The two other below him made shouts of concern and even tried their best to pull him from Tommy’s hold.

His attempts were found to be useless as tommy simply pushed them away with his other hand. Tommy lifted him from the box and was careful to keep his claws from poking or scratching the wriggling tiny.

He stopped the tinies ascent in front of his face. He could not help himself any longer and found his tounge trailing over the pink haired tiny.

Tommy was delighted to taste the hints of minty chocolate. The tiny was now struggling more than ever. His shouting was muffled by his tongue.

Tommy popped the small snack in his mouth, rolling him around, and gently sucking off the added candy crumbs. He was careful to keep the tiny away from his sharp teeth.

Once Tommy was satisfied with the fact that their was no crumbs left, he guided the feisty tiny to the back of his throat. He let his instincts take over as he gently swallowed the tiny down into his crop.

He let out a satisfied sigh and returned his gaze to the remains treats. They looked horrified, and he relished in their fear.

He picked up the blonde next. It was almost uncanny how alike he looked to Tommy himself. If it wasn’t for the size difference, people might’ve thought that they were related.

Instead of the tiny struggling against him like the first, he seemed to be trying to comfort the one tiny that remained. From what Tommy could tell, the blonde seemed to be the other two’s father.

He gave and experimental lick to the small man and was met with the sweet taste of butterscotch. Tommy hummed in sadisfaction and repeated the routine with this tiny as well. When he was ready, Tommy sent him to stay with the first.

Only the brunette remained. This one was no doubt the most terrified. Tommy reached for the lanky tiny, but he didn’t even make an attempt to get away. A wave of guilt hit Tommy.

Perhaps he did go a little far. This was for a new bond after all.

Tommy slowly put both hands in the box and gently scooped up the tiny into his palms. The tiny could do nothing more than tremble. The smell of fear that was usually so intoxicating left him feeling a little sick.

“Hey, you’re alright Big Man.”

The brunette jumped at Tommy’s words. He gave a confused and frightened look.

“You’ll be perfectly safe. The others are fine as well. I’ll let you all back out in a little bit.”

The last tiny was left looking unsure and untrustworthy. Tommy slowly guided them inside his mouth. The tiny let out a frighted yelp at the movement.

Tommy stopped his advancements and softly shushed the tiny. He let out a few more gentle reassurances before the tiny allowed himself to be put in the demon’s mouth.

The tinies flavor was salted caramel and Tommy couldn’t help but let out a purr. This tiny was definitely his favorite. He finished licking off the caramel and swallowed the tiny down.

He now focused on the squirming sensation coming from his crop. He could no longer stop the purrs pouring out of his mouth. He gently placed his hand on the outside of where his crop was located and gently stroked the area.

The struggling slowed slightly and Tommy found himself reassuring that they were safe once more. He would let them out in a little bit. After a well deserved nap of course.

Tommy drifted of to sleep with his instincts repeating “mine” and “family” over and over again.

His new bond was complete.

———————————

Christmas and the holidays in general were always an enjoyable time of year.

When you have a family of tinies that you basically made adopt you, Christmas and the holidays basically became the best time of year.

Wilbur, Phil, and Techno. Those were the names of his new family.

When Tommy had first let them out of his crop he found that they were very displeased with him. They were even more displeased when they found out that Tommy had ordered them from a candy shop.

It was then that Tommy explained that he had ordered them off of a menu that was special for demon hybrids. That they were never going to be harmed even if they weren’t ordered by Tommy.

Then Tommy got scolded and learned about the morals of kidnapping tinies off the street without their consent to being made into a snack.

Due to some Christmas miracle, the family of tinies warmed up to him and decided to stay with Tommy. Phil had simply said that Tommy was still to young to be on his own. The others said Phil was just old and would adopt anyone if given the chance.

Tommy could not have been more willing to be adopted. Especially since he has bonded to them already.

Tommy would no longer be alone. He was forever grateful for his new family of holiday treats.

—————————

Tags:

@smogs-0

@mcyt-gt-events

#mcyt gt secret santa 2021 #mcyt gt #tw vore #angst #hurt/comfort #found family #it turns into a little bit of crack at the end because I can take my writing seriously #sbi g/t #mcyt g/t #giant!tommy #tiny!phil #tiny!wilbur #tiny!techno #light angst #Christmas fic #no beta we die like men

[giuliafc]

Betrayal Chapter 8: Kidnapped

<< 1 -- 2 -- 3 -- 4 -- 5 -- 6 -- 7 -- 8: Ao3 || FFN -- 9 >>

Written by: JuliaFC

Beta: Coffeebanana, lots-of-free-time, myimaginationflows, Agrestebug

Summary: Nathalie needs to be a double agent between Lila, Gabriel and Chat Noir to untangle the mystery of Marinette's kidnapping. But are we sure we can trust her? What's that email about?

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by (c) Thomas Astruc, TS1 Bouygues, Disney Channel, Zagtoon, Toei Animation. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Written for the "Snippet July" challenge of the Miraculous Fanworks Discord server @miraculousfanworks AND for LadyNoir July @ladynoirjuly Day 19 — Duality/trust. Let me know what you think!

oOoOoOoOoOo

Chat Noir: [I'm going home to talk to Nathalie. Can you continue looking for her in the meantime?]

Rena Rouge: [Will do, cn. U sure u can trust that woman?]

Chat Noir: [Right now Nathalie is my only option; I have to trust her.]

Chat Noir: [We wouldn't have known about Lila's plan if it hadn't been for her.]

Rena Rouge: [True.]

Rena Rouge: [but she could've done it to gain ur trust & stab you in the back later.]

Rena Rouge: [Be careful!]

Chat Noir: [Thumbs-up.gif]

oOoOoOoOoOo

Chat Noir sat with Nathalie as she frantically tapped on her tablet.

"There's no news about any incident involving a girl whose description fits Marinette. No car accidents, no muggings, nothing. I did find the notification that her parents have declared her disappearance to the authorities, but besides that, I can't find anything. This is very suspici—" as Nathalie was saying that, she noticed an incoming call on her mobile.

"Hello?" she said, her voice cold and professional. "Mlle. Rossi. How nice to hear from you."

Chat Noir immediately turned his head towards Nathalie, who signaled him to stay quiet with her hand and a curt look.

"I see. You certainly haven't been delivering on your side of the plan in a satisfactory way. M. Agreste won't be happy." Her tone was so curt and formal that Chat Noir could hardly recognise her, and he'd heard Nathalie talking to all kinds of people. "How dare you say anything against Adrien…" she hissed. Chat Noir gulped. He certainly didn't want to be the object of Nathalie's anger. He heard Lila's boisterous tone of voice from the phone, and knew that she was getting worked up. "There's no excuse, Mlle. Rossi. Don't involve Adrien in this. You should've taken everything into account before setting up the plan." Lila's booming voice from the phone became even louder, so much so that Nathalie had to detach her receiver from her ear. She looked at it with a queasy grimace that made Chat Noir chuckle. He'd never seen Nathalie displaying her emotions like that.

Suddenly, the woman became serious again and she moved the receiver back to her ear. "What did you say, Mlle. Rossi?" Nathalie's tone was a bit anxious and Lila's voice seemed to have regained its usual snarkiness. "Wh-where?" More snarky comments from Lila. Nathalie looked tense and Chat Noir's ears perked up. Sadly he wasn't able to make out anything that Lila said. He had to trust Nathalie.

"This is getting messy, and I don't know if M. Agreste will approve. As much as he wants to—" Lila's voice shouted something interrupting Nathalie, who glared at the receiver. "Mlle. Rossi, I'm serious. I don't think M. Agreste wanted to be involved in a case of kid—" Nathalie paled as the icon of a video chat came up on her tablet. She signaled to Chat Noir to move out of the way, which he hastily did as the icon coming up on the screen was that of his father. He moved to a part of the room from where he could see and hear, but he wouldn't be seen.

"What's going on, Nathalie? Why have you interrupted me?" came Gabriel's voice from the tablet.

Nathalie's smile was hard and her tone very harsh as she explained, "M. Agreste, I have just been given appalling news. Mlle. Rossi's plan has failed and Mlle. Dupain-Cheng hasn't lost the trust of her class."

"That's a nuisance. What has Mlle. Rossi got to say about it?" Gabriel sounded displeased, and his tone was even harsher than Nathalie's.

"I-I'm sorry M. Agreste," said Lila's voice on loudspeaker from Nathalie's phone. "But I have still managed t—"

"Yes," said Nathalie curtly, cutting her off. "Mlle. Rossi has kidnapped Mlle. Dupain-Cheng."

It took every bit of self control for Chat Noir to not gasp loudly at the news. He felt all blood draining from his face as his heart skipped a beat.

"What has she done?" shouted Gabriel. "Mlle. Rossi. I'm not interested in your petty revenge plans. Going to jail isn't part of my wishes for the upcoming year."

"Don't worry, M. Agreste," said Lila's voice, causing a shiver to run down Chat Noir's back. "I'll take care of it."

Lila hung up and both Gabriel and Nathalie scowled. "Make sure everything goes smoothly, Nathalie."

"Will do, sir." That said, Nathalie hung up and as soon as Gabriel's face came off the screen, her gaze turned to Chat Noir. "She's holding Marinette hostage on a luxury diner cruise on the Seine. One of the Bateaux Vouche (1). Be careful; someone's watching over her."

"Thank you!" Chat Noir moved closer to wrap her into a hug and as he did that, a message popped up on Nathalie's screen. The woman saw it, winced, and minimised it quickly.

Chat Noir raised an eyebrow. "What—"

"That's private, Adrien," she interrupted him.

"I thought you had no more secrets from us?" he challenged her and she noticed his skeptical look.

A lingering smirk popped up on her lips. "You will have to trust me." Her smirk widened under his scrutinising gaze. "And drop it, Adrien. Your Lady awaits rescue."

Chat Noir widened his eyes and, as if waking up from a dream, ran to the window. "It doesn't end here, Nathalie. But for now, I'll have to s-cat."

He didn't see Nathalie's smirk softening to a smile as she watched him disappear on the nearest rooftop, her gaze following him until he was out of the way. And he definitely didn’t see her open her email message.

To be continued… Day 20

Note:

Bateaux Vouche = The original name of the real diner cruise boats is "Bateaux Mouche" but I thought it was safer to change the name, just in case anyone was getting annoyed that I used their company name in my story to portray a case of attempted murder. So… it's Bateaux Vouche here. Hope you won't mind!

Author's Note

Uuuuuh… What do you think is up with Nathalie? Any ideas? :)

I hope you liked this chapter and will leave me a comment. You know that comments are my bread and butter!

Until tomorrow, bug out!

#miraculous ladynoir #miraculous love square #miraculous lb #miraculous les aventures de ladybug et chat noir #miraculous adrien #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #miraculous nathalie #nathalie sancoeur #ladynoirjuly2021 #miraculous fanworks

[diamondwind99]

Logince Week 2022

Prompt 3: Imagination

AO3 Link - Fluff, light angst, they're stressed, they go chill in the imagination :) Intended platonic

Full fic below the cut :)

Our Happy Place

Logan had been working at his desk for quite some time now. He’d been helping Thomas with the practical aspects of what would be the next video. Props, budgeting, filming times, that sort of thing. It was coming along, but it was extremely slow going. He figured it would save time making sure he’d gone through everything thoroughly the first time so he wouldn’t make any careless mistakes that he’d have to fix later. But suffice it to say, it was… tedious.

His hands hurt.

His back was stiff.

He’d finished the snacks Patton had brought him quite some time ago.

And he did not want to think about the headache from the brightness of his laptop screen he’d likely have later.

Logan looked up and felt his neck stretch painfully. The clock on his nightstand said it was just after one in the morning, well after when Logan usually went to sleep. Thomas himself was basically in bed already, Logan was just putting some last minute details together. Just a few last ones.

A knock at the door startled Logan more than he’d expected it to. But who could possibly be knocking at his door this time of night?

“Come in,” Logan called, and in swooped Roman with a sheaf of paper and a smile on his face. Roman looked quite tired, but it was quite late. But Roman’s energy outshone any tiredness in his face, the kind of triumphant expression that came after completing a project. Which probably meant that Roman finally had that script draft as well as the prop list for him.

“Logaaaaan!” Roman trilled as he walked over to Logan’s desk. “Dearest nerd, I have the things you requested. Put my very heart into them, as usual, and I think yo- I hope you’ll find them satisfactory.”

Logan rolled his eyes at Roman’s dramatics. He found it annoying but somehow endearing. He picked up the papers and began quickly flipping through the script. “Thank you Roman, I’ll take a closer look soon. Meantime, please allow me to finish a few more things. I will see you tomorrow, Roman.”

“You can’t even just read the first two or three pages?

“Roman!” Logan yelled, whirling to face Roman. “ While I understand your excitement, your persistence is wearing. I’ll read it soon, but it’s just really not a good… time.” Logan’s voice trailed off as he got a look at Roman’s face. He couldn’t quite place the expression which seemed to hold several different feelings at once. He’d clearly said something upsetting. The silence that filled the room was oppressive until Logan finally spoke up.

“Roman, I-”

“Hold it,” Roman interrupted. “While that remark did… sting, you’re clearly stressed out of your mind. I mean, look at you. So, you’re stressed, I’m stressed, that can wait till tomorrow. Up,” Roman said as he briskly walked over and shut Logan’s laptop and shoved loose papers into a random drawer. Logan was too startled by Roman’s change in demeanor to be scandalized by the disorganization.

“Where are we going?” Logan asked.

Roman grinned. “We’re going on a field trip, Teach.” Roman saw the unsure look on his face and his brilliant smile softened a bit. “Oh, come on, don’t worry about it. We won’t go far, and I’ll have us back exactly five minutes before we left.”

“Roman, you know as well as I do that’s impossible-”

“Not if we tesser,” Roman said as his grin grew wider, his eyes holding back a childlike excitement. Logan looked even more confused, so Roman decided to just show rather than tell Logan (as all writers know). Roman swept over to a bare bit of wall in the corner of Logan’s room and closed his eyes, envisioning the picture whirling around in his brain while his hands moved intricately to bring his idea to life.

Logan stood there fascinated. It had been quite a long time since he’d actually seen Roman create something. It was almost like a dance, the way Romans palms and fingers swished through the air around his wall, he could almost see the atoms in the air vibrating and bending to Roman’s will. Finally Roman’s hands stilled, and touched the wall. Roman inhaled deeply, and as he exhaled gossamer strings of silken material began to draw the most intricate, delicate thing he’d ever seen. It took him another moment to realize those gossamer strings were made of pure light.

It was another brief moment when the whole thing glowed like the stars themselves before they immediately faded and sank into the wall. In its place grew a beautiful oaken door, stained deep brown and intricately carved with depictions of the legends surrounding each of the twelve constellations. The doorknob was worn bronze with a single sapphire embedded in it.

Roman then turned to a gaping Logan, grinning like a child on Christmas morning. “Do you like it? I mean, it was quick, I didn’t really plan this at all, kind of spur of the moment-”

Logan noticed the tiny nervous waver in his voice. But he’d nearly missed it, it was so slight. “It’s… very nice Roman. I do like it.”

Roman seemed to be assured by this. He stood a bit straighter and reached for the doorknob. “Well then. Shall we tesser?” He swung the door open for Logan, allowing him to go in first. Logan was a bit nervous. After all, Roman was Creativity. His domain was the unpredictable, the fantastical, the chaotic… everything that made Logan extremely uncomfortable. His previous adventures that Roman had previously taken him on had highly discouraged him from further escapades. In truth, Logan had no idea how he’d allowed himself to get swept into this mess, letting Roman take him to realms unknown in the Imagination. But if he backed out now… it had been quite some time since he’d seen Roman smile this brightly. Definitely not since the previous April. Before that he could not recall. Roman suddenly put a hand on his shoulder. “Logan… you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he said hesitantly, his voice softer.

Perhaps that’s what made him enter the Imagination’s unknown once more.

“Yes, Roman. It’s alright,” Logan reassured him. Logan took a deep breath, shut his eyes, and stepped through the door to wherever Roman was sending them.

He heard nothing at first. The air was clear and crisp, yet warm like a summer’s evening. A faint breeze ruffled his hair playfully. He could hear crickets chirping lazily as Roman walked up behind him.

“You can open your eyes, Logan. There’s nothing crazy here this time, prince’s honor,” Roman said as he walked up next to him, grass crumpling under his feet. “Oh and you might want to sit down. I have a blanket if you don’t want to sit on the grass.”

Logan opened his eyes and gasped.

Wherever he was, it was not of Earth. He was standing on a meadow of grass that was a deep magenta that sparkled and shimmered with gold. There were wildflowers whose petals looked like diamonds, swaying gently on stems of deepest violet. The trees surrounding the meadow reached toward the heavens, taller than buildings, russet brown branches bearing leaves that sparkled in infinite shades of blue and purple and pink. His gaze moved from the trees to the sky, and oh the sky.

Logan slowly lowered himself down to sit on the grass as his eyes devoured the unbelievable sight before him. It was indescribable beauty that he’d never seen, could never see, the sort of thing only possible in such a vivid imagination. The midnight blue sky, sparkling nebulas in the brightest greens and the most vivid shades of blues and yellows and pinks and all sorts of colors that he never imagined existed. The nebulas danced with passing galaxies that sparkled like glittering gems. The moon shone like a pearl, though rather than white it shimmered a delicate light pink, and was quite a bit larger as it silhouetted the mountains. A comet breezed through this colorful expanse and went behind the deep blue shadows of the distant peaks.

Logan finally tore his eyes away from it to face Roman, who was watching Logan take all of this in with a soft smile on his face.

“Roman, this is incredible,” said Logan, his voice filled with wonder. “And you said this was a ‘spur of the moment idea’? Roman, I refuse to believe all of this,” Logan gestured at the shimmering expanse, “was a quick design. It’s just not possible.”

“Well, you’re half right,” Roman said, shrugging. “I have had this place for quite a while, really. I’ve been working on random things here when I’ve had free time. Sometimes I’ll experiment here with something I… don’t want in the main part of my kingdom for whatever reason. Or… if I just want to be alone. I’ll y’know, come here,” Roman said, his voice trailing off quietly. Logan wondered why Roman seemed so shy as he spoke of this place.

“If things with, uh, with everyone… gets to be a bit much. I’ll come here and just kinda… exist. It’s a nice, calm place to just be and do or feel whatever while I’m not exactly feeling too princely right then, y’know? It’s an escape from all that,” Roman said, his voice growing slightly stronger and more sure. “Sometimes it’s just a day when I don’t feel like doing the whole heroic, shiny, perfect prince thing, so I come here for a break. I just get to exist here. No rules or expectations. No quests to complete or dragons to vanquish. Just me,” Roman sighed. It’s my happy place I guess.”

Logan found himself a bit confused. If this was Roman’s oasis, his escape, why had he brought in an outsider, especially Logan? He asked Roman this, and Roman turned towards Logan and gave him an answer he didn’t expect.

