#fancied making a sunny one so yeah here ya go

[existslikepristin]

Impromptu Review

Thanks for editing this one goes to momirene and Worldsover, and for helpful beta reading feedback from them and one dork who wants to remain anonymous.

Tags: TheLounge, Red Velvet, SNSD (Girl's Generation), Joy, Sunny, loneliness, potential traumatization of cats, a hoard of hell-themed sex toys, a strap on, a butt plug with Jiu's face in it, and bisexual problems.

The front door of Sunny’s apartment swung open so fast that Joy felt a breeze from the vacuum it left behind.

“Joy! You’re here!”

Joy blinked. “Yeah, I said I would come over.”

“It’s been so long since we’ve met up! Come in, come in!”

“It’s only been like a month though.”

Sunny grabbed Joy’s hands and pulled her through the doorway. “It feels like so much longer than that!”

Joy smiled and took her shoes off in the entryway. “You seem more excited than usual.”

“What? How so?”

“Well for one,” Joy said, pointing at the kitchen, “It looks like you prepared for a whole party in here.”

The kitchen’s island was covered in plates of snacks and several variations of alcoholic beverages. Additionally, Sunny was noticeably sweaty, like she had just run around the house preparing for guests. Joy figured it would be best not to bring that up.

“What? No. That? That’s… yeah, that’s a lot of food, isn’t it?” Sunny’s posture drooped, as if she’d already expended all of her energy on her greeting.

Joy pulled her into a side hug. Her height served to straighten Sunny back up. “What’s going on, girl?”

Sunny sighed and leaned her head on Joy’s chest. “I dunno. I’m just excited. Haven’t had a good social night any time recently.”

“Aw! But what about these cutie kitties?”

Sogeum popped her head out from behind the wall and gave Joy her signature droopy, grim stare without so much as a meow. As soon as Joy shuffled in her direction though, she turned and went back into the living room.

“Well, you know. Can’t really have a real conversation with the cats.”

Joy hummed her agreement and stepped into the kitchen. “I’m always happy to talk to you Sunny. They don’t call SM a family for nothing.”

Sunny groaned, loudly.

“Um. Okay,” Joy said when Sunny didn’t elaborate. “Not a family? Just a bunch of really close friends?”

“Yeah, that’ll work better. Not a fan of the family motif.”

Joy picked up a cracker and chomped down. “Gonna… explain? Family is normally a positive thing, isn’t it?”

Sunny grabbed a bottle of wine and yanked the cork out. “Yeah, totally, for sure. Hey, do you like Chardonnay?”

“I…” Joy didn’t want to skirt around whatever issue Sunny was having, but was well-aware of her stubbornness. “I sure do.”

As fancy glasses of white wine were generously poured, Joy made note of Sunny’s slow, unsteady movements. She worried that perhaps Sunny had already started drinking, or wasn’t getting enough sleep.

* * *

“Can you believe that, Joy?”

“No way. It’s just inhuman.”

“Completely! It’s not like green onions are suddenly more expensive to dry out!”

The conversation had started with gossip and cheese snacking when the sun was high. As the sun set, the discussion shifted to the price of instant meals, and the snack plates were all but empty. Joy had to fight the constant urge to fall asleep, as the topics were never much more interesting than that. But she let Sunny lead the talking as much as possible.

Joy was simply relieved that Sunny called her over before diving into her liquor storage. “You should start a petition to regulate the price. I’d be the first to sign it.”

Sunny’s tipsy grin matched Joy’s. Though the alcohol consumption had been slow-going, they had been doing it for several hours. “Oh that would be great press. ‘Washed up idol upset with ramen manufacturers.’”

With an exaggerated roll of the eyes, Joy pointed at a set of boxes in the corner of the living room, currently being used as a lookout tower by Sogeum. “You’re not washed up yet. Look at all of those sponsor gifts. Those weren’t here last time I came over… Wait, they weren’t, were they?”

Sunny giggled. “No, they’re, uh… new.”

Their corporate sponsors weren’t something that Joy, Sunny, or any of the other SM idols discussed often. There were usually so many vying for their attention that it was pointless trying to keep track. But Joy reasoned, somewhat drunkenly, that talking about it might be therapeutic to someone so down on their social status. “Who are they from, anyway?”

A blush deepened the red of Sunny’s already tipsy-glowing cheeks. “Uh… Nobody. Just a regular sponsor, ya know?”

Joy grinned. “Oh, come on. You can tell me. What am I gonna do? Call a press conference to tell the tabloids who’s contributing to your paycheck?”

Sunny rolled her eyes. She shot off the couch, spilling a drop or two of her wine in the process. From Joy’s naturally higher perspective, Sunny didn’t seem that much taller. “Fine,” she said, wobbling, “but you better not make fun of me.”

“I’ll make fun of you for other reasons, like how much I love you, bitch!” Joy blinked at her own shouting. She didn’t know when the alcohol had hit her, but she was beginning to think that she was a little more intoxicated than she previously thought.

Thankfully, the joviality in her voice seemed to encourage Sunny to play along. She set her wine on the coffee table and picked one of the smaller boxes off of the pile. “Disclosure first! We haven’t agreed to any deals yet. They sent me this stuff to try to convince me to shill it. I didn’t reach out to them.”

Joy waved the disclosure off like a mosquito, but Sunny still tossed the box in her direction. The weight inside of it was awkwardly distributed. Joy attempted to catch it, but it wound up ricocheting off the tips of her fingers and nearly knocking over an open, mostly full bottle of soju.

“The fuck is in this thing?”

“I’ve got some ideas but I just know who it’s from. Open it and find out.”

Joy tore into the box with no regard for the care that went into the packaging, which itself was surprisingly discreet. A smirk cracked her lips when she thought about what sorts of deliveries required such discretion. But the smirk faded right away when she got a view of the inside and realized that the packager apparently had the same idea.

Inside was a pair of plastic sheets wrapped asymmetrically around a roughly water bottle sized blob of blood red silicone. A small bit of pink cardboard advertised it as a five-speed, rotation-simulating, self-cleaning, pattern-switching, USB-charging, automatically-lubricating, remote-controlled vibrator with a speaker at the bottom for replicating a set of desired moans and a specialized charging dock.

Joy cleared her throat and stared at the horrifically fancy dildo, and its label, “Dante’s Dive,” unsure if she should toss it back to Sunny, considering it was clearly a personal item.

Sunny reached into what was left of the box, procuring a pretty little decorated card. “Dear Ms. Lee, we at Second Ring Inc were very pleased to hear your impromptu review of our products on a recent episode of ‘Welp, I Guess We’re Talking About This Now’ and wished to send you some additional items to show our appreciation. These are in no way a request for further public review,” Sunny was briefly interrupted by Joy’s disapproving snort, “but should you be interested in a partnership, we have included a phone number at which I, the chief executive officer, Lee Youngjoon, may be reached. Optionally, my username--”

Joy missed a few words as she was shocked by the extreme sound emitted by the vibrator when she pushed a button on the remote control.

“--is ‘worldsover’. As you know, Second Ring specializes in sexual wellness products, of which we’ve sent you a wide variety. They can be enjoyed by couples, or can serve as a fantastic outlet for power singles like yourself…”

Sunny trailed off. Joy was afraid she knew what was coming. “Damn, Sunny. You say so much as three words on national television and they scramble to get right up on your ass, eh?”

It was too late. Sunny was already tipping up the bottom of the soju bottle. A few drops spluttered back out of her mouth as Joy pushed it back down. “Sunny! You’ve said it yourself! You don’t want to get married!”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not still lonely!”

Joy wrapped her arms around Sunny. “You’ve got me. And a million other friends!”

“Fans don’t count.” Sunny’s voice was partially muffled by Joy’s shoulder.

“Ouch. Time for me to delete my Sone club membership. But fine. A hundred other friends. It’s not just me. It’s my members. Your members. And plenty of others. All of NCT would be--Okay, nevermind. Aespa though! They love you too.”

“But I don't want to inconvenience you." Sunny ended so matter-of-factly that Joy had to pause to process the short conversation.

"You know how… You know how you take a road trip, and there's a road block, or really bad construction, and you have to take a detour?"

"Yeah. I'm a detour."

"Come on, Sunny. What you are is the scenic route!”

There was a long silence.

“Was that the end of the metaphor?” Sunny eventually asked.

“I am very drunk.”

“You’re not that drunk.”

“Drunk enough to be shit at metaphors.”

“It’s…” Sunny extricated herself from Joy’s hug. “It’s okay. I think I know what you’re getting at, and I appreciate it. It’s just that a few words don’t really fix a brain, you know?”

Joy nodded slowly, watching as Sogeum casually stalked across the room. “Yup. But believe me. I’m here for you, at least. So if you need a friend, or some company, I’m at the top of your list.”

The cat plopped herself on the floor, right up against Sunny’s leg. Joy giggled. “Fuck off, kitty. I just said I was the top.”

It seemed the topic of conversation was ready to change. Sunny smiled, and it was enough to indicate her understanding.

“So!” Joy moved things along. “A pile of free, top of the line sex toys in your living room. What’s a young woman to do about that?”

Sunny snorted. “Well I’m not going to masturbate while I have company over, that’s for sure.” She grabbed another box from the pile and handed it over, doing her best not to disturb Sogeum’s new resting place.

The new box took mere seconds to open, this time revealing a black silicone butt plug with a red gem in the base. The casing suggested that a picture could be inserted beneath the gem, and it appeared there was one already there as an example. Joy had to flip it around to a variety of angles before she could make out that it contained a headshot of Dreamcatcher’s Jiu making finger hearts on her cheeks. She cocked her head, wondering if the image had actually been authorized.

Another box swapped between the womens’ hands. It took Joy a little longer to open than the last, but it turned out to be that way for a good reason, given that it was gently holding some fragile cargo: A red-tinted glass bottle of lube, labeled as “Juice from the Fruit of The Tree.” The lengthy product title had a snake winding through the letters.

“Well now they’re just really doubling down on this theme, aren’t they?” Sunny asked as she worked out how to open the next package, using her bottle opener as a makeshift knife.

Joy laughed and picked up yet another, now eager to see what kind of wild object it would contain. “Yeah, they really are! No lie, they’re starting to give me some ideas. Talk about sinful.”

“‘Oh I know,’” Sunny mocked the company, as SM artists often did, fingers still struggling to find their way under the first cardboard flap. “‘Let’s send Sunny a whole pile of sex junk. Bet she’s sinful enough to use it all.’ Like, come on Love-eye, or whatever your name is. What’s a single woman gonna do with all this? Hold up a pillow fort?”

“Hey, maybe he doesn’t know you’re single. Maybe there’s some stuff in here that takes two to tangle with… Fuck. Choerry’s got me using alliterations.”

Sunny barely managed to get her fingers inside the box, but her knuckles were turning white from the tightness of it. It seemed that she had left a portion of the packing tape uncut. “I said I was single on the show, though. I don’t think there will be any couples’ toys in here.”

“Oooh, I’m gonna make it a bet now.” Joy smirked. Her next sentence bypassed her verbal filter through the holes left in it by the alcohol. “If you get that thing open and there’s a strap on inside, you have to fuck me with it!”

A jerk of her arms snapped the remainder of the packing tape. Sunny chuckled. “You’re on. There’s no way it is.”

Joy had to admit that Sunny had a point, considering how small the package was. Surely it couldn’t fit a series of leather straps, or a dildo any larger than a couple of inches in any direction. The little voice in the back of her mind that told her making such an offer was stupid quieted down somewhat.

There was a moment of quiet. Sogeum rolled away from Sunny and made her way to the kitchen. Joy picked up another box, confident that she hadn’t just placed herself in an awkward situation. Sunny shook her head, amused. And then…

“J-Joy?”

Joy looked back, but wasn’t quite sure what she was looking at. It was a sort of mass of black string with some silver discs hanging off of it. Another piece of pink paper fluttered to the floor, where Joy picked it up and read aloud.

“‘The Obol.’ As Charon ferried Dante across the Styx and into the hole that is Hell, so too shall this state-of-the-art magnetic harness ferry our exclusive Dante’s Dive dildo into your… partner’s hole…”

There was more to be read, but both women seemed to get the point. The only sound in the room came from Sogeum chomping through some hard cat food in the kitchen. Slowly, their eyes raised and met. They both spoke at the same moment.

“That was a bet’s a joke bet right?”

Their drunken minds needed a moment to detangle their words into distinct sentences. Sunny’s “That was a joke, right?” and Joy’s “A bet’s a bet.”

Sunny started again first. “You know, we don’t have to.”

“I will if you want to.”

Every sentence being exchanged was followed by a palpable stillness. Joy’s heart beat loudly in her own ears, and she swore she could hear Sunny’s too.

“Do you… want to fuck me with that, Sunny?”

Sunny answered instantly. “Yup.”

There was a flurry of action, though it was slowed here and there by a tipsy stumble or two. Sunny gathered up an armful of the items on her coffee table, both sex toys and the bottle of soju, and sprinted for the bedroom. Joy rushed after her, messily attempting and failing to remove some of her clothes on the way.

Sogeum was spooked by the sudden kerfuffle and fled out of sight.

The bedroom was no less hectic. Sunny dropped everything on the bed except the soju, which she took one more swig of directly from the bottle before setting it dangerously close to the edge of her desk. She wiggled out of her shirt and bra, which attracted Joy’s attention instantly.

Joy struck at Sunny’s cleavage, wrapping her fingers as far as they could go around the legendary orbs, and her lips around one of the budding tips. Their differences in height made it awkward, but they very soon found their way to a horizontal state that eased that tension. Unfortunately, it was not on the bed, but on the floor, but they weren’t about to let something like that stop them.

What clothes they were still wearing exploded off their bodies. Joy’s shorts and shirt, Sunny’s pants and socks. All of it ended up in different sections of the room, thrown under and over furniture.

Joy was no stranger to encounters like this, and neither was Sunny. They had shared countless stories with each other… and some spit. But neither had considered their prior make out sessions to be precursors to explicitly sexual action. For her part, however, Joy considered this one differently, and Sunny’s hands searching half-blindly for Joy’s ass confirmed to her that Sunny thought the same.

Backs arched. Legs ground against one another. Open mouths met, trading the alcoholic scents that the women no longer cared to distinguish. Their minds had devoted themselves entirely to the search for physical pleasure.

A lot of exploratory prodding led Sunny’s fingers to the entrance to Joy’s pussy, failing to notice the number of pokes that ended up at Joy's exit. She took some time familiarizing herself with the drenched outer folds.

Joy, however, noticed the poking at her ass. Her mind swam with serotonin, thoughts of other people, and alcoholic fumes that seemed to rearrange the letters of her thoughts into nonsense. Or possibly into inspiration.

Inspiration relevant to the happenings at the prior year's award shows, that is.

Joy tried to pull back the moment Sunny’s fingers dipped inside her. She had opened her mouth to speak but instead groaned and arched herself further into Sunny’s grip on her sanity. "S-Sunny. B-bed."

At least that message was received loud and clear. Sunny dragged her fingers against Joy’s G-spot as she, disappointingly, pulled them out, nearly causing Joy to scream. The same fingers plunged into Joy’s mouth and quieted her as she diligently sucked her own juices from them.

The action transferred to the bed. Fingers immediately found their places again, and Joy bounced on her back in time with Sunny’s brutal shoves. Packaging bounced all around them. It was like a desperate, distracted game of Vegetable Shinobi for Joy, swiping at the jumping dildo. Sunny’s fingers were divine, eye-wateringly so, but Joy wanted something unholy.

Sunny muttered Joy’s name, catching her attention again. She lifted her head to meet for yet another imprecise kiss. Their legs twisted around each other. Joy could hear the desperation in Sunny’s moans, vibrating all the way down her throat, burning like the alcohol. She snaked a hand between them and found Sunny’s clit.

The moans freed themselves as Sunny bucked backward, almost out of Joy’s longer reach. Joy noted the exceptional reaction, and flipped Sunny onto her back, following immediately and putting herself in the position of power Sunny had initiated.

“You’re gonna fuck me with the strap on… right, Sunny?”

Sunny’s eyes widened, and she grabbed the toys.

“No, not yet,” Joy stalled in her most seductive voice. She slid down, nearly falling off the bed, and wrenched Sunny’s legs wide open with her elbows.

Sunny clenched her fingers around the hell-themed dildo for dear life. Joy’s name poured through her lips over and over again as Joy’s lips poured over her pussy.

Joy had to fight Sunny’s strength to keep her spread thighs from clamping around her head. She wanted to keep hearing her senior beg, loud and clear. To that end, she dug in her tongue, unable to penetrate far, but far enough to open Sunny up and feel the wetness flow into her mouth.

“Please… Joy… I’m close… Joy, please! Joy, don’t stop!”

The thought flitted through Joy’s head, that perhaps denying Sunny her orgasm would be fun, but something about the way she said it made Joy wonder if Sunny’s neediness was rooted in her loneliness, more than in her desire to get off. She shifted herself to wrap her arms under Sunny’s legs and pulled. It wasn’t possible for them to be any physically closer than they were, but she wanted to make it feel like they could be.

Sunny’s voice cracked, choked, and broke into a scream. Joy winced as her tongue was squeezed uncomfortably, but she wasn’t about to stop. The back arches, hair grasping, and pained gasps that followed were worth it.

Joy kept it up until Sunny’s body fell back down and her muscles relaxed. Only then, she removed herself to ask, “Need a break before my turn?”

A smile crept up Sunny’s mouth. Her fingers tightened around the dildo she still had in her hand. “Get… back down here.”

If there was any benefit Joy appreciated most about idol training, it was recovery speed, and Sunny still had it. Joy picked up the strap, quickly figuring out how it was supposed to fit and sliding it up Sunny’s legs. The motion doubled as her approach for another make out.

Of course, Joy was still immensely horny. Her interest in making out with Sunny was overshadowed by her desire to get fucked savagely, but she had the wherewithal to hold out, to let it happen naturally. She was always good at letting others take the lead. Whether they led from the top or from the bottom didn’t especially matter to her.

The alcohol made her more impatient than usual though. She forced herself to wait for the five-speed pounding she’d get, but she ground herself against Sunny’s leg in the meantime. Thankfully she didn’t have to wait long. Sunny threw her to the side and attached the vibrator to the unusual strap with very little trouble. Joy fingered herself as she watched.

“Fuck, yes, Sunny. This is going to be so goo--”

Sunny practically tackled Joy. Their lips collided again, strap hovering somewhere between Joy’s legs, but not close enough for her to feel it.

The moment she did, though, Joy grabbed Sunny’s ass and pulled. The lack of accuracy was made up for by the inhuman amount of lubrication present; both Joy’s and the curious synthetic compound that the dildo exuded seemingly of its own volition.

It was almost too much for Joy. The dildo was certainly longer than any she had used before, and bottoming out at full speed meant it hit her rather painfully in the cervix. She hissed, but otherwise just readjusted her legs in Sunny’s way to prevent the same thing from happening so easily again.

The strap held the dildo in place on Sunny’s body well. Despite its genuinely small frame, it seemed to prevent all wiggling. Every one of Sunny’s movements, including the less delicate, more intoxicated ones, translated to sensations that felt to Joy like a biologically attached dick, albeit with a plethora of extra features.

"You're so pretty, Joy," Sunny said. Even though she was doing all the work now, she wasn't nearly as winded as before. Knowing she’d affected Sunny made Joy grin into another kiss.

“No you,” Joy said with a smirk. She knew this would be good, but she truly underestimated how great it would be to see Sunny’s famous tits jiggling with the effort of fucking her. The sheen of sweat covering them would ensure the night wouldn’t be forgotten, even if Joy had another drink or two.

Joy’s first orgasm struck quickly and unexpectedly. Her breath stopped and a shudder spiked through her body from her core to the tips of her toes and fingers and head. The ability to think normally left her for a brief moment. She only kept the fleeting question of whether or not Sunny was able to feel Joy’s climax. Stars popped in and out of existence, obscuring Joy’s view of Sunny’s fantastic body.

It all faded relatively soon after, but it wasn’t enough for Joy. As soon as her lungs refilled, she screamed, “More! Sunny! Fuck me! Fuck me! Oh god!” She was practically numb everywhere, except for every square inch of her that the dildo rubbed, slid, and vibrated against. Her arms and legs wrapped around Sunny on their own.

Joy, eyes half closed, barely registered when Sunny slowed down to grab and open the extra package. She did, however, notice the sudden prodding feeling at her asshole.

“Sun--”

She couldn’t even finish Sunny’s name before something slipped its way into her butt. Her vision cleared up enough to see that even while she continued thrusting, Sunny had one hand tucked between them, and it was the source of the extra intrusion.

A couple more thrusts though, and Joy was lost to the pleasure again. She started to pant instead of scream or moan, or perhaps she was whimpering, or speaking fluent Polish. Joy couldn’t have said one way or the other. Another orgasm hit. And another. And another. She knew some time was passing between each one, but whether it was seconds or days between no longer mattered. Her mind was fading out of existence.

Until, that is, it wasn’t.

With seemingly no provocation, Joy suddenly remembered Cheungae. She had been meaning to talk to Sunny about him before they had gotten drunk. Her mind wandered, far, far more than it normally would during such intense sex.

Cheungae had taken her out several times since their first, less-than-professional meeting at the MAMAs with Wheein. Even though Joy knew he was struggling financially, he always insisted on paying for coffee, but would give up if he saw the bill when Joy took him to some of the much higher end restaurants.

He was always so polite, genuine, and humble. He didn’t even question when Joy told him they couldn’t be in a relationship, but instead insisted that they could be friends. Joy wondered if it was fair to him that she was treating him as a boyfriend in every way but name while she was still having a grand old time fucking everyone else in the industry. Cheungae knew about it, but wasn’t part of it.

And yet, sex with Cheungae made Joy feel good. Great, even. She could recreate the sensations in her mind for days afterward. His slim, toned figure hovering over her, his face contorted beautifully in adorable agony, his admittedly mediocre cock managing to hit her just right with every move. She couldn’t stop picturing him.

Another orgasm smashed through Joy’s illusion. The mental image of perfectly human Cheungae was instantly replaced with the very physical image of god-like Sunny. As tended to happen, Joy held her breath as the climax coursed through her. Her muscles contracted until she was holding Sunny in a deathly grip.

“F-fuck. Sunn-ny. Slow… slow down.”

It seemed that the request was desperately needed by both lovers, because rather than simply slow down, Sunny fell over. Joy’s pussy immediately craved to be filled again, but she knew she needed to clear her head. And besides that, she still had an odd full sensation. When her muscles relaxed enough for her to move of her own volition, she reached beneath herself and recoiled again at the feeling of a drenched butt plug. Her fingertips carried a puddle of mixed cum and lube back up.

“I’m sorry… Joy… I think that’s all I have left in me,” Sunny said between gasps.

Joy made note of her own throat and how dry it was. Whatever sound she was making while she borderline hallucinated, she’d be regretting it for a while. “All good. I was losing my sanity. That was unbelievable.”

Sunny giggled. It sounded painful. “The vibrator… or the surprise plug?”

Joy giggled back. “The plug was definitely a surprise. Was that the one with Jiu's face in it?”

“Mhm.”

“Cool,” Joy sat up, her head swimming in the aftermath. “But I just think it was you using the stuff that made it so good.”

Sunny seemed invigorated by the compliments. She smiled and reached under the bed, making some noise and bringing up a bottle of water. The two of them swapped it back and forth until it was empty and then collapsed into one another, idly feeling each others' bodies up the whole time.

“Does that mean you’re up for another… night like this? Or day?” Sunny asked as she fondled Joy’s tits. It sounded like she had sobered up, at least most of the way. Joy was too afraid of what she would see to look at a clock.

“You fucking know it,” Joy responded while she brushed her fingers up and down Sunny’s inner thighs. It was a reflex for her to agree, but she cringed inwardly as soon as she did, realizing how much more sober she had become herself, and how she wished she wasn’t. She was thinking about Cheungae again.

There was a barrage of light kisses all over her face, neck, and chest. Sunny looked far too happy for Joy to feel okay about retracting her statement.

“Maybe not right now though,” Joy said, just in case Sunny was already getting ideas. “We should really get to bed.”

She didn’t hear any arguments. They simply got up, and only long enough to flip up the duvet, flinging all of the remaining sex toys off, and jumped underneath.

It took a minute for Joy to realize she needed to remove the surprise butt plug. It was easy enough, and she ended up tossing it to the floor without looking at it.

Joy wrapped herself around Sunny. She was usually the big spoon, not that it bothered her. Sunny’s bare back felt comfortably hot against her chest and stomach. Cheungae liked being the big spoon too. He’d swap with her all the time…

“Hey, Sunny?”

“Mmm?” Sunny was on the verge of sleep, it seemed.

Joy lowered her voice, barely above a whisper. “Have you ever thought about… Settling down, I guess? Just being with one person?”

She didn’t expect Sunny to have an immense store of wisdom, but she hoped for more than what she got: a snore.

“Good night to you too, Sunny.”

#red velvet smut #snsd smut #girls generation smut #joy #sunny

[inhuman-obey-me]

The Agony & The Ecstasy

Can also be read on AO3 here

Word Count: 5.2k

Description: #HappyBirthdayAsmodeus 2021!! Before he was the Avatar of Lust, he was the Jewel of the Heavens. A journey from the angel Asmo used to be, to the demon he's become.

[cw: sexual mentions]

The Agony

He sat before the mirror of his bedroom, sketching his lean cheeks with their high bone ridges, his soft lips, the gentle curls of his champagne-toned hair, the light in his orange-yellow eyes.

The Jewel of the Heavens, they called him. The most beautiful of the angels. So lovely that even Jophiel, the patron angel of artists, had asked if she could have a painting to keep of him. And so, here he was, trying to capture his image on canvas for the archangel.

Asmodeus was proud of how everyone admired him, but truthfully he didn't think it was anything so special. Rather, he was more focused on how lovely everyone else around him was. He wouldn't say that he wasn't beautiful, but so was anyone, in one way or another. There was so much to admire in everyone that his heart ached every day. He longed to help them see themselves the way he saw them.

The lilting notes of a bird's song through the open window broke him out of his thoughts, and he set his sketch down for the moment to greet it.

"Well hello, bluebird dear," he greeted it with a smile, holding his hand out. "How are you today?" The bird trilled with delight in response, rubbing its head against his fingers, and he laughed, petting the creature. "Your singing is so lovely, my dear. What a beautiful day to hear your song."

"Oi, Asmo, good, you're here!" he heard his brother call from below the window. "Lilith and the twins snuck off down to the human world again, could ya go get them? Geez, those troublemakers...I've gotta help Lucifer with somethin' so I need you to go, okay?"

"Whaaaat, they went and they didn't invite me?" he pouted. "I can't believe them!"

"Hey, hey, that's not the point," Mammon groaned, rolling his eyes at his younger sibling. "Gabriel is looking for Beel and Belphie, and you know he'll flip if he finds out they went down to the human realm without permission."

"Okay, okay, I got it. I'll get them, don't worry! Walk with me to the portal?"

"Agh, I'm busy you know," Mammon groaned, though he didn't seem all that upset. "But fine, I get it, ya wanna spend some time with your big older brother! Leave it to Mammon!"

"You tell yourself that," Asmo giggled. He hopped down from the window, fluttering down gracefully on the lightness of his robes. "So where in the human world do you think they went this time?"

"Well, you know, Belphie always wants to go to that circus he likes. He mighta dragged the other two along with him."

"Ooooh, right, the circus! The acrobats are so graceful, with the way they glide around in the air. They don't even have wings, but they figured out a way to look like they're flying! Humans really are interesting, aren't they?"

"You think so? I think it's kinda scary, man," Mammon shuddered.

"Well just because you might trip over yourself even on the ground doesn't mean everyone's that clumsy!" Asmo teased.

"Oi! Take that back! I can walk just fine, thank you!"

"Heehee!"

"Anyway, if they're not at the circus, maybe one of those restaurants? Beel's been eating a lot lately, maybe he wanted to try some human realm food."

"Ah, yeah! The fancy restaurants down there make such pretty dishes! The chefs are such artists," Asmo said admiringly, eyes glittering. "I'd like to try one too..."

"Hey, don't forget you're goin' there to get the twins to come back! Don't get distracted by running off down there yourself!"

"But I never get to go down to see the human realm! And the three of them like it so much, you know, it'd be nice to see how pretty everything is for myself," Asmo smiled innocently.

The two of them stopped as they reached their destination.

"Oi, Asmo, I'm serious. You better not go off hitting on everyone you see again," Mammon warned.

"Hey! I'm not hitting on them, I just think everyone is beautiful, and they should know it," Asmo protested. "You're just jealous because they like me more than you. But if you saw the good in everyone you met like me, they'd love you too! You should try it sometime!"

"Ugh, Asmo...don't be gross. And seriously, come right back once you find them. Gabriel's gonna have my hide too if they don't report to him soon, after he asked me to send them over."

"Yeah, yeah. Okay, I'll be back before you know it!"

The younger brother waved breezily as he stepped through the portal.

--

When the light of the portal faded from his vision, Asmodeus found himself in a quiet, hidden spot of a sunny park. Birds chirped, dogs were playing, and he could hear the screaming laughter of children from farther away. In the distance, he could see a news board by the nearby street, which seemed as good a place as any to start checking for information about the circus.

Before he could make it over there, though, a young woman stopped him. "Ahh, excuse me! I just, um, y-you're really handsome, and um...I-I just wanted to say hello. Are you visiting our town? Would you like to spend some time together....maybe come with me to the bakery down the street?! I want to get to know you," she blurted out.

He laughed with delight. "Oooh, aren't you adorable! Forget me, you're so pretty yourself! Your skin is so radiant, and your eyes are so sweet," he cooed. She blushed bright red at the compliments immediately. "Oh! But...I don't have time to go to a bakery right now, I'm looking for my little siblings. Unless you've seen a pair of boys with a girl around there? A tall guy with orange hair, and a sleepy black-haired boy?"

"I, um..." she paused, mind racing on how to keep him interested. "You know, I-I might have seen them. Or maybe, um...maybe the baker has! P-people are going in there all the time, you know, s-so maybe he might have seen them...? I'm sure he'll be able to help!"

It was fairly obvious that she was lying, but Asmo couldn't help but be charmed by her shy attempts at staying with him. His heart tugged him to go along with it anyway, just as it tugged at anyone he came across, especially those who were so drawn in by him too. He couldn't help it, even if it got him into trouble at times. So he agreed.

"Hmm, is that so? Okay! Let's go then."