“Because I’ve seen what’s going on. Contrary to popular belief, I’m not stupid,” Roman scoffed. “Beyond my own issues with… recent events, I saw you be affected by the absolute dumpster fire of a situation we’re in. You’re not being listened to, not by Janus, not by Patton, not by Thomas. It takes a Remus-level crisis for your view to be even considered. You’re far from a last resort Logan, you’re a core part of Thomas and we’d be quite frankly doomed without you,” Roman said, leaning back on one hand while the other gestured vaguely.

Logan felt relief flow through him as Roman spoke. Logan was needed, Logan was important after all, he was getting confirmation of that right to his face, evidence beyond reasonable doubt.

“I appreciate that more than you possibly know Roman. It would appear that you do understand, and you are certainly not stupid in any way regardless of whatever may have made you think otherwise. But… you still have not answered my question. This place is yours. It’s your escape, your “happy place”, as you said. Why have you brought me somewhere so important to you?” Logan asked.

Roman smiled. “But you’ve just said it, Logan. Because you understand,” Roman said, his hands again gesturing emphatically. Now that Logan noticed it, Roman talked with his hands a lot. He was an actor, it made sense. Roman… he’s an actor. Oh, no.

“You’re right, nerd. This is my happy place. I do come here to escape. Get away from the expectations, the acting, the pressure, the being always torn between decisions, between sides, between my friends, and always being in the wrong no matter what I do.” Roman’s voice broke almost imperceptibly as he told Logan about what the past months had done to him. “I’m no longer sure that what I do is right. I don’t know if Patton still approves of me. Even when I rely completely on him, I still end up on the bad side. I don’t know if Thomas still wants or needs my input anymore. And who knows, maybe it is for the best if I step aside. If Remus and I are so alike it shouldn’t be all that different, right? Or who knows,” Roman laughed sharply like a dog’s bark, “maybe Remus will be better for him. For the love of Disney, Thomas is an adult, he deserves a more mature Creativity and to let his content mature accordingly.”

Roman sighed and leaned back so he was looking up at the endlessly sparkling sky above. A comet streaked across the sky, leaving a chiffon trail of stardust in its wake. “Stars burn brightly for a long time, but they fade eventually. Maybe that’s my path. If it is, it’s… it’s been a good run.” Roman’s voice was thick with held back tears.

Logan sat quietly next to Roman as he finally got to say what was clearly weighing on his mind for quite a while. How long had he been holding onto this? How many months, perhaps years?

“Roman, you’re right things have changed. But you do something Remus can’t, that none of us can. Look at this,” Logan said, lying down next to Roman as he waved his hands towards the stunning scenery around them. “Remus is more mature, but he is also wild, unfiltered, and intrusive. He is Creativity, and he may have good suggestions on rare occasions, but that’s not the kind of Creativity Thomas dabbles in. Your kind of creative whimsy and vivid imagination, your mindset of incredible possibility in a limitless world, that spirit of magic and adventure, that’s what Thomas is. That’s what Thomas needs. That’s you, Roman.”

Roman was silent for a few moments before he turned to Logan, his eyes shining slightly, a smile stretching his face.

“See, Lo? You do understand. We understand each other. So I thought I’d bring you here, and share this place with you. It’s ours. That door’s for you. Come whenever you like, if you need some space to breathe.”

Logan smiled. “Thank you, Roman. You were right. I do like this place quite a lot, actually. You did a great job. It’s beautiful.”

Roman suddenly grinned rather maniacally at Logan and waved his hand at the sky. “Meteor shower tonight, Lo. Whoever counts more gets the last jar of crofters.”

“Deal.”

#sanders sides #logince week 2022 #logince #platonic logince #logan sanders #roman sanders #i love these boys so much

[jemmahazelnut]

Two broken hearts with matching sides - Chapter 3

Summary: Freed and Laxus were inseparable friends, they always spent their days together ever since they were children, so much so that they were considered indivisible. That’s why everyone was surprised when during the last year of high school, the two boys no longer spoke a word from one day to the next. That’s why everyone was surprised when Freed left for Germany and Laxus knew nothing about it. After three years the two will be forced to see each other again, and for a period to live under the same roof. [Freed/Laxus]

Link: AO3

Here you can find Chapter One, Chapter Two.

An intolerable situation

That had been a shit day, ever since he got out of bed. It had all started since he met Freed in the kitchen. Usually he never met the boy, it seemed that they both calculated their schedules in order to see each other as little as possible. But that morning Laxus had woken up late, and because of that he had had to have breakfast with Freed. It had only been three minutes, but it was more than enough to piss him off.

After that he had arrived late for class, and by mid-morning he had received an email from the office telling him that a wrong exam had been recorded. So, he had to waste half an hour of his time arguing with the old fool from the Student Administration Office, who didn't know how to use a computer.

Fortunately, there was a positive side, in the canteen he had crossed paths with Rufus and that boy had clearly flirted with him. Well, Rufus was a nice guy. Maybe he reminded him a little of Freed, but the biggest difference was that Rufus wasn't an asshole. They hadn’t dated yet, but he was convinced it wouldn't take long. That blond was obviously smitten with him.

And Laxus couldn't wait to date with him, maybe showing it in front of Freed, and showing him what he had lost. And since Freed and Rufus never got along in high school, it would’ve been even more fun. Good heavens, he felt like a teenager girl acting like that. Not that Freed cared about him.

In any case, the day wasn't over yet. No, he had come home and met Freed on the landing in front of the elevator. He too had just entered and the two were in front of the elevator. They didn't even say hello, they stared at each other for a moment and then looked away. Laxus pressed the button to call the elevator. If anyone left, Freed would. He wasn't going to go up the stairs just to avoid the asshole.

He didn't even have to argue anyway, Freed greeted him coldly and then took the stairs without even waiting for an answer from him. Laxus growled softly. Fuck. Rightly the asshole ran away, it was the only thing he could do in his life. The elevator arrived and Laxus got inside, more and more nervous. He couldn't wait for Freed to find another apartment and leave.

Halfway up the climb the lift stopped.

Fuck, as if it isn't already enough, he thought irritably. He pressed the button on his floor again, but nothing, the lift wouldn’t start at all. Irritated, he pressed the alarm, just hoping it wasn't Freed who heard him, but most likely the boy was still on the stairs. Fuck, that day was getting worse and worse.

Fortunately, after a few seconds the elevator started up again and Laxus went out shortly after to his own floor. He’d never take that damn thing again. Freed was standing in front of the open door to the apartment. The two still said nothing and entered the apartment.

“Hello guys!” exclaimed Bickslow sitting on the sofa.

“Hi,” Freed said and then went straight to his room and locked himself inside. Bickslow sighed heavily and turned to him, but Laxus only grunted a greeting. He was still mad at them for setting him up in an apartment with Freed. He knew they had done it with good intentions, but why the hell hadn't they at least talked about it with him before?

Maybe because you refused to do it, said a little voice in his head but he chased it away.

“Do you want to do a movie night tonight?” Bickslow asked “Evergreen makes popcorn, and we choose the movie.”

“I choose the film,” the girl retorted from the kitchen. Laxus hesitated, fearing that Freed was there too. He didn't really want to sit on the same couch with the boy. Bickslow seemed to read his mind because after a while he spoke.

“Freed has to study”.

“Ok then,” Laxus replied, ignoring Bickslow's disappointed expression. At least he had stopped bothering him to be with Freed. “But I choose the film,” he declared.

“Hey, I'm the one making the popcorn here, so I'm going to pick the movie,” Evergreen complained as she appeared at the living room door.

“Since most of the DVDs are mine, I choose,” Laxus retorted and looked over the pile of DVDs, but he quickly noticed that one was missing. “Where is ‘It’?” he asked.

“Oh, Freed and I watched it last night,” Bickslow said. “Maybe we had put it in the drawer,” he said quietly. Laxus opened the drawer slightly nervous.

“It's not there,” he blurted out. He didn't know why, but the idea of Freed touching his things bothered him. Maybe they had once exchanged everything without any problem, but those times were over, and the fault was the asshole. Irritated and without thinking he went to Freed's room, ignoring Bickslow who was hurrying to get up from the sofa saying that maybe he had taken it.

He knew it didn't make sense to get mad for something like that, but he wanted to vent all the frustration he'd built up throughout the day. Besides, any excuse would’ve been a good one to blame Freed.

Laxus knocked violently on the door of the roommate's room three times, then entered without waiting for an answer. Freed was changing his clothes and was wearing only boxers. Laxus paused for just a moment to look at his naked, muscular torso, and for a moment a flash of the past occurred to him.

“What the fuck, are you able to knock before you enter?” Freed growled.

“I knocked,” Laxus retorted.

“Very useless since you walked in before waiting for an answer,” Freed snapped.

“Maybe if you didn't take my things, I wouldn't have to go in like that,” Laxus said roughly.

“What the hell are you talking about,” Freed snapped grabbing his pants.

“It”.

“What?” Freed asked confused.

“It, the movie,” Laxus snapped annoyed and walked into the room approaching Freed's desk. The boy still had a lot of books, and judging by the bookmarks he was still reading two at the same time. He looked at the computer and noticed that the screen was frozen on a Word document full of writing and curious he read a few lines. Did Freed write?

“Get out of here” Freed snapped going in front of him and closing the computer with a dry gesture. The fact that he had only been wearing the pants in the meantime still distracted Laxus a bit. He didn't know if he was more inclined to slam him against the wall to kiss him or to beat him. In any case, it would’ve been satisfactory. “And maybe learn a little education towards your roommates.”

Laxus grinned. “But you’re a great roommate using other people's things,” he commented harshly.

“I thought it was Bicks...”.

“Really?” Laxus interrupted. “Because we both know that's not true. Or do I have to remind you how many times we saw it years ago?” he growled. It was enough to think about how different things were years ago to make him feel a strong melancholy, but he covered it with anger not to show it.

“It’s not in my room anyway,” Freed snapped, raising his tone. “Probably Bickslow has it. Now get out of here,” he ordered dryly. Laxus felt the nervousness rise even more. Why was he thinking about the past, and Freed hadn't even blinked at the memory? Because obviously the asshole never gave a shit about him.

“Don't use my stuff anymore,” he growled as he left the room.

“And you learn to control yourself, three years and you've only gotten worse,” Freed snapped and then slam the door and shut himself inside. Laxus was tempted to open it only to punch him, and blame him for how much Freed had gotten worse. He didn't just do it because Bickslow put a hand on his shoulder.

“I found the DVD. I had it”.

“Good,” Laxus grunted irritably. Soon after he went back to his room.

***

It all seemed normal. Laxus hadn't talked about it, he hadn't talked about it and to tell the truth there hadn't even been embarrassment. Freed didn’t know how to behave, he felt high every time the blonde turned to look at him, and every now and then it seemed to him that Laxus was staring at him more than he should. Maybe he had forgotten the kiss because of alcohol. Or maybe he didn't know how to behave.

But Freed didn't want to talk about it, if Laxus didn't remember and if it was just a drunk impulse, he didn't want to ruin their friendship. Freed turned to the TV. They were at the home of Makarov, Laxus' grandfather. Apparently, the old man had left them alone and the two were deciding what movie to see. He roused himself from his thoughts and forced himself to behave normally as usual.

“Tonight let's watch ‘It’” he decided taking the DVD. Laxus snorted loudly.

“We saw it last time, let's watch ‘Matrix’,” he retorted.

“You're just scared” Freed teased with a smirk but Laxus pushed him aside and took the science fiction DVD. That gesture reassured Freed, if Laxus had no problem touching him, it was just fine. It really all seemed as usual. Maybe the friend really didn't remember anything. Better this way, it would’ve been just a memory of Freed and that was enough.

“I'm not afraid,” Laxus snapped. “But we already saw it last time, it gets boring to see it again. We'll watch ‘Matrix’,” he decided.

“We've already seen that too,” Freed pointed out.

“So?” Laxus asked. Freed pulled the DVD from his hands and the blonde tried to get it back, but Freed stepped back and put it behind his back. Laxus advanced towards him but the boy ran away behind the sofa. “We both know I'll win,” the blond said.

“I don't think so, and then you decided last time,” Freed reminded him. Laxus apparently didn't care much. He walked over to Freed and pinned him against the back of the sofa, reached behind Freed's back to grab the DVD but he held it tight.

“Let go,” the blond told him.

“Absolutely not”.

“You're unbearable,” Laxus growled. Then he grinned dangerously and Freed arched an eyebrow. Against his every surprise, Laxus reached out to his hip and began to move his fingers. Freed immediately began to wriggle but to no avail and laughed at the tickle.

“Stop it, come on, stop it,” he pleaded with laughter. Laxus grinned and didn't listen to him, continuing to move his fingers sadistically. Freed climbed back onto the sofa but Laxus grabbed him by the waist to prevent him from escaping. The DVDs fell from Freed's hands and fell to the ground, but Laxus now wanted his revenge. Freed rolled over on the sofa and Laxus threw himself on top of him, straddled his stomach and lifted his shirt and continued to tickle him.

“Enough,” Freed said with tears in his eyes.

“So, let's watch ‘Matrix’?”

“Okay, but stop the fuck,” Freed said. Satisfied Laxus stopped his fingers and Freed panting looked over him. Oh fuck. Why the hell were they so close. Why had Laxus sat on him? Freed felt his face flush and noticed how Laxus' cheeks were warming too.

Soon after, the blond came down to him, took the DVD and put it in the DVD player. He sat back down next to Freed, and the boy didn't know what to do. He stared at the TV screen trying not to focus on his friend, at least until Laxus asked him if he wanted a beer.

“Beer?” Freed asked, turning surprised to his friend. Laxus shrugged.

“My grandfather isn't there. We can have fun and get drunk. It will be fun,” he said.

“Oh,” Freed said and then nodded. “Okay,” he said. Laxus went into the kitchen and Freed paused the movie, waiting for his friend to return. When Laxus returned, however, he didn't have a beer in his hand, but a bottle of vodka. He grinned and opened it.

“Will Makarov not notice?” Freed asked.

“With everything he drinks he certainly won't,” Laxus replied as he sat down on the sofa and opened it. Immediately afterwards he took a long drink and then passed it to Freed. He himself took it and drank, then grimaced.

Shortly after, the two decided to mix it with something else, and took what they found from the fridge. A few Schweppes and some small talk and during the film they drank more and more alcohol. They didn't finish the bottle, because they found themselves laughing at some bullshit before. Freed laughed at scenes in the film and Laxus followed him, although he might not understand why.

“Drinking is fun,” Freed said turning to Laxus, and the blonde nodded.

“Of course it is,” he laughed and then put his arm around Freed's shoulders. He felt himself blush and like the last time he drank, he felt agitated by that closeness. He couldn't handle it, not drunk. Even though he wasn't as drunk as the last time, but he was still tipsy and that lowered his defenses.

He leaned on his friend's shoulder and looked up, and felt his heart beat even more strongly when he saw that Laxus was watching him intently. They were silent for a couple of seconds before the blond lowered his head. Freed lifted his chin and their lips joined.

For Freed it was as if his body burned. They were kissing. A second time. And it was Laxus who had done it. He was drunk, true, but he had taken the first step. Freed clung to his shirt and Laxus tilted his head, parting his lips and forcing Freed to do the same.

They pulled apart to catch their breath and Laxus stretched out on the sofa, carrying Freed on top of him, who did nothing to rebel.

“We're drunk,” Freed murmured, without separating from him, but rather, positioning himself comfortably on his friend.

“It's fun to get drunk,” Laxus replied as he ran a hand through Freed's hair. Freed blushed but could only agree. If that became their new drunken pastime, then he was looking forward to drinking again.

Meanwhile, he bent over his friend again and joined their lips.

***

Two beers. He had only drunk two beers. It wasn't enough to make him drunk and he was sure Laxus wasn't drunk either. He had drunk less than him and was able to handle alcohol better. Not that Freed cared. As long as he was lying on his friend's bed with Laxus astride him, he wasn't interested in anything else.

Laxus's lips ran down his jaw until they reached his neck and Freed cocked his head to the side, giving him free access. When he heard his friend begin to suck and bite, he moaned loudly.

“Fuck,” he whispered. God, he wanted to let go and make him do whatever he wanted. He felt Laxus's hands go up under his shirt and Freed let him do it, while trembling with excitement. This time it wasn't the alcohol that stunned him, but Laxus's care, his hands, his mouth and... oh god. Laxus was tough.

Freed's eyes widened and looked down. He was really tough. Not that the situation was different for him. He felt his cheeks inflame and looked up, meeting his friend's. He too was red in the face and was panting slightly, looking intently at him. His hips pushed forward and Freed couldn't hold back another groan.

Shit.

He clung to Laxus's neck and began kissing him intensely again, while they rubbed each other to get both a little relief. Freed dared to pull up Laxus's shirt, running a hand over his bare back and was happily surprised not to feel any opposition.

In fact, Laxus was enjoying himself.

“Shit Freed,” Laxus moaned as he continued to push against him. That friction was driving him crazy, and Freed was afraid he’d come in his pants at any moment. Laxus, however, didn’t stop. “Freed... I can't take it anymore,” Laxus blew on his face.

“Me neither,” Freed admitted.

The two boys stopped, both panting and both with a problem in their pants. For a moment they were both undecided on what to do. Freed didn't want him to end up there. He wanted to continue, make out with Laxus and maybe do something more. And he thought Laxus wanted it too, since he wasn't moving from his position.

“I... I’ve tissues,” Freed stammered. Laxus looked at him for a moment confused and Freed took courage and reached out to reach his friend's belt. Cheeks ablaze he looked up, and Laxus gasped even more. “Can I?” Freed asked uncertainly.

“Oh god, yes,” Laxus replied quickly. Freed, satisfied and excited by the answer, took off his belt and opened his friend's pants. He swallowed nervously as he reached under his boxers and with the other hand took the packet of tissues on the bedside table, dropping the lamp and some CDs on the floor. But Laxus didn't seem to care.

The blond followed his example and the two gave each other pleasure on the bed, and then stayed there with their pants open and panting breaths.

At least until they heard that Makarov had returned. At that point they got up and fixed everything, throwing away the dirty tissues, and in a few seconds being fully sober and friends again. And again, neither of them dared to talk about it.

***

Final notes: Probably the DVDs will seem part of the Middle Ages or something like that, but consider that in Italy up to five/six years ago Netflix hadn’t yet arrived, so if this story is set between 2016 and 2018 it’s perfectly plausible, because it was not still so popular.

That said, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, even if Freed and Laxus still can't stand each other. Thanks to those who comment, it really means a lot to me.

#fraxus #freed justine #laxus dreyar #freed x laxus #fanfiction

[nomadmilk]

Why the God Isn’t Bored on Midgard - Loki x F!Reader Drabble - 7

Summary: With Ragnarok decimating Asgard, Thor and Loki and their people return to Earth searching for refuge. Everyone else has seemed to settle, except for Loki - the God of Mischief and Chaos - who isn’t willing to live the domesticated Midgard life, and getting utterly bored out of his mind... Until he discovered you.

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Rated M/18+. The return of the jerk ex. Mentions of sex, and sex things.

Author’s Note: I’m stuck inside reading, playing Animal Crossing, and writing this :) Let me know what you think, and enjoy <3 Hoping to get more parts up soon!

Here are the other parts to the series: Part 1     Part 2 Part 3     Part 4 Part 5     Part 6 Part 7     Part 8 (First Half)     Part 8.5 (Second Half) Part 9

It seemed like you hadn’t come to terms as to what happened at Stark’s party. Loki assumed you were too stubborn and shy to actually say anything, and resorted to your usual plan in being distracted; working.

You did the tasks; helping women with recommending lingerie, funny gifts that might actually get the ball rolling for couples, and even did the boring stuff like keeping count of stock and if there was anything that needed to be delivered. You were even able to talk and gossip with your new colleagues. Over folding and hanging pieces and products, you talked briefly about past work employers, a little about family, and little specs of each other’s lives. You admit, you don’t say much, probably because you’re still the new kid in the store, but you listen intently as you and a colleague stack some new boxed lube on a shelf.

“So, I actually tried this with my boyfriend.” She says, inspecting the box before placing it on the row you had made. “And, oh my god, it does wonders. You have no idea how big he is.”

Your eyebrows raise as you nod along. It wasn’t what you were expecting on hearing. Although, it didn’t make you startled in any way; you had just been dealing with a guy who wanted to know what gag was best with a unicorn outfit.

“I mean, they say size doesn’t matter – like, yeah, I totally agree. “ She continues. “But it’s like they took the Karma Sutra, and somehow made it a thousand times better… I mean, technically they’re, like, thousands of years old, so they must have had the reading and practice-”

“Or they were really bored.” You chime, nervous about the jokey input. The colleague chuckles.

The shift wasn’t too bad at all-

“Wait.” You say, stopping your hands and turning to her. “You-… Asgardian?”

“Yeah, my boyfriend’s Asgardian.”

“And you said he-“

“Yes. They all have big dicks.”

-----

“Uh. Who the hell are you?”

Loki has had his fair share of ugly welcomes, and he also had his fair share of countering them. The temptation to do so was high, but Loki moves the conversation along. “Can I help you?”

The Prince stares t the stranger, who is in the meantime, blinking at his stature. It seemed like he wasn’t expecting Loki at all to answer the door, so Loki had to assume he was looking for someone else.

He prompts him again. “Are you looking for someone in particular?”

“Yeah, uh, Y/N?” The man blunders. “Does she still live here?”

“I’m sorry, but she’s not here at the moment.” Loki answers, assessing the man’s language. “Can I pass on a message?”

The man completely ignores the offer. “She said there’s a box of my stuff left over. Can I come in?”

Hesitant in a reply and beginning to glare, Loki wasn’t comfortable with his presence at all. Here he was in the apartment, head buried in books and student papers, until this guy comes along and bombards the serenity of it.

Over a box of stuff.

You never said there was going to be a visitor today. To be honest, you hadn’t spoken to Loki since Tony Stark’s party. He smirks to himself; with your job occupying all of your time, you must be pent up more than ever.

“Listen, I’ll just grab it and go, is that alright?” The man says, hurriedly this time.

Loki opens the door wider, and the man immediately steps into the flat. As he closed the door, he turns around to see the man in awe of the room. “When’d she renovate this place?”

“Since I moved in.” Loki proceeds to your room to pick up said box, passing the man by. “You said-“

He grabs Loki by the arm. Loki stills. For a second, the god almost relinquishes a blade into hi hand, but he stops himself. If this guy ended up in the news as  murder victim, Fury would be breathing down his neck constantly. And he’d have to wish his little bit of freedom and sanctuary gone.

Loki sighs; it was a reflex. He didn’t know why he needed a weapon to maim a human when he can actually just use his strength or cunning to actually do more so. But the extra threat made it guarantee that the man didn’t retaliate.

Not that the guy stood a chance.

On the other hand, Loki didn’t know why he felt a little agitated by this stranger.

“Who are you?” His grip was not loosening. “Are you sleeping with her?”

“I’m just someone who lives with her.” Loki says, the reply is satisfactory enough for Loki’s arm to be returned. His jaw clenches; this guy was too curious. “You never introduced yourself either.”

“Just someone concerned about her well-being.” He squares Loki, not reaching the same height, though. “Wait a minute… Your voice… She was with you…”

Loki surveys him, the man’s expression changing. What was he talking about? Was he a spy? A stalker? It was difficult to read him because Loki had little to work on. All he could pinpoint was that anything related to you, or just you, were definitely his buttons to push. You’ve never mentioned this man at any point in your interactions. The only man Loki had heard, who he had never met, who you barely noted upon was-

Then it struck him; it was if you were here to slap him. Again.

So, this was the so-called Ex? The guy phoning you at Stark’s party.

“You were with her that night.” The Ex resumes. It seems like he’s making a few revelations in his head as well. “What were you doing with her?”

It was like spite and pride had invited themselves to spread the smile onto Loki’s face. And before he could get a word in play, you had entered the apartment.

You promptly recognise The Ex in your home, and Loki steps back as your face crumples in confusion and ferocity. And he knew the next few minutes was going to be better than what he had originally planned.

You weren’t hiding your disbelief of your Ex just barging into your place, and you unleashed your rage by interrogating on why he was here in the first place. Although, The Ex, battling against you, stood no match against you.

As the scene plays out, it reminds him of when he saw you in the apartment for the first time… Your anger was volatile when it was pushed, and maybe that’s why Loki has never tested it, even though the allurement to mess with you some more was attractive.

Your eyes are fierce, and your cheeks have that glowering complexion that made Loki freeze in an unnatural way.

“Get out.” You demand, pointing to the open door.

“You’re not serious?” The Ex fumes. “And really? Him? Who the hell is he?”

“What? He’s just-“

“Oh! You’re really oblivious, y’know! You don’t even recognise it! You never fucking do!” The Ex stomps towards the exit.

“You never noticed anything I did!” You yell some more. “And I finally fucking realise that!”

The door slams shut.

Loki lets you breathe for a minute. You slip off your heels, easily coming off due to your stockings. You remove your jacket, and hang your handbag along with it.

You lock eyes with him, and for some reason Loki is left breathless by the sight of you; as you take off the band that made your ponytail, your hair beautifully flows and frames your face. Your uniform was an ill-fitting polo shirt and skirt, but it accompanied your body charmingly.

However, whilst Loki was staring at you, awaiting a word or for you to just walk by, you were looking at him back.

Although, when he was checking where your irises were wondering, they seemed to be… They seemed to be looking low… It looks like you were looking low at his…

“Sorry you had to see that.” You utter suddenly, eyes darting away. Your cheeks fade from the glower in replacement of a pink hue. You exhale. “This day has been exhausting. So, uh, I’ll be relieving myself to my bed.”

Loki frowns in amusement; you blush even harder.

“To sleep!” You add quickly. “I’m going to relieve myself by sleeping, is what I meant.”

You pace pass him, not knowing why you felt the need to hide your face.

Loki puts his hands in his pockets. “Enjoy yourself.”

-----

The pillows comfort your head as you lay. Your room was starting to dim with violet and orange as the sun outside your window was lowering from the sky. You roll over, glancing at where the rays hit your chest of drawers. It was like the universe was being perverse with its humour because the sunset shone directly as to where you hid your sex toys. You get flashbacks of work, and the personal conversations that your colleagues spilled you with, and all the dildos you displayed, and all the vibrators you pressed buttons on to demonstrate their strengths.

Cuddling a pillow, you thought about Loki and pondered about what he was doing; he seems pretty calm, as per usual, and probably busy with some work from his students at the university. Shutting your eyes, he comes to life in your mind. Your memory makes the room vivid as it remembers the walls of hardcover novels and encyclopaedias, and his deep brown varnished desk in the middle of it all. He sits behind it, his low-lidded eyes concentrating on a page in front of him. You internally whine; you can’t see his eyes properly but they’re green and glinting. Watching his hands, you see him write; they’re large, agile and slender. His fingers touch his face in contemplation, and you see him take a small bite of his bottom lip…

A pool of wetness began dripping from your folds as your minds lets you relive the touch of his hands on your body, and his lips against yours. You can smell a scent; a citrus and oak fragrance that familiarised the God of Mischief to you…

God, you were horny, and the added detail that the colleague gave you, was making your body shift in need of alleviation.

Nothing was going to relieve you like Loki did. It was infuriating as to how good he could make you feel. Since then, no dildo, no toy had satisfied you the way he did. Even he put your own hands to shame; they knew how to do it, but Loki seemed to be more attentive, and intimate, and clever…

With the time you had been taking to evade and distance yourself from him, the more you understood that your body wanted him, and to accept that fact was getting easier and easier.

#Loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki (marvel) #loki odinson #loki x reader #loki x you #roommates #JerkyExSauce #Work life #🐄🗂TheNomaArchives

[ladylillianrose]

Extraordinarily Star-Crossed a Max Richman/Zoey Clarke Fanfiction

A/N: A big thank you to all of you who are reading, commenting, and enjoying this story! You guys are what drive us to continue to write! @clarkemanotp​ and I do appreciate you all!

Florence, Italy 1485 Chapter 3

Florence, Italy 1485 Chapter 2

Florence, Italy 1485 Chapter 1

Greece 382 B.C.E. Chapter 6

Greece 382 B.C.E. Chapter 5

Greece 382 B.C.E. Chapter 4

Greece 382 B.C.E. Chapter 3

Greece 382 B.C.E. Chapter 2

Greece 382 B.C.E. Chapter 1

4 months later

Elena smiled as she walked past the marketplace with Magdalena at her side. She paused as she heard the soft sounds of a lyre being played, the melody unknown to her but captivating nonetheless. She stood there listening as she memorized the tune, before turning to Magdalena. "What an interesting song,  I've not heard it's like before."

Magdalena looked puzzled, "Song, m' lady?"

"Yes, the one just being played on a lyre from somewhere nearby. The tune was," she hummed the notes, "like that."

"M'lady there was no music playing, and that is the first time I've heard that tune," Magdalena explained, looking concerned.

Elena was confused,  "You mean you didn't hear a lyre playing?"

Magdalena shook her head. Elena felt light-headed, reaching out for her nurse's hand she clutched it as the world spun slightly before her eyes. 

"Perhaps you've been out in the sun too long. Let us make our way to Master Lucian's so you may rest," Magdalena urged.

As the world stopped spinning, Elena agreed, unsure of what had happened. What was it she had heard, and why had she suddenly felt ill?

She allowed her nurse to guide her the rest of the way, her mind occupied with thoughts of a song only she could hear.

Lucian heard them arrive and raced down the stairs to greet his love. Magdalena had seated Elena down and poured her a glass of wine.

Lucian dropped a kiss in greeting on her head, "Are you alright my love?"

Elena smiled at him, "I'm fine. Just a little tired." She shook her head discreetly at Magdalena, asking her not to mention the song.

Magdalena nodded and moved away to give the couple space.

"If you are tired, you shouldn't have exhausted yourself by coming. You could have come another day," Lucian said worriedly taking her hands in his.

She smiled fondly at him, "And miss my time with you? Never."

Lucian kissed her hands, "I ache when we are apart my dearest, but if you are unwell…."

Elena placed a finger on his lips to silence him.

"If it will cease your worries, I will go upstairs and lie down for a spell."

Lucian nodded, rising from the table and offering her his hand.

Elena stood, grasping his hand as he led her upstairs to his bedroom. Though he had come to think of it as theirs since he first brought her to it.

She lay down smiling at him, "I love you," she said as he placed a soft kiss on her lips.

"And I, you," he replied, leaving her to rest as he returned to his studio. 

"So what really happened?" Nunzio asked Magdalena, once both their charges were occupied.

"I'm uncertain. She said she heard a melody being played on a lyre, but there was no one nearby," Magdalena frowned.

"Do you think that perhaps she is starting…"

"It is a possibility that has crossed my mind," she replied.

"Would such a thing make her dizzy though?" Nunzio mused out loud.

"I believe the dizziness to be another situation entirely," Magdalena explained.

"You mean?"

She nodded, "I believe so."

Nunzio placed his head on the table and groaned, "Lord, what fools these mortals be."

Magdalena frowned at him, "Fools they maybe, but it is your job to help them. Do you not recall?"

Nunzio nodded his head wearily, "I remember, I will do what I can." He waved his hand in the direction of the bedroom and muttered a few words.

"She should dream now of him, not as he is, but how he was."

Magdalena nodded her approval and sighed, pouring them both some wine while they waited.

"Do you intend to tell her?" Nunzio asked.

She shook her head, "She is a smart young woman, it won't be long until she discovers it herself."

Elena smiled in her sleep as she saw the man she loved in her dreams. She would know that smile anywhere, though strangely enough he was garbed in unusual attire, something resembling broadcloth belted at the waist. Glancing down at herself she saw that her attire was similar to his, pinned at the shoulders, soft and flowing, allowing for much more movement than what she normally wore.

"Zoie, my love," Maximos smiled at her, placing a kiss on her forehead. "Just think, in a few short months we shall be wed."

"I wish it were tomorrow," she found herself saying. "I long to be your wife, Maximos," she leaned up to kiss him, savoring the feel of his soft lips.

Elena frowned at the words coming from her mouth, why was he calling her Zoie? And why was she calling him Maximos? What a strange dream this was.

Maximos groaned, "Believe me, my love, I long for that too. But your mother is planning quite the ceremony. "

She sighed, "I know. Must you remind me of how long we have to wait?"

He tilted her chin up to face him, "I would wait until the end of time for you, my dearest. You hold my heart, and no amount of time or distance will change that."

Elena awoke from her nap, finding her cheeks wet from tears. She had no idea what that dream meant, it seemed familiar in a way that she could not quite put her finger on.

Rising from their bed, she headed to the studio where she found Lucian sketching new ideas on vellum.

She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around him, grinning as he stopped his work to return her embrace.

"Did you sleep well, my love?" Lucian asked as he shifted for Elena to sit on his lap.

Elena nodded, "I had a strange dream where we were in some old clothing discussing our future. You called me by a different name, as I did you."

Lucian smiled, "Perhaps it is a sign that this is not the first time we have met."

Elena placed her finger on his lips, "Must you be so blasphemous, dearest?"

He grinned kissing the finger placed on his lips. "Would you have me any other way?"

An impish look crossed Elena's face, "Oh, I would have you many ways."

Lucian's groaned as he placed his head against her chest. "You mustn't tease me so when you are unwell."

"I feel much more  invigorated after my nap," she ran her fingers through his hair, causing him to shiver.

"Though perhaps a return to bed is just what I need," she stood walking towards the door. She turned and held out her hand to him, "Offer a lady an escort?"

Lucian was out of his chair in an instant, grabbing her hand and racing back to the bedroom as Elena let out a shriek and then a giggle at his eagerness.

The ladies returned home that evening, surprised to find Pietro waiting for them.

"Where have you been?" He demanded when they came through the door.

"I was at my portrait sitting, and we stopped to browse the market," Elena responded calmly.

"That painter still hasn't completed it? I would have thought he'd be done by now," Pietro scoffed. 

"M'lord, if it pleases you," Magdalena interrupted. "I've been told by the nurses of other homes, that these things take time, sometimes up to a year."

"Hmph," he replied. "Well, it better be worth it then."

"I wasn't expecting you home, otherwise I'd have arranged a dinner for us," Elena apologized.

He waved his hand dismissively, "No need. I am only home to inform you that I will be going on an extended trip."

Elena looked surprised,  "A trip?"

"Yes, there are some new ships coming into Venice that I am to inspect. If their goods are satisfactory I shall return with them on their voyage back. I hope to negotiate a handsome offer with them.to bring their supplies here instead of Venice," he explained.

Elena nodded, "How long do you expect to be gone?"

"If all goes well I should be back in ten months’ time," Pietro smiled at her. "So in the meantime, it is your responsibility to attend our social engagements in my stead."

"As you wish," she replied, looking down at her feet. She loathed the engagements he would have them attend, too many people, flashing their wealth with no real desire to know one another apart from what they could do to advance them socially.

"I am off to rest. It's been a long day and I find myself fatigued," Elena excused herself, walking to her bedroom.

She breathed a sigh of relief once she shut the door behind her. Ten months without Pietro was the most wonderful news she had ever heard.

There was a knock on the door, and Magdalena entered with a small pile of rags.

Elena smiled at her, "Ten months free of him! Can you believe it?" She danced happily around the room.

"The timing is very fortunate," Magdalena replied.

"Timing? What do you mean by that?" Elena asked puzzled.

Magdalena gestured to the rags in her hands, "M'lady when did you last bleed?"

Elena wrinkled her forehead in confusion, "I don't recall… why do you ask?"

"My dear, the timing of your husband's trip is fortuitous because you are with child," her nurse explained kindly. 

"With child? But that's not….." Elena blushed as she realized whose child she carried. 

"By the time this babe comes along, we will have a plan in place. At least with your husband gone, he will not suspect anything when you begin to show more," Magdalena nodded at her waistline.

"I'm showing?" Elena grasped her middle, feeling the slight swell of her stomach. 

"Only to one who knows what to look for," Magdalena replied. "Thankfully your clothes have hidden it so far."

"Lucian," Elena whispered. "I must tell him, oh Magdalena what shall we do?" She buried her head against her nurse's shoulder in tears.

Magdalena ran her hand down her back soothingly. "Hush child. I know you love him, and he loves you. We will figure something out."

Elena nodded, a small smile on her face as she pulled away. "We do love one another, and we will love this child." She rested her hand on her stomach, "Do you hear that little one? Your mother and father love you and each other very much."

She began humming the tune she had heard at the market as she stroked her belly tenderly. 

"Don't worry, we will find a way for the three of us to be together. I promise."

#Clarkeman #clarkeman fanfiction #max x zoey #zoey x max #max x zoey fanfiction #zoey x max fanfiction #Max Richman #Zoey Clarke #zoey's extraordinary playlist fanfiction #Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist #Zoeysplaylist fanfiction #ZoeysPlaylist #Zoeys playlist fanfiction #zoeys playlist #Extraordinarily Star Crossed #fanfiction

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

To Keep You Safe

Title: I felt the poison fright that’s in your breath

Chapter: 3/?

Author: hopeless_romantic_spoonie

Summary: Life as the assistant to Tony Stark was busy, but boring. All of that changed when I touched something I shouldn’t have and woke up with strange new abilities. If I thought that trying to figure out my new place in life as an Avenger was tough, I had no idea what was in store for me once I ran into the frustrating God of Mischief, Loki.