She led him along the road to the bakery, an extravagant little spot for the size of the shop, where the man at the counter unhelpfully told them that he'd seen a lot of boys around and couldn't possibly remember them all. "Maybe if you buy some bread, I might remember better. I recommend some of these tarts...and you'd better take this big loaf right here too, to be sure I don't forget again," he said with a vicious grin. "We charge by the ounce, of course."

The angel gave him a bright smile back. "Oooh, they do look delicious! You must be so talented to create such beautiful things, sir! Oh, but...I don't have any money on me..."

This clearly irked the man, though something about Asmo's cheerful expression at least stopped him from throwing the pair straight out of the shop, as he usually might with people like this, who came in with no money. He eyed the golden bangle on his visitor's wrist. "Give me that then," he demanded, pointing. "I'll give it to my daughter. She'll like it."

Against his better judgment, the angel obliged. After all, it was just a part of the human world disguise he wore - he could just make another one later. And the baker was going to give it to his daughter, which was certainly kind. Or at least, he thought that was better than just selling it, like most people would. How lovely for a father to want to give his daughter nice presents. "Here, you can have this then. So, about my brothers...?"

The human greedily snatched the bangle from his palm. "Sure, they came in, just about an hour ago probably. The orange-haired one bought more bread than I thought I would sell all day. The girl, she was talking about wanting to visit someone in town. She didn't mention where, but it sounded like it was near the square. And the boys, they wanted to go to the circus that's visiting. They're over at the edge of town."

Satisfied with this new information but not exactly pleased about what the exchange had cost him, he thanked the baker and excused himself from both humans.

Frustrating as it was, this was how it always went. Asmodeus felt himself filled to the brim overflowing with love for everyone, painfully so. And no matter how they lied, or tried to trick him, or took advantage of him, he still loved them so much. It wasn't that he was naive, or that he didn't notice, but just that he always still saw the good parts of them too.

At least he knew where to head from here, though. It sounded like Lilith had probably split off from the twins, but since Mammon had only asked him to send Beel and Belphie back, he'd worry about her later. First, the circus.

Luckily, by this point, Belphegor had been caught dragging his twin to such shows often enough that Asmo could pretty easily predict what area of the audience he'd find them in. He made his way into the tent and quickly located the pair. "You two!" he hissed quietly from the row behind them. "You know you shouldn't be running off to the human world while everyone is still working! Mammon said Gabriel was looking for you. You'd better get back, right now!"

The twins looked at him guiltily, two sets of apologetic eyes. "Sorry, it's my fault...Lilith said she wanted to visit someone, and you know Lucifer always scolds her not to go down alone. So I said we should come too," Beelzebub explained quickly.

"It's my fault too, Beel," Belphie added. "After she met up with them, I wanted to come see the circus again...sorry."

"Ahhh, okay, okay! I can't be mad at such cute younger brothers! Just hurry up and go!" Asmo said, waving away their apologies. "I'll find Lilith to make sure she comes back okay too."

Relieved at his easy forgiveness, the two of them slipped out quietly to head back.

The elder brother sat there a while longer. He'd never actually been to a circus himself before, and he was curious. It was entrancing - contortionists twisting their bodies in fascinating ways, trapeze artists flying gracefully across the air, the balance of the tightrope walkers and the authority of the ringmaster. Though he didn't know them, his heart ached with admiration at the performers below. It was easy to see why their youngest brother loved coming to these so much.

Before he knew it, he had stayed to the end of the show, and the audience was filtering out around him. But he didn't want to leave just yet, and longed for more. Without really thinking, he wandered out to the back of the tent, to the performer's entrance.

"Oh? A fan?"

He blushed a little as realized his mistake, meeting the eyes of the acrobat who had addressed him. "Hi there! I guess you could call me a fan, yes? Your performances out there were just sooo beautiful!"

An amused smile crossed her face. "Well aren't you a cutie. What's your name, hon?"

"I'm Asmodeus!" he replied cheerily. "But my brothers call me Asmo."

"Asmo, eh? Heh. Well, thanks for the compliments, Asmo," she said, leaning in to play with a strand of his hair. "I'm Naamah. Glad you enjoyed the show."

From this close, he could see every detail of how stunning the woman was. Her makeup was thick, as it needed to be for the stage, but it suited her somehow, like her face had always been meant to wear it this way. A tight bun of dark hair sat atop her head, ringed by a blue and red crown of feathers that matched the bright colors of a costume that showed off every curve of her slender, athletic body.

"In fact, Asmo, my dear fan," she continued, "today's your lucky day. I don't feel like sticking around for another of the top hat's fucking lectures about how we need to do better tomorrow. So what do you say we go find ourselves a party, love?"

He thought guiltily back to Lilith, who he had promised to find and escort home. But on the other hand, she had come to see someone, and he didn't really know when she'd be done meeting with this person, or where they were at this point. And he'd never actually been to a party before...

--

"Have another drink, Asmo, I insist," Naamah laughed tipsily, passing him another cup of wine. "You act like you've never let loose before!"

Truthfully, he sort of hadn't, and for his part, Asmodeus was having a magnificent time. A quaint little band of musicians played upbeat, joyful music from the edge of the courtyard, which was packed with merry folks in all sorts of costumes. His new friend had mentioned on their way here that it was a costume party, and the costumes truly did not disappoint - people here were dressed up as angels, demons, all kinds of animals, and even as things he'd never heard of before. Even after changing partially back into his angel form to let his wings free, he didn't feel like he stood out any more than anyone else.

And the dancing! The overflowing love he felt had an outlet for once, here where he could feed the energy back through his movements, passing from partner to partner without anyone to scold him for being too loose with his love. He couldn't help but think that the Celestial Realm felt so stuffy by comparison - all music back home being generally restricted to choirs to their father, and none of the raucous laughter and chatter filling the air the way the humans were doing here. The seraphs were strict on the lower angels, insisting on upright perfection at all times.

"This is so much fun," he said as he clinked his new cup against Naamah's with a laugh, giggling even harder when she then leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Pass it on," she dared in a whisper to his ear.

Being the Jewel of the Heavens, always filled with love as he was, it didn't take long for him to find another person to pass the kiss on to. He got up and lightly pecked a man by the sidelines on the cheek. "Hi there, darling. Would you like to dance?" he asked sweetly.

The man reddened slightly at the kiss but agreed quickly to a song, and Asmo found himself soon in another round of dancing, whirling between partners until he had probably danced with each person at least three times. Mid-step as he was about to pass to Naamah again, he noticed a figure moving quickly by from across the road.

A very familiar figure.

"Ack, I'm sorry - I've got to go," he said quickly, leaving his companion very confused as he dashed off from her and the rest of the party.

"Lilith!" he called out, chasing after her in the now-fallen night.

His sister startled at the sound of his voice. "Asmo? What are you doing here in the human realm?"

"You know, really I should be the one asking you that, sis!" he responded, patting her on the head as he caught up. "Mammon sent me here to find you and the twins. Although I, hehe, might have gotten a bit distracted on my way to find you after I sent the twins back. Okay, your turn, what were you doing here?"

She looked away shyly. "I was just, um...meeting someone."

"Ooooh? Tell your big brother more," he teased.

"Well, um...a-actually, Asmo, you love everyone, right? But how do you know you're in love with them?"

That certainly caught him off-guard.

"Hmmm? I never really thought about it," he mused. "I guess it feels kind of warm and fuzzy, right? Or...sometimes it's stronger. Like fire! Like your whole body is in flames, and you're going to burst apart in one biiiig explosion!" Teasingly, he grabbed her by the shoulders and mimicked some explosion sounds. "Why, my dear sister, have you fallen in love with somebody? Were you down here to ask the humans for loooove advice? Who is it, hon? Uriel? Israfil?? Camael?? Or - don't tell me it's Michael?!"

"N-no!" she said, eyes wide. "Ahh, no! No, it's not like that! And don't tell Lucifer or Mammon that I asked about this either!"

Her older brother just giggled mischievously in reply. "Well, let's just get back," he answered, placing his hand on the tree by where he'd landed earlier to open the portal back up.

When they stepped through, their two eldest brothers were waiting for them with scowls.

Lucifer spoke first. "Where have you two been, exactly?"

"Eep! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stay out so late!!" Lilith squeaked, quickly hiding behind her other brother. "I just, um--I just wanted to go meet with someone. And I lost track of time."

"What about you? Don't tell me ya got distracted hitting on people again," Mammon said, turning his attention to the other just-returned angel. "I've been havin' to cover for ya all day! Raphael is not happy."

"Hey, you're the one who sent me down there to find the twins!" Asmo argued back.

"Yeah, and they came back ages ago! So where have you been!"

"Well, one of the acrobats from Belphie's circus invited me to a party, so I--"

"A party?" Lucifer growled. "You were out late for a human party?"

"I mean...! I didn't know where to find Lilith or when she'd be done meeting her person, so I just thought I'd have some fun while I was down there," Asmo pouted.

"You still shouldn't be going to human world parties, Asmo," the eldest lectured, refocusing his gaze on their sister. "And as for you, about that person you went to meet...why are you meeting with a human?"

She just looked away.

Lucifer sighed. "Never mind, we'll talk later, Lilith. Just go back to your rooms for now, it's late and the next patrols will be by soon. You're lucky Mammon was the one on duty tonight and reported it straight to me so the other seraphs don't know yet."

With relief, the two of them scurried away back to their respective living quarters.

Back in his room, Asmodeus looked over the sketch of himself he'd been working on earlier that day. After the excitement of the day and the party, it looked so bland now that he looked at it again. It was perfectly in line with the classic portrait style of paintings all over the Celestial Realm, but it felt so flat. He saw the good in everyone, right?

And the best thing about him wasn't his face, or his hair, or the way the sunlight fell perfectly across his face at noon. No, the good thing about him was how he loved everyone, wasn it? The love that filled him to bursting at every moment, the love that felt like heavenly fire coursing through his heart every time he looked at someone. That was what made him the universally admired angel that everybody loved back. This painting needed to show that overflowing love too, didn't it?

He tore the canvas off, stretching a fresh one across the frame to start again.

&

When Lucifer came to the brothers to say he was going to rebel against their father, Asmodeus didn't hesitate. All of them had heard about what Lilith had done, and how she was set to be punished for it with obliteration. Utter destruction, wiping her from existence. And for what? For her love?

Well, Asmo was intimately familiar with getting in trouble over love. He'd certainly felt the sharp end of Raphael's spear enough times to know that love was not especially prized or respected in the Celestial Realm. Their father had created him with this overwhelming burning of love towards all, yet that same father commanded the angels without regard for love. It was his rules that forbade Asmo from having outlets to express his love, and it was those same rules that would now destroy his sister.

Lucifer had already tried arguing for mercy, to no avail. It didn't matter if it was out of love; all the worse, in fact, because Lilith wasn't supposed to have gone down to the human realm in the first place, let alone fallen in love with one of them. Their father didn't care about love. So, Lucifer would fight.

And so would Asmodeus.

The Ecstasy

When he came to, the first thing Asmo felt was weightlessness.

It wasn't just his clothes, which had transformed from a billowing mass of white robes to a slender, form-fitting black tank top and pants. Nor was it how his large, elegant wings were now turning to four smaller, curled bat-like ones.

No, it was the lack of burning fire in his chest. What normally felt tightly contained within him was looser, freer, like something had unlocked inside of him, allowing it to spill out.

It was such a jarring, unfamiliar feeling that he gasped out for air.

"Asmo!! Beel, Belphie! Levi! Are you all okay?!" Mammon called out at the sound, rushing over. He had landed not too far away, and seemed to have undergone his own transformation, his usual softly draping outfit now full of sharp, cutting lines instead. In fact, it looked like everyone had either changed or was mid-transformation.

"Where's Lilith?" Beelzebub asked immediately, sounding panicked. "She got hit by an arrow earlier and fell during the battle, is she here?! Is she okay?!"

Belphie sat up and looked around before shaking his head. "I don't think she's here," he said softly. "What happened?"

"Mmm, well judging by how we all look, I guess we're...demons now?" Asmo chimed in.

"Aaagh, dammit! I saw Lucifer fly down all of a sudden while we were fightin', but I don't see him here either. He's gotta be around here somewhere though," Mammon said. "C'mon, get up, guys. Levi, you okay over there?"

A pitiful mumble of affirmation came from the cerulean-haired lump. Levi had awoken but, it seemed, simply opted to stay laying on the ground, as if laying there would erase away everything that had just happened.

After a quick check over each of them, Mammon seemed satisfied that there were no major injuries, at least. Aside from, obviously, them all having lost their angel forms, and seemingly having transformed into demons here. Which meant...

"Welcome to the Devildom." A demon in a crisp black and red uniform walked up to them with a polite smile. "Lord Diavolo has requested for all of Lucifer's brothers to come to the RAD student council room at once. Of course, Lucifer himself is there as well."

Ignoring the confused chatter of the brothers, he led them to a grand building, through beautifully sculpted hallways, and into a large courtroom-like chamber.

A large, dark-skinned demon in what looked to be a red school uniform was seated at the judge's seat, and beside him...Lucifer, in a similar uniform as the man who had led them here, as well as a scary-looking blond individual they didn't recognize.

Five piles of cleanly folded uniforms sat on a table in the center of the room.

In what felt like a whirlwind of explanation, the demon at the center introduced himself as Lord Diavolo, confirmed that they were indeed demons now, and explained that, as the demon prince and current ruler of the Devildom, they were now part of his domain. This was RAD, a school for demons, and the demon who had led them here was Barbatos, his personal butler. His father, who had passed the reigns of power but still commanded more respect among the nobles, would help work out the details of their new positions here in the Devildom, but he wanted to welcome them as members of the RAD student council.

It was a lot, but most importantly, they would stay together down here. They would live together, with Lucifer working out the details of their new home, and they would attend this school. Apart from this, they would be eventually assigned other responsibilities, but they would be otherwise free to enjoy the Devildom as they pleased.

As they pleased. Asmodeus wasn't sure what this all meant for them, but he liked the sound of that phrase.

--

Asmo sighed happily, gazing at himself in his vanity mirror. He looked perfect. His outfit was perfect, with pearly flower earrings perfectly matching the flowery sleeves of his shirt.

After they fell, Mammon had worried and fussed over everyone - not that he would ever admit it outright. Still, the worry had been unmistakable, checking in on each brother every day to make sure they were adjusting okay. But for Asmodeus, things were more than okay. It was like a blindfold had been removed from his eyes.

When he looked at himself now, he understood why everyone had always fawned over his looks - he was gorgeous! How had he never seen it before? He was dazzlingly beautiful. No wonder they had called him the Jewel of the Heavens! And though he was no longer part of, well, heaven, he was still the most stunning being to exist, in all the three realms.

That being the case, it was only right to share himself with everyone, right? Everyone had always wanted to gaze upon him, and at last, with the chains of celestial modesty shed from him, he understood that it was his responsibility to share this gift of his beauty with all.

"I'm heading out!" he called out to his brothers in the common room as he skipped out of the house with excitement. By this point, he'd been to tons of parties, but the joy of it never really wore off. The energy, the dancing, the drinks, the new people, and most importantly? Getting to do whatever the hell he wanted.

The pumping music and the flashing lights of the club greeted him as he threw open the doors. "Who's ready for an Asmo party?! Your Avatar of Lust has arrived!" he cheered.

Everyone in the club went wild immediately, as they always did for these. A night of partying, hosted by the Avatar of Lust, filled with dancing and drinks, and inevitably ending in a wild orgy at some nearby hotel room with as many bodies as could be crammed in? The demons at the club always went wild for an event like that.

Cambores, his good friend, came up immediately to give him a kiss on the cheek and pass him a drink. "Asmo, baby, we've been waiting for you! There's a whole line of succubi who have been begging for a dance with you tonight!"

"Only a dance?" he giggled impishly, as he waved to the line his friend pointed out. "Well, they do have to take turns, since a beauty like mine has to be shared with everyone. But we'll have to see if any of them can tear themselves off of me after a dance!"

Wasting no time, he grabbed the hand of the first one and whirled her onto the floor. "Bothothêl, you're back for me again tonight," he teased. "Didn't get enough of me last night?"

"No, never, Lord Asmodeus," she responded, gazing adoringly into his eyes. She shimmied against him, pressing herself close against his body, and he responded in kind. "I want you every night if you'll allow it."

"Well, I'm flattered, my dear," he answered in a sultry whisper against her collarbone, "but I'm afraid you can't hog beauty like this. But maybe next time I eat you out, I'll eat your heart along with it so I can carry you with me, if you want to stay beside me so badly." He felt the lust emanating from her at that, and took the opportunity to give her a little nibble against her neck, before twirling her away to pull forth the next two succubi from the line at once.

By the tenth or eleventh song, he was about ready for another drink - and some actual action, rather than the intimate but very short flirts he was having with his dance partners. "Sarabocres, darling," he greeted the bartender cheerfully. "Can I get a Brimstone Kiss? And...a Death Tequila Sunset for this new friend of mine right here," he added, tugging over a random demon who had caught his eye from further down the bar.

"O-oh, um, Lord Asmodeus! T-thank you," the demon sputtered in surprise.

"You're welcome," he smiled sweetly back. "So you know my name, what's yours?"

"Kamusil, sir," she answered. Her eyes sparkled as she took him in, though she quickly scooted back and looked away. "Wow. You're even more beautiful than everyone says."

Smirking, he placed a finger under her chin and lifted her gaze back up to meet his. "Well, no one can accurately describe perfection, after all. But no need to be shy, cutie, you can drop the sir and all those formalities. Tell me, what kinds of secret desires are you hiding? If you could have, hmm...let's say, ten demons here in your bed tonight, who would they be?"

As if in a trance, any hesitation in her dropped away immediately. She pointed out various demons to him, some he recognized and some he didn't, all of them drop-dead gorgeous.

A mischievous smile spread across his face. He gave her a quick smooch, and whispered, "Okay, wait for me just a bit then, and don't you leave before me. Okaaay? We'll have a good time tonight, I promise."

With that, he downed his newly arrived drink and returned to join the throngs of dancers.

--

What a fun plaything she'd been, truly. Despite having been so shy, Kamusil had really had a knack for spying some of the wildest partners he'd been with in quite a while. He lay idly in the bed, tracing the sleeping form of one of the many sexed out demons beside him.

It would be an exaggeration to say they'd all explored pleasures together he'd never dreamed of - he was the Avatar of Lust, after all - but certainly there were some obscure things he got to try out that night. And there was always tomorrow, or the next night, or the next.

After all, there was nothing stopping him anymore. No shame, no modesty, none of the rules binding him. He could do whatever the hell he wanted.

And he loved it.

#obey me #obey me! #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me asmodeus #om! asmodeus #obey me asmo #om! asmo #happy birthday asmodeus #asmo angst #angel asmo #obey me fics #writings #mod chaos in the devildom

[ghostofstudentspast]

Something about her

Sirius x Veela!Reader

I’m writing this more from Sirius’ POV which is new for me so don’t be too harsh 💕

For the third time in the same class Sirius caught himself staring at the shiny head of hair two rows in front of him. The way your delicate hand ran through the soft locks made him want to reach out his own fingers and tangle them in your hair. He only snapped out of his trance when James kicked his foot under the table causing his gaze to snap to his friend in a glare.

“Mr. Black, if you would be so kind to keep your eyes on your own work.” Professor Mcgonagall’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Sorry Professor,” Sirius turned on his signature smirk and turned his attention back to the front of the class where she stood with her arms crossed. He watched you turn in your seat ever so slightly to sneak a peek at the disturbance and raised one eyebrow at Sirius with a small smile playing on your lovely lips. He purposefully caught your eye and sent you a cheeky wink causing you to laugh silently and shake your head before turning back to your parchment.

“Padfoot you never get this hung up on a girl, I don’t get it,” James nudged his friend later that day as the group of boys lied splayed out under their favourite tree on the grounds.

James was tossing his snitch up and down as his signature activity. Remus had a book clutched between his fingers and seemed oblivious to the ongoing discussion. Meanwhile, Sirius was entertaining Peter by scorching explicit drawings into the grass beside him with his wand.

“She is very pretty,” Peter piped up from beside him and followed Sirius’ gaze to where you could be spotting laughing with your own group of girls.

“Sure, but lots of girls are pretty,” James rolled his eyes, “hasn’t changed anything for our dear old shaggydog has it?” his gaze flicked back to Sirius with a small smirk.

“Just because you’re too in love with Lily to notice other girls doesn’t have to put a damper on my emotions Prongs,” Sirius snorted and started on drawing a little dog in the grass.

“Yeah but why her?” he pressed, as if they hadn’t had this conversation before.

“Everyone in our year fancies her!” Peter chimed in again with big eyes, clearly trying to appease both boys.

“And everyone in the year below,” Remus added to the conversation without looking up from his book.

Sirius shifted his gaze from the ground back to your little group. You weren’t too far away, if he wanted to call you over he could. The thought popped into his mind suddenly as one of your friends pointed at the marauders and your head turned to face the boys, once again locking eyes with Sirius. One of your friends whispered something to you and your face suddenly lit up with a gorgeous sunny smile as you let out a laugh that almost melted Sirius’ heart on the spot.

“Hey Y/N! Come here!” Peter suddenly yelled over at you and both Sirius and James stared at him in shock.

Peter was never the loud one. Never the one to surprise the boys. And yet somehow, he was the only one in the group who had the balls to call you over. Sirius watched you stand up from your spot on the grass and walk over, a slight bounce in your step leaving your giggling friends behind. Peter’s face was red, and he immediately dropped his gaze to the ground in front of him and started picking at the grass with his stubby fingers. Remus was peeking over the top of his book with interest as you approached the boys with a sweet smile.

“Hey guys!” You grinned, Sirius had never noticed how bright your smile was. At the same time he noted how your canines were slightly more pointed even than his. “What’s up?” You drew his attention back to the present.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as Peter almost tried to sink into the floor as you looked at him for a moment with a questioning glance. When it was clear Peter had nothing to say, Sirius decided to speak up on his behalf.

“Pete just wanted to know how you did on the Transfiguration quiz today, we’re debating if you’re smarter than Remus.” A lazy smile occupied his face as you let out a soft chuckle.

“I did alright, but I know for a fact I could never be as smart as Remus,” you smiled at the boy next to Sirius whose ears turned a bit pink as he shot you a sheepish smile and disappeared behind his book.

“Well I know for a fact you’re smarter than me so maybe you could help me study sometime,” Sirius’ cocky personality coming back easily even though his heart sat in his throat every time he spoke to you.

“I’m sure you’d do a lot better in class if you applied yourself,” you smirked slightly and glanced down at his wand, “you know, if you studied instead of violating the grass.” You nudged his foot aside with your own to uncover a crude drawing of Snape.

“Alright, fair enough,” he barked out a laugh and pointed his wand at the grass in front of him, a daisy rising out of the earth this time. He plucked it and stood up to stand in front of you and felt a rush of confidence, “Go on a date with me instead. No studying required.”

He’d never seen you blush before, especially because of him. Sirius decided winning the house cup wouldn’t make him feel any happier than the sparkle in your eye and the pink tinge of your cheeks did.

“Alright Black, meet me by the greenhouses at ten Friday evening,” your chin tilted up almost challengingly as he towered over you by about a head, “After all, I know you don’t have a problem sneaking around after hours.”

“It’s a date,” Sirius winked and tucked the daisy he was still holding behind your ear, pushing your hair back in the process.

“See ya later boys,” you grinned as you backed away from Sirius with a little wave at the rest of his group.

Turning on your heel Sirius stayed standing as he watched you walk away back to your friends with a dazed look in his eyes. You turned to look at him one last time with a little pink still evident on your cheeks. Sirius flopped back onto the ground with a content sigh and looked around at James who was watching the entire exchange with an open mouth.

“How did she do that?” James finally prompted with an incredulous look.

“Huh?” Sirius shook his head, “that was all me darlin,” he snorted.

“No Sirius,” Remus chuckled lightly, “that was all her.”

“Who knows, there’s just something about her,” Sirius grinned and leaned back on his elbows, still looking your way.

James let out a laugh at Sirius’ blank expression as Remus sighed and tucked his book back into his back. Peter was still staring at the ground, his blush finally fading.

“You don’t know?” Remus looked at him with a piercing gaze, “She’s part Veela. Apparently, it runs in her mother’s side of the family.”

“Now it all makes sense!” James exclaimed in triumph and continued tossing his snitch up in the air, satisfied with his answer.

“Yeah but you don’t think…” Sirius trailed off and looked over to where your group had vacated their spot on the grass.

“No, I mean, she definitely likes you.” Remus reassured him as Sirius grumbled to himself and went back to angrily scorching things in the grass.

It made sense. Why he was so extremely drawn to you wherever you went. Why every boy’s eyes seemed to drift to you when you walked by them. Why Peter had the sudden confidence and urge to call you over just now. Was that the only reason he liked you? Did you manipulate him into liking you? He wasn’t so sure anymore. He was however determined to find out this Friday.

The classes leading up to your date seemed to creep by. Sirius spent half the time psyching himself out about being too excited and the other half questioning whether he even had any say in his emotions. On the fateful Friday he kept bouncing his leg under the table to the point where Peter asked him if someone had cast a jelly legs jinx on him.

When ten finally rolled around that evening he was striding towards the greenhouses with a nauseous feeling in his stomach. He’d barely been able to finish his dinner that evening and was just about to hurl up what little he did get down. You were leaning against the glass greenhouse nonchalantly, dressed in a muggle jumper and jeans his heart rate only sped up. When you finally noticed him, a smile took over your face and Sirius suddenly forgot all about his worries and his nausea melted away.

“Hi,” You sounded almost shy as Sirius approached you.

“Hey,” he heard himself speak, almost sounding out of breath.

“I want to show you something,” you smiled and held out your hand. He took it without hesitation as the two of you walked down the grounds.

You asked him about how classes were going and about some of his latest pranks with James. He happily told you stories of the marauders and you barely stopped laughing long enough to keep walking to the side of the black lake. In the back of his mind though Sirius couldn’t help but think about what Remus had told him earlier that week.

“Okay, trust me on this,” You interrupted his thoughts as you reached the edge of the grounds by walking along the edge of the lake.

“Wait, Y/N,” He tugged on your hand lightly to come to a stop together. “Remus told me something and I just need to make sure-“

“My great-grandma was Veela.” You stopped him, “People like to blame a lot of things on that.” You fiddled with the hems of your jumper and broke eye contact.

“I’m sorry I just-“

“Thought I might have been influencing your emotions?” you offered him a sad little smile, “You wouldn’t be the first to think that, don’t worry,” you shook your head, “but no, that’s not exactly something I can do.”

“Oh, well I can’t-“

“date someone who’s part Veela?” you bit your lip and looked away.

“For Merlins sake if you would stop interrupting me you’d see that I’m obviously mad about you and can’t wait to rub it in James’ face how horrendously wrong he was!” Sirius gently grabbed your waist and pulled you towards him. He couldn’t stop admiring the tiny embarrassed smile that was growing on your face.

“Sorry,” you huffed and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, “I should’ve known you’d be remarkably cool about this.”

“Now now, don’t beat yourself up about it, you’re only supernaturally beautiful, not a mind reader.” Sirius winked and gave your hip a soft squeeze as a laugh escaped your lips. “Can I kiss you?” He grinned.

“No,” you kissed his nose and pulled away with a chuckle, “but only because you’re going to want to see this first.” You tugged your jumper over your head in one smooth motion and dropped it by the edge of the lake.

“As much as I am loving where this is going, I don’t see why I couldn’t kiss you first.” Sirius stopped himself from pulling you back into him. The tank top you wore under your sweater did little to hide your body and he had to stop looking at you in order not to actually drool like a dog.

“Oh shove off Black,” you laughed and unzipped your jeans, stepping out of them. “You coming or what?” you smirked at his baffled expression as you bit your wand between your teeth and dove into the Black lake.

“Oh for fucks sake Sirius,” he mumbled under his breath to himself as he watched the ripples from your splash calm down. He quickly stripped down as well with a shake of his head and dove in after you. Following in the direction you’d swam in.

After diving deep enough to swim under one of the large rock structures at the edge of the bounds you rose back to the surface and Sirius followed your paddling feet. As soon as his head broke the surface of the water he let out a soft, “whoa”.

It was a small cave with bright crystals covering the walls, every crystal was a slightly different shade. You drew up out of the water and onto the dry surface of the hidden alcove. Your hair was soaked and your shirt clung to your body but the grin on your face was the only thing Sirius could look at. In the glow of the cave you still outshone it all.

“Come here,” you gave him your hand and helped him up, “watch this!” you smiled brightly and touched one of the purple crystals. It emitted a low hum, you then poked a blue crystal and it hummed at a different pitch. The more crystals you touched the more it started to sound like music.

“This is insane, how did you find this?” Sirius asked once the sound had dimmed and you’d turned back to face him.

“One of the mermaids showed me in my fifth year,” you admitted and looked around happily, “it calms me down.”

“The mermaids like you?” Sirius looked incredulous, “what am I saying of course they do, everyone likes you.” he rolled his eyes good naturedly.

“Oh yeah, they always have the best gossip, they love to chat,” you looked up at him, “they think you’re very handsome you know.”

“Really,” Sirius’ cocky grin slid back into place.

“No,” your laugh bounced around the walls adding to the music, “but I think I might know someone who does.”

He tucked a strand of your wet hair behind your ear as you raised up on your toes to press your lips to his ever so softly. His arms steadied you by wrapping around your waist and pressing you to him. He could feel you smile against his lips and he couldn’t stop his mouth from mimicking yours with a slight chuckle.

“You just had to ruin a perfectly good friendship didn’t you,” Sirius muttered against your lips.

“And you ruined a perfectly good moment,” you muttered back before letting out a squeak as Sirius scooped you up into his arms and kissed you back, gently pressing you against the wall. A chill ran down his spine as you played with his curls and it wasn’t from the cool splash of water.

“You know as romantic as this was, I’d much rather kiss you without rocks digging into my back,” you laughed as Sirius set you down.

“Such high standards,” he scoffed and winked before wrapping his arms around your shivering form, “come on, let’s go get warm.”

“Last one back is a flubber worm,” you ducked out from under his arm and dove into the water with a laugh as he chased you.

“Now that’s a girl after my heart,” he said to himself before diving after you.

#sirius black x you #sirius blurb #sirius black x reader #young sirius black #sirius headcannon #sirius x reader #harry potter series #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter ships #hp #hp fandom #slytherin #hogwarts

[savethelastdan]

Yashahime Is Over Party: Contribution #2

“All right, all right!” 