Rating: E (later on)

Also on Ao3 here :)

Warnings for this chapter: Language

 ~~~

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. make the light go away,” I muttered, the rising sun making an unwelcome appearance against my closed eyelids.

“Certainly, Jen.” The bright red light slowly eased as I heard the AI helpfully drawing the blinds neatly installed inside of the glass.

“Thanks, Fri.” I rolled over onto my side away from the window, snuggling deeper into the sheets as I tried in vain to fall back to sleep. After a moment, my need for the bathroom and another dose of pain meds was not to be ignored. With a frustrated sigh, I dragged myself out of bed and stumbled to the ensuite bathroom to use the facilities. My strength was marginally better than yesterday after the short sleep in the outrageously soft bed, but I knew that what would truly help me feel better would be a shower and some warm food. I hadn’t had either in far too long.

It was a struggle, but with a few short rests on the built-in seat in the extravagant shower with two heads that could realistically hold at least four people, I managed to scrub the sweat and grime off of my pale body. F.R.I.D.A.Y. let me know that it was okay to remove the bandage on my head, as it would need changing soon anyway, and carefully scrubbing my hair revealed several stitches stretching across my forehead. Upon inspection in the mirror, the injury which felt as if it encompassed my entire forehead really was only one or two inches in length. My already pale skin looked gray, with even the multitude of light brown freckles across my nose and cheeks appearing duller than normal. My hazel eyes had their luster stolen by fatigue and pain, but maybe some food would help that aspect of my corpse-like appearance. Even just a little color in my cheeks would be a welcome improvement.

In truth, my appearance shouldn’t matter. Two days ago I was attacked by some random piece of possibly alien technology. I had a concussion, my entire body felt like it had been flattened repeatedly by a tank, and the dark purple bruises scattered across my body served as visual evidence of the mysterious accident. But there wasn’t anything to be done about either, so I’d just have to suck it up. It was just so very easy to become hyper-aware of my own appearance when surrounded by superheroes who could get side gigs as supermodels.

“Jen, Pepper had some clothing purchased and placed inside the dresser for you. She also says that Tony will call for you in the infirmary once the tests they began yesterday have completed,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice stated pleasantly, filling the room as I walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a plush cream towel. I grunted in acknowledgment and hobbled over to the closet. Inside were simple clothes that, from touch alone, I knew were far too expensive for my budget. Grabbing a set of underclothes along with a soft pair of black leggings, a thin white sweatshirt, and a sturdy looking pair of black ankle boots, I dressed slowly. It was a painfully embarrassing process that took several minutes and two breaks, but I assured F.R.I.D.A.Y. that I didn’t need the help of Natasha or Wanda. I was injured, but I wasn’t helpless. My own soiled underclothes and Thor’s borrowed pajamas were left in the laundry basket to be washed and returned to their respective owners at a later time.

“Now for food,” I mumbled to myself, opening the door to my room cautiously. It was quite early, the clock in the hall read eight in the morning, but I also knew the various Avengers tended to rise early to get a head start on the day. Saving the world doesn't care about the snooze button. Peeking outside, I let out a breath of relief that I didn’t realize I was holding when a certain Asgardian Prince was nowhere to be found. Instead, Sam, Natasha, Wanda, and Steve were all in the kitchen either preparing or consuming their morning meals. Wanda looked up when she heard the faint whirring of the automatic door opening, smiling gently when she saw my bedraggled and damp figure standing in the doorway. The others followed her gaze and shot stunning smiles my way as well. Geez, these people needed to control their hotness so early in the morning. At least tone it down until I'd had a cup of coffee.

“Jen! Want a protein shake?” Natasha offered, holding up her glass of beige sludge in greeting. Steve seemed to be having the same. I could smell bacon frying, which Sam turned back to the stove to tend to after waving a spatula in my direction. Wanda was sleepily picking at a bowl of fruit while she scrolled through her phone. It was an abnormally normal breakfast scene for an extraordinary bunch of folks.

“No thanks, Natasha. Any more of that left, Sam?” I asked hopefully, eyeing the bacon and eggs frying up as I settled onto a stool at the bar next to Steve.

“Scrambled or fried?” Sam questioned, pulling open the nearest large refrigerator and grabbing a carton of eggs and a packet of bacon.

“Oh no, I can make-”

“Scrambled or fried?” Sam repeated, a hint of frustration edging onto his tone, countered by the easy smile he wore.

“Scrambled, please. Thanks,” I replied quietly, nodding to him with a grateful smile. I turned my attention to Steve and Natasha, who were pouring over a piece of paper between them as they finished their liquid breakfast. “Everything okay?”

Steve looked up at me, his eyes revealing a kindness that the rest of his serious face did not. He was obviously in Captain America mode, fully focused on the business in front of him.

“Yes ma’am. We have a mission to head off to in about 30 minutes. Everybody except Stark and Banner. Stark said that he needed to stay here and figure you out. I’m sure he’ll have you with him by that time, so you won’t have to worry about a thing,” he assured me, patting my arm lightly before getting up and putting his glass in the dishwasher. After that, he retreated to his room to assumedly get ready for the mission.

Natasha finished up her breakfast as well, giving my shoulder a squeeze before she jogged toward the stairs. Sam and Wanda followed suit after he put a delectable plate of bacon and eggs in front of my face with a wink and she polished off her small meal.

Alone in the kitchen, I inhaled my breakfast with the grace of a rabid dog. Three days without food was too much, and my stomach growled even as I shoveled food inside it as quickly as possible.

“Milady, you are looking well this morning!” Thor exclaimed, coming from his own bedroom to greet me with a gentle hug. His large hand went to my cheek so he could better examine my forehead with steady, calm eyes. “Did you face any more troubles since our last meeting?”

I flushed under the intensity of his stare as he checked my wounds, feeling small with his giant grip holding me steady. He meant nothing by it, that much was obvious, but it was hard not to get caught up in the positive attitude and compassion that radiated from his exuberant face.

“Nothing new to report on my end. Tony will call me sometime soon, and then-”

“Hey kid, we’re ready for you in the infirmary whenever you are. Finish up and head this way ASAP,” Tony directed, his quick instructions sounding from the many speakers dotting around the room.

“Guess duty calls, Thor. I’ll see you all when you get back from wherever the hell you’re going?” I asked, snagging my last piece of bacon from my plate as I slowly rose from the barstool. Thor’s hand had fallen from my face while Tony talked, his assessment seeming to come up satisfactory by the nod he sent my way.

“Of course, fair maiden. Until we meet again,” Thor beamed, bowing dramatically at my exit.

I bowed my head to Thor before turning with a laugh, enjoying the lightness to my steps despite the protest in my bones. It was nice to have someone to joke around with, even if that someone was a thousand-year-old god from a foreign planet.

I chewed on the last bit of bacon as I walked into the infirmary. Dr. Banner and Tony were standing behind a computer, talking quietly and pouring over whatever they saw on the screen. When Tony saw me arrive he stood up and rushed over to my side. He knew better than to offer to help me, but it didn’t stop his hovering like a concerned parent as he gestured for me to sit on the edge of an examination table. Dr. Banner offered me a smile and a nod in greeting before he went back to whatever they were working on before I strolled in.

“Awesome, you’re here. So, we haven’t exactly figured out what the box that Danvers left does or where it comes from. She’s working on trying to track its home right now. In the meantime, we have a working theory on what it did to you,” Tony explained hastily. His poor mouth couldn't keep up with his brain sometimes. He always seemed a little manic whenever he was working on something new, and I was the shiny new puzzle waiting to be solved.

“Okay... So, what’s the news? Did it do anything while it was shocking the crap out of me or am I good to go?” I asked, my eyes darting back and forth between the two men in front of me. Dr. Banner's somber expression and Tony's almost-frantic pace hinted at the former, but I could always be hopeful for the latter.

“We believe that it gave you geokinesis,” Dr. Banner stated, finally looking me in the eyes for more than a second as he turned the monitor to where I could see it.

“What?” The word was quiet from shock, half-voiced, as my brain struggled to compute what the soft-spoken genius had said. What did geokinesis even mean?

More questions died on my open lips as I watched the monitor. It was video footage of Loki and me last night. More specifically, just a looping clip of me slapping him and the houseplant flying into the wall and shattering. If I gained nothing else from this moment, I wanted a copy of me hitting him to cherish forever. The bastard deserved it and so much more.

“This is just us fighting and him doing his weird trickster bullshit to intimidate me. I don’t see anything,” I stated frankly.

“Geokinesis is the ability to control the earth with your mind. That plant wasn’t one of Loki’s tricks; I asked Reindeer Games this morning. All you, kid,” Tony replied, firm but kind.

My eyes bored the screen as I tried to find a connection between the potted plant and myself. Sure, if you thought about it that way then it could look like I was the one who did it. But all kinds of crazy stuff happened in this Compound, especially with Loki and Wanda around. Who knew if Loki was even telling the truth? He was the God of Lies, Mischief, and Trickery. When I voiced my concerns, Tony and Dr. Banner both shook their heads.

“He wasn’t lying about this, Jen. The flowers in your room wilted when you woke up in pain, and they were only hours old. I’m sure the same can be said for those in your room. We want to do some more tests, maybe run you by Wanda, and see what this means for you,” Dr. Banner said, his concise but polite tone cutting through any doubts I was about to raise.

If they were wrong, then what was the harm? A few more vials of blood and some boring hours spent in Tony’s lab. Might as well see this thing through to the end.

They explained what the next steps for me would be as Tony checked my vital signs and applied a new bandage over the stitches on my head. I was to give more blood and tissue samples for them to look over, and I would meet with Wanda to see if she could help me figure out this whole new power thing--if it existed at all. Hers was the most similar to what I could possibly do, besides Loki, and it wasn't a secret that I’d rot in Hell before I allowed him to help me with anything.

After giving Bruce, he insisted on dropping the formalities, and Tony all that they needed, I was given enough painkillers and muscle relaxers to last me for the next few days. They both said it looked like the bruising on my body and gash on my forehead was healing at an impressive rate, but it was nice to have the meds as a backup. Tony also gave me a new phone as mine had gotten fried right along with me a few days ago. All that was left was to hand over the keys to my small studio apartment so Tony could have my belongings moved, as I was going to have to live on base for the time being. If I did have weird mystical earth mojo, I needed to stay away from the general public until I had it firmly in control. And it didn’t make sense to pay inflated rent prices on a home I wouldn’t see for months at the very least.

With nothing else to do and no one to distract me, the small garden tucked away on the roof seemed like the best option to do some thinking about what I'd learned. I hadn’t breathed fresh air in days. All the information dropped on my shoulders felt like it would crush me if I didn’t get outside, even for just a moment. Thankfully it wasn’t the worst trek up there after the meds kicked in and loosened my stiff joints.

And that was where Loki found me, sitting on a bench in the tucked-away garden, going through the arduous process of setting up my new phone with all of my contacts and settings lost from my old phone. The breeze stirred my hair around my shoulders and the sun warmed my skin, but my blood ran cold when I looked up to see the smaller of the two Odinson brothers regarding me silently.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” I snapped, glaring at him briefly before returning back to the settings on my phone. Was there an app to get this annoying god to leave me alone?

“You’re seeking the Witch for aid.” Loki arched his brow, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Spying on me, Loki? How did you even know about that? I didn’t know I interested you so much,” I replied with a sickly sweet smile. I tucked my phone into the pocket of my hoodie, resigned to finish this conversation before I attempted to keep working. He wasn’t going to leave me alone until he got what he wanted, so I might as well get it over with.

“I hardly have interest in a dull mortal woman such as yourself. My only concern is self-preservation, as it would be most unfortunate if you misplaced your temper and started hurling rocks everywhere like an ape,” he rolled his eyes, closing the distance between us with a few sauntering steps. He offered no explanation for his knowledge, but the God of Mischief surely had several ways to overhear things he shouldn’t.

“If you want to make sure I keep my cool, why don’t you stay the hell away from me?” I seethed, standing up to lessen the impact his tall frame had looming over mine. Every move he made was probably planned and calculated to piss me off, to create mischief. Even with this knowledge it was difficult to keep him from getting under my skin.

“Oh, that wouldn’t be any fun now, would it? Your fear is intoxicating, darling,” he said, his voice deep and rich as he leaned towards me as if drinking in my negative emotions.

It took every bit of courage in me to not shrink away from the intensity of his gaze. His piercing eyes tore right through me to my very core, where nothing but hatred and fear and pain resided for the Prince before me. I hated that he could see it in the pulse racing on my neck, the rapid heaving of my chest, and the tense muscles all along my body.

“You don’t scare me, Loki. Piss me off, oh yes, but I’m not afraid of you,” I bluffed, clenching my jaw to keep my voice from wavering. I knew exactly what he was capable of, especially to a dull mortal woman like me. I reminded myself every day with the gold necklace around my neck. He was a murderer, a villain, and no amount of good deeds would right those wrongs or change who he was at his core.

“Is that so, Jennifer? It’s foolish to attempt deceit with the God of Lies.” His piercing gaze finally left mine and looked behind me pointedly.

Not wanting to turn my back to him, but unable to stifle my curiosity, I turned my head to see what was so fascinating from the corner of my eye. “Oh. Shit,” I muttered, fully turning to take in the rocks floating several feet from the ground. That was me? As soon as my horror turned to shock, they fell back to the roof with a chorus of resounding cracks.

“That wasn’t my doing,” Loki whispered, his cool, firm chest suddenly pressing lightly against my shoulder and his lips so close to my ear I could feel his breath on my pebbled skin.

I jerked away from his touch and turned around, throwing my hands in front of me in defense. As if that would do anything to the smirking god before me. What might do damage were the stepping stones now flying in his direction. That would have been impressive, if not for my terrible aim. Instead crashes echoed around the rooftop as they smashed through the glass windows behind him.

“Next time you touch me, Loki, those rocks will go through your face,” I promised coldly, attempting to play off my knee-jerk reaction as a threat instead of a wildly inaccurate mistake.

Of course, the God of Lies didn’t buy it. There wasn’t an ounce of fear on his face as he merely bowed his head to me in parting before turning and walking away with a throaty chuckle. Even in a simple black suit, he radiated the power and ease of an Asgardian Prince. And it was infuriating.

#to keep you safe #loki #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki friggason #loki fanfic #loki/ofc #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel #language tw

[hookaroo]

Vocivore, Ltd. (46 of 46)

Also on FFN and AO3 (ListerofTardis)

Tagging @ouatwinterwhump​, @killian-whump​, @sancocnutclub​, @killianjonesownsmyheart1​, @courtorderedcake​, @facesiousbutton82​ <3

AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH I CAN’T BELIEVE WE’RE AT THE END!!!!!!

Special thanks again to @sherlockianwhovian​ for organizing the event that started it all :)

A million thanks to @cocohook38​ for the incredible art that I will never ever recover from! LET’S ALL TAKE ANOTHER LOOK AT PERFECTION!!! 

COVER ART 1 ~~~ COVER ART 2 ~~~ CHAPTER 1 ~~~ CHAPTER 7 ~~~ CHAPTER 12 (ART) ~~~ CHAPTER 12 (ANIMATION) ~~~ CHAPTER 19 ~~~ CHAPTER 34 ~~~ CHAPTER 36 ~~~ @sancocnutclub​ WE ARE SO BLESSED BY YOU!!!!!!!!! (**APPLAUSE AND FLOWERS AT YOUR FEET**)

Thanks to everyone who stuck with it to the end and left such amazing and supportive comments!!! I love you all!

I have an idea or two for new stories, but it will be a while before anything is near ready for sharing. In the meantime, may I humbly direct you to my previous works on FFN? 

“Or Sleep with the Fishes,” “They Never Bury Your Bones,” and “A Captain’s Heart” are all whumpy multichapter tales which I may someday also post to AO3. They can be read in any order but the latter two make small references to their predecessors so may as well read in date order.

Also @killian-whump has a wonderful collection of fics (and art!) by other amazing creators of whump so do check all of them out as well!!

________________________________________________________________

One month later…

Emma took her eyes off of the road for a brief moment to glance over at Killian, who was currently reclined in the passenger seat of the Bug. Just as she had suspected: fast asleep. She let him be, knowing that with the rough road coming up, his nap would not last much longer.

He had only been released from the hospital two days ago, Whale having declared that further recuperation could be managed on an outpatient basis, as long as he remained on bed rest and followed the prescribed regimen of medications to support his physical and mental well-being. Uncharacteristically, Killian was submitting to all of it without complaint, even though the drugs battling the brain deterioration, in particular, left him feeling wiped out and frequently sick. He had hardly been out of bed beyond scheduled short trips down the hall to stretch leg muscles and a stiff ankle, to prevent blood clots, and build strength in his recovering lungs. Apart from that, he had mostly been sleeping, although he never turned away the opportunity to have Hope nearby. Even when she was there against her mother's wishes. Killian would fix her with a tired smile, hold out a brace-encased hand, and invite her onto the bed next to him. Oreo-Eeyore usually joined them and, more than once, was left behind to keep Killian company after Hope had scampered away.

Today, Hope was attending a half-day Kiddie Cruise hosted by Captain Smee; the first two had been so popular that the Wish Realm captain of the Jolly Roger had been talked into arranging some shorter sailing excursions without the dire motivation behind it. Emma knew that Killian would have liked to attend as well, had he been a bit stronger, but they both trusted Smee and his crew, and Hope’s Auntie Alice was specifically in charge of the three-year-old this time. 

Of course, there was still a small part of both of them loathe to let her out of their sight for any length of time. Emma was getting better about it; Killian still had major difficulty, as his perverse images of her tortured little body were quick to resurface when he didn't have her physically present to counteract them. But they couldn't be near her all the time, and their errand today was not an appropriate one to include a toddler in.

Just as anticipated, as the pavement gave way to mud and potholes, Killian’s breathing indicated his return to wakefulness. He did not stir or even open his eyes, but Emma saw the telltale signs of pain and tension in the way he held himself and the very controlled manner with which he drew breath.

“You okay?” she asked quietly. “We can still turn back; you don't have to do this.”

Killian merely tightened his jaw and nodded once. And really, she had not expected anything different, but she’d had to try. 

*****

There had been much speculation over the origin of the ruined village which had become the Vocivore’s base of operations. Emma’s personal opinion was that it looked like a long-dead World War II village, and being within the borders of the Land of Untold Stories, it was likely the setting of some sort of war romance or similar BS. The bigger mystery was the origin of the monster itself, and how it had come to reside in the United Realms. She was convinced that they would never find a satisfactory explanation of that question.

Thanks to knowledge gleaned from three weeks’ worth of Exchanges, both Killian and Emma knew that they wouldn't find another Vocivore lurking anywhere nearby, and that it hadn't... laid eggs or whatever. But that possibility would have been a mere fraction of the rationale behind the village’s eventual condemnation, anyway. None of the buildings were structurally sound, and only a few could have been considered salvageable if someone had the motivation. No one did, of course. Suffering leached into every wall, broken window, and rotting ceiling, like blood stains that could never be scrubbed away. So they would be demolished, the materials repurposed when possible, and the land converted somehow; those details had yet to be determined. But today was day one of the destruction. And the church would be the first building to fall.

Killian shifted in his seat, and though his eyes were still closed, Emma could tell by the quickening of his breaths that he sensed their impending arrival.

She had almost decided not to tell him, fearing that it would upset him too much to think about that place, even in the knowledge of its demolition. But an impulse had caused her to murmur the information in a casual, gentle way the night before he'd been discharged from the hospital. He hadn't said much at first; Emma had thought that maybe her initial instinct was correct and he didn't want to even think about it. But then, later, out of the blue and in a tremulous but determined voice, he had surprised her by saying that he wanted to watch. Once out of earshot, she had discussed the idea with Dr. Whale and Dr. Hopper, who had both given a cautious green light, thinking it could serve as therapeutic. But both men had also warned that revisiting the site of so much trauma could be more than Killian could handle so soon, and thus had extracted a promise that she would keep a very close watch on him the whole time. As if she would ever do any different.

Rounding the final bend, the trees began to give way to flashes of bright yellow construction equipment. And even though she was sure she hadn't given any hint, she could see signs of increased tension from Killian, as if he could sense their proximity without having to open his eyes. The ragged shape of the church’s bell tower loomed above the village, looking even more unstable than when she'd first laid eyes on it. She shuddered with an unexpected chill. This was also her first time back; she had not anticipated that it might be difficult on her as well.

The Bug bumped up onto the beginning of the cobblestone road that paved the village streets. Newer model cars lined both sides, indicating the number of United Realms citizens in attendance that day. The liberal application of yellow caution tape blocking doors and windows gave a cheery, bumblebee mask over the pall of death still present in the doomed community. Emma glanced at Killian and found him quietly observing their progress, working visibly to keep his breaths slow and even.

A rose-dusted pigeon strutted its arrogant little way along the gutter, and Emma battled a brief but powerful temptation to swerve in that direction. A few new scratches to add to the car’s nose would be a small price to pay for the satisfaction of flattening the feathered pest. But it wouldn’t make a difference to the problem as a whole, and Emma didn’t want to cause Killian any additional pain, so she contented herself with casting mental curses in its direction as they passed.

The pigeon quandary persisted, no easy solution to be found. Current suggestions included rounding them all up and transporting them to their natural habitat in New York City, trying to get them to interbreed with regular pigeons to hopefully dilute their ability to block magic, or create a strain of avian flu that would target them specifically and wipe them all out. That last one sounded like the premise of an apocalypse movie to Emma, but with the proven-but-painfully-slow success of his treatment for Vocivore-Slave-Brain, Dr. Whale now considered himself even more of an invincible Scientist! than he had before. 

Meanwhile, the shield expanded, and Killian’s ability to survive a longer trek was worthless because even the furthest reaches of the United Realms were now stripped of their magic as well. A visit to another realm altogether was not out of the picture, but everyone, including Killian, had reservations about the effects of portal travel on his hard-earned progress, so that remained a task for the future. To be honest, at this point, not much benefit would be gleaned from exposure to healing magic anyway, though Emma would have liked to spare him the residual pain, and possibly reduce the visibility of some of his more gruesome new scars.

Later, she promised herself. When they were sure the forces of a portal would not disrupt the fragile healing within his brain and cause a relapse of the condition. Today was about his psychological well-being. She pulled into the village square and came to a halt directly in the center, a front-row seat for the crumbling of remembered demons. Maybe it was absurd to feel resentful towards a building for not falling on its evil occupant when it had the chance, but Emma knew she would feel a vindictive pleasure watching its destruction nonetheless.

*****

The car had stopped, but it was as if the church had continued moving, sliding near, swelling in dimension and darkness until it filled the entirety of Killian's view out the windshield. In fact, it seemed to fill the car itself, almost as if the car were inside the church and the church inside the car. Or maybe the car didn't exist at all. Maybe Killian didn't exist at all; perhaps it was his spirit hovering just beyond the crooked door, just out of sight of the cooling corpse it had recently vacated, now on its way to the place of white light and columns where screams no longer rent the cool morning air. 

AT LONG LAST. MY TRIPOD HAS RETURNED.

The voice was not real. Logically, Killian knew that, had drilled the facts of the monster’s defeat over and over into his mind. The words were of his own creation, filling the space where harsh dominion once dwelt. Whale and Hopper had both confirmed that enough exposure to anything and the brain could replicate sensations even in their absence.

That knowledge did nothing to combat the feelings of despair taking root within Killian now.

I EAGERLY AWAIT YOUR PRESENCE, TRIPOD, his Master seemed to say. COME INSIDE AND YOU SHALL SCREAM AS YOU’VE NEVER SCREAMED BEFORE.

Emma placed an understanding hand on his forearm, which pulsed with residual and remembered pain. A muscular, slithery tentacle; Z’s leather strap, pulling on a ring that was no longer present, dragging him where he did not wish to go, restraining him with a shattering ache that had not truly subsided even after initial reconstructive surgery. The stake was gone; its oppression remained.

“Should I tell them to get started?” Emma's gentle voice was way out of place, startlingly jarring among the torture of memories. Killian winced, filling tight lungs with shaky resolve.

"I need to go inside," he whispered, and Emma's expression of patient understanding crumbled into doubt.

“I... Are you sure?”

Killian felt his tentative nod wobble side to side nearly as much as it bobbed up and down. This, apparently, did not do too much to convince her of his confidence. Suppressing a shudder, he reached for the door handle.

“Okay, just... Hold on,” urged Emma as she hastily unbuckled her seatbelt. “Let me get it.”

Even the flash of resentment at his temporary helplessness was not enough to fully drive away the monstrous voice.

YES, it confirmed, HELPLESS. YOU WILL NOT BE ABLE TO DEFEND YOURSELF OR YOUR FAITHFUL MATE SHOULD YOU ENTER. BUT YOU WILL COME ANYWAY BECAUSE YOU CANNOT RESIST MY COMMAND.

Killian allowed Emma to unbuckle his seatbelt and assist him to his feet, but his eyes never left the imposing scene of nightmares before him. Though so much had changed since his last time crossing that threshold, the ingrained feelings of reluctant terror still clawed at his being as he took a wobbly step forward.

There were strangers in hard hats gathered on the stoop. Their clothing bore little resemblance to sackcloth, yet their presence hearkened back to the revolving groups of dull-eyed guards endlessly cluttering the entrance. The ones who had listened to Killian's screams, watched the tortures, suffered some themselves. And the majority of whom were now dead.

Emma waved a cordial greeting to the relaxed construction workers, who nodded back casually, their posture normal, an ordinary, calm light in their eyes. No duress. No fatalistic numbness. Killian thought he may recognize one or two, but the blurred tentacles crawling across his vision prevented a positive identification. With the hand not currently helping to support her husband's weight, Emma flashed her badge and murmured some sort of explanation, to which one of them replied something about still clearing out the interior. Occupied with fighting oppressive memory, Killian focused on remaining upright, allowing Emma to do the talking.

And then the door was screeching open in a mockery of human suffering. And then he was walking through, joining a procession of his previous selves from the first to the last, each slightly more hunched than the one before, curling inward in anticipation of the pain, less and less able to face the scene ahead. Bowing, body and soul, to the dark of despair.

A blood-tinged shaft of light illuminated a patch of paving stone at the bottom of the stairs, as if highlighting the spot he had fallen so often, had lain in utter torment, visualizing his daughter’s corpse while it was he himself who cried and bled.

The altar was gone. Dismantled, decorative facing and heavy broken surface nowhere to be seen. A few scuff marks and differently colored concrete were the only signs of its once-looming presence at the top of the steps. Other stains marred the empty floor; Killian did not have to work very hard to guess their origin.

He did not wish to get any closer, but his unsteady legs took him forward anyway while dust particles and flashes of nothing became heavy, lurking pincer and wriggling tentacle in the corners of his vision. Each time he blinked, the instant of darkness filled with ghastly mental images: sometimes the Vocivore returned, sometimes the fictional Hope which he’d been working so hard to banish from his memory. He could hardly even feel Emma’s supporting hand under his elbow, or even her presence at his side; he'd always come into this room alone, come to face its worst alone, and his subconscious mind could not reconcile the change in paradigm.

Oddly enough, though, the remembered voice remained as silent as the empty cathedral. Fragments of disjointed scenes continue to play behind his eyes, their haunting soundtrack present but muffled, all firmly in the realm of past torments and absent any current threat. Could it be that the visual evidence of the Master's lair, empty, had shut up its voice once and for all? Killian scarcely dared imagine the possibility.

Only steps away from the scuffed stairs, Killian's weakened foot caught on an uneven stone and he staggered into Emma, who silently braced him up, throwing her arm around him and squeezing in a comforting manner. With a couple of one-legged hops, he managed to regain his balance, though he remained reluctant to put his full weight back on the tender ankle. Emma glanced around and spotted an upended pew in the periphery of the space.

"Can you manage on your own for a sec?" she murmured. At Killian's unconvincing nod, she carefully ducked out from under his arm and hurried toward the pew.

If Killian had felt alone before, the feeling tripled as Emma's presence vanished. The ghost outline of the altar shimmered into view. His arm resting atop with a spike driving into the bone. His savaged body pounding against the wood while he screamed. His bloodied hand, impaled amongst tarnished depictions of wheat stalks and grapevines, shuddering as the last vestiges of life drained away.

And then, again, the image and the words, louder than ever. The old mantra. Hope kidnapped, Hope tortured, Hope dead, no hope no hopenohope…

Quickly back at his side, dragging the long wooden bench along with her, Emma recognized his distress and gently eased him down onto its surface, pulling his aching fist away from his face, quietly urging him to relax, to breathe, reminding him that she was there and that he was safe. Tears dripped onto Killian's lap as he struggled to contain his sobs. Emma knelt before his hunched form, squeezing his wrist and stroking his cheek, shedding tears of her own in response to his emotional turmoil.

After several minutes, Killian managed to drive away the demons and settled into a quivery rhythm of intentional breathing; it was the only way he would escape an eternal spiral into overwhelming hopelessness. His chest ached from the strain, his hand throbbed with the effort of holding his emotions in his fist. The volume of the wrong mantra decreased but did not abate. Still stroking his cheek, Emma murmured, 

“Are you okay?”

Killian gave a tentative nod, and he could feel the remnants of the involuntary tremors that still appeared whenever he was tired or stressed. “Just... Tell me it will get better.”

“It will,” she promised softly. “I really believe that.”

She delicately threaded the fingers of one hand inside his, gently but persistently nudging his fist to relax. When his fingers were finally uncoiled and his palm flat, facing upward, she began a careful massage of the tender flesh beneath the brace.

“We did a good thing, Killian. It's hard for us to say it was worth it. Hell, if we had known all the details, and how long it would take, I don't know that I would have been able to go through with it. But…” She leaned back on her haunches in order to look up into his face. “I've been thinking about what you said to Archie the other day, about how the scars will make it hard to forget everything. And I think… maybe that's the way it should be.”

Killian just looked at her through red-rimmed eyes. Continuing on, she explained,

"Each one represents a wound you bore so that someone else wouldn't have to. And, frankly... we'd all be dead if you hadn't done what you did. Sooner or later, in all likelihood, most of Storybrooke would be dead. So instead of looking at the scars and remembering the awful, I think you should give each one a meaning. A person whose life you saved by enduring all that pain, whom you can think about instead of the torture itself."

Killian studied her, eyes slightly brighter as he turned the idea over in his mind, and Emma flashed an encouraging smile. 

"Need an example?"

Seeing his nod of agreement, Emma ran her finger along his palm, where she knew, underneath the stretchy fabric of the brace, a pinkish-white line marked the entry wound from the dagger stabbed through and into the altar. 

"I can think of two people you’ve called your right-hand man in different situations. For a long while, that position was filled by Mister Smee." She turned his hand over and traced an approximation of the exit wound on the back. "These days, when you go sailing, it's always Henry who takes over the duties of first mate. So... you got this scar so Henry could live. And this one is for Smee." With each person named, she touched the corresponding line on his skin, so gently that there was barely a whisper of sensation in response.

A tear dripped off the tip of Killian's nose as, with head bowed, he watched his wife’s fingers brush his hand. 

Quietly, Emma asked, 

“What do you think? Helpful?”

Killian gave a hesitant, indecipherable movement of his head.

“Want me to keep going?”

“Please.”

The word was faint, hollow with ache but also a dash of hope. Emma clambered to her feet, her hand trailing along his jawline and down until it came to rest with fingers splayed over the twin lines on his shoulder which marked the transmitter’s brutal removal.

“Side by side,” she remarked. “Sounds like Mom and Dad; what do you think?”

Killian winced a tiny smile, and she took that as his approval. Emma sat gingerly on the pew next to him and held his blunted wrist in both hands, massaging the sides once skewered by cruel metal and asking,

“Detective Jones?”

“And Alice,” he added hoarsely. Emma smiled fondly. Then she sobered and laid her hand against his chest, approximating the site of the near-fatal stabbing. It had not fully knitted into a solid scar yet, the outer layers still supported by strips of water-resistant tape beneath padded bandaging. Sudden tears sprang to her eyes as her free hand came up to tangle absently in his hair.

“And this one,” she choked out, pausing to clear her throat before continuing, “nearest your heart… this one's for Hope, I think.”

Killian's vision blurred, and a sob jolted his chest, but instead of the corpse of his nightmares, he saw the charmingly misshapen sketch of the Papa bear, cradling the lump that represented his baby bear as he protected her from a frowning monster that only the mind of a 3-year-old could conjure. He sniffed, wiped his eyes with a careful knuckle, and breathed, 

“Aye. For Hope.”

A long moment’s silence filled the sanctuary as tortures relived began to take on additional significance and gruesome mental images grew new outlines. Emma continued to make her presence known through comforting touch, and finally, over tense neck muscles, her tender fingers found two dime-sized pink discs which had only recently lost their scabs. The matching pair on the other side would be out of her view, but it was clear she referred to all four when she mused,

“I was going to say something about naming everyone in your life who could be described as a pain in the neck, but would that be too flippant?”

Surprising both of them with a quick-witted response, Killian deadpanned, 

“Well, you've already assigned both Jones and Dave, so I'm not certain that leaves anyone else who fits that description.”

The moment of levity clashed so strikingly with everything the building had to come to represent, yet it felt improbably cathartic as well. Picking up on the mood, Emma leaned in to place a kiss on one of the scars, muttering in between pecks,

“Regina?”

 Killian almost smirked. She kissed the other, saying,

“Doctor Whale?”

With a groan, he conceded that point. 

“Most assuredly.” Then he added, “S'pose we can't list Regina without the inclusion of her sister.”

“Zelena. Right. And the fourth?”

“That only leaves one, Swan. Let's see if you can name him.”

Emma truly did not have to think very hard to come up with that one. The uncontested champion of showing up at the worst possible time with tidings of woe. “Oooh! I know! It's Grumpy, isn't it?”

“Unlikely as it is,” said Killian, “this one is for Grumpy.”

Thrilled that he was taking to her idea so positively, she was about to try and make the dubious connection of "ankle biter" to Neal and Robin, neither of whom were anywhere near that category anymore, but at least he'd known them when they were... But before she could go down that path, Killian abruptly straightened and shifted positions so that he faced her a little more squarely.

"Distant friends and relations are all well and good," he said as he reached for her hand. "But there's one person immensely important to me whom we've not yet mentioned."

Emma took a slow breath. She really hoped he wouldn't be upset by what she was about to share. Placing a hand above his ear, she stroked his temple with her thumb for several heartbeats.

"Some scars you can't see," she finally began. "But are no less painful or important. So... the ones you carry in here..." Her fingers stilled, her hand an almost weightless representation of the burden he bore within his mind. "Those are for me. Because I have some, too. And mine are for you. They're the price I'm so willing to pay to have you here with me." Emma snuggled closer, dropping her hand to his back and resting her forehead against his. "It's a burden we'll carry together," she continued softly. "And that's why I believe it'll get better, Killian: we'll help each other."

Killian felt a new sort of pain at the thought of Emma's own trauma, and how she'd been dealing with it mostly on her own as he endured the grueling process of recovery. But he could not deny drawing a small measure of comfort from her words, her expression of empathy and promise of support. He leaned into her and they shared a moment of silent communication, where emotions and vulnerabilities and fears intermingled in an easy acceptance, where it was okay to have doubts and dark thoughts as long as they both clung to the shared hope of brighter days ahead. And in that moment of quiet, Killian mentally reached for the images that might one day replace, or at least live alongside, all the scenes of torture. He watched the brand scalding his palm, then thought of Granny, her false prickliness covering such warmth and generosity. That one was for her. He felt the pincer tearing at his ear and pictured Archie, patiently absorbing as much of the story as Killian was ready to tell, giving advice and professional support as needed; that one was for him. He saw himself pinned to the altar and struggling to breathe, and instead of succumbing to the imagined fire in his lungs, he clung to his tangible Hope, the ability to see her again in just a few hours, the proof of how she viewed her papa and what he had done for all of them. For Hope, he thought. Always and forever, for her.

"Which one are you hearing now?" Emma whispered into the silence, and Killian worked to direct the inner mantra as he'd been taught.

Hope, free. Hope, safe. Hope, loved.

"The good one."

Hope, free. Hope, safe. Hope, loved.

"I’m glad. What say we get out of here; let ‘em finish their work so they can smash this place to smithereens and we can go home?"

Hope, free. Hope, safe. Hope, loved.

Vocivore, defeated.

Hope, free.

Killian, free.

Free.

"I'm ready."

________________________________________________________________

#ouat fanfiction #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan #scars #trauma #tears #traumatic memories #angst #comfort #coping strategy #Vocivore ltd

[ilovemydarkandstormyknight]