The crowd of villagers quieted (some with a wince) as the high-pitched shout rang around the village entrance. Ten-year-old Moroha gave them one last warning glare for good measure. 

With, as her Great-Grandpa on the other side of the Well would say, “more gusto than should be necessary”, she then leapt upon the nearest height-offering surface - one of the tourists’ suitcases, emblazoned a dozen times on every side with “FRAGILE” - and began her welcome speech. 

“Shut your mouths and hold onto your butts, folks, because this is a real treat! The coolest village ever to exist in any timeline, on a sunny day! Since my big brother is at kitsune academy today, you all have the honor of yours truly acting as escort around this prime piece of feudal real estate!” 

Dramatic pause for emphasis. (Yes, she’d taken some liberties with the script that Shippo had left, and she didn’t quite know what ‘prime piece of real estate’ actually meant, but her cousin Towa agreed that it sounded fancy and fancy always worked with humans.) 

A soft-faced young woman glanced around the crowd self-consciously before raising a hand. “You mean, this is the village where priestess Kikyo - “

“Ahem!” Moroha held up the wooden sign hanging from her neck, tapping the carved-in letters spelling ‘Village Tour Guide #2” with one nail. “Are you wearin’ the sign?”

“Oh. Uh, sorry.” The woman blushed. 

After a moment, Moroha cleared her throat. “Okay, yeah, it is. But there’s a bunch of other super-cool people here, too! If you wanna meet them - follow me!” With that, she jumped from the suitcase to land solidly in the dirt. A few tourists reared back from the cloud of disturbed dust, putting them at the back of the moving crowd. 

“First up, the sister of the blah-dee-blah-famed-priestess-blah-dee-blah Kikyo - Lady Kaedeeeeee!” She swung both arms in a dramatic half-circle towards the healer woman’s hut; the crowd ooh-ed and ah-ed appropriately. “On days like these, she’s either healing a sick patient, birthin’ a new baby, or taking a long nap! Since she’s awfully old, the napping’s more frequent.” Hooking an arm around a teenage tourist’s shoulder, she hissed in a spooky tone, “Some say she’ll live forever, getting older and older until she’s like a living zombie-” 

“I heard that.” With a cross expression, Kaede leaned out of the window.“Don’t think I won’t curse you for those bad manners.”

Moroha waved the group on with a nervous chuckle. 

“And this is the home of the most famous demon slayer known to womankind - Sango!” Cupping both hands around her mouth like a bullhorn, Moroha drew out the last syllable of the woman’s name to emphasize her coolness. Several of the humans perked up with excitement; it wasn’t hard to imagine that they had themselves benefited from some of the woman’s work. 

“Her husband Miroku lives here too. He used to be a monk, but now he’s a family guy! My papa says -” She straightened, putting on a deep, gruff tone - “it’s a damn miracle -” Dropping the tone, she grinned cheerily at the group - “nobody will tell me why!” 

As if on cue, the door to the house opened to reveal a group of tall, bickering young adults. The loudest were two women with matching features, the only visible difference to a stranger being that one’s slayer outfit was trimmed in pink and the other’s in green. Behind them trotted a younger boy, also wearing a slayer outfit in red.  

“I’m taking the kusarigama, you’re taking the wakizashi!” The green-outfitted slayer said, ignoring her sister’s attempts to talk over her. “Otherwise you and Mom will have two long-range weapons, and that makes no sense!” 

“Plus that’s Uncle Kohaku’s specialty!” Their brother piped up; he dodged the twin elbows that swung back at him as easily as if they’d warned him. “She wants to impress him with it so he’ll take her on his trip to the mountains with Rin this summer!” 

Through the left-open door, came the sweet smell of treats baking - one of the many hobbies Miroku had taken up with his time, now that he wasn’t going to up and die (Moroha knew she wasn’t technically supposed to know about that. Or probably phrase it like that… But if her godfather Koga said it that way, why was it any different for her?)

The group of slayers stopped short upon seeing the crowd; with awkward bows, they quickly skirted their way around the gaping tourists. 

““That’s Sango’s kids; every one of ‘em demon slayer prodigies.” Slinging her arm around the same teen from earlier, Moroha shook her head with a dramatic sigh. “Makes me almost want another sibling. Except then I’d have to share my room, nooooo thank you!”

“Excuse me.” A mustached man in the middle of the group raised one arm curiously. “I heard one of those women mention Rin - is that the human who died twice and was resurrected by the sword Tenseiga?” 

“Huh? Oh, yeah. That’s Rin.” Moroha tapped her own head thoughtfully and muttered under her breath, “Was it really only twice…”

“Does she still live here?” The man’s mustache drooped in a frown. “Or did she go to live with that dog demon?”

“Dog demon? Ohhh, you mean Uncle Sesshomaru!” A smile stretched across her face. “I almost forgot about him! Nah, after she got married she decided to stay in town -” 

“Married?!” The group erupted in murmurs of horror. One kerchiefed mother clapped her hands over the ears of her daughter; the mustached man turned green.

Moroha’s face fell. “Well, yeah. She wanted to keep taking healer lessons from Kaede, and even though he travels a lot, she wanted to stay by Kohaku’s side when he comes home. Be a team, and all that.” 

“Ohhhh, so she’s Kohaku’s wife!” The human mother’s shoulders slumped with a sigh. “How lovely and age-appropriate.” 

Moroha wasn’t sure what that meant, but if it made the negative energy go away then she was all for it! “Rin’s super cool, anyway. She knows how to heal demons, not just humans, and she tells really good ghost stories, and she’s actually really good at arm-wrestling -” 

Suddenly she ducked her head to whisper, “She’s probably my favorite cousin, if I’m bein’ honest with ya.”

 “Do you have other cousins?” A man who appeared to look a thousand years old squinted in her direction. Perhaps in confusion, but it was hard to tell with all the wrinkles. “I doubt a full-blooded dog demon like that Sesshomaru fella would leave his legacy in the hands of a human girl.” 

“My mom would say that’s prejudiced,” Moroha said helpfully, causing the old man to blanche. “But Rin’s got two little sisters, who you can see riiiiiiight now!” 

With a dramatic twist, she whirled around to point in the opposite direction with both hands, adding a low growl that was meant to mimic the roar of an excited crowd. 

The moment was slightly underwhelmed by the confused looks of the tourists as they took a moment to figure out where exactly to look. That’s okay; she’d work on it. 

Down the road, her twin cousins leaned against the wall of a house (Moroha’s house, which she was saving for last because you always save the best for last). Towa was smiling and pointing out something up in the sky, while Setsuna wore a very predictable scowl. From this far away, the red streaks in their hair were little more than smudges. 

The extremely old man with an attitude problem made a weird hacking noise, most likely in surprise. 

“Did he adopt them like your other cousin?” asked a teenage girl. 

“Kinda!” Both hands landed on her hips; Moroha then modeled her expression on her Uncle - stoic, dismissive, oh-so-cool. “On a cool spring night, Uncle Sesshomaru walked into the darkest, deepest forest on the planet, waved his sword over a really old and creepy tree, and when he cut it open - there they were. Two lil’ hanyou babies.” 

Dramatic pause. 

“Just kiddin’.” Laughing loud enough to bring back the wincing from the group, Moroha slapped her knee. “They’re full demons. I can still take either of ‘em in a fight, though. Oh!” She pointed up in the air with a wide, excited smile. “There’s their mom right now!” 

Murmurs of confusion filled the air as the tourists moved their heads this way, that way; only when a chilling breeze morphed into flesh and bone, right before their eyes, did the group exclaim in collective understanding. 

Moroha waved. “Hi, Auntie Kagura!” 

“Yo.” Clearly taken aback by the crowd, the wind demon gave a tiny salute. The side of her neck bore a half-moon symbol tattooed on the skin; Moroha thought it was neat, even if her dad thought it was a dumb, archaic wedding ritual. “Do your parents know you’re doing this?” 

“Uh, duh!” She held up the sign with a cheeky grin. 

“Fair enough.” Upon spying her daughters across the way, Kagura’s expression softened a bit. “Well, I’ll see you later.” 

“No, wait! We’re actually heading the same way.” Gesturing to the not-moving crowd, Moroha repeated, “The same way. Meaning the best part of the tour - come on, folks, work with me here -” 

Kagura snorted, walking quickly as though to avoid the gawking humans and their nosy questions about how she had been resurrected or could still live now that Naraku was dead or got Sesshomaru to admit he had feelings much less have kids with her. A curt “none of your business” was all they’d get, no matter how much Moroha tugged on her sleeve and whined about “giving people their money’s worth.”

Luckily, once they reached Moroha’s house, it was easy to escape. After all, a much more awe-inspiring attraction awaited the group of lucky, lucky tourists. 

“And now! The Greatest Love Story Of Our Time!” With a winning grin, Moroha landed a kick on the door, sending it slamming open. 

“Oh.” Kagome blinked at the group from where she sat on a futon in the middle of the house, surrounded by magical artifacts. A scroll marked with ink rolled from her lap all the way to one side of the room. Behind her, halfway through helping her put her hair in a bun, Inuyasha froze “Uh, hello?”

“My parents! Dumdedumdummmmm!” The warmth of her pride felt like it was going to burst in her chest. It was the absolute best to come home to people who loved her! Whether it was tickle fights before bed, or her dad taking her and Shippo out on demon-tracking trips, or her mom humming a lullaby if she felt sick on the full moon night, Moroha was certain her family was the best of anybody’s anywhere. “One fell through time, and one fell -- fell, uh, for her -- sorry, I’ll work on it.” 

Inuyasha huffed in the way that meant he was going to complain later. Kagome just chuckled and waved. 

For once, the humans reacted exactly the way Moroha wanted them to - smiling, clapping, appreciating the wonder of her super-beautiful-and-also-hella-powerful mom and grumpy-but-still-amazingly-brave papa. She launched into the story she knew by heart, of how they had come to be together and saved the whole world while they were at it. Some parts were probably missing or misrepresented, from the laughter in her mom’s eyes, but she had enough of it right that half the tourist group was in near tears by the time she was done. 

“And now, they have one more accomplishment to add to the long list - parenting the greatest warrior this world has ever seen. Moro-uh, Beniyasha!” Swirling the ends of her fire-rat robe, she twirled. “The Crimson Slayer!”

“Slayer of my patience, maybe,” Inuyasha snapped, though he was unable to hide his smile as he marched over to grab her by the collar. “Come ‘ere, kid. You’ve got chores to do!” 

Tossing her over his shoulder, he waved dismissively at the group of humans. “Sorry folks, the show ends here. Yeesh...” 

Moroha cupped both hands around her mouth, screeching to be heard over her parent’s laughter before the door shut.

“Make sure to leave your comment cards in the box at the entrance!”

#moroha #setsuna #towa #kagome #inuyasha #miroku #sango #kinu #gyokuto #hisui #sesshomaru #rin #kohaku #kagura #yashahimeisoverparty #hnyisoverparty #yashahime #shespitsfire #savethelastdan

[the-writer-muse]

Rating First Lines of my WIPs Part 2

Intro

Hey, it’s Calliope, and she’s back with yet another low-effort post! I’m making a part 2 to my first post because I recently found some very old writings of mine from when I was just beginning to write, and I want to give them the attention they deserve! There were also a few lines that I really wanted to include in the last post but couldn't fit, so I'm adding them in here. Plus, this has now apparently become a trend, so I'm legally obligated to make a part 2 /j

One sunny day, there was a horse fair in Sunnydale.

4/10

As an opener, this line is drier than a desert

The title of this story is Unicorn Academy: Through the Magic Portal. It was a ripoff mashup of Harry Potter and Black Beauty, and was borne during my unfortunate horse girl phase. Basically, it was about two girls who buy horses that are secretly unicorns, and are magically transported to a unicorn school

Remember how I’ve always said that my first story was a Seekers fanfiction? Well, as it turns out, I was wrong, because this is the first story in my first writing notebook. I even drew a cover for it because when I was a kid, I fancied myself a writer and an artist. (Since then, I’ve discovered that I’m definitely one and not the other.)

Once, giraffes had short necks and were in the horse family.

5/10

...what

I’m intrigued, but in a I-want-to-read-this-just-to-see-how-laughable-it-is kind of way

The title of this story is called How the Giraffe Got Its LONG Neck. But the story itself still makes no sense, even with context

Yeah, I know, I wrote a lot about animals when I was young okay-

Once, there was an old fisherman whose wife died and before she died, she gave birth to two sons, Damon and Jason.

7/10

I’m definitely intrigued, but the sentence should be cut down a little more

This one is named The Magical Boat: A Fable. As a concept, it’s not too bad. In practice...you get quotes like this one: “While the fisherman was at the market, he saw a boat. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to buy it, so he bought it.” (Yes, this is a real quote.)

This line is giving major Chronicles of Narnia vibes and I like it

“Kelly was dreaming. A robed woman knelt down by an altar.”

8/10

I actually quite like this line! This story was a sequel to another story called Secret Realm, where (shocker) the characters found a secret realm. Unfortunately, I lost the Google Doc where I wrote the original story, so I have no idea where this one was supposed to pick up.

I like this image a lot, it gives me fancy fantasy prologue vibes

Subtract the “dream beginning” and I would like it more

“The only joy I ever got out of my early life was visiting the church next to the shabby orphanage I lived in.”

7.5/10

I wrote this story around 6th-7th grade and I remember being really proud of it. I even posted it online. It’s probably lying in some forgotten corner of the Internet at this point-

Religion doesn’t play any role in this story, the only reason a church is mentioned is because it was the home of a piano that the main character loved. Music was the main character’s only joy in life, etc. etc.

Giving Jane Eyre vibes, I kind of like it!

“Because my mother raised me to be the next queen, I know when and what fork to use at dinner. Because she didn’t raise a fool, I know what artery to stick it in so you’ll bleed to death.”

8/10

I’m like 80% sure I got this from a writing prompt on the Internet, but I can’t find it anywhere? So for the purposes of this post, I’m going to assume I wrote it

This sounds like belongs to a YA fantasy with a not-like-other-girls assassin-queen MC who’s leading a revolt to claim her crown, yet can’t decide which guy to pick in a love triangle

It's super dramatic and I kind of love it anyway, so I’m going to give it extra points!

“The entire town had turned out to watch the emperor’s killer die.“

8.5/10

*bangs head against wall* why didn’t I continue this wip it sounds SO COOL

This line's not a 9 because I don’t think it’s *quite* there?

I definitely want to return to this one someday! I shelved it to make room for other projects but I hope to get back to it!

[boognish-worshipper]

Midnight City AU

i’ve been having fun writing this story, all these lil snippets n pieces comin together n shit,,, but i also find myself getting so frustrated writing sometimes even tho ik that’s a given with literally creating anything 😭 anyway uhhhh scheming shit ensues in this chapter, and we see another familiar pal pop up 🙏 also included obligatory reference to those aesthetic photos with song lyrics 🏃‍♀️💥

//Chapter 2: Oblivion

The vinyl store was a short walk from Sterling Lake, but Ron and Trevor decided to run there like idiots. Trevor was out of breath by the time they got there placing his hands on his knees, while Ron looked ready to keel over and pass out, pressing a hand against the front of the store.

“Remind me why we chose to run here?”

“So we could,” Ron wheezed out a breath, inhaling deep to stable himself.

“So we could hurry up and get Wade.”

“It was a rhetorical question.”

“Right. Sorry Trevor.”

Trevor swung the door open hastily, calling out for Wade right away. A head with muddy locs popped up in their direction.

“Hey Trevor! Hi Ron!”

“Wade! Get over here, no time for pleasantries!”

Wade rushed over to meet them outside.

“Get out of my G-damn store Trevor!”

“I’m going, Debra. Say hi to lovely Floyd for me, will ya?”

“Get out!”

The trio walked away from the place, not knowing where to head next.

“Let’s go talk in my truck, where we won’t be… disturbed by any fuckwad wearing Andés brand sherpa jackets. Why do they even need jackets out here? It’s like 90 degrees all the time!”

He was parked across the way from Sterling Lake, and as he went, he tried his best to avoid running into the clique of phony fucks. The minute they all piled in, Trevor peeled out so loudly it was surprising he tried being discrete at all.

“So, Ron. Fill Wade in.”

“What’s goin’ on?”

“It’s the Merryweather Night Club.”

“Ooh, are we goin’ in to see them pretty girls dance?”

“No, Wade.” Trevor interjected.

“Then what-“

“It’s about Steve.”

“Who?”

Trevor impatiently shot out a breath, trying his best to breakdown the situation to Wade. He put a hand to his face briefly before speaking again.

“Haines, Wade. Steven fuckin’ Haines.”

“Ohh him! That fancy dude at the park.”

“Yeah. The fancy dude at the park.”

“What about him?”

“Well Ron here caught word that Devin Weston is hosting some big event there for Haines and his crew.”

“We invited or somethin’?”

“For fucks sake- No, Wade. We’re gonna plan out how to completely crash and wreck the party, so we can get that club the fuck out of here.”

“How’re we gonna do that?”

“Well first, we’re gonna scope the place out. Get a better idea of what we’re dealing with here.”

Trevor thought to himself that if he didn’t have a good look from the outside, that’d he’d have to get a layout of the floor plans himself. It’s not like he hadn’t visited the club before, but he hadn’t been… sober exactly when he dropped by those few times. So it was basically like seeing it for the first time. If he couldn’t get much from the outside, he knew only one person who could accomplish getting the layout of the place.

“We’re almost there, get ready to do some creeping boys.”

The sun was setting, and soon it would be dark out. And when it got dark in Los Santos, it got dark. The only way the city could be visible was from the surplus of lights that were nearly everywhere, except for a few places. They at least had some darkness to rely on so they wouldn’t be spotted right away. Trevor parked a block away, and the three of them hid on the rooftop of the building across the way. Neon lights flickered on, reading “MERRYWEATHER’S SUNNY DAYS NIGHT CLUB”.

“Such a stupid fucking name. I mean, why is it called Sunny Days if it’s a night club?!” Trevor angrily muttered.

As the sky grew dark, the club began to stir, with some random rhythmic song starting up. Ron lifted a pair of binoculars he brought with him, and gasped.

“There he is! Mr. Weston himself!”

Trevor snatched the binoculars from Ron, causing him to crash into his side.

“Uh, Trevor, it’s still around my neck.”

“Then take it the fuck off, before I take it off for you.”

He fumbled around with it, tossing it into Trevor’s hands. Below them, he saw Devin standing outside, with a pristine woman beside him. Trevor whistled lowly, so they wouldn’t be heard.

“That lady’s wayyy out of that fucker’s league.”

He watched them speak to the bouncer outside, hearing them laugh about something before heading in.

“They’re probably laughing it up now, plotting their next move to take over the city!”

“Shut up Ron, we lost them.”

He growled in frustration, handing the binoculars back to Ron.

“Let’s sneak ‘round back, maybe we’ll see something there.”

As they left, Trevor made a mental note of where the Merryweather bouncers were placed. Two burly men guarded the entrance, with a thick velvety rope not too far in front of it. They had to avoid the streetlights, seeing as people like them were sure to raise suspicion being near one of the hottest night clubs in LS. He couldn’t be made, not when he already had a reputation there.

“Alright Ron, you see anything?”

They hid near a dumpster, away from the lights.

“Not really, it’s too dark-“

Suddenly, the back door swung open. Ron and Trevor ducked while Wade’s eyes were transfixed on who was coming out. Trevor yanked him down, holding a finger to his lips.

“So I says to him, ‘You ain’t payin’ me enough to stay on this failure of a fuckin’ show Solomon!’, old guy flipped the fuck out.”

“That’s that Pelosi actor though!” Wade said, rather loudly.

“Wade! Shh!”

“And then I- wait a minute. The fuck was that?”

“Shit! Shit!” Ron panicked.

“Yo!” Pelosi started to walk in their direction.

“We better get out of here. Now.”

All three of them scrambled up to run off back to Trevor’s truck.

“Get back here! Security!” The actor began to chase them, along with one of the Merryweather guards.

They continued to run down the block, Trevor breaking into a sprint so he could start the car up before anyone caught up to them.

“Get in! Get the fuck in!”

The truck revved up, and Trevor drove off in a haste. Even though it didn’t go as planned, Trevor couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

“Whew! What a rush, huh?”

“Rush?! We almost got caught, Trevor!”

“Yeah, only because Wade couldn’t keep it down for 5 fuckin’ seconds.”

“I’m sorry! That Pelosi guy is famous! I ain’t ever seen a actor up close.”

“Yeah, but he’s already washed up. Nothing special.”

“Isn’t he our age? How can he be washed up if he’s still-“

“Can it, Wade.”

Trevor came to the conclusion that there wasn’t enough visibility of the place from the outside. It didn’t have a single window. He mumbled to himself that he needed to go see a friend of his. The travel to El Burro Heights didn’t take long, with Trevor telling the other two to wait in the truck.

“Ron, please make sure he doesn’t do anything dumb.”

“Got it.”

“It was one time!”

He made his way up the steps, banging on the door. He lifted his head up to the outdoor camera, snarling at it.

“Let me the fuck in Wheels!”

The front door clicked open, and Trevor walked right in. He shut it behind him, and trotted over to a bedroom.

“Trevor. Didn’t think I’d see much of you again.”

“Neither did I old friend.”

“What is it. What do you want.”

The room was lit up with aqua and pink shades, a visual of a permanent sunset on his computer. Some kind of synth music played faintly. A nerdy looking guy was seated in a wheelchair next to a set up that looked like it was pulled right from the 90s, various posters and novelty items strewn about.

“Let me cut to the chase. It’s Merryweather again.”

“Again? Trevor, I thought we agreed you’d leave them alone!”

“Ah ah ah! I didn’t finish, Lest. Get this, there’s some big event going on soon. Steve Haines- some big get together with him and his posse of lame-os.”

“Really? Devin’s letting those guys in? I thought it was all big name people.”

“Yeah, well Steve isn’t exactly poor Lester. I thought we both knew that.”

“Duh, but still. He’s not exactly Devin’s type of crowd.”

“No no no, I think they might be in kahoots. Planning something.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Hmm. Let me see…”

He turned to the computer, clacking away on his keyboard. It was rather vintage looking, and Trevor was surprised it worked at all. Lester was into technology more than he was though, so he probably worked some kind of magic on it.

“Hm. You’re right. Seems like they’ve known one another for quite some time. Guess their dads work together.”

“Fuckin’ daddy’s boys.”

“But, I still don’t think interfering with that party is a good idea.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“You’ve had enough run ins with the both of them already.”

“But if we infiltrated the club, we could get it shut down!”

“What are you planning, some sort of raid? You and your buddies? 2 other people isn’t much to work with if you wanna take down one of the most popular clubs here.”

“That’s why I came to you!”

“For what?”

“So you could do your cyber shit, find the floor plans or something!”

“You know that’s gonna take a long time, right? I mean, getting the blueprints, not to mention finding other people who’re on board with the idea of it all-”

“Well no shit.”

“Are you paying me?”

“What?”

“I said, are you paying me?”

“What the fuck would I need to pay you for?”

“Taking time out of my day to get that done for you.”

“Right. Because you’re sooo busy.”

Lester frowned slightly, upset by the remark.

“I’m gonna just ignore that. Anyway, I’m not asking for a whole lot. Just something for the effort I’m putting in to find the plans.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“What choice do I have?”

“Absolutely none my friend!” He said, grin wide.

“Y’know you’re still gonna need to assemble a crew that doesn’t consist of only your… minions or whatever. That’s your part. Now shoo, let me do my thing.”

“Oh Lester the Molester you never let me down!” He said, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“I told you to stop calling me that!”

“Aww, and here I thought you liked it!”

“Just go already. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. No funny business.”

“But funny business is my specialty!”

“Oh my God, go!”

He made his way back over to the truck, seeing Wade passed out in the back. Slamming a hand on the truck bed, he yelled for him to wake up.

“Boys! We got some recruiting to do.”

“Wh-what? What d’ya mean? Who are we gonna find? I thought it was just gonna be us-”

“We’re not taking out one of the biggest clubs in LS on our own, Ron.”

“But I-”

“No buts! Now let’s go.”

They all drove across the city, back to the apartment complex Floyd lived in, Wade’s place being the first one you see pulling in. He had been nice enough to pitch in some cash to pay his rent, seeing as Wade basically had no money to begin with. The trio brainstormed for a bit, chattering away about needing to find people who hated those guys just as much as they did, before Wade and Ron promptly passed out. Trevor threw on a random shuffled playlist to keep him occupied as they slept, and some song he’d never heard before played. Some artist called Grimes? The intro was wobbly, like someone was shaking laminated paper. He kept it on, liking how funky it sounded. The music reverberated loud in his ears, the singer’s voice light and dreamlike compared to the dark, heavy tone of the song. It was the experimental stuff Trevor was into. He opened nosedivr, scrolling through his usual feed. This was a thing he did often when he couldn’t sleep. As he kept going through posts, he noticed he still followed Amanda; they stopped being friends long ago and the task of removing her on there slipped his mind. She had posted a new photo though, and he instantly recognized who she was with just from the shoes. It was that Michael guy.

@krystal-klear-tears

𝔦 𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔩 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢, 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔫 𝔦𝔰 𝔞 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔬𝔫 𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔥 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔶𝔬𝔲.

#grunge aesthetic #lana del rey #lyrics #black and white aesthetic

His finger hovered over the reblog button, and he hesitated. What was he doing right now? He didn’t give a shit who Amanda was with anymore. Michael was just another name, another face, another person she was just gonna dump later on. She could never do commitment. That was the one thing he knew for sure in the period of time they had been friends. Amanda wasn’t exactly a bad person for it, she just didn’t express her feelings in the best way. It was why she jumped from guy to guy. They didn’t need anything more than her facade, her surface level personality. So when the time came that she would be close to showing her true colors, she’d cut them off. Trevor didn’t like that. If there was one thing he truly could not stand, it was people being two-faced. He wished Amanda embraced herself more. But like he said, it was whatever now. Soon enough, he wouldn’t see anymore posts like that.

Still, he figured he could unfollow her another day. Part of him did wanna see how long this one would last. Was that bad? Maybe. Who cares. By the time he had finished scrolling mindlessly on his phone, he’d finally grown tired. He wanted to dream about tomorrow, because tomorrow promised a plan in the works, and it was fucking spectacular. He couldn’t let something so meaningless like a new boyfriend of hers distract him. Yet despite that, he still found himself wanting to know more. This was the first guy in a while that Amanda got with that she didn’t run to tell him about. It felt… strange. But again, he couldn’t let that distract him from what was at the front of his mind. He didn’t have time for that. He had to focus on Merryweather first and foremost. Shutting his eyes, a smile grew on his face. He was finally gonna take those stupid fucks down.

//sorry if these seem short rn,,, it’s gonna be a slow build up tbh. it’ll be worth it later on when i complete future chapters lol. don’t wanna rush it too much ,, also i feel like i’m gonna accidentally make this sound all over the place so uh apologies in advance 💯 i will go into more detail abt amanda n trevor’s friendship in this too btw so expect that eventually ig

#gta v #grand theft auto v #grand theft auto 5 #trevor philips #ron jakowski #wade hebert #lester crest #michael de santa #michael townley #amanda de santa #midnight city au

[liibrii]

Chapter 3: In the light, your name

Ojiro Aran x fem!reader

Series Masterpost || Ch. 1 || Ch. 2

wc: 4.7k

warnings: time skip spoilers, swearing, internalised guilt and shame, intrusive thoughts, self doubt, drinking.

a/n: this only took forever cause I got carried away (what a surprise). if you wanna be tagged in future chapters lemme know, and as always feedback is greatly appreciated! 

A step forward, two steps back. Like a dance, just like his mother taught him, dancing and laughing back home, only this dance holds no joy, only cruel turns and twirls and your hand slipping from his as fate whisks you away.

“One Ace special coming up!“ Osamu places a plate of freshly made onigiris in front of Aran. They look amazing, as if taken directly out of one of those fancy cooking books. The practice had been especially gruelling that day and yet Aran has no appetite. All he wants is to go home and sleep. He would have, if Gao hadn't dragged him to the newly opened Tokyo branch of Onigiri Miya.

More out of politeness than really being hungry he takes a bite. It's good, much better than ones he remembers Osamu bringing to practice. “Woah, this is tasty!“

Osamu practically beams at Aran's praise. Even he has changed, notices Aran. Has he grown a little? The grey of his hair is gone, and he smiles so much more. Aran doesn't remember ever seeing him so talkative.

Has everyone changed so much while he wasn't paying attention?

While chewing he pulls phone from his bag, in some silly hope there'd be a message from you. But the screen is empty and seeing his screensaver is almost a mocking to his hopes. What else did he expect? People don't always mean what they say, but a storm doesn't mean to blow away roofs either.

Lost in his thoughts Aran barely takes notice when Gao says his goodbye and other customers slowly start leaving.

Osamu closes the shop then places two more cans of beer on the counter. Without much enthusiasm Aran opens the can and pours the fizzling liquid into a glass. Which drink was it, third? Fourth? For a moment he considers telling Osamu everything. About you, how he feels and how he screwed up. Just to get it out there. But Aran knows Osamu talks to Atsumu, and Atsumu never learned what keeping a secret means. So he blames his sour mood on practice.

 Even if Aran was a good liar Osamu'd see through his little ticks. They've been the same ever since elementary school and so obvious; the nervous scratching of his nails, rubbing of his neck. Ever since he'd grown a beard he added rubbing it to the list.

“I should probably get goin',“ says Aran before downing half the glass in one long gulp.

“What's a few more minutes?“ Osamu doesn't bother pouring his beer. “I'll clean up later. Don't have any other plans anyway.“

A low chuckle leaves Aran's lips. “Life goin' that good, yeah?”