Sunflower

A special thanks to @lifein-confusion for beta reading for me! 

Ao3 link

At first, Logan hadn’t even noticed. In fact, if Roman hadn’t pointed it out to him, it would have taken him much longer to figure it out. That’s not to say he never would have- well, who was he kidding, he was so emotionally inept that he probably would never have figured it out.

 Logan walked into the kitchen, where Patton had just started pulling out for dinner that night. Logan was fantastic at baking, it really was just chemistry, it’s elements put together in just the right way to make something different. And although baking was his specialty, cooking was just never his thing. Whenever Logan tried to make anything, it exploded in his face. (figuratively… sometimes) So, he left the cooking to Patton, occasionally stepping in to help.

“Hello sunshine. Would you like some help?”

Patton looked up, tilting his head slightly, like a puppy. Adorable , Logan thought. Wait, what? Where did that come from?

“Oh! Hey Lo! Sure! Could ya help me make the potatoes?”

“Sure pat, what delicious concoction are we consuming this evening?”

“Steak and mashed potatoes. Nice alliteration there, teach!” Patton giggled.

“Nice word there, sunshine. Where-“

“I know big words!”

 Logan and Patton continued chatting while cooking, Patton still trying to teach Logan how to cook, even though he knew Logan was hopeless. Soon, Virgil slumped in.

“Hi kiddo!” Patton called, “Are you ready for movie night?”

 Virgil groaned, though Logan knew he was secretly pleased, Virgil had somewhat broke down when they had first invited him to join them. He had thought Logan, Roman, and Patton, were trying to… well, even Virgil didn’t exactly know what, but he was anxious about it for some reason, it’sdefinitely not that it’s quite literally his job to overthink things.

“...whatever” Virgil responded.

 When Roman finally joined them, setting aside whatever he was working on in his room, the group sat down for dinner. Roman, as always, gulped down his food like a excited child, he was always over eager to get straight to the movie marathon. Especially if it was Disney.

 That night, it happened to be Roman’s turn to chose the movies, so as soon as he was done gobbling down his food, Roman rushed to the TV, putting on Disney’s Hercules. With Roman’s urging, the other three finished up their dinners and slid onto the couch. Roman excitedly sat down in the middle, and started trying to convince Virgil to come cuddle with him, even though they both knew Roman would eventually end up with his boyfriend laying in his lap one way or the other.

 As always, Logan sat in the corner, Patton right up against him. Logan put his arm around Patton, pulling him closer, because, well… for some inexplicable reason

Patton being closer was all he wanted.

 When the the third movie was over, Patton got up, “Alright guys, I think it’s about time we get to bed.” Patton turned to Virgil, “Ya ready, kiddo?”

“Ughh, but it’s warm…” Virgil said from Romans arms.

Roman smiled softly at him, “It’s alright my dark prince, I shall join you soon.”

Virgil shot him a halfhearted glare, “Fine. But you better hurry up, princey.”

“Are you guys sure you’re okay with cleanup? Because I can-“

“Patton.” Logan cut him off, “You have been more than satisfactory, as you cooked dinner. And Roman and I are perfectly capable of a simple cleanup job. Go. Sleep.”

“Alright… if you’re sure…”

“Goodnight, sunshine.”

“Alright… night, Lo.”

“Sleep tight, Virgil, Patton.”

Right after Virgil and Patton left, Roman finally brought it up.

“So…” Roman said picking up the popcorn bowl from their shared couch, “When were you and padre gonna tell us?”

“Tell you about what?”

“You know… that you’re dating?”

After a beat of silence, Roman spoke again, “You two are dating, right?”

“Er- no Roman, I do not believe I know what you are talking about. What, er- may I ask, led you to this conclusion?”

“I thought it was rather obvious, you two are always giving each other pet names, and you’re both very… touchy. Besides, being the romance trait, I can just feel the love in the air.”

 Logan blinked, this was new information for him, he knew he was a bit more… ‘touchy’ as Roman had put it, with Patton, but he had always thought that it was just how Patton was. He was like that with everyone… right?

“Firstly Roman, as you well know, you can not feel romance, just as Virgil can not smell fear. It is impossible, even in a place such as the mindscape.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “I know lo, it’s an expression.”

“That is not- never mind. What- what did you mean by… pet names and ‘touchiness’? I do neither of those things.”

“Sure you do!” Roman scoffed, “Just now, you were cuddling with dad on the couch! it’s like every time you’re in a room together you’re calling each other things like ‘dear’, ‘sweetheart’, ‘love’, and of course, my personal favorite, ‘sunshine’. You’re always calling Patton ‘sunshine’. It’s disgustingly adorable.”

“Surely you’re dating… unless!?” Roman gasped dramatically, “do you- did you even notice that you’ve been sickly sweet with padre for years?”

“I- suppose not… goodnight Roman, it seems I have a lot to think about.”

“Alright, goodnight Lo. Try to figure this out.” Roman paused, “Wait! Lo, ya gotta help me clean up!” But at that point, Logan was already gone.

—-

 As soon as Logan got back to his room, he flopped down head first on the bed. It was a tad extravagant, especially for him, but he was feeling- he was feeling a bit dramatic.

He honestly couldn’t believe he had never noticed that he called Patton sunshine, but now that Logan thought about it, he did it a lot. He supposed… he had just gotten so used to it that he didn’t think too much about what he called his opposite.

 When he thought about it even more, he realized Patton always made him feel more… he was… happy when he was around his counterpart. Logan thought about how every time Patton smiled, his heart flipped, how whenever Patton laughed he felt like he was about to burst with joy, how whenever his sunshine was sad, Logan wanted to just wrap his arms around him and protect him with everything he had.

 And that’s when Logan realized, the nickname he seemed to have come up with for Patton, ‘sunshine’, was just… completely perfect. It honestly encompassed everything he felt for Patton in just one word.

 Shit.

  Clearly he had to figure out a plan.

 It was three hours later, and the best idea Logan had was to either tell Patton, which was clearly off the table for obvious reasons, or just… keep him at arms length for the rest of their existence, which honestly sounded infinitely worse.

 Well... it seemed Logan needed to sort through all of this, but in the meantime he would avoid Patton as much as possible, as all evidence was pointing towards Patton causing these feelings.

—-

 The next morning, Logan got up later than his normal time of 7:00, due to being up all night thinking. That day, it seemed he was awake by 9:37, a odd time for him indeed.

 As Logan got dressed, he thought about his plan Last night it had been very hard to concentrate on anything due to sleep deprivation, no matter how hard he tried. So, he wrote it and simplified it into easy steps:

Step 1: Wake up later, this will bring less             time  to potentially socialize with Patton.

Step 2: Neglect board game nights and movie  nights. When asked, tell them I have an  excess of work.

Step 3: Avoid brushing up against Patton as much  as possible. No touching, and no cuddling.

Step 4: Speak to Patton as little as possible. No  slip ups or calling him ‘sunshine’.

  There. An easy, comprehensive list of rules for Logan to follow. This should be easy, right?

 Logan had eventually come to the realization that though his function is Thomas’s logic, he is more than that. Logic is just a title, like a job, and just as a person who does their job isn’t only the that, Logan is more than his title. With this realization came his admittance that he did, in fact, have feelings. Of course, he was just so used to repressing his emotions, that it was very bad in the beginning. With the help of Patton, Logan was able to emote and experience his feelings much more. It truly was a radical improvement.

 That didn’t mean he understood any of them. Usually when he was feeling something abnormal, he would go to Patton for help, but it seemed he couldn’t do that in this specific situation.

 When Logan was dressed and prepared, he finally left his room and headed to the kitchen. When he got there, he was met with just what he was trying to avoid: Patton. He was standing at the sink and washing the dishes. He seemed to be humming some tune under his breath.

 Just as Logan was about to turn around and go back to his room, Patton glanced up, catching him before he could do anything. “Hey lo! Good morning!” Logan blushed, “good morning Patton, I-“

“Ya missed breakfast! Even Virgil was up before you, that’s weird…”

“A-Ah yes, I had some work to do last night, and ended up s-staying up later than intended. I apologize.” Logan adjusted his glasses nervously, silently hoping Deceit wouldn’t show up.

“It’s fine Lo! I saved some extra food for you anyways, and maybe we could watch a movie after I’m done cleaning up!”

 Logan thought for a moment, though he really did love spending time with Patton, he just couldn’t risk slipping up. “Well… I’m sorry Patton, I really do have a lot of work to do. I appreciate the food, thank you for thinking of me.”

Patton’s smile dropped, and it almost broke Logan’s resolve. Almost. “Oh… not even for big hero six?”

“I apologize.”

Patton plastered a smile on, “... it’s ok Logan. Another time?”

“I suppose. Thank you once again for the food, su- pat.” Logan corrected himself.

 The nickname seemed to make Patton’s smile just a little bit brighter… but that can’t be true. All he did was provide explanatory exposition and bring the mood down. Patton’s just being nice, as always. Right?

“No prob, bob!”

Logan hesitated before saying, “it’s… logan.”

Patton squealed, “you made a Steven universe reference! I knew you liked that show!”

“It is… an admirable series. Goodbye, Patton.”

Logan’s plan was a failure already. He really needed to do more to avoid Patton.

—-

 And that’s what Logan did for the next three and a half weeks. Anytime it wasn’t dinner, Logan avoided everyone, especially Patton. Before walking into a room, he would peek in and check for any movement or voices. If Logan heard anything, he would turn around and go back to his room. This method worked well when avoiding people and trying to work, but not so much for his health. There were days when Logan would go without any social interaction except at dinner, which he kept at a minimum.

 Logan knew he wasn’t doing too well, he didn’t sleep too much once he broke his sleep schedule, and most days he only had one meal because Patton was in the commons a surprising amount. But most of all, Logan missed the others, he missed Roman and his extravagant stories about princes and dragon witches that he used to secretly love, he missed sitting in silence with Virgil, quietly enjoying each other’s company.

 Although he missed his friends, he missed Patton more. He missed Patton’s exuberant smiles, how he listened intently when Logan was explaining something, simply because he loved learning. He missed Patton’s love of all things, no matter how small, (excluding spiders) he missed his pure outlook on things, his heart that was just a bit too big sometimes, and his loving, caring nature.  Patton had always been special to him, but in a different way than the others. It was day fifteen when he figured out how and why Patton was different.

 The realization only drove him further away.

—-

 It was day twenty five when the others confronted him about his absence around them. Logan felt the pull of Patton summoning him for dinner. It was 6:30, so this was not unusual.

When Logan rose up, he noticed was immediately being watched by all of his fellow sides, including deceit. Now that was abnormal.

“W- what is… what is happening? Why is deceit here? Did- did I do something to upset any of y-you?”

Patton softened, putting a hand on Logan’s shoulder. Logan shivered at the touch. “Oh, no Logan, honey. Deceit is hear as a… lie detector, of sorts. We’re worried about you, Lo.”

“Worried? W- why? I’m fine.”

“Lie,” deceit called.

Oh, so that was why he was here.

Virgil spoke up, “You’re clearly not fine, specs. Spill.”

“What Virgil means is that… well, pocket protector, frankly…” Roman said.

Patton interjected, “You’ve been avoiding us! Why? I thought we were working on emotions?” He cocked his head to the side.

“W- well…” logan glanced at deceit, “I… um. I was trying to just avoid you, pat. Th-the others just sort of... were an unintentional consequence…”

Logan, Patton, and Roman looked at deceit, he shrugged, “No lie there.”

Tears started streaming down Patton’s cheeks, “Logan…”

“I-I’m sorry.” Logan said, before sinking down to his room.

 He rose back up in his room, and the first thing he did was flop down on his bed. Logan knew he needed to talk to Patton, and he wanted to! He really did… he was just… nervous. Incredibly, insanely nervous. And finally, Logan let himself cry. It was soft, few tears were actually shed, and Logan still felt awful. The first thing that Patton had taught him about emotions, his emotions, was that if he wanted to get through anything, he would have to acknowledge and recognize them.

 So Logan followed Patton’s advise, he acknowledged that he was nervous, sad, and very scared. He was scared of what the others would say, would they hate him? (though Patton could never hate anyone. Not really.)

 Logan had never really ‘fit in’ with his fellow sides, he was too blunt, harsh, emotionless. Would they kick him out? No. Cognitive distortions. That’s what this was. He just wanted… he needed… he really needed a hug. A few more tears dripped down his face.

 A few minutes later, Logan heard shuffling outside his door. The shuffling stopped, before a few quiet knocks sounded, along with a soft voice calling “knock, knock?” Logan rolled his eyes affectionately, he’s such a dork, Logan thought. Patton’s voice was soft, almost uncertain. “He Lo, can we uh- talk? Can I come in?”

 Logan thought for a moment, he really did want a hug, and Patton would be sure to give him one, no matter how much he didn’t deserve it. Logan sighed, no use putting off the inevitable.

“Sure.”

 Patton opened the door, and as soon as he made eye contact Logan looked away. Patton came and sat on the opposite side of the bed as him. Logan shuddered.

“So… I guess I should start, huh?” Patton’s eyes were red, reminding Logan that he had caused him to cry earlier, which somehow made Logan feel worse. Logan nodded, not looking up.

“Did- did I do something? I’m sorry. I-I want to apologize for what I did, but- but I really can’t think of what I did to make you m- mad…”

 Logan looked up, shocked. He didn’t realize Patton thought he was mad at him, especially when all he’s ever done is be his amazingly kind, generous self. It was just such a Patton thing to do.

“Oh, sunshine… I’m certainly not… a- angry at you.” Ever, Logan thought.

“Th- then why have you been avoiding me?”

“I- feelings.”

“Oh, Lo… why didn’t you tell me?”

“This erm- concerned you.”

“Me?” Patton cocked his head in that frustratingly adorable way.

“I- can we… talk about this later? I… need a hug?” Logan asked timidly.

“Oh, Lo.” Patton grinned, “You know all you need to do was ask for a cuddle party! Should I get the others?”

Logan thought for a moment, “Yes please… I promise I’ll talk later, but… I just really need to be with you guys right now.”

Patton jumped up, “Okay! In here?” When Logan nodded, Patton smiled enthusiastically, “I’ll get em!”

Before Patton could get out of the room, Logan called out, “Patton!”

Patton turned and looked at Logan, “I’m- I apologize for avoiding you. I really do l-lo- lo- appreciate your presence.” Patton’s smile widened, “it’s okay Lo. I love you too.”

—-

 A few days later, Logan found himself thinking of Patton. He was so kind, letting Logan have space, even though he deserved an explanation. It was on this day that he finally decided to tell Patton about his feelings. He had integrated right back into the mind palace as if he had never left. It was nice… all the affection, even if he didn’t deserve all their love.

 Nonetheless, a plan had formed in his head, but it meant telling Roman he was right, which was always just so fun .

 Logan walked to romans door, tapping two sharp knocks on the door.

“Come in, Lo!”

 Logan opened the door to see Virgil and Roman cuddling on the couch. “Oh. Erm- am I disturbing something here?”

“Nah, you’re good,”  Virgil said, “We were just hangin’ out.”

“Do you need something, friend? Roman asked.

“Well… I uh- need to talk to you, Roman.”

“Do I need to leave?” Virgil said.

“No er-you’re good. I need to get this off my chest to both of you anyway.” Virgil nodded, tilting his head in indication for Logan to continue. “Well, I might have a crush on… a person. It’s why I shut myself off from you guys. I wanted to work through some things, but I did it in an unhealthy way. I cut you off, and I am truly sorry.”

“That’s very sweet Lo, but I have two questions,” only two? Logan thought. “One: Who the heckity heck do you have a crush on? Oh my goodness. Is it Patton?”

Logan blushed, “I’m gonna take that as a yes?” Logan nodded.

“You have a crush on Patton?” Virgil shrugged, “eh, makes sense. I always did call you the mom.”

“You did?”

Roman interjected, “were getting off topic! Question two: why did you come to me? Do you need advice from the one and only romance side? I say go for it. Patton won’t-“

“I’m not here for advise.”

“Good,” Virgil said, “‘Cuz Roman sucks at giving it.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know-“

“I need your help. I’d like to make a sunflower field at midday in the imagination.”

“Oh.” Roman said, “I can do that. But… why?”

“I- Well I’m gonna confess to Patton. He's my sunshine.”

Roman smiled, “Okay. When do you want it?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Alright. I can have it done in fifteen minutes. Go get him, Lo”

“Thank you so much Roman, Virgil. I’m sorry once again.”

Roman gestured wildly, “anything for true love!”

“Ignore him,” Virgil turned his body to Logan, “good luck Lo. But if you hurt him…” he trailed off.

“Do you really think I could so much as harm a hair on his body? He’s literally and metaphorically rather light of my life. I think I lo- love him.”

Virgil seemed satisfied with that. “This is gonna go great Lo. Good luck, have fun, and take dad’s emotions into consideration.”

 Logan nodded and sunk down to the commons to stress eat crofters.

 Thirty minutes later, when Logan had finally gathered up the courage to go knock on Patton’s door, he put away his jam and headed upstairs. He knocked on Patton’s door, waiting to hear a small “come in,” before stepping in.

“Good evening Patton. I was wondering if you might…” Logan stopped, Patton looked to be deep in thought and was currently staring at an old photo book.

“Oh… hey Lo. Do you… need anything?” Patton said, not looking up from his book.

“Er- well… that’s sort of the thing. I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to the imagination?”

Patton looked up, “Er- sure. Wh- why me?”

“Uh. I appreciate your company, of course.” Logan held out an arm, “shall we?”

Patton giggled, putting his book down and linking his arm with Logan’s, “Sure!”

As they were walking out of the room, Patton asked, “so… what do you have planned in the imagination?”

Logan looked down at Patton and winked, “I guess you will just have to see, will you not?” He smiled as Patton started giggling once again.

 When they arrived at romans room, Logan pushed the door open, heading straight to the nice looking cabinet that held the entrance to the imagination. Just like the in ‘the Lion, the Which, and the Wardrobe’.

“Shall we?” Logan asked as he beckoned Patton to come open the door. Patton opened the wardrobe to reveal a small wooden gazebo with a small bench in the center, surrounded by a field of sunflowers, all facing the midday sun.

 Patton gasped, Logan could see the stars in his eyes. “Logan… It’s gorgeous…”

Logan’s cheeks were a rosey shade of pink by now, “Yes… it really is, isn’t it? Roman did outdo himself.” Logan reached out and touched a sunflower, “utterly realistic as well, isn’t it?”

 Logan walked over to Patton and placed his hand on his opposite’s. “Come sit on this bench with me, will you?” Patton obliged, looking into Logan’s eyes, “is something wrong, Lo? It seems like somethin’s on your mind.”

“Well, actually… there is something…” Logan paused, waiting for Patton to signal he was listening. Patton nodded, so Logan continued, turning away to look at the flowers, “As you know, I have been struggling with feelings. Expressing and feeling my emotions has always been something I have repressed. I told myself it was for the greater good, that Thomas would be happier and more efficient without me butting in.”

“Sometimes, I still believe that, to an extent.” Logan faced Patton, “But… you have truly shown me true kindness understanding, and for that I am so very grateful. You have helped me learn, something I love, I’ve learned about sadness, anger, hope, joy, and… love.”

 Patton’s eyes were brimming with unshed tears, his mouth open in an ‘o’ shape. “Logan… I-

Logan cut him off, “There’s more.” He took Patton’s hands gently, slowly and gently enough that Patton could pull away if he wanted to. “Roman asked me a few weeks ago at movie night if we were dating. I told him no, of course,” Patton’s pace seemed to fall a bit, “So I asked him why he thought so. He said- well, he listed many examples, but the most prominent on that stood out to me was my calling you sunshine. Now-“

Logan took a deep breath, “I started avoiding you, and in turn, the others. I don’t know why, I suppose it was so that I could avoid emotions. I even made a list. How silly is that! Midway through though… I realized how perfectly the nickname fit. You are completely and totally my sunshine. You give out so much love and light… your smile is blindingly beautiful, you laugh is music to my ears. But the thing that made so much sense to me… is that… well, if you’re the sunshine, I am the sunflower. I will always, always look to you. You give me life. Because… well,” Logan looked down, “I love you.”