“Could say that. Could be far worse. How about ya?“

Aran massages his temples. He's getting light headed and still he takes another long sip. “Like ya said, could be far worse. Had a rough couple weeks. Women, ya know?“

Osamu hums and nods, wisely. “Women. Got dumped, did ya?“

“In a way...“

“What happened, did ya forget her birthday or somethin'?“

Aran laughs. Oh no, he knows exactly when your birthday is. “Said somethin' stupid.“

“Just somethin'? If she gets upset so fast then maybe she's trouble.“

“Wasn't like that. She trusted me and I... had a bad day and took it out on her.“

Osamu takes an onigiri Aran hasn't touched yet. “Have ya apologised?“ He asks with his mouth full. “Should start with that,“ he continues after Aran shakes his head, “treat her to dinner. I know some good restaurants if ya want. Or better, cook somethin' yerself.“ He opens the browser on his phone. “What's her favorite food?“

Aran tells him. “Whichever recipe ya find I can tell ya right now I can't cook it.“

“I found a few even Tsumu can make,“ laughs Osamu still scrolling through his phone. “What's she like? More into fancy stuff or more homey? Fried rice's easy but not very fancy, more of a safe bet. Maybe with an omelette. I can show ya how to make it to look like a panda. Success guaranteed!“

“How can omelette look like a panda? It's yellow.“ 

“A yellow bear then,“ Osamu shruggs before putting away his phone. “Does she like bears?“

“Does- I ain't sure...“

“Ya don't know?“

“No! Why would I? Is that what ya ask folk ya take on dates?“

“Usually I ask what they think about apple curry.“

“I don't think she likes apple curry... Or maybe she does...“ He gloomily stares at the empty glass in front of him. “Gimme one more.“

Osamu obliges and pours him one more, deciding this is the last one for him. Aran's eyes are getting glassy and he dreamily observes the white foam before downing half the glass.

“We went down to the Kamakura beach,” he says, scratching at his immaculate fingernails. “She looked s' pretty in the sunset... She likes sunsets... I think. Ain't sure 'bout anythin' these days.“

“Everyone likes sunsets,“ nods Osamu. “Never trust people who don't like seein' sunsets. I'm tellin' ya, buy her some udon. Or bring her here, I'll give ya a special discount.“

Aran bursts into laughter. “He'll know then...“ Osamu leans his head to the side, wondering what his old teammate meant by that. “She's ex of a friend.“

“Ow,“ is all Osamu says. That explains everything. You don't date a friends' ex. “Sorry. She sounds great.“

“Yeah, yeah she is... Kinda almost like a whasit's called again, kotatsu? Warm...“ He's just blabbering now, his mind a hazy labyrinth of disconnected thoughts. He misses you, he misses you so bad, and he fucked up, and he doubts cooking you a dinner would repair the damage he's done. Once it would be pretty easy to bribe you with the right snacks but you've changed. You've changed so much he still fears he doesn't know you at all. “Hey Samu? Hav' I changed?“

“Yea? I doubt the old Aran-kun wouldda come to me for advice.“

Corners of Aran's lips perk up. Why is his glass empty? “Yer a good guy ‘Samu. Can ya call me a taxi? I've got practice t'morrow.“

He has to stop visiting Onigiri Miya on the evenings Aran thinks on another morning after drinking and talking with Osamu till late night hours. The cool breeze of the early morning hours is refreshing but isn't doing anything to ease the hammering in his head. Sky without a cloud promises the day to be sunny and hot. Aran's just glad he found his sunglasses ad that the gym has air conditioning.

There's a distant ringing in his ears. Ringing that doesn't stop and causes other people on the train to send him sideway looks. It's because his phone is ringing but he's too focused on trying not to throw up to notice. He only does so once he's walking the short walk from the train station to the gym. Seeing your name over the 'missed call' almost makes him drop the phone. He calls you back, frantically tapping his fingers on his arm, hoping you'll pick up. You don't.

The sun is too bright. Pouring rain would be more appropriate to his mood. Aran's glad he can hide from the warm rays inside the gym. No matter his mood volleyball always takes his mind off things, and even now he hopes it will help him see things more clearly. The thought of you has become a wind chime, singing at every little thing that makes him think of you. Staying focused on the ball in front of him is harder than expected. But first and foremost he's a professional volleyball player with a new season just around the corner. He can't let his team, his fans down. Since your first year of high school you've been his supporter too. He can't let you down.

When his phone rings again he’s in the middle of receiving drills and this call too goes unanswered. Instead your message waits for him.

           (9. 45) Aran are u free this Sunday? the shrine down the street is holding a festival. wanna come?  

A wide smile spreads over his face. He's more than happy to come he writes back, his smile spreading even wider when only a few moments later you text him place and time.

“Ojiro what are you looking at?“ Gao peers over his shoulder and Aran quickly puts his phone away.

“Nothin'“

“Nothing, ey? Does the nothing have a name?“

Aran rolls his eyes and heads for the showers, ignoring the teasing laughter of his teammates. Honestly, he's too excited to see you to care.

Aran glances on his phone to check the time. Five more minutes and he'll be only ten minutes early. He kicks the small stone form the pavement onto the road. Then he straightens his shirt. Maybe this colour wasn't the right choice after all, maybe you would've liked the red one better. Once in passing Akagi said red looked good on him. He sends you a short message, letting you know he's already here.

Minutes later he catches the sight of your figure manoeuvring between visitors flocking towards the many stands. “Sorry, I got worried all the best mochi'd sell out,“ you apologise, pointing to plate full of different kinds of mochi in your hand. “Samu isn't here yet?“

“No.“ His heart clenches. He didn't even think about the possibility of you inviting anyone else. “He's probably just late,“ he quickly adds, “let me call him.“

“Always late,“ you complain, “tell him I got his mochi but if he doesn't appear soon I'll just eat them myself. Want one?“

He declines the sweet and you shrug. While he waits for Osamu to pick up he avoids looking at you. The call goes unanswered. “I'll send him a message.“

“Tell him every minute he's late is a free onigiri,“ you mumble, your mouth full of delicious mochi. “And he's paying for drinks. I saw a stand with soya smoothies up the street. And a stand with takoyaki.“

“Have ya mapped out all the food stands?“ chuckles Aran.

“Well you know Samu, food is his best motivator. You sure you don't want one?“

He gives in and takes the matcha one. He watches with a fond smile as you stuff an entire mochi in your mouth.

“What?“ you mumble when you catch him staring.

“Ya look like a hamster.“

You roll your eyes in an effort to cover the smile creeping on your face. “Very funny. How's life?“

“It's fine,“ he nods, awkwardly.

“Good.“

“Yeah.“ He rubs his chin. The beard is getting a little long. He glances over at you. He should say something. But what? “I'm really sorry about what I said,“ he finally utters. “I do care. About you.“

“We all say things we don't mean, right?“ The soft look in your eyes makes his throat tighten. He hurt you and yet here you are. Reaching out, again. “It's all water under the bridge. Besides, I really missed hanging out with you. So, where do ya wanna go?“

“Shouldn't we wait for Osamu?“

“Nah. It's his fault for being late, he'll find us. And he better buy us those smoothies. Want one more mochi? You should really try the chocolate one, it's amazing.“

Never again. Aran doesn't want to see you hurt ever again.

The festival is crowded, which is to be expected in Tokyo, and he keeps an eye out for you. The last thing he wants is to lose you somewhere in the sea of people. He stays close, quietly delighting in seeing your excitement over different attractions of the festival. A few times your hand brushes against his, sending a shiver down his spine.

Osamu never shows up, messaging about an hour later he got stuck at work, promising you both as many onigiri as you'd like the next time you come around Onigiri Miya. “A shame. I was hoping to hang out with him while he's still in Tokyo.“

“He'll have time in the future,“ says Aran, doing his best to ignore the pang of jealousy in his chest.

“Probably. But will there be fresh soya smoothie for him to treat me to?“

Aran buys you the smoothie you so crave, grinning upon seeing your excitement. You walk around the festival grounds and from time to time he steals sips of your smoothie. You pout and nag he should buy one for himself but don't stop him. 

As night falls you search for a good place to watch the fireworks from. Just after they start Aran puts his hand on the small of your back to gently push you forward so you'd see better. But you don't budge and he bumps into you, his chest to your back. The sounds of festival fade, as if the crowd disappeared and all that remains is you, looking at him, fireworks reflecting in your eyes. The softness of your gaze causes his heart to do somersaults. You snicker and flick his nose.

Tease, he thinks and tickles you. He wishes he could properly put his arms around you and rest his head on your shoulder. He wishes he was here as more than just your friend. He wishes he alone would be enough of a reason for you to always have the same soft look in your eyes.

But if Kita, the perfect Kita Shinsuke, Kita who knew you better than anyone wasn't enough, how could he be?

His hand lingers on your arm for a heartbeat longer. He could try, he could always love you with all he has and hope you'd love him back, hope he could be enough. But if he failed... he'd only hurt you more, wouldn't he? And you've been hurt enough.

During lunch break his phone rings and his hearts jumps, hoping it's you. But instead Osamu's name is written over the screen. A bit disappointed Aran picks up.

“Aran-kun whatcha doin' this Saturday?“ Not even a'hello'. So many years and still so rude.

“Practice till afternoon, then watchin' a movie.“

“Amazin'! Want some company?“

A boys' night out? Why not? It would be nice to spend some time with someone who wasn't his teammate. “'Course.“

Osamu laughs. “Knew ya would. I happen to know someone interested in a blind date. I'll tell her to meet ya at the cinema.“

“What? Osamu I'm not really one for blind dates-“

“The ex of a friend. She's Kita-san' ex, isn't she?“ Aran's silence is an answer enough. “Ya asked me for advice. This is it, go out, try meetin' someone else. Whatever you want to have with her it won't end well.“

Aran knows. He knows all that. He knows you returning his feelings would be the worst case scenario. Sooner or later he'd have to tell Kita. “I know,“ he says. “I know that.“

Osamu doesn't answer immediately, waiting if Aran will add anything else. “Just go on this one date, see how it goes.“

“I'll think about it.“

He does think about it. The entire day in fact. Meeting someone new would be nice and who knows, she might be the one he's waiting for. A part of him, the guilty part that's been way too loud in the past weeks, stays firmly against the idea. Searching for the right one when you're right here. What if this blind date is just a crazy fan who somehow found her way to meeting him? And what about you, it asks? It would be cruel wouldn't it, leading you on while going on dates behind your back.

But he isn't leading you on, Aran argues with the voice inside his head, you're just a friend anyway. He cares about you yes, but only as a really good friend. Osamu is right, you should never be more than that. You're Kita's ex. And you don't date your friend's ex. So why break his heart further?

           (17.48) I'll go on the date. send me time and place.

That's the thing about making plans, the moment you make them something else comes up. Just the following day his phone rings, making his heart flutter when he sees your name.

“Hey.“ Your voice alone makes him smile. “I, uhm, I have a request.“

No beating around the bush. It makes Aran wonder if you've been hanging with Osamu so much you picked up his habits. “Oh, do ya?“

“Yeah. It’s is a bit awkward... Listen, I have a very important exam next week but my roommate's gonna have her boyfriend over for the entire weekend. Let's just say earplugs aren't helping and leave it at that, yeah? So, could I maybe crash at your place till then? I just need a quiet place to study. I can sleep on the couch! Or the floor, I really don't care!“

“'Course ya can,“ says Aran without hesitation.

This is how we finds himself sitting with a bunch of your notes in his lap, you leaning on his back explaining one of the questions. There are at least 4 empty mugs on the desk of his living room. He hopes you've left some coffee for breakfast.

He's amazed by how naturally you fit into his life. Almost like the space beside his shoes in the closet was meant for yours and the jacket hanging beside his was always meant to be there. You've even found your favourite mug already. The bedroll on the floor of the living room is the only reminder you're only crashing at his place for a couple of days. If you asked he'd let you stay longer.

The next morning you wake up the same time as him, sipping your first cup of coffee for the day, half asleep and draped in the hoodie he strategically left on the counter last night. You don't even raise a brow when he takes your phone and asks you to unlock it. “I'll send ya a playlist. Just some classical music. It's good for studyin'.“

“Sure,“ you answer in a groggy voice. “Have fun bouncing the ball around,“ you wave him off when he gets ready to leave.

Your sleepy face makes him smile for the rest of the day. Practice runs longer than usual and he returns late, stepping over two stairs at the time. The lights are still on when he enters but there's no answer when he calls out. He finds you behind the desk, so absorbed in your notes you don't notice his approach. When he places his hands on your shoulders you jump and shriek. “Aran!“ You remove your headphones. “Do you want to give me a heart attack?!“ He laughs and you smack his leg before he sits on the floor beside you.

“Is the material so interestin'?“ He looks over your many notes and pushes an empty mug to the edge of the table.

“I was listening to music,“ you rub your eyes. He notices they look a bit reddish. He takes your phone and clicks the play button and music continues. It only takes him a moment to recognise the piece.

“Dmitri Shostakovich, Waltz number 2. My mom's favourite. Used to dance to it with dad every Thursday.“

“That's sweet.“

He stands up and offers you his hand. “Come, ya need a break.“

You take his hand without question, only raising your brow when he places his left hand on your back. “Ya have to put your hand on my shoulder,“ he grins to your more than apparent confusion.

“Oh, right,“ you mumble. “I can't really dance you know. Not waltz at least.“

He gently holds your right hand in his and gives you a reassuring squeeze. “Don't worry, I'll teach ya. I start with my right foot forward, ya step back with yer left, yep, just like that, then my left foot forward,“ you jump in surprise when he turns you around, “and the first turn, now yer right foot forward, then left, and turn. See, it ain't hard.“

“Easy for you to say,“ you disagree, your eyes fixed on his feet and your mind preoccupied with trying not to step on his toes.

“Just follow my lead,“ grins Aran, gently pulling you a little closer.

He counts the steps and beats in his head and step after another you relax and follow his lead. All those Thursdays when dad wasn't home and mom pulled him into taking his place are finally paying off.

“I didn't know you could dance so well.“

Aran laughs at your words and gently pushes you into a twirl under his arm. “I guess there's a lot ya don't know,“ he says when he pulls you closer again. 

You follow his steps and soon begin catch on the slightest of his moves. Music changes but you don't let go so you dance on through his living room, off beat and saying quiet 'Sorry's,' every time you step on his toes. The way your brows furrow when you mess up is adorable but Aran doesn't give you the time to ponder over the mistake, pulling you into the next turn with ease and certainty of someone who has danced these steps countless times.

When the last song ends Aran leaves his hand on your back. You're so close, your hand in his. Looking and smiling at him. His eyes linger on your lips. It would take so little to close the space between you. So little that would change so much.

He pulls away.“ Do ya want tea?“

“Don't I always?“ you muse and head to put the water on, then open the cupboard but the last cups stand on the highest shelf and even on your tiptoes you can't reach them. Aran gently pushes you to the side and reaches for them. “Here.“

He pours himself a glass of water then pulls his phone out to check the time. Shit. The blind date. That's today! He glances over at you, making your tea, humming the melody of the last song you danced too. His heart drops.

What is he doing? He can't... This is getting out of control. He clenches the glass tighter. You're so close, he wouldn't even have to fully extend his arm to tap your shoulder. If, right here and now, he told you how he feels, how would you react? He lifts the glass to his lips. Probably not in the way he wants you to. A leap of faith, one that could take him anywhere. To the love of his life, he thinks watching you stir, or to the stone to shatter the friendship you both tried so hard to rebuild. A risk he doesn't have the courage to take.

The half empty glass he leaves in the sink draws your attention. You watch Aran head for the bedroom and you don't think much of it. It's his apartment, he can do what he wants. It's only when almost ten minutes pass that you decide to poke your head through the door to see what he's up to. The clothes he's wearing certainly aren't what one would wear for staying at home. “Going somewhere?“ you ask, curious as to why he's wearing a pretty alright polka dotted shirt.

“I have a date.“ He awkwardly fixes his collar. He doesn't want to meet your eyes.

There's a short silence before you answer. “A date? In this shirt?“

Your judgemental tone makes him turn. “What's wrong with this shirt?”

You scrunch up your nose. “It gives you that,“ you wiggle your fingers, “successful businessman in his forties looking for a wife vibes.“

“What's wrong with that?“

“What's wrong with-?! Aran! You're a professional athlete!“ You enter his bedroom and start looking through the closet. “Don't you get invited to fashion shows and stuff? One would expect you'd get some fashion sense purely through osmosis. Ouch!“ you yelp when he playfully smacks your shoulder. “Here, this one.“ You hand him a shirt of dark violet colour.

He takes it from your hands and inspects it. Then he hands it back. “I like this one better. And I'm runnin' late already anyway.“

You shrug and hang it back. “As you wish Mr. CEO. Wait, are you bringing your date back here?! Shit, I need to clean up my stuff.“

“Relax. I'm not bringin' anyone back. It's a blind date anyway. Ya keep studyin' alright? I'll be very disappointed if ya don't get the highest mark.“

“What do you mean a blind date? Damn, I didn't expect that from you player boy,“ you tease and it's a distraction enough for Aran to miss the forced smile.

“Osamu's idea.“

A small “Ah,“ is all you reply at first. “Get going then, being late is the worst you can be on the first date!“ You push him out of the room. “Have fun, don't say anything stupid, and don't only talk about volleyball.“

“It's not my first date y/n, gosh, stop bein' such a mom. Why are ya so excited anyway?“

“Probably too much caffeine.“

When he returns you're still up. You have two cups of tea ready before he even takes his shoes off.

“So, how was it?“ You push the cup across the table. “Come on, come on, no need to be shy,“ you grin, “tell me!“

Aran rolls his eyes at your sudden excitement. “It was nice, but nothin’ special,“ he tells you.

“Just nice?“ You tap your fingers on the table. Aran recognises the rhythm, it's one of your favourite songs. You sent it to him a few days ago. “Dating must be harder now that you're famous,“ you say, absent-mindedly. “Or is it easier?“

Before answering he takes a cracker from the bowl on the table. “Harder,“ is the answer he settles on. “Ya never know if they're attracted to ya or yer status. What about ya?“ He focuses on chewing crackers and taking small sips of tea, anything to keep from glancing at you.

“Ah you know,“ you sigh, “have enough other problems at the moment. College is messing with my head enough already. Why put another person in the mix?“ This time Aran doesn't miss how your voice trembles, and how you rub your forehead. Maybe you just have a light headache. You do look exhausted.

He changes the subject, feeling the talk of dating is quickly approaching dangerous territory. “How are ya feelin'? With studyin' and all?“

You lean on your hand. “Could be much worse. It's just a lot. Probably should have started with studying earlier.“

“But with work ya didn't even have enough time, right? Don't be too hard on yerself.“

“Actually, I quit. I thought it would help me focus on studying,“ you say upon seeing his questioning gaze.

“Ya know what will help ya study better? Some good night's sleep.“ He takes your empty cup. “I'll do the dishes, ya go ready for bed. No talkin' back,“ he points his finger to your face, “ my house, my rules. No stayin' up past midnight.“

“It's one in the morning.“

“Past time for ya to go to bed then young lady.“

After that you don't protest and before he even finishes doing the dishes you're snuggled on your bedroll and half asleep. Seeing you fills him with warmth. He could get used to this, coming home to you every night. He turns the lights off.

When he lays in his bed he wonders what's with the sinking feeling in his chest. There's anger. Why were you so excited for his date in the first place? Why did you look almost disappointed when he said it was nothing special? He hugs his pillow, thinking he'd much rather it was you in his arms. You must be soft. If only you'd be here, his nose filled with the scent of your shampoo. Teeth of shame sink in his heart. Why does he have to feel like this?

He wants you to be jealous. It's so damn childish, he knows that. It's something his teenager self felt when you hugged Kita after a game but only gave him a high five and a head pat.

How long is he going to keep lying to himself? He's in love with you. Not the you he remembers. You here and now. You sipping your fourth cup of coffee, you frantically flipping through notes wearing one of his old hoodies. That at least hasn't changed; you still steal any hoodie you can get your grabby little hands on. Not steal, he corrects himself, borrow. You borrow them. For an undetermined period of time.

He buries his face in the pillow. You're not the always cheerful manager he remembers anymore. But you are still you.

Tag list: @aonenthusiast @rosecaffelatte @kara-grayson04

#ojiro aran #ojiro aran x reader #ojiro aran imagine #ojiro aran x y/n #aran x reader #aran x y/n #aran x you #hq #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu x reader #inarizaki x reader #inarizaki x y/n #all that is gold #libri scribbles

[demo-simp]

Tf2 Daily Routine

Sniper sighs, staring blankly at the empty coffee jar, knowing he would have to go into the base for more if he was going to have an at all productive day.

Walking into the kitchen/living area, sniper sees a very awake soldier, pouring himself a cup of coffee with a carton of sweet cream in his other hand. Soldier turns, and jumps slightly,

“Oh hey there, Sniper. Out of coffee again?” Questions Soldier, setting the carton down on the counter in front if him.

“Unfortunately” the tired Sniper says half to himself, making his way to the oversized coffee pot and pouring himself a cup.

“S’pose ill just hang with you lot s’morning, don’t let me get in the way tho” mumbles Sniper, taking a sip of the dark liquid out of his “#1 Sniper” mug.

“Oh yeah” Soldier says, mimicking his colleague, and immediately dribbling it out of his mouth and back into the cup.

“It’s still hot” soldier murmures, grimacing.

“Mate, its okay I’m not gonna judge ya, jus drink ya coffee how ya want” says Sniper, hearing the disdain of the pure black caffeine in the mans voice. Soldier only hums to himself, slowly making his way to the creamer he set down only moments before, and nearly dumping the entire carton into his American flag colored mug, along with an equal part of sugar.

The two sit at the kitchen bar for a few peaceful, silent moments before a very loud, very hyped scout enters, from his morning jog around the base.

“You two eggheads are up early” scout says, reaching for the fridge handle, grimacing at the pungent smell of coffee.

“Mr. Sniper is joining us for coffee, because he has run out” says Soldier, proudly explaining the situation.

“Very interesting” Scout says, practiced and sarcastic, pulling out a BONK can from the fridge and opening it with a satisfying Crack. He dumps the entire can into his own mug that proudly states “I’m kind of a big deal” on one side.

“Y‘know mate” says Sniper, turning to Scout, “ya really shouldn’t drink so much a’ that stuff. Could really mess with ya”

“Eh, Miss Pauling says I should drink ’em and she says they’re good for me. I trust her and they make me feel pretty dang good when I drink ‘em” says the hyper man, a bit to fast and more to himself for any normal conversation, so Snipers only response is a shake of his head and a return to his mug.

Scout continues to talk to himself about his day and responsibilities later on the battlefield while Soldier and Sniper continue to silently enjoy their respective cups of coffee. After a few moments, hardy laughing and talking is heard from the hallway, and Engineer and Heavy enter the kitchen.

“Hey there, Monday, didn’t know ya’d be joinin’ us for coffee” says Engi, turning from his friend to look at the dower man.

“Yup” says Sniper, eagle eyes still trained on the vibrating scout in the corner.

Heavy thunders to the coffee pot, pulling out two mugs and pouring into both the guitar themed mug, and the mug depicting a large man, holding a machine gun, riding a bear. They all collectively sip their drinks while Engi and Heavy recount their conversation, earning a chuckle from each of the men there.

As the laughter dies down and the coffee slowly depletes, small but heavy foot steps are heard from the hallway, and a masked pyro appears, already dressed, holding a lit zippo lighter.

The group collectively lets out a greeting to their pyromaniac friend, as they pour themselves a Guy Feiri mug of orange juice, while letting out a few sleepy, muffled greetings. The team continues their conversation, now with the edition of Engi translating for Pyro.

As spy uncloaks himself to be seen pouring bourbon into a mug depicting a fairy that states “bonjour butterfly” and the men already present all have a collective heart attack or some sort of visible reaction. All except for Pyro, who doesn’t even flinch.

“Whoa there, stranger, didn’t see ya come in” says Engineer, smiling and laughing nervously.

“Yes. That’s the point, Labourer.” Says Spy flatly. “And stop calling me ‘Stranger’. You know perfectly well who I am”

Everyone on the team has gotten a nickname from the Engineer, and all secretly love it. But, like many things within the group, its become a running gag to constantly gripe about the names.

The group collectively laughs, and returns to their beverages, with Engi beginning to make some eggs.

A few minuets later, eggs made and the coffee in the pot nearly gone, loud crashing footsteps are heard from the hallway and a very distressed and tattered Medic bursts through the door, pulling his lab coat onto one of his arms. As the door closes behind him, Medic stares blankly at the group, and slowly pulls on his lab coat the rest of the way on. Another loud Crack is heard from Scouts corner in the awkward silence, and Medic makes his way to the coffee pot, pouring the remainder of it into his mug, embellished with the word “Cyanide” in fancy lettering.

“I thought I was late” says the German doctor, awkwardly.

“Yeah that was kinda obvious” says Scout after a hearty gulp of his second BONK, not even bothering to pour it into his mug. Scout sets the can on the counter and loudly exclaims he’s going to the bathroom before they have to leave for the battlefield. As the conversation between the mercenaries about the coming battle, Medic makes his way over to the energy drink and pours a few ounces into his mug a mixing it with his coffee.

Scout returns just as another set of loud footsteps is heard from the hall, these ones sounding staggered and limping. Nonetheless, a very hungover Demoman appears in the doorway, clutching his head and making his way to the coffee pot. Opening the top and seeing nothing but dregs of coffee grounds, Demo knows what must be done for his morning dose of caffine before the alcohol. The rest of the team dreads this part of the morning.

“Hey there, Cyclops” says Engineer, drawing out the ‘hey’ and throwing in the group nickname for the Scot to attempt to stop what he, and everyone else, knows is coming.

“We can just make another pot of coffee before we leave its not that big a deal” stutters out the mechanic, but the demolitions expert is already reaching for the silverware drawer. The team collectively facepalms as Demo scoops the remainder of the coffee grounds out and into his mouth, grinding them between his molars. Scout gags and medic rubs the bridge of his nose underneath his glasses as the crunching and grinding sounds emanate from Demo, and Engi looks on, in defeat.

Hours later, control points captured and payloads exchanged, the team of mercenaries breaks for lunch at the sound of the announcers voice.

“Lunch ends sixty minutes” booms the megaphones placed around the battlefield.

“Here ya go guys” says the sweaty Engineer after a tough, but rewarding battle. Although the rest of the team would never admit, the Mercs would never survive a day off the battlefield if they didn’t have Engi. In his extremely oversized lunchbox, he always made sure to pack extra lunches and snacks for the rest of the group.

“We got,” says engineer rooting around in his lunchbox. “Sunny, that’s yours” he says, handing a package to Scout. The small man opens it to reveal a package of fruit snacks, a container of fried chicken, and a can of root beer.

“Aw boss” scout exclaims and thanks Engi. The rest of the team follows in much of the same fashion, except heavy, who always packs his own lunch. Soldier receives an upgraded version of army rations, while demo gets gatoraid (to keep him hydrated) with some crackers and sausage. Medic (often the most drained) receives two thermos’, one containing another dose of coffee, and another with a multi bean soup. Spy earns a delicate egg sandwich, and not much else as he’d rather spend that time smoking. Sniper enjoys some vegemite on toast, along with a salad that wont spoil, for while he’s camping up in his tower. Additionally, Engi has begun to bring extra water for all of them, to keep while in battle, so they don’t get to dehydrated. He packs himself a hearty lunch of a simple burger, a light beer, and some corn (on the cob, of course).

As no one has seen Pyro take off their mask, the team doesn’t exactly know what (or if) Pyro eats. Nonetheless, Heavy enjoys cutting off the crusts of his sandwich to give to the fire addict, at which point, they will promptly stuff the crusts into the pocket of their suit. The rest of the team assumes the bread is eaten, as its never seen again, but none of the men are ever truly sure.

At the end of the day, everyone on both sides is exhausted and ready to head back to their bases. All pile into the cramped van, all except, for sniper, who drives his camper to every battle, and refuses to go with the others.

Scout ends every battle (win or loose) with whining about how hungry he is, until Engi gives him a snack, usually consisting of fruit snacks or crackers. Heavy and Medic sit in the front talking about their day and how excited they are to get back to the base and watch the movie they’ve been wanting to watch. The rest of the mercs are pilled in the back of the van, shirts unbuttoned and respective weapons and helmets sliding across the floor whenever they make too-sharp a turn. Eventually, they all arrive back at the base again, tired and sweaty.

All take their respective places while they wait for Engineer to be finished with dinner. Medic and Heavy on the couch, talking to each other. Sniper and Soldier, just as the same morning, sitting at the bar, now enjoying glasses of whiskey and beer respectively. Scout and Spy retire to their rooms, the former for a nap, and the latter for some much needed alone time of smoking and cheap romance novels. Pyro finds their place up in the rafters of the base, in an uncomfortable, neon plastic blow up chair, again, staring at a lit zippo lighter. Demo reclines, nearly horizontally, in a bean bag on the floor, a bottle in his hand, cracker crumbs on his shirt, and drool, slinging from his mouth to his neck.

As the smells of baked chicken and potatoes fill the air, the team prepares for dinner. Often, Medic will retire to his lab to continue his research,but as tonight is a movie night for the German and the Russian, Medic opts to join the others. Demo stumbles to the table while soldier sets his plate his place at the table. Sniper remains at his seat at the bar, as spy remains in his room. But a pyro jumps from their seat and grabs their plate before miraculously bringing the plate back up with them to their spot. An always hungry Scout arrives midway through the meal with sleepy eyes and messy hair, demanding food. Engi obliges with all of their inconsistent eating schedules, and even manages to heat up Scouts food before he comes in.

“What’s for dinner” scout asks loudly.

“We got some chicken and potatoes for ya, sunny” says Engineer, setting a plate in front of the tired man and clapping him softly on the shoulder. “Eat up, now” he says, maternally.

“Tavish” Soldier says breaking the silence. “Did you see my rocket jumps today. I must have jumped all over that glorious battlefield” states the American, proudly.

“Aye, mate, I saw your jumps” slurs the demo man, not drunk enough yet to be quite so loud, but still slurring and swaying.

“Weren’t they good” questions Soldier, not entirely paying attention to the conversation he’s apart off.

“Aye mate” Demo replies, taking a sip of his scrumpy.

“Welp, looks like ill be off” says Sniper after a few moment of silence, slinging a dog food bag sized bag of coffee beans over his shoulder.

Engie ‘awes’ in small protest.

“You’re not gonna join us for a round a’ cards” asks the Texan.

Sniper rolls his head to the side, considering his nightly routine, before groaning, knowing he doesn’t have an excuse.

“A’right mate. One game” replies the Aussie, setting down the bag and holding up a finger. The group knows it wont just be one game with Snipers love for gambling, but celebration in heard from around the table, and even the loud leather on plastic sounds can be heard from up in the rafters, indicating Pyro will be spectating for a few rounds.

Drunken laughter and jests echo throughout the base as the rounds of Poker last late into the night. Heavy joins when the movie ends, but medic retires to his lab. Demo is seated next to Soldier, as, no matter how many times he plays with the group, he never quite grasps it and needs help. Scout reclines in his seat, confidant in his hand, and sipping a light beer. Engie hunches over his cards, utterly unaware of his face reveling his awful hand. Sniper sits with one arm casually slung over the back of the chair, and, unlike his engineering friend, is utterly stone faced. With the agreed upon ‘last game’ of the night being one by non other than Soldier, the team collectively stretches and says goodnight to the others. Pyro has long been in their room, asleep, while the others fall back to their rooms, and Sniper making the trek back to his van.

Although Scout feigns sleepiness at the table, not ten minuets after the lights had been turned off for the night, he slips to the kitchen, for a snack to take back to his room. Spy, having an unpredictable sleep and hunger schedule, does the same, but much later in the night. The others sleep soundly in their respective dwelling areas. The rooms are spaced just enough so that non of the mercs can hear each other snoring as they sleep in the hot, barely conditioned base.

#tf2 #tf2 meme #tf2 head canon #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 demo #tf2 demoman #tf2 heavy #tf2 Engie #tf2 Engi #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #heavymedicine #red Oktoberfest #tf2 daily routine #tf fanfic #tf2 fan fiction #boots and bombs #team fortress two #team fortress 2 #tf2 coffee #coffee fic #heavy x medic #heavyxmedic #heavy medic #demo x soldier #demoxsoldier

[mab1905]

More Fitzjames content? Yeah... here’s a playlist for ya’ll...

These are songs which I think describe him at different points in his character developement or simply different aspects of his personality. Somewhat James/Crozier (Fitzier) but all about James.

(25 songs, 1 hour 33 min)

Song List + Most Character-Relevant Lyrics:

Fancy — Orville Peck

We didn't have money for food or rent / To say the least, we was hard pressed / Then Mama spent every last penny we had / To buy me a dancin' dress / Mama washed and combed and curled my hair / And she painted my eyes and lips / Stepped into a satin dancin' dress / That had a slit in the side clean up to my hips / It was red velvet trim, and it fit me good / Starin' back from the lookin' glass / There stood a woman where a half-gown boy had stood / ... / It sounded like somebody else that was talkin' / Askin', "Mama, what do I do?" / She said, "Just be nice to the gentlemen, Fancy / They'll be nice to you" / "Here's your one chance, Fancy, don't let me down / Here's your one chance, Fancy, don't let me down / Lord, forgive me for what I do / But if you want out, well, it's up to you / Now don't let me down now / Your mama's gonna move you uptown"

gold rush — Taylor Swift

What must it be like / To grow up that beautiful? / With your hair falling into place like dominos / ... / At dinner parties / I call you out on your contrarian shit / And the coastal town / We wandered 'round had never / Seen a love as pure as it / And then it fades into the gray of my day old tea / 'Cause you know it could never be

The Name Of The Game — ABBA

Your smile, and the sound of your voice / And the way you see through me / Got a feeling, you give me no choice / But it means a lot to me / So I wanna know / What's the name of the game?

Spectrum — Florence + The Machine

And when we come for you / We'll be dressed up all in blue / With the ocean in our arms / Kiss your eyes and kiss your palms / And when it's time to pray / We'll be dressed up all in grey / With metal on our tongues / And silver in our lungs / ... / And when we come back we'll be dressed in black / And you'll scream my name aloud / And we won't eat and we won't sleep / We'll drag bodies from the ground / So say my name / And every colour illuminates / And we are shining / And we'll never be afraid again

Dreamy Bruises — Sylvan Esso

How can we question / What we knows feels right / Black eyes turn to marigolds / In the morning light / Ohweeohweeoh kids move so slow / Shaken all over like some dogs at the pool / Ohweeohweeoh kids move so slow / They’re kicken all the records over acting like they hanging water / Ohweeohweeoh kids move so slow / Down in the basement where the sun don't show / Ohweeohweeoh kids movie so slow / Naked dollars wonder piles dreamy bruises rotten lovers / And they say I want you / To bend me back in two / To make me sing your tune / To make those words so smooth / Fill me like a song do

Wolf — Sylvan Esso

But no birds nor beast does he eat / He only wants the tenderest meat / And oh the sounds he makes them speak / Under all different patterns of sheets / ... / The modern wolf, the modern wolf / Drippin' in all the lives that he took / He'll go on home, try to wash them off / But when he shaves, he hears them call

Francis Forever — Mitski

On sunny days I go out walking / I end up on a tree-lined street / I look up at the gaps of sunlight / I miss you more than anything / I don't need the world to see / That I've been the best I can be, but / I don't think I could stand to be / Where you don't see me / And autumn comes when you're not yet done / With the summer passing by, but / I don't think I could stand to be / Where you don't see me

James — MGMT

James / If you need a friend / Come right over / Don't even knock / And I'll be home / The door is always open / And we both can say, "Who's laughing now?" / Oh, James / My little doll / You just go outside and you call / Oh, James / Oh, you're never too far off / If your fire's out / There's no need to shout / I'm always home / And walk on in / I'll make you tea and breakfast / And we both can say, "Who's laughing now?"

South London Forever — Florence + The Machine

I drive past the place that I was born / And the places that I used to drink / Young and drunk and stumbling in the street / Outside the Joiners Arm's like foals unsteady on their feet / With the art students and the boys in bands / High on E and holding hands with someone that I just met / I thought it doesn't get / Better than this / There can be nothing better than this / Better than this / And we climbed onto the roof, the museum / And someone made love in the glass / And I'd forgot my name / And the way back to my mother's house / With your black cool eyes and your bitten lips / The world is at your fingertips / It doesn't get better than this / What else could be better than this? / Oh, don't you know I have seen / I have seen the fields aflame / And everything I ever did / Was just another way to scream your name

Oh! You Pretty things — David Bowie

I think about a world to come / Where the books were found by the Golden ones / Written in pain, written in awe / By a puzzled man who questioned / What we work here for / All the strangers came today / And it looks as though they're here to stay / Oh You Pretty Things (Oh You Pretty Things) / Don't you know you're driving your / Mamas and Papas insane / Oh You Pretty Things (Oh You Pretty Things) / Don't you know you're driving your / Mamas and Papas insane / Let me make it plain / You gotta make way for the Homo Superior

Venus As A Boy — Björk

His wicked sense of humor / Suggests exciting sex / His fingers they focus on her and touches / He's Venus as a boy / ... / All across your lips, oh, then until / Well be that it's a little now, until / He believes in a beauty / He's Venus as a boy / He believes in a beauty and gentle

Winds Change — Orville Peck

Had a lover but I lost my patience / Gonna get a song on a radio station / Got a fire but you just can't use it / I don't mean no lies, baby, please don't lose it / Lost my way on the other side / I know why, I don't know when / From the way that we said goodbye / I knew I'd never see you again / Left my mind in the Salt Lake City / Met a lot of men who would call me pretty / Pack of reds, watch the days get colder / Don't it make you cry, how we're getting older?

Fluorescent Adolescent — Arctic Monkeys

Oh the boy's a slag / The best you ever had / The best you ever had is just a memory / And those dreams weren't as daft as they seem / Not as daft as they seem / My love, when you dream them up... / Flicking through a little book of sex tips / Remember when the boys were all electric? / Now when she's told she's gonna get it / I'm guessing that she'd rather just forget it / Clinging to not getting sentimental / Said she wasn't going but she went still / Likes her gentlemen not to be gentle / Was it a Mecca dauber or a betting pencil? / Oh the boy's a slag / The best you ever had / The best you ever had is just a memory / And those dreams weren't as daft as they seem / Not as daft as they seem / My love, when you dream them up / Falling about / You took a left off Last Laugh Lane / Just sounding it out / But you're not coming back again.

Cheerleader — St. Vincent

I've had good times / With some bad guys / I've told whole lies / With a half smile / Held your bare bones / With my clothes on / I've thrown rocks / Then hid both my arms / I've played dumb / When I knew better / Tried so hard / Just to be clever / I know honest thieves / I call family / I've seen America / With no clothes on / I don't know what I deserve / But for you I could work / Cause I don’t want to be a cheerleader no more

Queen Bitch — David Bowie

She's so swishy in her satin and tat / In her frock coat and bipperty-bopperty hat / Oh God, I could do better than that / Oh, yeah / She's an old-time ambassador / Of sweet talking, night walking games / Oh and she's known in the darkest clubs / For pushing ahead of the dames / If she says she can do it / Then she can do it, she don't make false claims / But she's a queen and such a queen / Such a laughter is sucked in their brains / Now she's leading him on / And she'll lay him right down / Yes, she's leading him on / And she'll lay him right down / But it could have been me / Yes, it could have been me

Boys Keep Swinging — David Bowie

Heaven loves ya / The clouds part for ya / Nothing stands in your way / When you're a boy / Clothes always fit ya / Life is a pop of the cherry / When you're a boy / When you're a boy / You can wear a uniform / When you're a boy / Other boys check you out / You get a girl / These are your favorite things / When you're a boy / Boys / Boys / Boys keep swinging

Caterpillars (Of The Common Wealth) — Will Connolly

You know you'll always be my valentine / Now swear to god that you will never tell / They're streaming every indiscretion live / For caterpillars of the commonwealth / Gotta go / You can stay / Make yourself at home / Gotta go / This campaign / Don't run itself you know / You've got potential little parasite / I tie your hands so i can wish you well / Cuz i'm a gentleman and you are like / A caterpillar of the commonwealth / Gotta go / I said no / You need to know your role / Gotta go / I said no / It's all under control

Imposters (Little By Little) — The Fratellis

You wear your mask, I'll wear mine / They don't come cheap, but they fit just fine / You can be her and I can be him / We can both sink when the rest all swim / ... / We can pretend that our fates were entwined / A beautiful lie is the beautiful kind / Everybody knows that the sun still sets / And everybody gives and everybody gets / ... / I could be the one that you just can't shake / Till you swear that your eyes go blind / We can disappear till the sun burns a hole / In the life that we left behind

Sweet Painted Lady — Elton John

I'm back on dry land once again / Opportunity awaits me like a rat in the drain / We're all hunting honey with money to burn / Just a short time to show you the tricks that we've learned / If the boys all behave themselves here / Well, there's pretty young ladies and beer in the rear / ... / Forget us we'll have gone very soon / Just forget we ever slept in your rooms / And we'll leave the smell of the sea in your beds / Where love's just a job and nothing is said

Super Trouper — ABBA

Super trouper beams are gonna blind me / But I won't feel blue / Like I always do / 'Cause somewhere in the crowd there's you / ... / So I'll be there when you arrive / The sight of you will prove to me I'm still alive / And when you take me in your arms / And hold me tight / I know it's gonna mean so much tonight

Babooshka — Kate Bush

She sent him scented letters / And he received them with a strange delight / Just like / His wife / But how she was before the tears / And how she was before the years flew by / And how she was when she was beautiful / She signed the letter / All yours...

Paris is Burning — St. Vincent

I write to give word the war is over / Send my cinders home to mother / They gave me a medal for my valor / Leaden trumpets spit the soot of power / They say, "I'm on your side / "When nobody is, 'cause nobody is / "Come sit right here and sleep / "While I slip poison in your ear" / We are waiting on a telegram / To give us news of the fall / I am sorry to report / Dear Paris is burning after all

Dream of Sheep — Kate Bush

Oh I'll wake up to any sound of engines / Every gull a seeking craft / I can't keep my eyes open / Wish I had my radio / I'd tune into some friendly voices / Talking 'bout stupid things / I can't be left to my imagination / Let me be weak, let me sleep and dream of sheep / Ooh, their breath is warm / And they smell like sleep / And they say they take me home / Like poppies, heavy with seed / They take me deeper and deeper

Hunger — Florence + The Machine

At seventeen, I started to starve myself / I thought that love was a kind of emptiness / And at least I understood then, the hunger I felt / And I didn't have to call it loneliness / ... / Tell me what you need, oh, you look so free / The way you use your body, baby, come on and work it for me / Don't let it get you down, you're the best thing I've seen / We never found the answer but we knew one thing / ... / And it's Friday night and it's kicking in / In that pink dress, they're gonna crucify me / Oh, and you in all your vibrant youth / How could anything bad ever happen to you? / You make a fool of death with your beauty, and for a moment / I forget to worry

#Spotify #fanmix #gay #fanwork #playlist #i have a crippling addiction to making playlists #james fitzjames #fitzier #francis crozier #francis rawdon moira crozier #Jim fitzjimmy #james fitzjames + gender = ? we dont know her #spotify playlist

[vaindumbass]

((Here’s a little something for the @flonksfest 2020!! For the prompt of week one: vacation (it’s a bit too late but shh)))

~~~

God, Tonks thinks, aren’t trips to the beech supposed to be relaxing? She looks around, quickly sitting up. Her friends have apparently already gone home while Tonks had been asleep.

Emphasis on had been. She was rudely woken by a beech ball hitting her square on the face. “Hey!”, she yells towards the little girl with the pale blond hair next to her, “Is this yours?”

The girl nods, looking a bit shy. Tonks attempts to throw the ball at her, but it gets caught by the wind. The girl runs after it, and after she’s reached it she looks at Tonks with a toothy smile. Tonks grins back.

Then she closes her eyes and tries to soak in the sun. After the warmth has made it’s home within her core, she slowly opens her eyes again, only to find the little girl staring at her.

Tonks smiles friendly at her, and then goes cross-eyed and sticks out her tongue. The little girl giggles, and tries to imitate her. Tonks raises her eyebrows and opens her mouth in an exaggerated delighted look, and the little girl giggles harder.

Then, and this is where it all goes to shit, Tonks pulls up her nose in a pig-like fashion and wiggles her eyebrows. The little girl laughs so hard that Tonks can still hear it where she’s sitting, and one of the people that had been with the little girl looks up to find the source of her laughter.

This leads to Tonks making eyecontact with the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen. She seems to be the big sister of the other girl, with the same pale hair. She also has gorgeous blue eyes, and she seems almost otherworldly. 

Tonks quickly retracts her hand from her nose, but the damage has already been done. The older sister laughs, with a undertone that is most certainly mocking, and then she walks over to Tonks.

“Hello,” she says, and the french accent only adds to the etherealness of her voice. It definitely has some grounded undertones, though. It sounds, Tonks decides, like the sight of leaves blowing in the wind. “I see you are getting along well with my sister.”

Tonks pretends that she didn’t just embarass herself royally, and says, “Oh yeah?”. (Don’t judge her. It’s very hard to make good conversation on a normal day, let alone with someone as lovely as this.)

“Oh yeah,” The women repeats, “You looked very ridiculous. But that was the point, no?”

Fuck. Tonks thinks her bluntness is attractive. As if it makes her more real, somehow? “Well, your sister liked it!”

That gets a genuine, warm smile from the woman. She must care a lot for her sister. (Cute.) “She did. Should I thank you for that, miss? Or is it mister?”

As always, Tonks feels a little spark of joy at being reminded of how androgynous she looks, even though she is a woman right now. “Miss, for now. But you can always call me Tonks!”

A frown appears between two blonde eyebrows. Tonks wants to smooth it out with her thumb. “For now?”

“Well...” Tonks says, one hand coming up to  rub the back of her neck. “What can I say? Genders are weird.” Please be normal about it, please be normal about it please be normal about-

The women snorts. “Tell me about it.” Wait what. Also holy hell has Tonks been assuming their gender all this time she should unlearn that habit.

“You are..? Although, you don’t have to share if you don’t want to, of course!”

“I am a trans woman, yes.” She holds her head up high, defiant almost, but Tonks just smiles wider.

“That’s awesome! We’ve got to hang out now.”

She blinks. “We... do?”

Tonks nods. “Yep! Do you know how many trans friends I have?”

“Well?”

“Zero. It’s a tragedy.”

The woman chuckles (it sounds even nicer than her voice). “That goes for me, too. I’ll have to tell my parents we’re “hanging out”, wait here.”

“Your... parents?”

“Yes, I’m here with my family.” After seeing Tonks confused look, the woman laughs, “You thought I was here with my sister, but without the rest of my family?”

It sounds kind of weird, now that Tonks hears it aloud. Not that she’ll admit that. “Well, see you soon then. What’s your name again?”

“It’s Fleur.” the gorgeous woman says, and then she turns around, all flowing blond hair and billowing summer dress.

~~~

Tonks took her to her cousin’s place. They took her to other places too, of course, to the park and movies and whatever caught her fancy, but this one felt different.

(It felt like a milestone.)

Not that they showed it. They opened the door as nonchalantly as ever, announced themselves just as loud as any other time, fell only once while taking off their shoes.

Sirius, after hearing the loud thud, said: “Oh, hi Tonks.”

“Tonks and Fleur!” they corrected him, and regretted that immediately the moment his eyes light up with mischief.

“So this is the infamous Fleur we heard so much about.” Great, Remus was there too.

Remus, at least, had the decency to introduce himself before ushering them into the living room. Tonks allowed themselves to relax.

“What a lovely home you have, mi- Remus.” It’s the most polite thing Tonks has ever heard Fleur say, and just for a moment it knocked the wind out of them. What if she did this because of Tonks, to impress their family? It’s a ridiculous thought, one that Tonks found it hard to let go of.

“Thank you,” Remus said, taking a sip of his tea. At that moment, Sirius barged into the living room from who-knows-where, something book-like held high in the air.

Tonks buried their head in their hands.

“Look, Fleur!”, he said, “I found some old pictures of Tonks!”

Fleur accepted it with a smile. Tonks feared for their life.

“They were such a bald baby.” Fleur said, voice full of delight, and Tonks thought it was almost all worth it for that smile. Almost.

“Indeed,” Sirius nodded, “I have this theory that they want their hair to stand out so much because it wasn’t there when they were young. Like a giant sign saying: ‘Look! I have hair now!”

Fleur laughed. Remus added on: “Well, to be fair, they do have hair.” 

“Thank you.” Tonks said pointedly, even though they were pretty sure it wasn’t really a compliment.

“There are a lot of pictures of Tonks hugging you here.” Fleur remarked, her face angled towards Remus. Tonks cheeks flared red.

“Are there?” Remus asked innocently. “Well, they did have a crush on me, after all.”

Fleur sat upright at that. “They did?”

“I’m over it now!” The words left Tonks mouth without their permission.

“Obviously.” Fleur said, one eyebrow raised. What was that supposed to mean?

“It was pretty cute,” Remus commented over his mug, but Tonks just knew that he was smiling smugly from behind it, “They would follow me around, and blush all the time. One time they even dyed their hair the same colour as mine.”

Fleur snorted at that. “What even was the logic behind that?”

Tonks was overjoyed to have an answer to that (not that it was a good answer, per se) “Well, people dye their hair the colour they think looks best, right?”. 

“Right.” Fleur said, amused.

“And seeing as he didn’t dye it, brown had to be his favourite!”

“Not true.” Sirius butted in, “Black is his favourite.”

One of Remus’ hands found its way into Sirius’ black hair. “One Black in particular.”

Tonks threw a put-out look Fleur’s way. Fleur nodded, a motion that’s way too graceful for only being so short. “Guess that’s our cue to leave. See ya!”

Sirius broke the eye contact with Remus purely to yell after them. “Are you going to meet her family now?”

Tonks looked at Fleur’s face, hoping against hope that she didn’t hear it. The hope dissipated the moment they saw the thoughtful look on her face. “You’d have to be quick to do that. The plane leaves in two days.”

It’s a very bright, sunny day, but suddenly a cold crept deep into Tonks’ bones. Two days was not enough time. They need months, years, to get to know this amazing person beside them.

“Tonks? You okay?” 

Tonks willed their heavy expression to dissipate like a cloud for the sun, paying no attention to the puddles it left behind. “Of course! Just zoned out a little.”

Fleur didn’t seem too convinced. Tonks smiles broadly. “Guess I’ll have to be quick! It’s only fair, you not only got to meet my parents, but my cousin too.”

“Yes, your cousin is very nice.”

As Tonks started a long rant about all the times where Sirius wasn’t very nice, they watched the corners of Fleur’s mouth go up, and they decided to savour the moment for as long as it lasts.

~~~

“Why’s your hair red?” Fleur asks. 

She’s laying on Tonks’ bed, in her shitty apartment. Tonks is sitting close to the edge, Fleur’s head so close that Tonks could trail her hands through her hair if she wanted (and oh, how she wants). Fleur is leaving tomorrow.

“Well, remember Charlie?” At Fleur’s nod, Tonks continues. “He’s as ginger as can be, and it seemed a fitting tribute when he left for Romania.”

Fleur hums. “Did you dye it yourself?”

“Yeah. I’ve gotten quite good at it over the years.”

Fleur looks at her hair intensively, as if to see wether that’s true, and Tonks preens a little under the attention.

“Wanna do mine?”

Tonks blinks. “You want red hair?”

“I was thinking of pink, actually.”

Tonks doesn’t answer, but Fleur keeps looking at her, and this is when she realized she hasn’t really answered yet.

“I’ll do it. I’ve still got a full bottle left from last time.”

Fleur frowns up at her. “Will that be enough? I think I want the whole lower half done.”

“I think so?”

Fleur gets up at that. “Where are we doing this?”

“In the bathroom.”

Just before Fleur leaves the room Tonks says: “Wait.”

“What is it?”

“Take this.” Tonks pushes an old, faded shirt into Fleur’s hands. “It’s my dye shirt.” she says under Fleur’s imploring eyes. “It’s already stained and stuff. So that you don’t get anything on your shirt.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

~~~

Tonks has gathered just about everything when Fleur walks in wearing her clothes. It’s as painful as a punch in the gut, but a lot more beautiful. Tonks averts their eyes.

“Is your floor supposed to look like this?” 

Tonks nods, “The newspapers are against stains. They are a pretty permanent part of the bathroom now.”

Fleur smiles, then sits down in the chair, looking as radiant as ever.

Tonks swallows. “I’ll apply vaseline around your face first, otherwise your face will be pink too.”

“Sure.”

Tonks realizes, the moment their hand touches Fleur’s forehead, that Fleur could have easily done this herself. They make eyecontact. Tonks focuses on Fleur’s hairline again.

It’s silent, and Tonks feels as if they should talk, as if they should ask about the millions of things they still want to know about Fleur before she leaves, but it won’t be enough anyway. They stay silent. Until they poke into Fleur’s eye, that is.

“Oh shit. I am so so sorry-”

“-It’s okay, really.”

“-I’m just dead clumsy, but this really wasn’t my intention-”

“I know, okay? I know.” 

Tonks looks into Fleur’s eyes again, so intent to see wether she was hurt or not that they forget about the closeness for a while. Fleur’s face is remarkably kind, and trusting, and she seems... open. “Okay.”

Once again a silence falls, but Tonks has made as much peace with the idea of Fleur leaving as they can (which means that she’s debated moving to France only twice), and they only say something when they are explaining the next part of the procedure.

Sometimes their fingers brush along Fleur’s neck, and they imagine a shiver, imagine it affects Fleur as much as it affects them. (Tonks wants to drop a kiss on her neck)

When Tonks is done she helps Fleur with putting on a shower cap to protect her hair. Then Fleur keeps her head in the same position, face angled up towards Tonks. Their breath catches in their throat.

“What is it?” they ask, softly, as not to disturb this delicate moment.

“The vaseline is still on my face.”

“Oh. Right.” 

Tonks carefully wipes away the vaseline with a paper towel, and they can’t help but notice Fleur’s beauty over and over and over again, in the glint in her eyes, in the arch of her eyebrows, in the smile in her voice.

When all the vaseline is gone their hand travels down Fleur’s face, cupping it. Fleur’s eyes, which had been closed, open at that, and she smiles calmly, before slowly bridging the small gap between their mouths. 

Tonks doesn’t stop her, because how could they? There isn’t a universe in which they could possibly resist Fleur Delacour.

Their back is uncomfortably close to the kitchen sink, but one of Fleur’s hands is carding through their short hair, so it’s fine, really. 

Then Fleur pulls away, just the smallest bit, and her lips brush against Tonks’ as she speaks. “Finally.”

Tonks just stares at her in wonder, until the realization dawns on them. “Shit.” they say.

Fleur’s eyes widen. “Did you not want this? I am so sorry-”

“No!” Tonks says. “It’s not that. But you are leaving soon, and I’m only making this worse.”

And then Fleur laughs. It starts small, but soon enough her whole body is shaking and gasping for breath. “Merde.” She says. “Tu es stupide.”

Tonks glares playfully at her. “I understood that!”

Fleur pays no attention to that, grasps Tonks’ face between her hands, and says: “My family is leaving, okay? I live here.”

“Oh.” Tonks says, and she’s so, so, relieved. They kiss Fleur again, smiling. Fleur is smiling too, so the kissing is far from ideal, but it’s perfect. It’s all perfect.

((also on ao3))

#this was meant to be shorter i swear #but they started living in my head rent free #flonks #flonksfest #flonksfest2020 #luckily the mods said they were chill #wolfstar #i havent really written wolfstar in a while :( #but outsiders perspective was really fun! #nymphadora tonks #fleur delacour #this was so much fun tho!! #it also feels good to do something about the lack of femslash in fanfiction #altho this is only female aligned fanfiction #tonks x fleur #fleur x tonks #remus lupin #sirius black

[abloomntime]

A Bloom In Time Ch 20 Starella

Poppy was exhausted.

All the hard working running around crawling through tunnels and cleaning everything even with help was hard. Didn't help that she also had to fix a hole in the attic. Luckily for her Hattie did have some nails and a hammer, so fixing it took at most seven minutes tops. But she still was feeling really exhausted. So she grabbed one of those adult sized dresses from the wardrobe which to be honest, she didn't find attractive at all. Both were a dark blue color with white laced collars and sleeves, studded with a row of obvious fake rubies. But hey. She needed something to wear if Snatcher was offering to repair her old blue one. So after a quick dip in the bathtub and brush of her teeth she returned wearing the gaudy thing and her old dress folded neatly to be handed to him. He sorta stared at her for a moment with her long slightly wet hair clinging to her and the strange dress she wore. But she didn't say anything other than what sounded as a mumbled thanks before taking the dress and a moment later disappearing in that cloudy mist of purple without a good bye. She supposed with all those letters cuz they weren't there after he disappeared. She was SO tired. She swore she could drop to the carpet right now and sleep for another thousand years or more.

Poppy yawned loudly and stretched out her back which popped, but didn't get much time to relax before a few tugs came from her dress and she looked down with a hum to meet the eyes of the children smiling up at her. "Yes?"

"Can you please read us a bed time story?," Bow asked politely smiling up at her. "Snatcher said our reward for helping was any story we wanted!"

"And I....*yaaaawn* suppose he told you I'd read it huh?" Both nodded and she sighed reaching a hand up to rub her face. "Oh, alright. G-Go take a bath and brush up. I-I'll meet ya'll there."

Honestly she was expecting a hallway to a child's bedroom to be less...I don't know...intimidating? But the dark purple carpet with black vines woven into them was something that sent a shiver down her spine. It was so spooky, but she bit her tongue and made it to her destination. All she remembered was flopping face first into the pillow pile and closing her eyes for just a moment to relax before those youngins came back a looking for her and demanding their story. Which is exactly what happened. She guessed she must've dozed off because she was violently shook back awake with a snort from her and she tiredly blinked those tired eyes open to two little smiling girls, dressed in star and cat printed pjs, and Hattie holding a book in her hands.

"Storytime!," Hattie loudly shouted and shoved the book at her in excitement.

Poppy blinked at it tiredly for a moment before sighing and picking up the book. "A-Alright. *YYAAWWWWNNN* Y-You two go get in bed and I'll Just..b-be there in a sec." She yawned loudly again as the two scrambled for the giant bed as she got up and walked over to it. Plopping herself down at the end of it and looking at them. The bed was big enough for three adults so there was easily enough room for the both of them there snuggled down in the blanket surrounded by toys. Smiling and eargerly awaiting for the reward Snatcher had promised them. Well she couldn't just not give them a story. With a yawn she turned to the book in her hands and blinked at the title. A single orange-red silhouette of a woman stood on the cover. "Starella?"

Hattie nodded. "Yeah! DJ Grooves gave it to us. He said it's the most popular story right now! We really like it! Please read it!"

Poppy gave a small smile and a smaller yawn. "Alright. Just settle down now." Turning her blue tired eyes back to the cover she sighed and read outloud. "Starella. Written by Pen Gwen. Illustrated by Sunny Shine." Opening the cover she saw the same Orange-red shadow of the woman on the cover next to a larger man's silhouette of the same color. Both were standing in front of a large mansion and pretty landscape. "O-Once upon a time far away in the milky way galaxy, there lived a kind man and his daughter. The man was a very wealthy business man and his daughter was one of the most magnificent people of heart and beauty in the land. With a firey passion and flare like fire, and kindness that shone brighter than the very sun. Because of such bright straits people often referred to her as a star among the people. So she was named, Starella." She turned to the next page and it had the same two orange-red people but this time with two other silhouettes of two women wearing dresses. The taller green person was holding hands with the orange man inside what looked to be a princess's library. "One day Starella's father fell in love with a beautiful widow who had a daughter close to Starella's age. But the woman's beauty hid a cruel heart of greed that would ultimately reveal itself-" Poppy jumped when Hattie suddenly blew a raspberry at the picture and Poppy blinked at her. "Now what was that all about? I thought I was reading this here story pretty well."

Hattie huffed and crossed her arms pouting. "Those pecknecks need to get lost."

"Hey!" Poppy pointed at her. "Watch your language young lady! One more curse outta you and I'm going to stop right here."

Bow scowled and nudged Hattie who groaned. "Fine. I'm sorry."

Poppy nodded. "That's better. Now don't let me here either of ya say that again." She turned back to the book and turned the page. It showed Starella, who she had now come to know as the female orange-red silhouette, staring out the window at a horse drawn carriage leaving the home. "One day her father's rich work came to a point where he had to leave for a year long business trip and left poor Starella in the care of her Stepmother, which is where the trouble began." She flipped the page again and it showed Starella washing dishes and mopping floors as the green stepmother stood in the doorway pointing. "Starella's Stepmother and stepsister were cruel to her. Taking away all her fine clothing and treasures and making her dress and work as a maid in her own home. Despite this she never lost that shiny kindness she was named for." Turning the page she got a whole new bunch of settings. A beautiful green landscape, a good sized town, and a giant castle. "One day the Prince of the land had finally become eligible to be married and his parents wanted nothing more than to know he found the right soul mate for him. So one day one of his fathers asked his son a question."

She turned the page again and paused. On the next page was two silhouettes of two men wearing crowns and sitting in thrones. One man a light blue and the other a dark red. Before them stood a young dark blue silhouette of a young man with his hair in a ponytail standing before them in some grand ball room. Wow. The artist really knew their stuff drawing all these details in didn't they?