 After his confession, they both fell silent. Logan couldn’t bring himself to look up. What if- “Hey, Lo can you look at me?” Patton took his had and placed it gently under his chin, tilting Logan’s head up. Their eyes met. Patton had tears streaming down his face, “I- I have been wanting you to say that for years ! I love you too, Lo!”

“Really? You’re not just saying that, because if you are… if you are I don’t think I will be able to move on.”

Patton’s face fell, “Oh, baby… I would never do that to you. I promise.”

 Logan smiled shyly. Before he could even form a coherent sentence, Patton was surging forward, stopping right before his lips. “May I?” Logan simply nodded, and Patton was kissing him, and he was kissing back, and it was a swirl of emotions. Logan was ecstatic, it was truly the best moment of his existence, and he never wanted it to end.

 What Patton pulled away, Logan was left stunned. Patton grinned and touched their foreheads together, “we should get going, as romantic as this is. How did you come up with this anyway? It’s so unlike you.”

 Logan blinked, pulled from his trance, “Well, I guess you just bring that part of me out, sunshine.” He grinned.

#patton sanders #logicality #logan sanders #logan angst #sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #requited love

[elejah-wonderland]

The Sun and The Moon Curse/3

Fanfiction

Part 3

Elijah Mikaelson x Elena Gilbert

AU TVD story

set after tvd 3x15

After the Mikaelson Ball, Elena decides to tell Elijah what Esther was planning. The doppelganger’s and the Originals life will change tremendously

a/n: I hope you like this story, as this was my first tvd story I ever wrote. xoxo

👔😘

tags @rissyrapp20 @dendrite-lover @cassienoble2000 @captainshurley @goddessofthunder112 @elejahforever @idkhaylijah @hides2000

______

Days after

Every time Elena woke up and looked around this most divine room, she felt she slipped through the looking glass every evening into an unknown world, and she had found her ground, and she mulled over in her head if she had done the right thing by leaving with Elijah. 

                       A strange feeling of being homesick enveloped her. She felt like crying, but then said to herself that there was no going back, just forward. She could not escape the feeling that world creep up now and again. Elijah was very hospitable, and she wondered if this was only because she had this leverage over him. She also didn't understand why she should keep trusting him. They all play the game of betrayal so subtly, and yet a voice within her said she could trust him after all. She had a shower and got dressed. It was quite warm, and she decided to put her hair up. "I should just have it cut"- she looked herself in the mirror. Everything changed, and with it she felt the need to change her look as well.

Even though there was only the three of them in this huge house, it felt like she was on her own. One could never hear Elijah coming or going, same as it was the case with the housekeeper, although Elena knew that she would be there, as Elijah instructed her to assist the doppelganger with anything she might want or need. After a long shower, Elena ventured down into the kitchen and greeted the housekeeper warmly. Zusta did the same with a little smile handing over a note from Elijah.

"The Count wishes to let you know also that you would be dining out today. Would you like mocha or cappuccino with your breakfast? I will serve it in the Salon if you please, Signorina"

"I'm -not used to all this-being served  breakfast every morning. Ahm- can I eat here? Mocha, thank you.”

"The Count didn't have a guest like this for a very long time, since my great-grandmother served him. But if you wish to eat here, it is all right. As you wish."- Zusta then said. 

Elena now sat down at the great wooden kitchen table as she read Elijah’s message and then said-

"Your great-grandmother?! So, your family knows Elijah for a long time?"

"The Count saved our family from starvation, at the beginning of 19th century when we lost everything to a very bad investment, since then we agreed to work for the Count." -the housekeeper replied now serving Elena the coffee laced with chocolate. 

The way Zusta talked about the Original, said that he was someone who was good and noble and that the housekeeper had no problem  accepting Elijah for who he really was. 

Elena wanted to know more, but she left it there, as the housekeeper went to tidy up the rooms. She now once again opened Elijah's note to her.

"Elena"- it read- " I do apologize for not having breakfast with you, but I will be gone for the day. I may have come across a lead that I must personally see to. Elijah"

Elena folded the note again and put it in her jeans. She then ate her brioche and drank the coffee, her mind wandering away again to her past. Her family. Just a year ago, she was questioning all, trying to find her course in life. She remembered joking with Bonnie and Caroline how they would take a year off and travel around Europe, and then start College. And there she was, in Venice, in the most heavenly places on Earth, with a vampire that had this ancient worldly flare about him. He moved her in the ways she didn’t understand, but he stirred everything inside her from the first time they had met, thought it was not a very pleasant to say the least. But then, at what moment, she started to feel things, that completely clouded her heart, her mind, her soul. She now gulped thinking of him. Nothing about him was clear cut. He was all, though- charismatic, magnetic, electric, mysterious, generous, eccentric. 

 The housekeeper returned and Elena  was eager to hear about the guest who stayed here more than a century ago.The housekeeper was not sure if it was appropriate to go into any more details, but Elena assured her that she would keep the story to herself, but the housekeeper remembered what her mother always had said that it was wise to keep all that they know about their benefactor to themselves, so she had to refuse Elena's efforts.

"I understand"- Elena then said and went to get her bag and decided to go into town, as she felt that soon would be leaving this place. She let her thoughts be and lost herself in the beauty of the place. 

__

Elena was not wrong, Elijah waited for the bookstore owner in Florence, who was unpleasantly surprised to see him there in person.

"Signore de Luca"- Elijah said politely seeing the man's face turn slightly pale -"our last encounter wasn't a pleasant one as I recall, but you needn't worry. I am here for my package."

"I should have known that it could be you asking for the scrolls."- the old man said nervously.

"The price?"- Elijah said seriously.

"No, you can have them. There is no price." -Luca said passing the box with the scrolls to the vampire.

Elijah took the box and said- "Still, I would like to make a donation. Thank you."- he gave a check to the man and left the store. The bookstore owner was happy that this was a very short visit and the vampire was on his way. There was one more stop he had to make in Padua before returning to Venice.

In the meantime, Elena went for a walk. She had already done some shopping but she ventured again into a shop. She needed a dress" something better. It was only dinner, not a Ball, so why should she care what to wear, she wondered. The shopkeeper asked her what the occasion was and if she could help her. After trying out some of the dresses, she finally picked one. She walked some more, getting a Gelatto. As usual the place was busy and she wondered into more secluded area where there were no tourist.

"What am I doing?"- she said to herself suddenly sitting down on a little wall by a canal. She closed her eyes, and opened it again, and she was still in Venice. She looked at the bag with the dress,- a voice within creeping up again pressed like an alarm ever since she had made a deal with him in her room - the same voice that made her undagger him, save his life, and suggested she should go with him. "There is no going back"- she said to herself- it felt like she set fire to the rain and now there was nothing else to do but walk right through it. 

***

As for the other Mikaelson siblings, Rebekah followed Klaus to Canada, but soon found it boring and decided to abandon him and his great plans. He wasn't glad that she took off, as now he could not control her whereabouts.

 "Each to their own"- he mumbled as he read her note she had left behind for himself.-"it's fine by me."- he threw the paper angrily away. 

He was getting frustrated as his witch could not locate Esther, nor Finn, but he knew that it would be so.

 "I need to know what Mother is up to"- he moaned at the witch.- "she obviously doesn't have Elena's blood, so she cannot do much, not that this will stop her." Most of all, he hated that again he had to be a recluse of sorts. 

****

In Venice, Elena made her way to the Palazzo. She was not in a good mood, so she went straight to her room. She tossed the bag with the dress she had bought on the bed. She took her phone, and was tempted to call Bonnie. But what would they talk about, now she tossed the phone onto the bed. She hated that all of a sudden this uneasiness crept inside of her  and she just wanted to disappear. She would click with her shoes and she would be in Mystic Falls several years before the accident, when she didn't know that vampires exited, that they were just make believe, creatures out of folk stories. Then she went to the bathroom and took a shower. The water will help and wash away this something that rippled in her and she wanted so badly to shake it away. 

Zusta met Elijah at the hall of the Palazzo as he walked in. Naturally, he would first ask about Elena, and the housekeeper informed him that the Signorina went out and returned. He thanked her and gave her permission to leave for the night. 

He sat down at the piano, but he was deterred by the sounds that were coming from Elena’s room. It seemed she was getting ready, he then walked to his study and put the box he acquired that day on the table. The second meeting was not entirely fruitful. But, for now things were progressing satisfactory.

Before leaving the Palazzo, Zusta notified Elena that the Count had arrived. 

Soon Elena appeared in the Salon, and Elijah swayed his head at her as he heard her walk in.

 He picked up on her unusual mood. 

"Something happened?"- he asked after he greeted her. 

"No."- she answered shortly- " anything new?" 

"Yes, I managed to get hold of the Dacian scrolls. I had them authenticated" 

"And?"- now Elena was eager to hear more.

 "The only person that is able to read the scrolls lives in Romania. A professor Lia Vladu."

 "That means we are going to Romania?!"- Elena concluded. 

"Yes, Elena."- he answered dryly- " the verification proved that the scrolls are original, but we need to know if it entails the spell that would reverse the impact your blood has. But, something is in the matter, you are not yourself."

 He looked at the doppelganger with eyes sparkling a dash of  worry.

 "Nothing. I am fine."- Elena fibbed. 

"You are not fine, Elena. I can hear your heartbeat, and it is unsettling. Something is not right, what is it?" 

Elena looked at the Original stunned for a moment. He listened to her heart! 

 "What does it say?"- Elena now looked at him and said in a challenged manner.

 "You are restless and weary."- he replied calmly as he now got up, nearing her and added-

 "you are questioning if all this is a mistake?"

 Elena took a silent deep breath and it was like her heart seemed to have dropped right out the chest on the floor, as his look gave out a punch. What could she answer. He knew, as it seemed from the very beginning all that was going on inside her, but she was not willing to come out with the truth, and again,to diffuse the situation, he continued, after the pause that seemed lasted a life time-

 "I told Zusta that it would be nice to dine outside tonight, so she could go to her village and go to her brother's birthday celebration.”

Elena was happy that in a way he detoured from her feelings to another subject.

 "Yes, she told me- about the dinner." 

"I took the liberty of booking a table in an Osteria. A place I have dined at the last 300 years- whenever I could be in Venice." 

The way he spoke, the way he looked at her made her want him to take her hand everso gently, pull her in closer. Just the thought of it made her soul feel a strange kind of tingle, and she knew she was ready to lose it all, but she wanted also to know if it was mutual. And he could have made an advancement already, but he kept to himself, like a perfect gentleman not wanting to take advantage of the situation.   

His mind tortured his very soul for not confessing that he too had feelings rewoken, feelings he had buried so deep that he thought noone could be able to stir. But he swore to himself that he will not let them resurface till he knew for sure that the other party is truthful in her regard towards him.

 He would not bear to be someone that she had fallen back on, as he believed there still must be unresolved lingering feelings towards the Salvatore brothers, and therefore he would not approach her. He vowed to himself, that this must be more than merely a sexual encounter. Not with Elena. He wanted her heart, all of it, belonging only to him.

 "I am ready"- she then said- "shall we go?!" He nodded slightly and he let her walk out  in front of him. 

She wore the dark green dress that she had bought earlier that day. She had put her hair up in a semi loose pony tail. She didn’t look anything like the lost High-School Senior, but a gorgeous young woman. He looked at her as if she was a fairy-tale creature sprung out from another world. Having this elegant, beautiful woman next to him was more than enough for the moment. 

#Elijah Mikaelson #Elena Gilbert #Elejah #tvd fanfiction #Fanfiction #alternative universe

[1358456]

Review Response, June 30 - July 6, 2019

Another week, this one with a DE update (Discord Collaboration Event) that happened... well, yesterday.

I was going to make this post much earlier, but the FF website was being dumb.

Legacy Prologue - Kanto

1) Don’t mind me, just a random review to let you know that people still read Legacy. But while I’m here, I just wanna say to the people reading the Review Response: POST A REVIEW ON LEGACY IF YOU READ IT SO THAT THE SERIES CAN CONTINUE FASTER

... While I appreciate the thought, but posting a review for the very first chapter does the opposite of what you are trying to do. It’s already a downhill trend. If you raise the higher points higher, the downhill trend just becomes steeper.

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Legacy #007

1) Where’d you go? There hasn’t been an update in almost a month?

Yeah, it’s been like a month, but... I think the Legacy Hiatus can go a few more months. Let’s see 1 update per every 4 months, hmm?

2) I love this story so much I really hope moon,lillie and hau are ok and if platinum will recover from her experience with the shadow net.

I can't wait for the next chapter

... Shadow net? ... Heh. I guess you can consider the currently concealed enemy as Legacy’s version of SA’s ShadowNet? But without the comedic silliness and failure.

3) OUCH. Putting moon and a boy on fire is horrifying. I think Lillie too. Never thought people would almost kill anyone just to get that Pokedex.

I put Moon, a boy, and Lillie on fire. So yes. I already said a long time ago that I was going to set Moon on fire. I followed through with that promise. Yes, you wouldn’t think that people will go that far to get a Rotom Dex given how annoying it is, but... useful for their goals.

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And with that, Legacy’s chart now looks like this. It’s still a downhill trend. But just a few more to the last chapter and the trend will look different.

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Destiny #013

1) I'm so sorry that this review is so late! I sorta got caught up watching a three hour movie with my family and then fell asleep reading this not because it was boring but because I tend to fall asleep while doing things. Anyways, I kid you not, when Blue asked the big question (the question I've been asking since the very beginning) I stg I leaned in closer. Like, that was the very moment that I had been waiting for the entire time! And it was just causally thrown in and took me by surprise. And tbh, I didn't expect that answer. He's trying to restore certain pokemon to their full power... well I doubt he's doing it to be nice. He's obviously going to use that power for something else. I can't believe Blue just took that answer as a satisfactory one when it's so vague. But I guess she didn't really do it for information, but whether to see if he trusted her or not. Well, he passed the test.

Speaking of that moment, I was also surprised to see that Blue could still think. Was she still brainwashed? Or even when under his control can you still think thoughts you would even when he isn't of control over you? Welp, who knows. But it also makes me wonder if the scouts have that same thing. What were they thinking when they were attacking the dexholders? Or maybe Blue is just really strong in those regards and this could somehow mean that in the future Blue will break her hold because of that strength. Hmm a lot to ponder indeed.

Also, Diamon was so sweet. I know they all are when it comes to the person they like, but like goddammit Dia. You're killing me. And, like, it wasn't even that much, but just his concern for Platinum was great. Though, X is a little bitch ngl. There Y is, all hurt and afraid, and doesn't even speak to her (unless he did and I just forgot?). But what can you expect? I guess not that.

I feel like this review is a little short compare to the others, but I suppose that's because this chapter is shorter than the others. But you are right when you said that in order to compensate for that, you gave us valuable info! It gave me more questions than answers, but still the little insight into Peter's plan was nice. Though as for what he plans in doing with Blue... I feel like he would do something more with her than just sending her to fight the dexholders. It would be such a waste to send someone as important as her to just fight them, when he already has an advantage. Maybe he plans on sending her as a spy? I mean, he already tried that, but that didn't work out as well as he expected, But it still did the job so I guess maybe not. Hmm or maybe he'll use her somehow, not to defeat the dexholders, but to restore the power to the pokemon. Unless the whole reason for restoring the pokemon's power is to defeat the dexholders, But that seems rather silly, because he could just do that on his own.

Anyways, I read your review response and while it does take a long time to write these reviews, I very much enjoy writing them so I will continue lmao.

Thank youuuuuuuuuu

And you’re back! For just one chapter this week, it seems. Yep. Trying to restore certain Pokemon to full power. That was me trying to jump the gun on the third Kalos game which never existed for some reason. Damn it. Oh well. At least Generation VII gave the Zygarde formes.

Well, Blue is not brainwashed. It’s more like... instead of just completely controlling her, she’s getting more aggressive thoughts and prompts in her mind. She was already distressed, and the subtle “nudges” towards the darker thoughts prompted her aggressive response. As for the other FULL mind controls... you will see.

Diamond is so sweet. Especially when it comes to Platinum. Hehehe... And for X... he’s not really the vocal type when it comes to things like this. It’s usually Y trying to cheer him up, and making sure that he’s okay, not the other way around. So... he doesn’t really know what to do. ... Poor Y...

While it certainly wouldn’t hurt to spy on an enemy that you can already easily crush, it’s not all that necessary. That said, disruption can come in many forms. Hehehe...

I look forward to seeing your future reviews!

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And Destiny now looks like this. Still up and down and up and down and... And this won’t be changing from just ONE person reading and reviewing, of course. ... That said, every time I look at this chart, that (38, 5) is REAL freaking annoying.

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DE #033

1) YAY! New update :) I was wondering what was taking so long for one but after reading this now I know. :) Can’t wait for more :)

Well, this wasn’t the only thing that was causing a delay in all the other chapters. But at least I was working on something in the meantime, eh?

2) MORE. MOREEEEEE! More cute black/white chapters. I neeeed theeem

And you shall get them. ... Later, and depending on the outcome of this chapter.

3) PLEASE GREEN OR SILVER REVIVAL FOR SCRAMBLED! :D

... The biggest reason why these two are not in any pairings is because of how freaking awkward or boring they are in a relationship. And you want me to pair them up with people they haven’t even met yet, thus removing canon histories from their interactions? Once again, I cannot keep these two REMOTELY in character and have such a chapter to work.

4) Aww, this was so cute! I've always loved Agency, even though I haven't quite read that arc yet lol. Seeing them happy together just brings a smile to my face :D The next chapter coming up seems interesting, too, I can't wait to see who the random Dex Holders are!

Seeing Black and White happy together is a rarity in my stories! Heh... So better enjoy it while you can~!

The two Dex Holders for the next scrambled chapter has already been decided. The “random” is a lie. The answer can be found in Pokemon Special Discord. Hehehe...

5) I literally can't stop smiling while reading this. This is just soooooooo cute!

Hehe. I tried to cram in as much cute and sweet stuff as possible :)