" 'My son,' one of the Kings asked their son.," Poppy continued to read. " 'Your father and I are growing more old in age and one day you shall take responsibility over the kingdom and all who live in it. We must know, have you picked who will rule by your side?' The prince sadly hung his head before his two fathers and replied, 'Alas for I have not. For no one has caught my attention and no one has wanted anything more to do with me than my throne. I wish to meet someone I can love as much as they truly love me in return, but no one I have ever met had showed me such a thing.' " Poppy blinked in slight awe and turned the page as she focused more on the story. It had the same scene only the red king had stood up and was now pointing at the dark blue prince. " 'I have a grand idea!', the king yelled for all to hear, 'One that shall solve this problem. We shall invite all the eligible people in the land no matter commoner or noble. From them you can choose who you shall wed!'" Poppy turned the next page and it showed a yellow silhouette man handing out letters to other men and women silhouettes of various colors and shades. "The prince happily agreed. So a message was sent out to every young eligible man and woman no matter commoner or wealthy noble." She turned the next page and she saw the same yellow messenger standing in front of the doorway holding out a letter to the green stepmother.

"Poppy?" She hummed and looked up to Hattie who gave a tiny yawn before asking, "What does eligible mean?"

"Oh. I-I *YAWN* means you're able to be able to do something. L-Like how we're all eligible to sleep." The little girl responded with an 'Oh' and the red head looked back to the book. "One day a letter arrived at Starella's home. Offically inviting Starella and her step sister to the grand ball." She turned with a yawn to the next page which had both the step mother and stepsister's figures glaring down Starella. " The Stepmother and Stepsister were overjoyed. 'This is your chance!,' the Stepmother said to her daughter, 'You are the most beautiful young lady in the land! You must make the prince fall in love with you and you shall become the queen! Then we shall both live the rest of our lives in peace.' Starella politely asked if she could go but the stepmother ignored her in favor of showering her own daughter in praise and telling her what needed to be done for their goal." Poppy yawned again loudly as she turned the next page. Shaking her head and looking at the next page which showed the same scene from before but this time Starella was glaring back instead of her face turned down. "Days passed and the day of the ball came to be. Defying her Stepmother's wishes she stole back one of her fancy dresses and said to her stepmother, "I don't care what you say anymore. I will be going to the ball and my father shall hear of your ways.' With that Starella marched up the stairs to get herself ready for the ball that night. Enraged by Starella's actions the stepmother and stepsister decided to seek revenge."

Poppy again turned the page and it showed the mansion at night time and a carraige being driven away from the house, Starella was looking out one of the windows. Night time....sounded like a great time to get some well deserved sleep. Her tired body ached and she yawned again, those eyes slowly closing ....closer....closer.... She yelped when something made the bed move a bit and looking over found it was Hattie looking tired but pouting.

"C'mon. What happened next?"

"Huh...OH! RIGHT!!" Blue tired eyes looked back to the page. "Without Starella knowing the carriage to take them to the ball arrived. As quickly and quietly as mice, the two slipped away and made off into the night. By the time Starella noticed, it was too late." She turned the page and it showed Starella in a flowing dress on the kitchen floor in a crying pose. "Distraught. Starella sat by the kitchen fire to warm herself and weep her sorrows away. 'Do not be said', cried a woman's voice." Turning another page, it showed Starella gazing up at the kitchen window where a white duck was perched. "Startled, Starella turned her face up towards the sound of the voice and saw a tiny duck perched in her window. 'Who are you?," Starella asked. 'I am the great Mother Goose.,' the duck replied, 'Do not weep. Dry those tears. You saved me when those two wicked women wanted to fry me for dinner, and now I shall repay your kindness in full. Bring me one chess knight that's snow white, a nutcracker,  and one apple from the pantry. Now hurry. We haven't got much time.'" She turned the next page and it showed Starella holding a bright red apple and the white horse piece from a chess board game outside. " She....*YYYYAAAAWWWNNN* quickly did as the duck asked and brought what she needed. 'Lay them upon the ground and stand aside,' the duck said. Starella quickly did as she was told as the duck waved her wing over the items. "

"Poppy?"

"Yes?"

"*yawn* W-What's a chess knight?"

"It's the little pieces of the game chess that look like ponies," she replied before turning another page tiredly and there was a pretty sight. A beautiful red carriage with the door held open by a handsome man in a suit, and the most beautiful white horse at the front. "Before her very eyes the items turned into a magnificent couch with a horse and driver to navigate it. As Starella climbed into the couch, Mother Goose perched upon the door to give one final warning. 'I hope you find the happiness you seek, but remember this,' she warned, 'You must leave by Midnight for that is when my magic will fade away and you shall be stranded.' Starella promised the Mother Goose she'd remember the warning and bid the goose good bye as it flew into the sky, and the couch slowly made it way towards the castle." Turning to the next page it showed the castle and the steps leading up to the grand entrance and sitting on the stairs gracefully was the dark blue prince. "Unknownst to her the prince was awaiting within the entrance to the grand castle, tired from the large gathering of crowded people inside and not having the desire to having others and so many seeking him out at once. But suddenly he saw the most unusual sight." Turning the page again, it showed the red apple couch pull up to the castle steps. "The most radiant of red couches he had ever seen appeared pulled by the most purest of white horses. Surely this must've been someone important. As Starella emerged from the couch, the prince was entranced by her beauty as she stepped towards him." Another page turn, reveling the two figures looking at each other on the stairs. "Taken by her stunning beauty, the prince stood to greet the fair maiden and welcome her to the castle. Moved by the handsome strangest politeness she asked what he was doing out here all alone, and he replied, 'It is because it became too crowded for my liking. I wished to come out here and take a break and talk to someone. But you look new around to the castle. My I offer to show you around the castle?' Starella agreed and took the arm the man offered her. Leading her into the castle above."

Poppy took a moment after turning the next page to turn to look over at the Girls. Hattie was snoring away flopped back against the pillow. But Bow was still wide awake, smiling at her and pointing to the book. Where it showed the duo standing in the middle of a very crowded room filled with other colorful silhouettes.

"Next page please."

Poppy smiled and figured she might as well finish the book for the one who was still awake. "Well...Starella and the prince spent the entire ball together sharing each other's interests and experiences, getting along so very lovely enraptured by each others' personalities. As time went on Starella forgot all about Mother Goose's warnings as they talked, laughed, and danced the night away. But that all changed in a blink of an eye." The next page beheld Starella running away from the prince who had his arm outstretched out for her and a giant clock tower shone from behind them with the face reading midnight. "The clock struck midnight and everything the Mother Goose had ever said came rushing back to her. In an instant full of dread, Starella fled from the Prince and to the exit but it was too late. The couch had transformed back into an apple. The horse to a chess knight. And the handsome couchman back into the nutcracker. Having no other choice, Starella fled down the road into the night back towards her home." New page, new scene of the prince in the middle of the crowd with everyone looking at him. "Determined the prince announced that same night that he would love nothing more than to again meet this mystery lady and he was determined to meet her again." Another page showing the stepmother and stepdaughter home glaring at Starella again. "Because the castle was so crowded Starella's Stepmother and Stepsister had not seen her at all, and so paid no attention to her upon arriving home. Only caring about the Prince's proclaim." New page showed the prince riding through town on a beautiful white horse through town. "For days the prince searched far and white for the maiden with bright kindness and hair that shown brighter than any star. No one could tell him who this mysterious maiden was and he was beginning to lose hope when he finally reached the home of Starella and her step family. Where he finally found what he seeked." Turning the page it showed the prince kneeling, face pointed towards the floor, and holding her hand the green figures of the stepfamily behind them. " 'At last I have found you,' he said with glee, 'Starella, I have searched far and wide because before no one had ever showed me the kindess you have. With your p-permission..*YAAAAWWN* I-I would love nothing more than to learn more about you.' "

Poppy didn't notice but Bow had already long since laid down to sleep as well, but she kept going reading the story to it's end as her own body was slowly falling into the same spell of sleep they had by the Sandman. The next page showed Starella's father pointing outside standing in the doorway pointing as the Stepmother and Stepdaughter fled.

"Starella happily agreed and her father returned. Upon hearing what her Stepmother and Stepsister had done while he was away, he banished them from his home never to return again." She turned to the last page where it showed a very elaborate wedding and the Prince and Starella being the ones to be wed. "After a few years of letting their love and fondness for each other grow, Starella and the prince were finally married. The End."

The book was slowly closed by the red head along with her eyes and with another loud yawn, sleep had finally claimed the last lady there. All three sleeping peacefully until the morning had come.

#Snatcher #a hat in time snatcher #a hat in time florist #A hat in time the florist #The Florist #florist #florist x snatcher #the florist x snatcher #snatcher x florist #Snatcher x the florist #ABloomInTime #flowercrown

[totallysharkycomplete]

Bored and Nailed (Stan Pines x Reader)

After meeting the Pines family at your job as a nail tech you’re invited to a sleep over the the Mystery Shack. Stan has had his eyes on you though and decides to make the best of the night. NSFW Comission for @tv-zepeda

“Grunkle Stan, please! This is my future we’re talking about!” Mable begged as she trailed behind her great uncle. He was doing his best to walk away from the pleading preteen but to no avail. “If I don’t start my education now then I’ll become a criminal when I’m older and end up in jail!” Mabel had been reading Teen Heart Throb Magazine for Tweens when she came across an article about being a nail technician. She had her mind made up instantly, that was what she wanted to be when she grew up and she needed to start early. “Jail ain’t so bad kid.” He scoffed. “Helps build character.” “But Grunkle Stan!” She whined. “Please Gunkle Stan, just let her. She was like this with learning how to knit. She bothered our parents until she got a lesson.” Dipper sighed. Stan stops in his tracks and turns around to address Mabel. “Listen, if I take you to get your nails done you can’t ask me for anything the rest of the summer!” Mable squealed and hugged her grunkle. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She jumped up and down before bolting to the door. “I’ll be in the car!” She yelled before slamming the door shut behind her. “Are you taking her right now?” Dipper asked. “No, but she’ll be alright in the car for a few hours.” Stan turns to walk to the gift shop. ---------- It's a beautiful sunny summer afternoon, so your job is absolutely dead. Only one customer had been in today, Lazy Susan, before her shift at the diner. Most of the residents of Gravity Falls would rather spend the first good day of summer outside and not getting their nails done. You couldn’t blame them though. If the choice had been yours you’d set your station up outside and be able to soak in the rays of the sun instead of standing in the fluorescent lights that hung above your head. Still you kept yourself busy with tidying and reading mass texts Tambry sent to everyone in town with a mobile phone. It was around one when the bell above the door chimed. You turned your head to see an older man and two older kids walk in. “Welcome in!” You greeted them warmly as you approached the front. The older man had a scowl on his face, while the young boys looked around aimlessly. The young girl however looked extremely excited, hopping from one foot to the other as her eyes darted from object to object. “What brings you in today?” “Kid wants her nails done, cheapest ya’ got!” The older man points his thumb over the girl and she frowns. “Grunkle Stan you can’t put a price tag on my future.” She scampers up to you. “I want to be a nail tech when I get older, I want you to teach me everything!” She beams. You giggle, and introduce yourself. “I’m not a trained teacher, but I can talk you through all my steps. Sound alright with you?” Looking back at the older man with a smile, he seems to freeze. “Uh, yeah, whatever,” He rubbed the back of his neck. The young girl cheers and begins introductions. “I’m Mable! The sweaty boy is my brother Dipper,” the boy made a noise of protest at the sweaty comment. “This is my Grunkle Stan.” She motions to the man beside her. You take a second to look him up and down. “Wait, aren’t you Mister Mystery?” “The one and only.” He smirks now and offers you his hands, you take it and he firmly shakes yours. It feels rough and large compared to your softer small one. “Please, call me Stan.” He rubs his thumb over your hand before pulling away. You can’t help the blush that creeps onto your cheeks. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at the schack.” DIpper comments. “Oh, I haven’t gone in a few years, but it’s always fun to see the cryptids on display.” You can feel yourself still blushing. “Ah, anyways,” you turn to talk to Mabel. “Go ahead and pick out what color you want from the wall over there.” You point her in the right direction and she begins to ‘oh’ and ‘ah’ over all the color choices. You watch her with a smile then turn back to the others two. “Anything for you two today?” Dipper makes a ‘pfft’ noise. “I think I’m a little too manly to have my nails painted. Don’t want people thinking I’m girly.” “There’s nothing girly about personal hygiene.” You comment and Dipper blushes. Stan laughs. “Ha, she's right kid. It’d do you good to have a little more hygiene.” Stan looks at you with a grin. Mabel runs back over with three bottles in her hand. You lead them back to your station and Mabel sits in front of you, Dipper and Stan on either side of her. She had decided on alternating pink and purple with holographic glitter. You begin the process you normally do when giving a manicure but describing every step in detail. Mabel watches with wide eyes and eats up every word. Stan looks up at you occasionally from over one of the magazines provided. He’s impressed with how patient you are with his great niece, even letting her paint one of your nails for practice. Everytime you make eye contact with him his eyes flip back to the magazine and pretend he wasn’t staring. It’s hard for him to not to think about how your smile brightens the whole room. When you finish Mabel hops out of her chair. “I feel like a changed woman!” She cheers, splaying her hands out so she can look at her freshly manicured nails. “Who's next?” You smile, looking at Stan. “I don’t need a fancy manicure in my line of work.” He grunts. “Okay, how about this then?” You slide your chair closer to where he’s sitting and place your hands out palms up, signaling for his hands. “No paint or clippers, promise.” He looks over to Dipper and Mabel hoping for a way out of it, but Dipper is busy admiring Mabel’s nails. Begrudgingly he places his hands in yours. You guide his hands to sit on the table and push his sleeves back, and pump lotion into your hand, before taking one of his and begin messaging the lotion into his skin. “Are you getting your nails done too?” Dipper snides with a smirk. Stan gives him a warning glare and he silences. “What color did you pick?” Mabel came to his side to see. “No paint, just a hand message.” You inform her. “Boo, where’s the fun in that?” She pouts. “Well sometimes people come in and don’t want their nails painted. Just a manicure and a message.” You tell her. “You’d be surprised how many men come in just for that.” Mabel makes a comment about how that’s boring and walks over to Dipper who found the tv in the lobby. There’s a moment of silence and you look up at Stan. He has a light shade of pink on his cheeks. You smile and look back down at his hands. “You know, you can tell a lot about someone by their hands.” You say without looking up. “That so?” Stan grunts. “That is so,” you giggle. “For instance I can tell you’re a hard worker, who cares for his family. I can also tell you don’t use lotion often enough.” He watches as you try to take another pump of lotion when the bottle decides to betray you and squirt everywhere. The white liquid squirts up your forearms and your shirt. “Shoot,” you grab a tissue and clean yourself off. You notice Stan is watching you, wide eyed and red faced. Heat rises to your cheeks when you realise what the mess resembles. “You gotta a little,” Stan motions to your cheek, you quickly wipe it away and toss the tissues in the trash before taking his hand again. Stan clears his throat before he speaks again. “You seem really good with kids. Sure you ain’t a teacher?” “Pretty sure,” you joke, earning a smile from him. “I just know how to talk to kids I guess. It’s just always come naturally to me.” You look over at the kids then back to Stan. “I know they’re older but if you ever need a babysitter, you could call me.” He smirks. “Yeah, I might take you up on that offer.” You finish his other hand and set it gently on the table. He rubs his palms together giving them a look over. “That felt great, kid. Thanks” He has what you guess is a genuine smile on his face. “It’s no problem.” You stutter, walking together to the register. He pays for Mabel's manicure, and you slide him your business card. “Here,” you blush. “Just in case.” “Oh, uh, thanks, toots.” He stammers. Mabel reaches up and slaps a bumper sticker onto the counter for you, seemingly having pulled it out of nowhere. “Come visit us at the Mystery Shack sometime! Grunkle Stan would love to give you a tour.” She put a little too much emphasis on the word love and you giggled. “Thank’s Mabel, I’ll have to do that.” You thank her and they go to leave. You hear Stan grumble something about how bumper stickers don’t grow on trees. You look down at the bumper sticker and smile. ----------- A few days later you convince a few friends to go with you on the tour at the Mystery Shack. The bell above the door chimes as you enter and you’re welcomed by a teenager behind the counter who has her nose stuck in a magazine. “Could we get three tour tickets, please?” You ask when you approach the counter. She lowers the magazine and you recognize her. “Oh, hey, Wendy.” You smile warmly. She visited the nail salon often with her dad. “Hey girl!” She greets. “Are you really going on a tour?” She chuckles. “Yeah, me and my friends used to come here sometimes. Also I did the owner’s nieces nail the other day and she said I should come by.” You motion with your head to your friend’s who are looking around the gift shop. “You mean Mabel?” She asks as she rings you up. “Oh yeah, she was raving about her nails the other day. Shoulda known you did them.” She hands you three pieces of paper that have ‘tour ticket’ written on them. “Next tour should start in a few, Mr.Pines will be finishing up with the last tour soon.” You thank her and go look around the gift shop with your friends. You find them looking over the Mister Mystery bobbleheads. “Look,” one of your friends says teasingly. “It’s the silver fox.” You blush. “I can’t believe you remember me saying that. That was at least three years ago.” “Oh, well never let you forget.” The other says. You can hear Stan’s loud booming voice as he enters back into the gift shop with the last tour group. “Be sure to buy lots of gifts for your family and loved ones! Remember we put the fun in no refunds.” He doesn’t see you as he makes his way over to Wendy. “How many in the next tour?” He asks gruffly. “Just three,” she points over to you and your friends and you wave. He looks taken aback for a second before composing himself back into his Mister Mystery persona. “Greeting and welcome to the Mystery Shack!” He greets you as you and your friends approach the entrance of the tour room. He gives a whole speech about being prepared to see things beyond belief and what not. You and your friends share looks and nudge each other as he guides you through the tour. “I get what you mean, he kinda is a silver fox.” Your friend says a little too loudly. “He’s definitely your type,” the other teases. You shush them and pray Stan didn’t hear that. A certain taxidermied creature catches your attention and you stare at it, lost in thought. “Boo!” A hand grabs your hip and you jump with a yelp. You turn to see Stan giving a hearty belly laugh. “Sorry, kid. Had to. Keep up with the tour group please. I’m afraid to say some people have wandered off on the tour and never make it out!” He boasts in his showman’s voice, slowly sliding his hand from your waist. You stiffen a giggle. “Where do they go?” You follow him a few feet to where your friends are and they giggle too. “Only the Gods know!” He booms. He continues on with the tour, ever so often he touches your shoulder and points over it at the exhibit, or makes direct eye contact only with you while explaining what the creature before you is. You think maybe you’re just imagining the extra attention. When the tour ends he leads you three back into the gift shop where Dipper and Mabel have appeared. When Mabel sees you she squeals and makes a beeline for you. “I knew you’d come for a tour!” She smiled. “Of course,” you smiled back. Your friends told you they had to get going before they went off. Mabel grabbed your hand and dragged you over to where Dipper and Wendy were standing. “She’s been talking nonstop about her nails.” Dipper tells you. “Yeah, I was just telling Mabel and Dipper that me and my dad get out nails done by you.” Wendy says. Dipper chuckles. “You’re telling me Manly Dan, then the manliest man in Gravity Falls, gets his nails done?” Wendy frowns at him. “There’s nothing not manly about good nail health, Dipper.” Dipper blushes a deep shade of red and you laugh at him mumbling an apology. “Yeah, Dip!” Mabel cheers. “You should let me do your nails tonight when Grenda and Candy come over.” Mabel’s smile disappears and her hand comes to her cheeks as she lets out a loud gasp. “Oh my gosh! Grunkle Stan, can she come to my sleepover too?” Mable shouts across the gift shop to her grunkle. You turn to look at him with a confused smile. He was definitely already looking over at you before Mable yelled. “Fine by me,” He grunts and turns back into the tour room. Mabel cheers. “Mabel, you didn’t even ask her if she wanted to come to your sleepover yet.” Dipper scolds his sister. Mable scoffs. “Of course she wants to come to my nail salon themed sleepover!” Mable looks up at you with big puppy dog eyes, there’s no way you could say no. “Right?” You laughed. “I’d be happy to come to your sleepover.” ---------- “He was def checking you out.” “Did you see how he looked at your butt?!” “I can’t believe he just grabbed her waist like that. That was BOLD.” Your friends filled your group chat with messages as soon as they left. You didn’t even want to know how’d they react if you told them you would be staying the night at the Mystery Shack. You sighed pulling up outside the Shack later that evening, having returned home to have dinner and grab some pajamas and nail polishes you didn’t mind if preteen girls messed up. Locking your car, you made your way to the door and knocked. Almost immediately the door swung open and you were greeted by Mable and her two friends. They start to giggle and pulled you up the stairs as they talk about everything they have planned for the night. Although the girls are full of energy the three of them are passed out by eleven. You look around the door deciding on what to do, since you aren’t tired yet. Deciding on tidying up a bit you grab the pizza box and head downstairs to look for the kitchen. It doesn’t take long before you find it. You decide to leave the light off, and make your way over to the fridge. You have to move a few things around to make it fit. Leaning over you move somethings before standing back up and closing the door. Your heart leaps in your chest when you turn around and there’s someone else in the kitchen. To your relief you recognize it’s only Stan. You place your hand on your chest and let out a small laugh. “Geez, you scared me.” His eyes look you over before he replies. “Sorry, kid. Didn’t mean to.” He makes his way over to next to you. “Was there and pizza left?” You nod. “Although it might have some glitter on it.” With his attention on the pizza in the fridge, you take a second to look over him. He’s in nothing but a tank top and boxer shorts. You can’t help but notice how his arms flex everytime he moves his arms. “Too much glitter,” he decides, standing up and closing the fridge. He's standing right by your side. “Thanks for indulging Mabel and coming over tonight, you really didn’t have to.” “Oh, I don’t mind.” You smile. “I didn’t have much else going on.” “A beautiful young thing like you didn’t have any plans on a Saturday?” He smirks. You can feel yourself blush at his compliment. “My only plans were to come to the Mystery Shack for a tour.” You confessed. “And how was it?” He asks. Was he moving closer, or were you imagining it? “G-good,” You stammer. “It was good.” Your back is against the counter, Stan places his hand on either side of you. “You know, with ears this big I got pretty good hearing. Couldn’t help but hear what your friends were saying.” You look up at him from under lashes. “And?” You ask almost teasingly. He breathed out deeply, only inches from your face now. One of his hands moves to the back of your head to guide you to him and he gives you a hungry kiss. You’re happy to begin kissing him back just as eager, moving your hands to his chest. After a few more kisses his hands move behind you to grab your ass. He moves from your lips to your neck and begins kissing the skin there. You lean against him and whine. “You like that, kitten?” He smirks against your skin. You nod and he continues kissing your neck. He stops to suck a bruise into the skin where your neck meets your shoulder. Your hands bunch into his tank top and the wiry hair on his chest tickles your fingers. You moan his name as he begins kissing you again, his hands moving to the waistband of your pajama shorts. He grabs your shorts and underwear and pulls them down in one swift motion, leaving him kneeling in front of you. He inches closer and you can feel his warm breath on your folds. “Spread your legs for me, sugar.” He encourages by placing both his strong hands on the inside of your thighs and pushing them apart. You obey, and he pulls one of your knees over his shoulder before beginning licking and sucking your clit. Your hands bunch into his hair and you bite your lip to try and suppress the noises threatening to escape your mouth. “Go on, tell me how it feels. The kid’s can’t hear you all the way in the attic.” He assures you. He doesn’t have to tell you twice as you begin to whimper and moan as he pleases you. Without warning he slips a finger into your wet entrance, and your buck into his touch. One of his hands holds your hip firmly to keep you from moving as he slips another digit in. You can feel the tension in your stomach building more and more with every thrust of his fingers and lap of his tongue. Just as you’re about to snap, Stan pulls away. You whimper at the loss. “Don’t worry,” He kisses your cheek. “I’ll give you something even better than that.” His hands move to your hips and he pulls you flush against him, you can feel his hard member against your stomach. Suddenly he picks you up and takes a few steps across the room before laying you on the kitchen table. His hands slip under your shirt and you help him pull it off. He smirks and looks over your naked form, before removing his shirt as well. Leaning over your form he begins kissing you again. His hands touch all over your naked chest. You wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close. You moan his name and he groans. “You ready for more?” He asks, but you can already feel him pushing against you. You frantically nod and he pushes into you completely with one slow thrust. You didn’t get the chance to see him but you can tell he’s thick. You both let out sounds of please. His hands move to hold your hips, your hand move to his forearms, your nails leaving tiny crescent shapes in his skin. He pulls out slowly but quickly thrust back into you, and begins to set an unforgiving pace. Every thrust is deep and fast, his hands are holding your hips so tightly you’re sure there will be bruises tomorrow. You’re whimpering his name, which is definitely stroking his ego. “You feel so good,” He grunts. “So damn good.” He presses a bruising kiss to your lips. “Stan, I, I’m,” You try to tell him. He gets what you mean and picks up his pace. “Come on, I wanna feel you come.” His thumb comes between your leg to rub small circles to your clit and you lose yourself. Your back arches off the table and you cry out as his deep thrust helps you through. His pace doesn't falter as he turns you over onto your stomach. You grab onto the sides of the table to try and anchor yourself. His hands are still holding bruisingly onto your hips as he snaps his hips to thrust into you. Stan removes one of his hands before he brings it down hard to smack your rear. You cry out and push yourself back into his touch. He rubs tenderly over the reddening skin before he does the same again. Your head is foggy with all the pleasure you’re receiving, but you can feel the knot forming in your stomach again. You were close, but didn’t have the words to tell Stan. You hear Stan curse as he begins to praise you. “You’re so fucking perfect, making me feel so good. You getting close again, ain’t you? That’s so fucking good.” Every thrust of Stan’s becomes more erratic and you can tell he’s getting close too. His hands reach around to your clit and he teases it. “I want you to come again for me.” With a few more circles of your clit, the knot snaps and you’re coming again. Stan cusses and thrust deep into three more times before he pulls out, you can feel his hot seed spilling onto your back. Your head falls against the cool surface of the table as you try to catch your breath. You can hear Stan move away from you but don’t try to look, feeling too exhausted. You let out a hum as you feel a wet cloth run down your back. “You’re really something else, kitten.” He kisses your shoulder blade, and runs the cool cloth over your red ass cheek. He sets the cloth down and moves to help you up. Your knees feel a bit wobbly so you grab his arm to steady yourself. “You alright?” He plants a gentle kiss to your forehead. You nod. “Yeah, I’m good. That was good.” You blush. Stan chuckles and wraps his arms around you, you wrap your arms around his neck. “How bout we get you to bed?” “I’d like that.” You agree.

#stan pines x reader #gravity falls x reader

[jamielea81]

Just a Simple Lie

Chapter 8

Description: Having worked on small independent films for the better part of a decade, your friend tells you about an opening for a script supervisor with a large studio. Wanting to advance your career, you apply and get an interview. The only downside, they prefer to hire crew who are married. It’s just a simple lie, right?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, Drinking, Fluff and Angst

A/N:  I really love this chapter and hope you guys do too! As always, this fic is simply for fun. I know nothing about the personal lives of the two actors in this series and mean no harm. I am also totally guessing regarding the studio talk. Comments, reblogs, and likes are always welcome.

Word Count: 4,066

Catch up with chapter 7

**

Everything was packed back into the large storage bins they came in. Your desk was cleaned out and everything in your hotel room was shoved into a suitcase and a duffle bag. Filming had been completed in the Great White North. There were a couple of scenes that needed to be reshot, but that wouldn’t be more than a week. Monica had changed your flights to an earlier time, stating she didn’t want to sit around the worn-out motel room when she could be headed home to sunny skies. This only caused slight panic on your end. You hated being rushed. Sure, you were a last-minute packer, but when it was unofficially part of your job to make sure all wardrobe and set accessories were returning back to the states, it stressed you out.

The plane would be boarding in a matter of minutes and Monica thought now was the perfect time to grab coffee. You on the other hand were digging through your carry-on bag. Joanna had quite the sweet tooth, even more now that she was pregnant. You had picked up a bag of maple candy but of course you couldn’t find it. You phone buzzed in your purse that was on the empty seat next to you. Zipping up your carry-on, you picked up the bag on your left and dug through the bottomless pit that was your purse, finding both the maple candy as well as your phone.

Chris: What are you doing?

Y/N: I can tell you what I’m not doing…sleeping. Relaxing. Sipping a Mai Tai by the pool. But not the pool here at the hotel, but the pool at my apartment complex where it’s a lot warmer.

Chris: 😂😂😂

Chris had flown to Boston for a couple of days since he didn’t have to be back to California for filming for another three days.

Chris: Bet you can’t wait for filming to be done.

Y/N: If you’re asking me today, yes. But I’m sure next week I’ll be missing it.

Chris: Yeah, this was a fun shoot. I’m going to miss everybody. Some more than others.

Y/N:  *Turns around to look behind me*

Y/N: Who me?

You could feel your face grow warmer and warmer. Thankfully, Monica hadn’t returned.

Chris: You have to know I care about you.

“Fuck,” you swore.

Chris: Of course, I’m going to miss you.

Miss. Just another point in the “this is temporary” bucket. You’d miss him too. There was no doubt in your mind.

Y/N: I’m going to miss you too.

Y/N: Monica is giving me the evil eye for not paying attention to her. See you back in Cali.

She wasn’t back, but he didn’t have to know that. This conversation was getting to be too much for you. Your resolve was breaking. You shut off your phone just as Monica appeared with two large to go cups and a small plastic bag full of cream capsules and sweeteners.

“Life saver,” you said, grabbing one of the cups.

**

Reshoots were now complete. Despite your better judgement, you had spent a large amount of time in Chris’ trailer. Purely innocent of course. He wooed you with gourmet coffee and kept you coming back with pastries. All of it better than what was being served by Craft Services. He found a bakery near the studio the day he was back on set for reshoots and just kept going back. Chris was footing the bill, so you really couldn’t complain. It was like the two of you were trying to spend as much time together as possible. Both of you knowing this would probably be it. Chris didn’t have any other projects with Stone Lite and since your contract was with the studio, you wouldn’t be working together any time soon.

The studio did indeed extend your contract for another movie. Monica apparently had the inside scoop as they did want the two of you working together again like she mentioned. The next film was a teen romantic comedy and the only names you had recognized were the two leads that had done a few things for the Disney Channel. You were a closet Disney freak, what could you say?

The wrap party was in two nights and since you were staying on with the studio, you were going. But Chris didn’t need to know that.

“You’re going,” Chris said bumping his elbow into your side.

You were snug between him and Dodger on his trailer’s couch. The sleeping dog’s nose rested slightly on your thigh. The Evans boys needed to learn a thing or two about space.

Shaking your head like a child, you kept your eyes on your phone reading through e-mails about the next film that would start filming in three weeks.

“Don’t shake your head at me. It’s the last time we’ll be together. I mean, um, all of us will be together.”

You looked up, giving him a disinterested stare. You caught his words, but you were trying to keep it together here. “I don’t know. Seems kind of lame. I mean, I see you guys every day.”

“You’re a pain in my ass. You know that?”

“I think I caught that vibe,” you said jabbing him back with your elbow. “Of course, I’m going. My contract got extended. It would look terrible if I didn’t.”

“Plus, me,” he said with a pout.

“And you Christopher.”

**

The music was blaring. Some C or D list celebrity the studio hired to DJ the party was pumping out early 2000s dance music. You could barely hear Monica who was standing next to you. Everyone was dressed to the nines including yourself. A sparkly black dress Jana threw at you because “I’ll never fit into it again!” she had said dramatically. She acted in high school and college. That was always Ian’s reasoning when she let her emotions take control of the conversation. Her loss was your gain. It hit just at the knees and had cute, puffy cap sleeves. The neckline was cut in a V and showed the tiniest bit of cleavage. Tasteful cleavage as you liked to call it. You would give it back to her at some point after the baby was born. It would sit in the back of your closet after tonight. Besides, it wasn’t like you spent your evenings in fancy Beverly Hills’ hotels every week.

You excused yourself from your small group and wobbled your way to the bar for another drink. The shoes were yours and barely used. Black, sexy leather with a tall skinny heel. You didn’t do heels, but flats just simply wouldn’t do. Not with this dress anyway.

White wine was your drink of choice for the night. You had spent a lot of money on a Lyft to the party and you would do so on the way home too, so you planned to have drinks. But you were not getting wasted. Not in your fancy borrowed dress and most certainly not in these shoes.

You leaned against the polished wood bar, careful not to lean on the parts that were wet with condensation from drinks that were placed on it earlier in the night. The small black clutch was held tightly in your left hand as the fingers on your right drummed to OutKast’s Hey Ya.

An arm was thrown around your shoulders as you felt the weight of a body pushed against you. It was Chris. You could smell the spice of his cologne without even looking.

“Howdy stranger. What’ll it be? I’m buying,” you joked, not sparring him a glance.

“Is that because the studio’s picking up the tab tonight?”

You turned to face him, his arm dropping off of your shoulder. He stepped in closer, your back hitting the bar. He breath fanned against your face, smelling like beer and mint.  

Apparently, Mr. Evans likes to pre-game it.

“Maybe so. I tip well though.” You turned back around seeing that your wine glass was waiting for you. You dropped a couple of ones into the large glass picture placed just below the counter top.

“Next round,” he said. “My brother’s grabbing us some drinks.”

“Ah, that elusive brother of yours is here?” you asked.

Chris had talked so much about Scott that you felt like you knew him.

He nodded his head, biting at his lower lip. “You look great by the way.”

You curtsied, which only caused him to laugh. “Not looking so bad yourself, Chris.” But when did he not look better than most? Black dress pants with a black button-down shirt tucked in. A textured black belt around his waist breaking up the full black attire a bit.

His cheeks tinted pink. Looking past you, he waved someone over. Most likely his brother.

“Y/N, this is Scott,” he started before his brother came into view behind you.

Two beers in hand, he walked past you, handing one off to Chris. “Finally. This one never shuts up. I was afraid he’d lost it and you didn’t actually exist.”

“And I feel like we’re already friends. I know your shoe size and favorite restaurant back in Massachusetts.”

“If I didn’t already know my brother blabs about me, I’d think I have a stalker on my hands.” He set his bottle on the bar top and wrapped you in a hug. It took you by surprise for a moment, making you wobble on your feet.

“Good to meet you too Scott,” you chuckled.

He picked up his bottle and pinged it against your glass. “You too!”

“Where’s Travis?” Chris asked, looking around the space, taking a sip from his bottle.

“He’s not here. Working,” you added as an after-thought.

Yeah, I suppose significant others comes to these types of things.

Chris furrowed his brow and gave Scott a look you couldn’t read. The two of them seemed to have a silent conversation while you nervously sipped on your wine.

“We should dance!” Scott blurted, grabbing your mostly full glass from your hand and setting it on the bar. He reached your hand and pulled you to the dance floor. You turned backed to Chris who stayed put, bottle tipped at his lips.

Get Low had just started play over the sound system. Scott held both of your hands in his while he indeed got low to the ground bringing a smile to your lips.

“Come on!” he encouraged.

A giggle erupted out of your mouth that didn’t sound like your own. With your hands still embraced in his, your hips swayed back and forth with you knees bending bringing you close to the floor. You slowly swayed back up only for Scott to start to go down. You were having a blast and you wished that you had met Scott Evans sooner.

**

The night went on with you successfully dodging the several shot glasses that were handed your way. Your big mouth had gotten you in enough trouble over the course of this shoot when alcohol was involved. You had one additional glass of wine and had already switched to water.

After taking several pictures in the makeshift photobooth with various crew members, you found yourself back on the dance floor. You didn’t have a full range of motion with the shoes you were wearing but you could sway and raise your hands up with the best of them.

Monica, who you didn’t see as much of a dancer, and Maggie, had trapped you in the middle of their makeshift dance circle along with about two dozen or so sweaty bodies. Everyone was letting loose and having a good time, so you let yourself as well.

The Evans brothers joined your intimate group on the dance floor much to Monica’s delight. You were pretty sure you heard her say “thank god” when Chris danced his way to you. The man could move and you had a hard time keeping to the beat of Usher’s Yeah! while your eyes stayed glued to him.

Hollaback came on to a chorus of screams from all the women on the dance floor. You threw your head back with laughter but sang right along with everyone else with one hand in the air.

Few times I've been around that track So it's not just gonna happen like that 'Cause I ain't no hollaback girl I ain't no hollaback girl

Chris left the dance floor a couple of times, each time returning with a new bottle of beer. Disappointment flooded your mind when you remembered this would probably be the last time, you’d see him. You really wanted to just hangout with your friend and talk in one of the booths that lined the back wall. It was quieter over there, but he was having fun and drinking quite a bit.

It was like a junior high dance when half the dance floor disappeared when Aerosmith’s I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing started to play. Maggie, Monica, and you huddled with your arms linked dancing slowly to the music. A strong tug on your arm had you dropping hands with Maggie. Chris reached for it, placing it on his shoulder while his hands went to your waist.

Oh. Oh!

You placed your other hand on his shoulder and looked around the large room as the two of you swayed. This was so much like a school dance except the cute boy had chosen you instead of you finding a seat on the bleachers.

“So, you come here often?” Humor was your distraction of choice.

You were nervous and often used humor as a way to make yourself calm down. You were already sweating from being on the dance floor for over an hour. Being so close to him wasn’t helping.

Chris smiled at you with sleepy eyes. “I’m gonna miss you, you know? Not gonna be the same.” You nodded your head, trying to concentrate on the song rather than the man in front of you. “You’re gonna meet a whole new group of people on your next film and forget all about me.”

You shook your head. “Not possible.”

“Gonna go off and get married. To that kid,” he shook his head and lowered his eyes. He had a barely there smile on his face, but he was sad. There was no mistaking it. “You happy?” he asked, eyes finding yours.

“Ye-yeah. I’m happy, Chris.”

Chris leaned his head forward and kissed your forehead with that soft pouty mouth.  You closed your eyes and took a big breath through your nose. You lowered your head so that it rested on his shoulder. This was all too much. It was all over and there was no going back. If you could do it all again, there would be no ring on your finger. No pretend fiancé. You probably wouldn’t have this job, but at least you wouldn’t have this sadness in your heart.

The song ended and you let your arms fall of his shoulder. Someone smacked your butt making you whip around to see a sly smile on Monica’s face.

“Brat!” you yelled.

She put an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close. “You lucky bitch.”

You laughed loudly and hugged her as she pulled you back into the ladies’ dance circle. You turned your head to see Chris leave the dance floor, Scott following after him.

**

It was late and about half the attendees had already left for the evening. Some of the crew were going to a diner about a block away for food since everyone was mainly drunk and hungry. You hadn’t seen Chris since your impromptu slow dance. He wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye, or at least you didn’t think he would. After searching a bit, you shot him a text telling him about the plans for the diner and to call you. You stepped outside into the chilly evening air, regretting not slipping on a jacket before you left your place. David, his wife, Monica, Joe, Javier, and Maggie were waiting for you.

“Y/N.”

You spun around to see Chris in the opposite direction on the sidewalk, cigarette in his hand. He took a puff of it before throwing it to the ground and blowing the smoke away from you. It surprised you because you’d never actually seen him smoke before.

“Hey,” you said, taking a few steps closer to him. “We’re going to grab something to eat. Want to come with? I sent you a text.” He licked his lips, hands going into his front pockets. He didn’t respond, so you spoke again. “Where’s Scott?”

“He’s inside. He knows some people here.” Chris shook his head. “Can we talk?”

“Uh, yeah. Give me a sec.”

You turned back the other way where your group was huddled. “I’ll meet you there. Save me a seat.”

“You got it,” David said.

Chris waited for you just outside the hotel door. The doorman opened it for you and the two of you stepped inside. The dance music had ended and but there were still plenty of people at the bar in the private room. Chris grabbed your hand and pulled you into a room that was labeled Business Center on the door. He shut the door behind you and turned to face you. He didn’t speak and if you were being honest, you were scared to death. He had drank a lot over the course of the night, but he didn’t seem drunk.

“What did you want to talk about?” you asked hesitantly.

This dress needs pockets.

The urge to hide is strong and you don’t know why. Something just didn’t feel right.

“Why isn’t Travis here, Y/N?”

“I told you, work.”

“That’s bullshit. That’s bullshit, Y/N. It’s late.”

“He’s working on a new script. We understand each other. Work is important to the both of us.”

Chris ran a hand through his hair, messing up the perfectly styled hairdo.

“Are you happy, Y/N?” Before you could respond, he started to speak again. “Cause you don’t seem happy.”

“God Chris. Where is this coming from?” You turned your back to him, crossing your arms.

“Why are you marrying him, Y/N?”

Every time he says your name, it’s like a nail in your heart.

“I love him.” It’s weak and even you know it. “He’s one of my best friends.”

Neither of those things is a lie. Just not the whole truth.

He comes to stand close behind you, but you don’t turn around.

“He’s not right for you. You never talk about him. We filmed for over three months and he only showed up for like two days, Y/N. You never went home to see him when you could have. He never called you or texted you when we were together. And we were together a lot.”

“What do you want me to say Chris?” You turned around to face him and he looked so damn defeated. “Not every couple needs to be together all the time.”

He shook his head. “Don’t marry him, Y/N.” You let out a puff of air, dropping your butt into one of the office rolling chairs, crossing your arms again. “He’s not right for you.”

This is too much. This was supposed to be easy.

“This isn’t fair, Chris. Why are you doing this?”

He dropped his hands onto the chair’s armrests, hovering over you. “I don’t want you to make this big mistake.”

“It’s not that simple. There are things you don’t know.”

Fuck!

He pushed away from you and turned his back.

“I care about you,” he sighed, taking another deep breath. “Does he make you laugh? Do you smile when you think about him?” He turns back around and now you can see that his eyes are glossy. “Don’t marry him.”

 “Please don’t do this,” you said softly, dropping your face into your hands.

“You deserve everything.”

Dropping your hands from your face, you stood up and turned away from him again. “Oh, yeah? Why? What do I deserve, Chris?”

“Jesus, Y/N! Can’t you see that I’m crazy about you?” he pleaded.

You turned back around, with your eyes wide. “Chris,” you said softly.

He stepped forward and took your hands in his. “You deserve to be happy. You deserve someone who loves you more than they ever dreamed imaginable. Someone who treats you like the sweet, beautiful, caring woman you are.” He brought your hands to his lips, kissing each one softly. “I want to hear your voice every day. I want to see your smile because when I’m with you, I can only smile. I want to know what you had to eat. What dumb thing David texted you about,” he chuckled. “If not me, you deserve someone who wants all those things from you.”

You couldn’t help yourself. If anyone asked you about it later, you’d say you temporarily gone insane. With you head leaning closer to his, you closed the gap between the two of you and kissed him. It was soft and sweet and over too quickly but the urge to have him stop talking and the urge to feel his lips on yours won over your rational side. You pulled back only to have him place a hand on the back of your head and pull you to him again. His tongue sought entrance as it played at the crease of your lips. You pulled away. This wasn’t fair to him. He had to know the truth.

Tears slowly trailed down your cheeks. Thick, fat tears because of all the wonderful things he’s said about you but also because you’ve been lying to this wonderful man. Chris let go of your right hand and wiped away the tears on your cheeks.

“I’m not,” you started. “I’m not marrying Travis.”

“You’re not?”

You shook your head no. “We’re not together. Can we sit down?” Chris nodded and pulled one of the other rolling chairs over to the one you previously occupied.

“What’s going on, Y/N?” he asked.

“Stone Lite has an odd hiring practice that most people in the industry know about. It’s not anything official because I’m pretty sure they could get into a lot of trouble if it were.” You took a deep breath. “You’re more likely to get hired if you’re married.” Chris furrowed his brow, but he didn’t speak. “So, I wore a ring to my interview and said I was engaged when I was asked. But I’m not.”

“Wow,” he said, eyes wide. He pushed back on the chair, putting a couple of feet between you, but it felt like a mile.

“I didn’t think it would be a big deal. I didn’t expect people to ask so many questions.” You shook your head. “But the hiring practice is true. Monica’s been with the studio for a couple of years, yet I still got to work with you and Keanu.”

“So, what? You were going to just be engaged to Travis forever so you could keep a job?” He sounded angry and you couldn’t fault him.

“No.” You shook your head. “I don’t know. For a while anyway.” He stood up and paced the small space. “I wanted to tell you. I really did.”

“Then why didn’t you? We were friends.”

Were.

“This is my career, Chris. Getting a job here is a big deal. I’ve been floating for years on small projects and don’t get me wrong, I loved those jobs, but they weren’t enough. I was tired of slinging beer and hot wings just to make sure I could make it to the next film.”

He stopped pacing and walked the few feet to reach you. “You could have told me. You should have told me instead of having some guy fly to Canada to pretend to be your fiancé. I trusted you, didn’t you trust me?”

You looked away from him. He was right. You could have told him so many times but you were so worried it would have gotten out. “I just didn’t think this would go so far.” You honestly weren’t sure if you meant the lie, or what was happening between you and Chris. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, still too afraid to look at him.

“Yeah,” he said, sounding defeated. “Me too.”

The sound of the door opening and then closing made you look up. He was gone.

**

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[lillaxtrigger]

Young Hope: Chapter 39

The near cloudless skies above let the afternoon sun beam down upon the city of Townsville, most of its light reflecting off the glass of the towering skyscrapers and redirects down towards the estates and manors that make up the upper crust district. The sunny glow seeps its way straight through a small window set along one of these manors; resting along the floor of a seemingly random dark room; a stream of dust passing through the sunshine when the door to this room creaks open. From the light that comes out from this doorway, the room is revealed to be filled with numerous party supplies. A lone figure stands within this very light and waltz’s right on through the doorway, shutting the door behind him as he makes his way into the walk in closet. With the closet door shut, the room starts to dim back and lets the sliver of natural sunlight be all that illuminate the closet; a young man with a blue mane dressed in white glazing over the party decorations, fancy cups and plates, tapestries, fancy sculptures, even a shut down automaton dressed in a suit.

Can’t believe Kingsley’s folks got a whole closet filled with this kinda fancy party stuff; makes a guy wonder how often they throw these kinda stuffy shindigs. Lookin at all these kinda decorations, doubt any of them were any fun ragers that didn’t even draw out even a little bit of a cheer; much less set about half the building on fire. Maybe the robot has some sparks in em, but it might be a safe bet to say that it ain’t gonna be hostin even a four year old’s discount birthday bash anytime soon…What was I doing here again? ...Oh right, the tapestries. That’s it. Reminding himself of the reason he had ventured into this darkened walk in closet in the first place, Tore reaches right over the numerous plates, cups, and decorations and grabs hold of a couple of rolled up pieces of cloths from one of the shelves; the blue boy zipping out from the dust filled closet with tapestries in tow.

Straight out through the hallway does Tore go through a fancy hallway, passing through the pictures of Kingsley with his happy family that hang along the wall; making his way towards the front lobby while keeping the rolls of cloth tight in arm. Amidst his rush out from the hallway however does he wind up bumping straight into somebody; both of them and the tapestries spilling onto the carpeted floor. “Ah!” Its in shaking off the little bump and rising back on his feet that he see’s who exactly it is he had wound up running into; the young daughter of the estate, dressed in a pink hoodie and black leggings. “Watch where the hell your going!” she rudely barks. “Sorry, Chloe. Couldn’t see ya while carrying these for yer bro’s party.” The mere mention of her brother’s party sours the young girl’s mood even further, incentivizing her to head straight towards the door; even as Tore continues to speak while picking up what he dropped. “So, how good are ya-” Hearing the front door slam shut makes him turn back towards the front, the red head he was trying to converse nowhere in site. “-Holding up…” Huh, guess she’s still tryin to workout some stuff after what happened with Circe half a month back. Can’t really blame her sour mood with what she went through; least she’s actually going out of the house now.

Within the main hall of the estate, a girl with flowing dark brown hair dressed in green army jacket covering a salmon pink dress carefully holds a golden chandelier above her head and hovers it straight up to the roof; keeping her eyes on the top of the decoration as she nears the hook set along the ceiling. Carefully does she weave the top of the chandelier right along the hook and slowly backs away to let the exquisite ornament dangle on its own; its golden finish shimmering against the sunlight that seeps inside. Just as the young lass lets out a relieving sigh from finishing this task, her nerves are wound right back up when hearing Tore echo out: “Got me the good’s Cayenne!” The girl glances back down towards the entrance to the main hall to witness the blue boy run right inside while he asks: “Where ya want em?” “Where do ya think Kingsley said, dumbass? Just hang one of them up at the top of the stairwell.” “On it.” Cayenne giving her these instructions, a pair of white wings sprout out from along his back and ascends straight up to the very top of the twin stairwell; landing right along the very center and scanning length of the roll to try and find where it ends. “Hey uh, I don’t see an end. How do ya open this?” Right as he asks this, the boy manages to find a lone button set along one of the sides and claims that he: “No wait, think I found it.” Pressing this button, Tore watches the whole tapestry roll down from the railing and unravel into a gorgeously sown picture that hangs just above the hall set between the twin staircases.

“Huh. Figure it was gonna be some old family heirloom from like medieval times or something. It don’t look half bad though.” “Does it look alright to you?” Cayenne aggressively questions. Standing behind the stairwell railing does the blue boy peer down to the finely knitted tapestry that he had just freshly rolled out, finding the top to be facing the floor below. “You mean from my perspective or yours?” Upon the indigo angel’s cheeky little comeback, the spice queen can’t help but let out audibly upset gnarl; prompting Tore to correct himself with: “Kidding. Just-just kidding here, kay? Gimme a sec to find the button.” “Nrr. The withdraw feature seriously has one hell of a fuckin kickback. So don’t be acting like such a reckless jackass and just hold-”

Before Cayenne could give anymore words of warning to the blue boy, he manages to find the same button he used to unravel the tapestry and wastes not another moment pressing it. The entire knit work art swiftly rolling right back up and snapping shut as it flings itself into the air; smacking Tore right in the face as he takes off. From the top of the stairwell does the rolled up tapestry careen through the air and straight towards the freshly hung chandelier; the rolled up cloth slamming against the golden decoration hard enough to knock it off the hook and send it plummeting down towards the hard marble tile. In but an instant is the golden chandelier reduced to nothing but pieces that scatter across the floor in a loud crash; both the spice queen and indigo angel hovering down towards the wreckage as Cayenne’s fists violently tremble. “God fucking dammit! What the hell is wrong with-” Before Cayenne could unleash all the enraged fueled screaming and cursing bubbling within, her anger starts to simmer when he finds the blue boy showing signs of growing worry, but rather seemingly on the verge of crying while staring down to the wreckage he caused. Amidst letting loose a short growl does Cayenne instead decide to walk off and simply let the boy be; the spice queen strolling straight down the hallway set along the left. Swear that blue dumbass sometimes just doesn’t fucking listen. Like seriously just pisses away anything ya try and say to him.

While walking through the carpeted hallway, Cayenne witness a lone door set along the side crack open with a young man with orange hair peering out from within and asking: “Just heard a loud crash! Is everything okay!?” “Ain’t anything that bad, Kingsley. Just the blue dumbass out there wound up breaking one of your guys’s chandelier.” A small sigh escapes from the boy genius’s lunges as he is relieved how: “Least nobody got hurt.”

“Kingsley. Get your sweet buns in here and let me finish.” a voice within the room urges. Seeing the boy genius retreat back, Cayenne follows him in to find a flamboyant boy with partially blonde hair dressed around his black haired crown; Kingsley stepping onto a small stool as he asks the boy: “Benji, do we really need to get my measurements now of all times? All of us are in the middle of prepping for a big formal tonight.” “Bay-be, this big party you guys are throwing is about this big young superhero team you all are forming, ain’t it? So you all serious need some uniforms to match the motif, something that just screams iconic to go along with this little league of yours.” Speaking this does the small crystal earring hanging right along the side of his head start to let out a strange sparkle; a roll of measuring tape set along the table behind them hovers in the air and is drawn straight into his hands. As Benji wraps this length of measuring tape around his clients waistline, he hears the boy genius assure how: “Do-don’t get me wrong here. I’m thankful for the help I’m getting in prepping for all this.” “Please, sweetie. Its the least I can do after your mom taught me so much about clothes and armor design. And from the sound of things out there, you need all the help you can get.”

“And speakin of actual needed help, that indigo dumbfuck out there’s already wound up breaking a chandelier, tore up a couple of table clothes, and wound up shattering some glass in the span of like two hours.  Why in the hell are you keeping him around if all he’s gonna do is just wreck shit.” Cayenne gets back on topic with. “Agh….When Mally and the other’s wound up getting back home, she told me all the sort of stuff Tore’s been through these past two and a half weeks.  From the way she put it, it sounds like things got incredibly bad for him on his end too, like something that just tore is soul in half. Figured that giving him something to do would keep his mind off it.” “Not that I don’t sympathize here, but I doubt keeping him workin’s gonna cheer him up all that much. Ya ask me, he needs to sort through all that emotional bullshit.” “I’m sure he will. He just needs some downtime to think things over.”

“Yeah so, how’s that thinking stuff going for you?” the spice queen then questions. “Whaddya mean?” the genius asks. “Y…Yer fuckin with me, right? You and my aunt just came up with this whole club fulla fresh out the pussy heroes ready to shove their feet straight down the forces of evil’s asshole with you at the top and you ain’t even sweating a drop here. Won’t lie here, ballsy, but a little worrying. You feeling okay?” “I’m...still pretty surprised myself. Wonder if all the stuff we went through before hand might’ve prepped me for something this big. Feels like yesterday when we escape that little fortress out in the middle of the tundra, got kidnapped by a gang twice, almost died to Circe, having the whole town come after me in a manhunt, my girlfriend’s dad nearly blowing up the town, my sister getting possessed, my parents souls getting taken…” Among the distant ring running through his head, the sounds around him grow muffled as he himself grows silent; a lone voice pushing through the deafening ring with: “Kingsley...Kingsley...Kingsley...Kingsley!” The last shout that blurts out from the spice queen manages to snap him straight out from his haunting moment of reflection; the boy genius shaking his head before peering over to Cayenne with: “Di-da-du. My-my point is that with everything we’ve been through these past several month or so, leading a whole generation of new young heroes against the forces of evil should be simple in comparison.” “You sure you’re alright?” “Don’t gotta worry about a thing Cayenne, I’m fine.”

Rising from under them does Benji cut straight between the two to add how: “You know what isn’t so fine? I need to split outta here to snatch up a particular sort of fabric I got in mind for the uniforms, one that they only sell along the east end of Townsville. Gotta make it over before the animals in opening hours grab them.” Right as the fashionable young boy was about to race right out, Benji stops dead in his tracks to turn back and question: “Oh, before I go. What color are you wanting for the uniforms?” “Uh...the logo we got’s purple. Maybe find a shade of that.” Kingsley suggests. “Fantastic choice, I’ll see what I can do sweetie.”

“I seriously can’t believe he’s gonna be in the tech department.” Cayenne disbelieves. “You haven’t seen the kind of high tech state of the art armor he makes.” Kingsley argues. “While were talkin about it. You still haven’t really picked out a supervisor for that branch yet, haven’t you? Ya got me rockin the combat division, your girl on knowledge and info; and for some damn reason, you went ahead and made that pussy little ghost boy head of supernatural.” “Hey, I’ll have you know that Damian’s gotten a lot more brave and bold these past few months; he ain’t even disappearing when he gets slightly anxious.” “But we still ain’t got anyone sitting their ass down on the seat for the tech department. If we plan to announce this whole alt young justice bullshit, then we can’t show up on stage with half a deck here, and with you acting as leader, I doubt that you’ll have time to fill both bottles with piss.” “Yeah, I know. Its why I’ve been looking into a couple of promising people I heard about. Even got Mally suggesting somebody, but I still need to look into them.”

Before the two could speak even another word on the whole matter, the violent sound of a rumbling explosion catches there attention; both of them facing towards the door leading into the hallway; Cayenne barking: “The hell was that?” “Sounds like it came from the front hall, come on!” Kingsley claims as he rushes out the door alongside the spice queen.

Leaping out from the end of the hallway, both of them are left alarmed when greeted by the site of blazing flames enveloping a pair of large flower pots set along the side; the flames threatening to climb up the wall and reach the decorations hanging above. What draws their attention however is the blue boy standing before the blazing pots with bits of cake and candle at around his feet; all the while panicking with: “What do I do!? What do I do!? Why aren’t the water sprinklers going off!?” “Uh. My dad’s been dismantling the sprinkler system so it could deal with electrical fires more effectively.” Kingsley answers. “Well ain’t that fan fucking tastic! How the hell we supposed to put this out!” “I got it.” they hear another voice shout out. Glancing towards the direction of this call do they see the misses of the estate race right in with a fire hose in her hands; the big hipped milf pulling back the lever to unleash a torrent of gushing water. In a matter of moments are the flames threatening to climb the walls of the manner doused by the downpour of water; the gorgeous pot of flowers left under these flames reduced to a charred crisp down to the remains of their petals.

Turning off the flow of water, Kingsley’s mother drops the hose straight down onto the floor before she herself falls to her knee’s; lamenting how: “Those two pots...They were thirty thousand dollars each. There’s no way we could replace them for the formal tonight.” Clutching the blue boy by his shoulder, Cayenne jerks Tore to face her and aggressively claims that: “Ya got ten fucking seconds to say what the hell happened here, else those flowers ain’t the only thing that’s gonna be set ablaze!” “I-I don’t know. I seriously just went to the bathroom for about 3 minutes and when I came back they were on fire.” Pinching one of the frosting covered candles off from the marble tile, the misses of the house looks closely to the soaked party candle and concludes how: “Oh...I think this might be my fault.” “It is?” “Huh?” “Xcuse me? “Let me show you why.” the mother insists.

Through a pair of twin doors, the misses opens up to reveal to them an assortment of sweets and pastries set along the kitchen; most of which of moderate quality, something she explains with: “I don’t really tend to bake all that often, but I wanted to break out the over mitts for this special occasion. I woke up around seven mixing batter, pouring sugar, and laying bread crust all just to make this whole splurge for all the guests that’ll attend.” “Geez, splurge really is an understatement here.” Kingsley comments Among them does Cayenne notice one of the cakes holding several candles having a big chunk broken right off and asks: “Guess this was the little firestarter? The hell happened?” “Oh. It happened when I was pulling out a couple of homemade pies I left in too long out from the over. Part of the baking sheet was stuck on the oven grill and I had to jerk it out. I pulled so hard that I flung both of them through the air; one of them wound up smacking a piece of the cake off and flew straight into the front hall. I saw some of the candles fly off the cake and land right into the pot of flowers; as soon they caught on fire, I raced out toward the nearest fire hose they had. Can’t believe that my baking blunders nearly caught the entire manor on fire.” “Hey, don’t worry about it.” Peering over do all of them see the blue boy scrapping some of the splattered pie off the wall and shoving it straight into his mouth; Tore complimenting how: “This beef pot pie you made ain’t half bad.” “Its supposed to be apple.” the mother replies. After swallowing all that he had shoved in with a single gulp, the indigo angel lets out a little hiss and jest how: “Maybe adding some cinnamon might fix it.” Alas does this little attempt to ease the room only fuel the misses dismay more and have her put her hands against her face, all the while Cayenne shakes her head at him with an upset gaze. “B-but I might be able to fix those flowers.” “Really? How?”Kingsley questions.

Returning to the set of burnt oversized flower pots set along the main hall, the three watch closely as Tore stands before the charred petals; the blue boy’s wings sprouting forth as he takes in a deep breath, From where they watch do Kingsley, Cayenne, and the Misses behold as bits of glimmering color penetrate the walls of the estate to gather into the indigo angel until his figure is coated in a thin layer of lively aura. With the power that he had mustered, Tore thrusts the palms of his hands out towards the two charred remains of flora and cast forth all he had gathered upon them; letting the light that he engulfs them in seep straight into their petals. Yet despite his best efforts to restore the bouquets to their previous natural glory, all the colorful light that seeps into them only manages to bring but a single flower back from its burnt demise; a single flower that blooms among the ruin. “What? Aw…” the angel moan. Beholding the minimal restoration, Cayenne gives a less than sincere applause as she sarcastically praises how: “Wow. What a miracle. Truly the coming of the holy is thy.” Midst her little sarcastic jest does she feel Kingsley elbow jab her side, causing her to stop her little insincere praise. Approaching one of the burnt pots herself, Kingsley’s mother reaches out to the freshly revived flower and plucks it out from its scorched others; beholding the colorful sheen shimmering along the flora’s restored petals.