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And so DE now looks like this. ... Interesting to note that this chapter has been out for less than 24 hours and already has more than the Sun & Moon chapter I made a long time ago. Heh. As usual, the youngest juniors just get sh*t on in stories like these. Before the Sun & Moon chapter, what is the absolute minimum? (16, 5), which was... X & Y. Yep. The youngest juniors just get sh*t on.

If this chapter fails to reach 10 like the last one, then... well, so much for trying to write cute stuff with Black and White.

#qna

[peony-pearl]

Gifts

I haven’t written in eons; so this is a practice piece of sorts. Concrit is welcome 8)

rated T for some language I suppose

“What do you want for your birthday?”

Sephiroth barely glanced Hojo’s way as he rested on the examination bench. The slight rush that someone had remembered his birthday was welcome; only it was nearly 3 in the afternoon, and Hojo had just acknowledged it. 

“Just a few gil for the night. Thanks,” Sephiroth responded shortly. Hojo clucked something under his breath as he wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Sephiroth’s arm.

“You’re getting at that age where gifts mean something in return,” Hojo said while he pumped the attached bulb to tighten the cuff. “A gift carries burdens.”

“What do you mean?” Sephiroth asked. Hojo looked at the meter on the cuff, then at his watch. After a moment, a slight shift in his wrinkles meant a satisfactory result, and he released the pressure on the cuff without another look at the silver-haired soldier.

“You’ll understand one day,” he said as he scribbled on the usual chart. Sephiroth sat, his patience now an act, but one he’d perfected. Eighteen years of tests, trials, and dealing with the cold, sterile air of the Shinra labs, followed by waiting, and waiting, and more waiting, until being thrust out into the battlefield, and returning home with his whole worldview shifted; but no one else had changed. His patience had now become a continuous, quiet appreciation for every moment he had away from those orders he’d been given in Wutai. He knew there would be more. So he waited. 

Hojo turned to Sephiroth; those eyes that had once glared at him in frustration were now calm, but no less piercing than ever. He reached into his back pocket, fishing a few hundred gil out of his wallet to hand to Sephiroth.

“Enjoy your night. But I still expect you in for briefing by eight,” Hojo said. Sephiroth nodded.

“Thank you, sir.”

After a trip to his bunk and a change of clothes, Sephiroth wandered down the streets of Midgar. He was accustomed by now to the citizens stopping to watch him; or worse, trying to ask him questions; so he often traveled by alleyway. It was quieter and quicker. He’d heard of a materia shop he wanted to visit, and he rushed quickly with the worry it would close before he could get there. He noticed some lights coming from a bar ahead; he slowed down, intrigued by the location of the bar deep in a series of alleyways, and he peeked inside. Various chattering was often drowned by the sounds of billiards players or the clinking of glasses full of alcohol or utensils scraping at scraps of food. Smoke billowed out of the open doors, illuminated by neon lights, both inside and outside of the bar. He hummed to himself, remembering to hurry on before-

“Birthday boy!”

Sephiroth paused. He reversed his steps and slowly stepped inside, looking for the voice. He noticed a figure in a fenced-in nook, where a billiards table rested and an Automated Player swiveled past who had shouted out to Sephiroth.

“Hollander?” Sephiroth hesitantly approached Hollander’s table, where he watched the bearded man chalk his pool cue; in the meantime the Automated Player prepared to take a shot. “Playing alone? So that’s not just something you do at work?”

Grinning, Hollander put the chalk back before he watched the AP strike, causing a flurry on the table. “I like it,” he said before looking at Sephiroth. “It can’t talk back to me unless I program it to,” he said before the AP tucked itself into a corner until its next turn. “So. Eighteen. How does it feel?”

Sephiroth looked at him, and could only shrug. “I don’t know. It feels like last year. And the year before that. I always think I’m going to feel different. I always think maybe...”

“You’ll get more perfect?” Hollander smirked. His cue struck out in a clatter, and he cursed as his target failed roll into the aimed pocket.

“N-no. It’s... something else,” Sephiroth mused. His hands dug into his pockets as his fingers rifled through the gil he had yet to spend. He looked to the aging carpet on the floor, squinting, but in thought. He pondered his conversation with Hojo, and all the previous ones he’d known for eighteen years. Each monotone, cold conversation between him and the most consistent figure in his life. “That I might... feel enough.”

Hollander looked up from the table. Sephiroth, able to maintain his posture and dignity, spoke this with an air the scientist wasn’t familiar with. As the AP beeped it’s way to assess the contents of the table, Hollander stopped it; he turned the machine off and let it return to its nook before he slid the pool cue out of its casing, offering it to Sephiroth.

Sephiroth, unsure of what to do, slowly took the cue and looked at the table before back to Hollander, who realized his mistake.

“Use that stick to hit one of the balls on the table with the white one.”

“... You do this for fun?”

“I do this because I like it. Does Hojo allow you to have hobbies?”

Sephiroth didn’t look at him.

“I should know better than to ask that,” Hollander said as Sephiroth aimed the cue. “Sephiroth. Listen. Feeling ‘enough’ is... tricky. For someone like you who’s been taught nothing but perfection and then to get what you’re given back in return,” Hollander watched Sephiroth manage a clean shot, nabbing two targets at once on his first try, ”... It’s frustrating.”

“Hojo sees so much.” Sephiroth said. “I’ve done what they’ve expected of me-”

“All that and more,” Hollander said, rounding the table.

“But... But once we secure Wutai, what then?” Sephiroth asked. 

“What do you mean?” Hollander asked back.

Sephiroth’s mouth bobbed, searching for the right words. “When do I find my... my own? My way... M-MY way! When do I do what I see fit for me?”

Hollander looked at him, trying to keep his face an empty slate as Sephiroth continued.

“All the scientists talk about their homes or apartments; their lives, their hobbies. Their families. When will I find mine?” Sephiroth asked, his usually placid demeanor now rippling with anxiety and irritation. “When will I have my life?”

It was a moment only filled with the sounds of the bar, yet even those seemed dulled by the conversation at hand. Hollander tapped his cue against his shoulder, barely glancing Sephiroth’s way. 

Now he knew what Gast had meant when he suggested ‘unforeseen complications’ nearly thirty years ago.

“Perhaps now,” Hollander suggested. “You’re old enough to do many things on your own. Start making sure Hojo knows you’re not just his puppet.”

Sephiroth watched Hollander lean over, aiming his cue. “I’m not his... I can’t do that.”

“Why the hell not?” Hollander asked as he struck his aim; causing a crackle of noise as he hit his target, concluded with the thunk of a scoring hit. 

“I can’t go against him-”

“Why. The hell. Not?” Hollander asked again, his sunken eyes widening. He rounded the table to approach Sephiroth, his walk loose and unrestrained as he almost pleaded with the young soldier. “What is he going to do? What can he do to you, Sephiroth? He can’t hurt you. You’re the strongest person alive, and you’re afraid of that weasel?”

Sephiroth frowned. “No, b-”

“Then tell him to back off. Better yet, put him in his place.”

“You’d like that more than I would,” Sephiroth said. Hollander slowly grinned, shaking his head.

“You know that,” Hollander confirmed. He watched Sephiroth round the table; for once he seemed in a haze. His eyes lacked focus as he looked at the table, searching for a potential move; but he wasn’t actually looking. He wasn’t focused on the game. 

“Do you remember the time you sneaked some candy to me when I was seven?”

Smirking, Hollander nodded. “Saltwater candies from Costa del Sol. Did you like them?”

Sephiroth aimed his cue. “I never had the chance to try them. I hid them under my pillow, but Hojo found them while I was getting my Mako treatments. That was one of the worst lectures I’d ever received.”

Hollander’s smile dissipated. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

Sephiroth shook his head as he half-heartedly aimed and struck; despite his lack of focus, he managed a perfect shot. “It’s okay. I just never understood why, when I was just trying to have a normal life, everything I did seemed wrong. That... hurt me. I tried from then on to be what he wanted, to be the perfect...”

Hollander watched as Sephiroth fought for a word.

And for the scientist, it clicked. His jaw became slack, and he closed his eyes for a second.

“I see.”

Sephiroth looked up, confused. “What?” He asked as Hollander made his way around the table.

“Listen,” Hollander started, anchoring his cue on the floor as turned his eyes to Sephiroth. “You won’t find something new until you break ties with the old. Your dependence on Hojo’s validation of you isn’t going to help you from here on out. And he’s certainly not going to change. Trust me, Sephiroth. I’ve known the bastard for longer than you’ve been alive. And the only thing that’s changed is how ugly he’s gotten.”

“Yeah but you hate him.”

“I fuckin hate the bastard.”

“Then why are you offering me all this advice?”

“Because I hate the bastard. And because you deserve it. If no one else is going to tell you, the soldier responsible for Shinra’s current successes, then I suppose I will.”

“And what, pray tell, are you hoping to achieve from it, Hollander?” Sephiroth asked. He crossed his arms, for once letting his stance loosen. Hollander smiled, looking at Sephiroth past loose strands of salt-and-pepper hair. 

“Perhaps, like you, I’m looking to fill my own emotional voids.”

Sephiroth looked at his watch, unsure if the materia store was still open. Something lingered on his mind though; and now that he was in an atmosphere of being able to ask, that trip wasn’t important at the moment.

“If you’ve known Hojo that long; do you remember my mother?”

Hearing the question; Hollander fought not to freeze. He found a quick distraction in a dessert card by the table where his belongings were located, and he could feel Sephiroth walking closer.

“Your mother?”

Lucrecia. What had Hojo told Sephiroth of her? As much as Hollander wanted to tell Sephiroth every detail he could just to spite Hojo, Hollander also enjoyed not taking a trip to a gas chamber.

“Hojo’s only told me her name; and that she died giving birth to me.”

Hollander set the dessert card down. He turned, facing Sephiroth with every ounce of acting he could muster. “I’m afraid I never knew her. I’m sorry. What was her name?”

“Jenova,” Sephiroth answered. And Hollander questioned himself for expecting anything else; but still, something boiled in the pit of his stomach. For everything Hojo had taught and given Sephiroth, Couldn’t he at least have told the boy about his mother?

“I’m afraid... I was never privy to that knowledge,” Hollander said, doing his best to speak without gritting his teeth. Sephiroth’s gaze became distant again, and he clutched the pool cue as he looked back at the table. Hollander watched, slightly leaning to try and get a look at the soldier’s face. “Are you alright?”

“... It’s your turn, doctor,” he said, lowering his pool cue. Hollander looked back at the scattered table, having completely forgotten about the game. 

“O-oh; right,” he said, painting a smile to hopefully dissuade any clues of what he actually knew about Sephiroth’s mother. His origins. And how bits and pieces of that origin had been picked from Hollander’s own failed opus. He scoured for a target before looking up at Sephiroth, who was taking in the scene of the bar. “Hey... you don’t have to stay, Sephiroth. I’m sorry I took you off track to what you were doing. You should be out enjoying yourself.”

“Doing what?” Sephiroth asked. “Wandering the streets I’ve known my whole life alone for the three hundredth time?” He smirked. Hollander smiled back as he leaned in to take his shot.

“So; have you met those other two boys up for First Class? What are they names... Hewley and Rhapsodos?” 

“I have. I was hoping to spend today with them but they were assigned to Wutai a week ago. So... it’s just me.” He watched Hollander’s cue strike, and listened to his curse as it missed it’s target.

“Well.” Hollander said as he walked to his coat, rifling through it. He pulled something out and returned to the table. “It doesn’t have to be like that.” He tossed something Sephiroth’s way, and the soldier gracefully caught it; when he opened his hand, he saw something he never thought he would see again. A candy wrapped in neat foil; one of the saltwater candies he’d never been able to have.

“Happy birthday.” Hollander said, taking one out for himself. “I’ll buy you a box.”

“And what if Hojo finds it?”

“Hit him with it.”

Sephiroth laughed, popping the candy into his mouth; a salty-sweet shell encasing a creme center tingled at his jaws; he usually wasn’t allowed sweets, and the subsequent rush was foreign to him, but he smiled.

“For that? Yeah, I just might have to.”

Hollander laughed, watching Sephiroth aim for his next turn. Sephiroth landed another score, and as Hollander readied himself for another turn, he eyed Sephiroth with an air of caution.

“No, uhh... questions about your father?” Hollander asked. Sephiroth continued to gaze at the table.

“No questions needed. Or wanted.”

A smirk, followed by a nod, Hollander pressed no more. 

The night came to a close, and the two finally parted ways. Sephiroth made it to the materia store in time, and with spare gil, he bought a small can of soda at a machine tucked away in the store. He hid it within his jacket and rushed back to the Shinra Building.

He awoke on time for his 8 AM briefing with Hojo. He prepared his standard oatmeal breakfast, got dressed, and reported punctually, as usual. Hojo was waiting for him outside of the lab, pouring over his clipboard.

“You weren’t out too late last night, were you?” He asked. Sephiroth’s posture remained at-the-ready; appearing the perfect soldier.

“I was out all night.”

“Goo...” Hojo caught himself as he looked up at Sephiroth, who smirked.

“That was a joke,” he said, knowing what was coming next. Hojo’s face remained ever-perturbed, and he simply shook his head.

“Do not.”

“My apologies, sir,” Sephiroth said, still wearing a ghost of a smile. As the rest of those involved in the briefing stepped in, the day commenced, and life resumed as usual. Sephiroth would, at times, see Hollander in the halls of the science department. A knowing nod would be exchanged should they have caught a glance at each other before returning to work. One night, Sephiroth had free time after hours to go into town, and he sought out the bar, only to find few patrons and no one he knew. He still tried a game with the Automatic Player, and he promised himself to bring Angeal and Genesis here one night.

It was a week later, and Sephiroth was waiting for Hojo to dismiss him from his mako treatment. He sat, looking through his phone, and soon received a message from Angeal that he and Genesis were boarding the plane to return to Midgar. Relief and excitement took Sephiroth by surprise; he wasn’t used to feeling this way with others. He received a photo of the two, Angeal wearing a smile, and Genesis trying to appear photogenic despite their muddy conditions. Sephiroth beamed, almost confused by his own happiness; but this new emotion was as welcome as it was needed.

Finally, the door slid open; and Hojo walked inside, his eyes ever glued to his clipboard. He peered up at Sephiroth for a moment. 

“I noticed you bought a new materia,” he said. Sephiroth nodded.

“It was what I bought with my birthday money.”

Hojo’s face remained unimpressed as he set the clipboard down to remove the last of the tubes and wires from Sephiroth’s arms. “I wish you’d told me that was what you were getting.”

“Like you said; gifts are a burden-”

“We could have made that for you and we wouldn’t have had to waste giving money to a run-down shop.”

Sephiroth stopped. He stared at Hojo; something about his tone created a divide in what Sephiroth wanted to say. Something about the way Hojo continuously provided for the young man brought him comfort; yet his chastising nature caused Sephiroth to bristle. 

“I wanted to buy it. I wanted to make it my own.”

“Your own?” Hojo asked. “Don’t you have enough? Do we not provide you with everything you need?”

Sephiroth stared at him, words failing. But instead of falling back on apologies, his brow furrowed and he dug into the well of unsaid frustrations.

“You’re the one choosing what to provide me. I chose what I wanted.”

Even as calmly as this was said, Hojo halted what he was doing and he stared at Sephiroth, his eyes almost burrowing through the soldier.

“And what is it you want, boy?”

Sephiroth felt as though he was reverting back to childhood, yet he remained confident.

“I want my own choices. I want... to live.”

“You want to be like one of those reckless third class mutts? You want to lower yourself to that of a common creature? Is that it? Sephiroth, you’re better than that.”

“Then why do I need you to command my every hour?”

Hojo stood straight up, and as Sephiroth sat, he towered over the soldier; and despite his relaxed stance, Sephiroth could tell he was livid.

“You need me.”

“I don’t want to do this anymore-”

“You can’t stop being a SOLDIER.”

“That’s not what I mean!” Sephiroth finally stood, towering over Hojo. “I’m... I’m capable of doing this on my own.”

Hojo hadn’t flinched at Sephiroth’s true height. He crossed his arms, unimpressed. “Oh really? You’re already such an adult you can make it without me?”

“I’m ready to try, at least,” Sephiroth said, and with that, he proceeded to where his shirt hung on the wall, quickly slipping it on. “I’m... I’m tired. I’m going to go rest.”

“In the bunk that we provide you with? I thought you didn’t want that,” Hojo spat.

Sephiroth continued on his way out of the lab with Hojo furiously following him.

“You can’t treat me like this, Sephiroth. After everything I’ve done for you-”

“What about everything I’ve done for you?! For this company?!” Sephiroth shouted, reeling around on Hojo. “I’ve given my entire life, I’ve risked everything, I’ve killed for you! I’ve seen and heard things that would drive you mad-”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Hojo sneered. “You take me to be that weak? Boy, I thought we stamped this behavior out years ago.”

“Behavior? I’m not a hound you can keep caged up until you need me!”

Hojo opened his mouth; yet he relented.

“That you are not.”

“Then please,” Sephiroth said. “Please. Let me be.”

With that, Hojo stared silently at Sephiroth. He took one step back, and, with a tautness to his posture, he motioned for Sephiroth to proceed down the hall. 

“By all means. If you want to isolate yourself, so be it.”

Sephiroth felt something churn in his gut; fear started to spread. Was this worth it? To damage his ties with the most consistent figure in his life just for a bit of freedom? 

He shook his head; he fought to press on, and he walked forward. Just as he did, the elevator rang, and out walked Hollander, who almost reeled at the sight of Hojo. 

“Ugh, God,” Hollander said before turning to find Sephiroth. “There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Excuse me?” Hojo asked as Hollander approached Sephiroth. He tossed something towards the soldier, and Sephiroth caught a small, wrapped gift. With a nod from Hollander, he opened it, finding a package of the Costa del Sol candies. 

“I told you I’d buy you a box. Happy birthday.”

“He can’t have those,” Hojo said. “He needs to stay away from-”

Before Hojo could finish Sephiroth was unwrapping and plunking a candy into his mouth. “Thanks, doc. I owe you. Pool tonight?”

“You’re on, kid,” Hollander grinned as Sephiroth walked out of sight. Hojo cornered Hollander, aiming a fist at Hollander’s jaw.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!” Hojo screamed. Hollander winced, looking at Hojo.

“I didn’t do anything. But you’ve done enou-”

“Spare me, Victor. What did you tell him?!”

“Nothing. But I know what you told him about Lucrecia. Or what you didn’t tell him.”

Hojo froze. Hollander’s nose wrinkled. “That’s right. Jenova? Really?”

“You’re the reason why he’s behaving this way. You’ve tampered with my son!”

“Bullshit,” Hollander growled. “Did you honestly think you could keep the most powerful man alive at your fingertips for his whole life?”

“You’re going to regret this,” Hojo snarled. Hollander shook his head.

“I’ve regretted every damn day of my life since Shinra took Gillian and Angeal from me. Try me. I live for this.”

A few more heated moments as the two seethed just inches away from each other, and Hojo turned on his heel, returning to the labs without another sound. 

Hollander’s cell phone chimed, signaling a company-wide update. He opened his mail to read that another successful troupe was returning to Midgar. He sighed in relief, knowing that meant Angeal and Genesis were returning to Midgar. He rubbed his jaw, which was swelling, and he looked at his watch, remembering that he now had a game with Sephiroth later that night.

He hoped his gift would be enough to win the soldier over, so that perhaps Hollander could have a better chance of acquainting himself with his own boys through Sephiroth.

It would be unfortunate, though when his potential plans came to fruition; whatever they may be. They would not be easy on Sephiroth; or anyone for that matter. But he was prepared for it.

Gifts carried burdens. And Sephiroth’s burden was the first gift he was given by Lucrecia: His own life.

#luna writes #I apologize this is so out of practice #Crisis Core #Hollander #Sephiroth #Hojo