“Hey, don’t sweat about it, Tore. They’re just a bunch of flowers, nothin too important.” the boy genius attempts to comfort with. “But I was looking to bring both pots back to life. God, I can’t get anything right today.” the indigo angel claims. “That’s a fuckin understatement.” the spice queen whispers under her breath. “How bout not worrying so much about the décor. The party doesn’t start til later tonight. I’m sure we can handle it.” Kingsley suggests. “Well, what’s that leave me to do?” “Uh...Ya know, there’s gonna be a good dozens of people that are attending this little party, some of them pretty important guests of honor. Some of the catering servants we usually got to handle all that are taking their vacation days. Maybe you could help keep the party going, make sure everyone’s having a good time, refreshments aren’t running out, just miscellaneous stuff.” “And not to be a complete fuck up while yer at it.” Cayenne rudely adds.

Upon that very moment do the front doors swing right open, revealing the very fashionista himself strolling straight in with a bounce in his step; claiming to them all: “Well if that’s the case, it’d pain me to see him going around catering in those rags.” “Its been like 20 minutes, how the hell are you back already?” Cayenne wonders aloud. “What’s wrong with what I got on now?” Tore question. “You’re joking, sweetheart. Just look at the poor thing.” From the designers words does the blue boy peer down to his short sleeved white blazer, looking to the numerous stains, burns, tears, wrinkles, and stretches littered across its once pure white fabric. “It’d be a downright felony to have you serve wearing that mess. Come. I shall sow you a suit worthy to match.” Benji exclaims, grasping the blue boy by the collar and dragging him down the hall. “Well, with half of the treats ruined. I better get back to baking before the party starts this evening. I just hope that I don’t wind up making another mess like that again.” the mother claims as she retreats back towards the kitchen.

With both of them left along with one another, the spice queen strolls over to Kingsley side and once again asks him: “Hey, you sure can handle all this?” “Um- of course I can. I’m sure when Renee and Damian get here, things should be smooth sailing from then on.” “With the kinda shit that goes on with all of us, it’ll be a hell of a miracle if it does” Cayenne comments as she walks off. As his spicy pal floats off out from the main hall, Kingsley is left alone with nothing but some new thoughts running through his head; pondering on Cayenne’s very words.

Several hours pass as the afternoon clear blue is replaced by the twinkling night sky that hangs above the entire  city, the lunar glow of the half moon shinning down onto the manor and reflecting off the roof of the dozens of vehicles that pull into the massive driveway. Stepping out from these vehicles to an array of people that stroll through the driveway to the manor front doors; some dressed fancy while other’s dress more casually as they enter the estate. Beside the front doors are a pair of door keeps that kindly greet the numerous guests that enter with: “Evening folks.” “How are you doing?” “Welcome to the estate.” “Hope you have a pleasant time.” “Please direct yourselves to the main hall.” These very guests step through inside to behold the Spicer manor’s main hall to be decorated with numerous finely woven tapestries,  towering statues, lines of pots filled with flowers, and paintings depicting family and friends. Set along the sides of the main hall be the catering platter holdings small portions of meat, cheeses, crackers, punch, some alcohol, even some of the humbly made cakes and pastries that the Mrs had made.

Along the side of this grand hall, the blue boy himself peeks out from the dark recesses of the left hallway and beholds the numerous guests that fill the main hall and slowly spread themselves out through the abode; a small anxious breath escaping from his bit lip as he stares to them all. Don’t think about what happened then, Tore. It’s a new night. New moment. You’ll get yer mind off what happened then in no time. Just focus on what your friends are counting on ya for and play the servant. Circulating these thoughts through his head does the indigo angel finally steps out from the hallway darkness and right into the light of the main hall, letting the light hit his suit of deep indigo blue complimented with an undercoat and cuffs of silk white. His blue main held into a short ponytail that dangles behind the crown of his head.

From the side of the hall, the finely dressed blue boy makes his way straight to the platter table and swipes a silver platter filled with small little meats and snacks; the angel’s eyes glued to the treats as he attempts to hold back the chance to dunk them all down his gullet. Snap outta it, man. These ain’t made for you, these’r for the guest. Just hold the platter above your head and try not to look at the delicious cheese, warm moist meats, and savory salty crackers together in cute little sandwiches… After taking a moment to shake off the temptation, the blue boy strolls away from the food table and ventures out towards the guest further off; holding off even taking so much as a glance at the food he delivers.

From the platter table, the blue suited boy strolls over to a couple of guest enjoying the party and attempts to lower the tray in his hands down to present them the selection of snacks;  only to wind up accidentally bumping the silver tray into their side and nearly spilling the goods. Before all the little sandwiches could smack against the guest, the indigo angel manages to slide them back onto the tray in the nick of time; swiftly offering them in a sort of faux innocent manner with: “Snacks?” Despite his little blunder, the guests swipe some of the little treats right off the plate with some hints of offense; Tore soon strolling off towards the dozens of other party goers while attempting to keep what remained of the food he carries on the silver plate.

Perched atop the manor’s front hall stairwell, Kingsley keeps his eyes peering down to the numerous guests partaking in the parties pleasantries below; all of them sipping wine, eating little sandwiches, and generally mingling among each other. Just look at all of them down there. Wonder what they’re even expecting outta all this...out of all of us...They’re expecting someone who can lead the this new team to keep the peace, to fight off the forces of evil. What if we can’t...What if I’m not-

Among his thoughts of doubting self reflection, a familiar voice cuts through and snaps him back to reality as he hears: “Hey, Kingsley.” “Jolting out from his thoughts does the boy genius swiftly turn around towards second floor hall to discover his supporting blonde, Renee, approaching; the girl’s eyes reflecting a distinct worry as she asks him: “Is everything okay?” “Oh. Y-yeah, everything’s fine. I just really didn’t expect so many people to show up.” “What exactly did you expect after the announcement of the Vanguard League a week ago? Everyone here’s practically looking forward to see the impression of this new teams leader. Why don’t you go down there and mingle a bit?” Upon his girl suggesting such, Kingsley constantly shifts his eyes about as if searching for way out, stuttering out how: “Uh-uh-uh...Ma-maybe not now; the party just started. They should get some time to enjoy themselves. Besides, you really want me to go down there looking like this? An occasion like this calls for more formal wear. Let me just get dressed in the suit I got in my closet.” Watching her boy race walk right past and head straight down the second floor hallway, a stark worry is reflected in the smart blondes eyes as he watches the boy genius retreat into the depths of the hall.

Slowing his walk down to a simple wander, Kingsley takes in small, calming breaths as he travels further into the decedent hall, constantly shifting his head back and forth from his front and back. As he peers back to the hallway he strolls through, a lone figure suddenly rises up from the carpeted floor before him; the boy genius nearly falling back from the unexpected visit. After keeping himself from falling right on his ass, Kingsley starts to calm himself when realizing it only be his friend, Damian; the boy apologizing with: “Oh! Sorry for popping in so suddenly like that...You feeling alright? I mean I know I kinda scared you, but you just seem so tense.” “Yeah. Just feeling a tad nervous about the party here.” “Believe me, you ain’t the only one here. When you suggested for me to be the head of the Supernatural department, I seriously nearly fainted hearing you say that. I really didn’t know what to think. But afterwards, I took some time to process all of it, and I realized how honored I was that you would choose me of all people to help you run something this huge. I’m still feeling a little tingly to be honest.” “Really? How exactly did you process all that?” “I just simply thought of all my loved one’s who I would make proud, all the people who’ll look to me for guidance, all the other’s that’ll count on us to be the mainline defense against this new budding evil. You know, given everything else we’ve tackled together, I started to understand why you thought there would be no one else better for the job.” “Hmm…” “I think I should go down there and introduce myself to all the guest that came to see us. Why don’t you just take a little bit of time to think things over and come down when you’re ready. Alright?” “Yeah. I might do just that.” Having given this tidbit of advice to his friend, Damian hovers out towards the direction the boy genius had came from; leaving Kingsley with all these newfound thoughts running through his head.

Back within the downstairs kitchen, Tore finishes pouring out several glasses of wine set along a silver platter; the blue boy setting the wine bottle aside and very slowly lifts the plate off the table; careful not to spill a single drop as he carries them all out. Out from the kitchen twin doors, the indigo angel first strolls over to a couple of gents and ladies; presenting the freshly poured wine and offering with: “Refreshments?” “Oh, delightful.” “Choice.” “Fine and Dandy.” “Thank you, young man.” After serving to the more fancy folk, Tore ventures over to some dressed in more casual wear; offering them the drinks with: “Some wine?” “Thanks there.” “Nice.” “About time they got drinks out.” With but half of the refreshments having been taken, the blue boy starts to venture out towards the other side of the hall; careful with what wine he still had atop the platter he carried. Got those, now just to see if some of the other guests along the east wing want anything like some refills or snacks or-

Amidst this thought does he fail to see where he walks and bumps right into one of the guests; all the wine glasses he had been carrying spilling right onto the floor as both of them fall. “Ah, jeez. That’s coming out of the paycheck.” Tore comments as he starts to pull himself back up. Glancing over does he see another having fallen onto the floor and rush straight over to help the finely ruby red dressed woman a hand; apologizing to her with: “So sorry about that.” Taking the boy’s hand, the blue boy pulls her back on her feet; the pinkish red young lady looking to the boy with her three eyes and implores that: “I’m the one that should be sorry. I seriously wasn’t looking here I was going.” “That makes two of us then.” he rebuttals, the two of them sharing a little bit of a laugh between them. “So, you enjoying the party so far?” the blue boy then asks. “Oh, absolutely. The people up here have been so nice and friendly; never thought that life out here would be so much different up here.” “Up here? You come from down south?” “Oh, way down south.” the young lady answers. “Guess that’s two for two we got here. I came from up North, all the way up to the country of Maple leaves and pine tree’s. Winter’s up there a little too cold, but other than that, it was a real nice place to live at. Bet you don’t gotta worry about winter’s down there, do ya?” “Oh hardly. You’d be hard pressed to find even a little tiny flake of snow drop down where I’m from.” “Really? You even seen snow before?” “Of course I’ve seen snow silly. I’ve seen a lot more places that have a lot more to offer then that.” “Hey, I’ve done some big traveling around pretty recently, even to some places that ain’t really nice and neat; still, fun memories...mostly fun. From the way you’re putting it, sounds like she’s got some good stories stashed in that head of yours.” “Oh sure. Though I doubt I’d seen as much as my dad; he’s been practically everywhere. You should really come meet him.” “Ah what the hell. Seems like everyone here’s served pretty well. 10 minute break wouldn’t hurt. Name’s Tore.” “Vera, Vera Lucitor.” the girl introduces with a curtsy as both her and the suited blue boy both stroll along the halls past the numerous other guests and head straight out to the west wing of the hall.

Out along the east side of the hall, Damian waves goodbye to a couple of guests as he floats away; to which he feels somebody grasp his shoulder with: “Hey listen.” Jolting back from ho had grabbed him, the ghost boy calms himself when seeing it to be the spice queen herself; Damian noting: “Well, this is certainly a surprise. Hard to believe you came down here on you’re own. You usually don’t enjoy associating with the more fancy folk.” “You kidding. I hate this fucking uptight shit. Came down here looking for Kingsley. He said he’d be down here in a minute.” “How strange. I just ran into in a couple minutes ago. He said he was rather nervous about the party, so I thought he should take a minute to himself.” “That’s not what he told me.” A third voice chimes in with. Peering out from the crowd beside them do the two witness Renee approach them, continuing to state how: “He told me he was going to change into a suit.” “Really. Might be possible that he’s just doing all three at once.” the ghost boy guesses. “Still, it ain’t like him to mix his story up that much. Maybe we should give him a ring, see what’s going on with him.” Cayenne suggests. “I tried that already; didn’t get a single answer. You think something might be going on with him?” “I’m not too sure. Maybe we should try finding him and find out what’s going through his head.” the ghost boy offers. “Might not be a bad idea. How bout you go search upstairs while Renee and I stay down here in case he comes back down.” This little search party set up, Damian hover straight up through the second floor, leaving the girls to start their search up through the first.

While strolling through the west corridor leading down towards the west hallway, both the indigo angel and young lady continue to chatter among themselves over the numerous adventures that both of them had; Vera continuing off with: “I still remember my trip down in the Hydro kingdom. All the water Nymph’s I met were so nice down there; even offering us tools that let us breathe underwater to take in the sites of their ocean. Just so many beautiful sites I wish I could’ve taken pictures off. They’re cities were lovely sites too, just decorated with jewels, seashells and gold. And the cuisine, never in my life did I taste sea food so delectable.” “Sounds real fun. I remember when my family went down to the middle of the bahama’s for a vacation and we wound up having to fight back against a raging forest beast that was kidnapped people left and right, including our mom. So Roy, Mally, and I went through the woods and fighting this massive monster the size of a giant mound. After punching a part of its shell clean off, we manage to wind up beating it down and send it running right off; setting all the people it kidnapped free. After that, the town we were staying at went and gave us a banquet to celebrate. Think Mally might’ve vomited after finding out a dish she ate had lizard testicles in it. I still remember her beating Roy upside the head as he was laughing over it. Can’t lie, almost bust out giggling myself just watching it all.” “I figured you didn’t cut it as a servant all that well; but I didn’t really think you’d be such a natural warrior like my mom. I’ve seen her in the depths of combat outnumbered, armed with but a single sword; the best I could compare the way she fights is with the grace and elegance of the wind itself.” “Funny. Most of my friends say I fight with all the grace of an overly tipsy Irishman drunkard’s worst nightmare. Guess they mean I can take a lot of hits and still keep on brawlin. Like I seriously remember this one time I got stabbed in the stomach and I was still swinging.” “Really? What sort of teacher did you have to help develop that sort of resilience?” “I can thank my Bosnia war vet grandma taking both Roy and I in for one summer. She really knew how to take a dirty bomb and somehow hit back ten times as hard.” “Sounds like she has a lot more in common with my dad than anyone else I know.” “What’s he like?” “He’s pretty much a clean cut and kind sort of man. Though I won’t lie that the few times he loses his temper can be pretty explosive.”

When finally venturing out from the corridor and entering the west hall, Vera peers through the crowd set before them and states how: “I think I can see my family from over here.” “Which one are they?” the blue boy questions as he gazes out through the crowd. “They’re the couple with the toddler in the woman’s arms.” This little detail given, Tore manages to spot the very woman donning a blood red dress holding a little tike with horns dressed in a little suit in her arms; all with a horned man with three fiery red eyes standing beside them both. “Hey, I think I...think I...Oh…” A sense of overwhelming dread begins to slowly settle in the boy’s stomach when he realizes why all of them look so very familiar, drips of sweat beginning to run through his head as he peeks over to the young woman beside him, the last pieces of the puzzle clicking in his mind. The memories of traversing through hell’s very keep and facing their king still fresh on his mind.

While the indigo angel is left utterly horrified upon these newfound realizations, the young woman beside her starts to skip over towards her family and waving to them with: “Hi everyone!” “Vera. How are you liking the party so far?” her mother in the blood red dress asks. “It’s going so wonderfully thus far.” “I am rather curious of what this New Vanguard league has to make of itself. The bold confidence to lead through danger is something not many can hold.” her demonic father states. “And speaking of new faces. I just got done chatting with a quite interesting gent who’s told me tales of his exploits set though his numerous journey’s. I wish to introduce you all to this boy named Tor-” Vera attempts to introduce, only to turn around to find nobody waiting beside her. Peering through her surroundings, she attempts to spot the very boy in question; swearing to her family how: “Huh? Strange. He was just right beside me.” Peering out towards the direction his daughter had come from, the horned father gazes outwards to notice a figure of indigo blue hurrying through the corridor leading to the main entrance hall; a rather suspicious glare set within his three eyes.

Racing out from the hallway and across the main hall, a myriad of panicking thoughts race through the blue boy’s mind as he dart straight towards the other side; disregarding every single guest that calls for his assistance. “Say, could I get I refill?” “Are there any more snacks?” “Excuse me. Do you know where the bathroom might be?” Why is he here!? Why is did the king of hell gotta come up here tonight of all nights, at this place of of all places!? And of course the girl with three eyes is her dad, so obvious. Should’ve realized it sooner. You think any of them would’ve recognize who their daughter was talking to? Know the mom probably would. The face of someone who broke into yer baby’s room is one that your never gonna forget. Wouldn’t be a stretch to say she’d pull out long sharp blade and finish her castration appointment on the spot. Okay, think Tore. What’s your best bet on slipping outta here? Can’t just barge out, it’d cause too much noise. Maybe hiding somewhere til the parties over? Nah, Kingsley and the other’s are gonna want an explanation. They might be able to help though. Sure Kingsley could think of a plan involving a fake mustache and a slightly understandable foreign accent...or would that be too racist?

Opening one hallway door after another, both Cayenne and Renee peer into every room they come to; all the while calling to their friend with: “Kingsley?” Cracking open one room, the blonde sees nothing but darkness wafting within the bathroom; not even a single figure hidden among the shadows. “Kingsley?” Swinging open another door, the spice queen peers into every corner of the decked out lounge, only to find no one held within. “Kingsley?”

Meeting up with one another, the very first thing that Renee asks Cayenne is: “No luck on your end either?” “Afraid not. Where the hell could be possibly be hiding? Swear to fucking god if he wound up bailing…” “That’s not like him though. This isn’t like him. He wasn’t that skiddish about being the teams leader a couple days ago. You think the pressure might be just now setting in?” “With all the damn organizing he’s been doing keeping him busy, I wouldn’t be shocked if it did. Can’t help but wonder what sort of shit he’s been dealing with right now.” “Guys!” the both then hear from across the hall, the familiar voice making the spice queen let out a “so done with this shit” breath. “And speaking of having to deal with bullshit.”

Gazing out towards the direction of the hysterical screaming, both girls behold the blue boy himself sprinting through hallway like a maniacal marathon man; his arms flailing about as he races right towards the both. Right before the indigo angel could run right into them, Cayenne reaches over and clutches Tore right by his face; the Spice Queen tossing the boy back onto the carpeted floor. As they watch the blue boy arise off the scarlet red carpeting, Cayenne then questions: “Alright; what the hell sort of fucked up brain hemorrhage are you suffering from now to race through the hallway like a screaming jackass?” “We need to get everyone the heck outta here pronto! The king of hell himself is in the building!” Tore warns. “Yeah? He’s a part of the guest list, dumbass.” the spice queen answers. “What!? But why!?” “The underworlds Royal family are famous not just as celebrities, but also for the diplomatic work in multicultural relations. They could give the league a vast network of connections if we manage to impress the king.” Renee elaborates. “They’re serious here just to chill and mingle. That’s it. Why the hell are you freaking the fuck out so much?” Cayenne questions.

“Ahh...S-So, Mally told you all about the trip I took with Mall, right?” Tore starts to explain with. “Yeah…” Cayenne confirms. “And about the Halo’s that we needed to collect to get the warpgate to work better.” “The hell’s your point?” “Well, one of those rings we had to get was stashed underneath the Lord of Hell’s castle.” “You fucking didn’t.” “Yeah...And while I broke into their home and swipe the Halo from under them. I might have wound up breaking into their young son’s room and scarring him, nearly got my balls cut off by the queen, bust through a couple of their walls, had Mall mow down a good chunk of his forces outside...And to escape, we had to work together to beat the Kings into an unconscious mess. Th-that-that’s all, really.” Both girl are left unsurprisingly astonished with all the blue boy said he had done underneath the king of hell’s own roof; Renee pleading to tell her that: “Please tell me you’re not serious.” “Augh…Sounds pretty bad saying it all out loud, don’t it?” the indigo angel admits. Upon having heard all of this, a small chuckle is all that could escape from the Spice queen’s mouth before she starts to stroll off and mention how: “Whelp. It’s been a hell of a ride knowing ya.”

“Guys, come on! Don’t make me beg here! If I winds up getting caught out in the middle of this party, the devil that’s among us’ gonna have his Kybr hide roast to a delicious crisp served neatly with a side of gravy coated mashed potato’s and freshly salted stuffing.” Despite the blue boy’s desperate plea, Cayenne continues to head down through the hall; only stopping when hearing Renee claim how: “Cayenne. We’re in the midst of forming out own superhero team, so dealing with situations like this is gonna be something on the clock.” “Oh come the hell on, Renee. Why the hell do we gotta stick our necks out for a guy that brought all this shit on himself.” “Because that’s something that heroes do.” The blonde reminding her of such, a frustrated sigh escapes from the spice queen’s lips as she starts to return to their side and mentions how: “It’s shocking how I’m not used to this shit.”

“So, any idea’s?” Tore asks them both. “Think the best thing to do is to call Damian and have him whisk you away. All with no one being the wiser.” the blonde first suggest. “Not a bad idea there. Just gimme a sec.” the spice queen compliments while pulling out her phone from her pocket. After fidgeting with her phone for a brief moment, the spice queen puts it up to her ear and hears the tone ring; waiting as the tone keeps repeating and repeating in her ear. Alas does the tone simply redirect straight to his voicemail, Cayenne putting her phone away as she curses out: “God dammit! Did he leave his phone at home again?” “What now?” the indigo angel questions. “Whelp, with the phoning in option gone. I’ll have to buckle down and try and find the pissy little ghost boy myself. Renee, get this dumb blue bastard some new digs to cover up with while I try and look for him.” the spice queen commands as she glides through the hallway. “Wait, what should I try and do while and she’s gone...Great…” “So, do I gotta return the suit?” Tore questions, Renee taking her glasses off to pinch the top of her nose.

Along the corridors upstairs, Damian phases through every wall and every door in his way whilst searching for the boy genius himself, flying through bathrooms, bedrooms, and lounges as he constantly calls out with: “Kingsley? Kinglsey? Where are you?” Oh lord, just where the heck could that boy possibly be? But it really isn’t like him to hide the truth like this? Why would he not tell us anything? Does he not want any of us to worry about him? Is he ashamed of have second thoughts? If I had know that being the team leader was what really was on his mind, we could’ve talked things through, let him know that he ain’t alone on all this.  Let’s just hope that he’s not feeling unsure enough to do anything drastic.

“I’m not really so sure about this. You really think this might fool anybody.” the indigo angel claims, gazing to himself in a full body mirror while donning a gorgeous indigo blue short gown; its sheen finish reflecting the light of the room. “I’m exactly sure about that; but with how urgent this is and with what little time we got, there really isn’t that much other options to work with. Besides, this was the only dress she could find around here that would look good on you.” the blonde beside him states, applying eye shadow of a similar color. “Never thought I’d look that gorgeous in a dress. The fabric and eye shadow compliments my hair amazingly. I can kinda see why Roy likes doing this sometimes.” “I only wish I had more time to work, but the guests outside are gonna want to know what I was doing this whole time; so this quick little revamp is gonna have to work for now.”

Tore’s visual transformation finally finished, the blue boy strikes a sassy pose as he admires himself in the mirror; Renee admitting: “I didn’t really expect you to have that sort of figure. It really work.” “It does, don’t it. So what sort of escape route ya got in the works?” “Hmm. Front door is obviously out; some people might see through the ruse. Going through a window might just seem conspicuous.” “Can’t exactly fly out, either. With wings as bright as mine, people are gonna see me fluttering out in the night…Didn’t exactly see anyone going to the garden. You think with this sort of party, it be pretty crowded.” “I think Kingsley mentioned something about a problem with the garden water sprayers and the fountain. With nobody around, it might just serve as the perfect escape route; just go through, jump over the fence and run through town to get back home.” Renee plans through. “Sounds like we got a plan here. Though I might need another to explain to my mom why I’m coming home in this.” “Hmm...Pulling it off this well, I’m not sure she’ll see a problem.” “True.”

Along the left side of the main manor hall, the pair peek out from the shroud of darkness set along the west hallway corridor; both of them beholding the numerous party goers mingling among one another, all while a few other servant race around tending to their requests. Pouring drinks, serving snacks, all the things that Tore himself was tasked with. “Hmm, seems pretty okay to me. Don’t see a pair of horns anywhere in site.” “Most of the manor’s first floor looks pretty packed with guests; that except for the kitchen over there. That’d make a good midpoint between the front and back halls.” Renee elaborates. “Let’s just hope that the king’s family haven’t split up; if any of them recognize who I am, might as well be dead on the spot.”

The first part of their little escape route planned out before them, both the blonde and crossdressing angel emerge out from the hallway and brave ahead through the front manor hall; weaving through the numerous guests and few servants that shuffle among eachother. “Excuse me.” Renee apologize as she swerves through the crowd. “Pardon me, good sir.” Tore says, attempting to put on the best ladylike impression he can. “Sorry.” “Just need to get through, so sorry.” “I hope you’re enjoying yourselves.” “I love the suit you got on, is it silk?”

All seems to be going rather smoothly as the two of them make their way towards the pair of twin doors leading into the kitchen; Renee whispering to the blue boy she leads: “Almost there. Once we get into the kitchen, we’ll figure out a way from there.” “Yeah, thanks for all the-” Right in the midst of thanking the blonde for her gracious assistance through this predicament, the blue boy then feels something tug on the back of his dress; Tore glancing back for his hopeful expression to shatter when finding that something to be the very young lad of the hellish royal family himself gazing up to him. “Oh lord.” Tore utters. “What is it?” Peering back herself is Renee alarmed to see the devilish horned little tike smiling up to them with a precious grin; that weariness setting into maximum overdrive when hearing a woman close by call out with: “Issac! Where are you sweetie?” In a matter of just seconds do the two witness the human queen of hell herself cut through the crowd as she starts to strolling over to her lost little child; Tore’s eyes shifting about in a panic as he tries to come up with something with just seconds to act. With not many options to work with, Tore grabs hold of the blond beside her and shoves her gently in front of the little horned baby boy; the blonde whispering to him: “What are you doing!?” “Keep’em busy!” the indigo angel feverishly requests as he retreats out in the opposite direction.

While the blue boy heads out behind her, Renee peers back just in time to face her majesty approaching and scooping her little boy in her arms; the little tike letting out a little cute giggle while his mother thanks the blonde with: “Oh, I can’t thank you enough for finding him for me. the boy can get really rambunctious and slips away from time to time to chew on stuff.” “Uh-R-really. How old is he?” Renee responds to her with. “Little bitty Issace here just turned two, those little horns of his just grew in about five months ago.” “Ha ha ha ha, sounds like he can be an adorable little trouble maker, can he? I wonder what having him for a brother wound be like?” the blonde girl jests, slightly peering out towards one of the golden statues set behind the mother. Within the shimmering statue’s reflection can she see the blue boy she had been escorting slip through the crowd and head straight through the doors leading straight into the kitchen; a slightly relieved breath escaping from between her lips as she hears the queen herself ask: “So what pray tell are you planning on the future for this Vanguard league.” “Uh, well. We already have most of the leader division seats filled. It won’t be long before we manage to find the last one to fill in.”

Back upstairs does Damian continue to phase through every single room set along the floor, searching for even a single sign of the boy genius among them; all the while he continues to call out to him with: “Kingsley, where are you. All of us are getting worried here.” “Where the hell are you mopping, dammit!?” he hears a familiar voice crassly shout out for. Phasing straight through a couple more rooms, the ghost boy peeks right through a door to discover the voice belonging to the Spice queen herself roaming through the hallway; Damian grabbing her attention by asking: “Cayenne, you’ve had any luck in finding Kingsley?” “You mean you haven’t sussed him out yet?” Cayenne questions in return. “Oh, I tried. Believe me have I tried. I’ve phased straight into every single room, nook, cranny, and closet set throughout this floor; and not once did I see even a single orange hair of his. I just don’t know where else to look.” “Hmm...Think I might know where he’s hiding. The one place he always goes to think to himself or cry, often times both.”

Within the dark recesses of secret storage space lies dozens of miscellaneous toys, tools, portraits, clothing, and numerous boxes that hold more than meets the eye; some of the contents within threatening to overflow and spill out onto the dust ridden floorboards. Suddenly does a random stack of boxes begin to tremble from something shaking underneath; the grunts of the ghost boy all that manages to make it through as he struggle to open the door held under these boxes. “It’s all too heavy.” “For fuck’s sa- Just lemme try.” “Wait, I think I can-” In a single instant are all the boxes set over the trap door sent flying through the dusty air as the way is flung right open; the light from the hallway downstairs flooding the space as Cayenne hovers up; Damian phasing straight through the floor beside her as pieces of junk rain down. “What’s so wrong about simply me phasing through the floor?” “Where’s the hell’s the fun in that?”

Its then that the two then hear a brief shaking sigh sound off from across the space; Cayenne strolling over to the side to flip a switch; the light bulb above illuminating the entire attic and finally discover the boy genius himself huddled in the dusty corner, his head buried in his knee’s. “Kingsley? Are you okay?” Damian questions as he hovers over to him, only for his words to go unanswered in place of some light sobbing. “Dude, the hell is up with you?” Cayenne then joins in with as she walks closer. “Am I good enough?” both of them hear the boy utter out. “Come again.” “Am I the right sort of person for this kind of job? To lead an entire team of young budding heroes against rising evil, an evil that we must keep at bay else the people I sworn to protect risk being hurt or worse. And all the other’s that will have to look to me for guidance, all of them hinging on my every word for hope and inspiration...I-I didn’t really didn’t put it into perspective much before tonight; but now that I am, that sort of overwhelming pressure and responsibility, its... What if I do something wrong, something I can’t go back to and fix. Like send a bunch of young heroes to their deaths. Wind up making a mistake that cost dozens upon dozens of people their lives. Something that could very well change the course of history for the worse. I wouldn’t know how to fix that; or even if it could be at all.” Such unrelenting worries spiraling through his mind cause the nervous young man to quake in his boots as bouts of sweat run down through his skin; his friends before him looking to Kingsley with great concern.

Down along the back hall of the main floor, the blue boy dressed in silky indigo peeks out from the kitchen twin doors and gazes out past the numerous guests enjoying the spread out platters of cake and meat entree’s to find the glass sliding door leading to the backyard. Hung on the handle of the sliding door was a single dangling sign; one that read out that: “Due to plumbing maintenance issues. Entry into the backyard garden is prohibited. (Yes, again.)” The moment of truth. A little further through the minefield and it’ll be home free from then on out. Just gotta not mess this up.

This little self motivational pep talk going through his head, the finely dressed indigo angel emerges out from the kitchen and blends into the fancy dinning crowd like a serpent through the bushes; slithering through the numerous guests and party goers that enjoy their meals and snacks. In his little sneak out through the back dinning hall is his attention drawn out to the side, his pupils growing when beholding the incredible platter spread out along the length of a table set along the side; all the little sausages, salamis, cracker sandwiches, cakes, fruits, pieces of stake. Eh, maybe a little bit on the way out wouldn’t hurt.

Strolling right over to the table filled with delectable little treats, Tore wastes not a second partaking in the wonderful spread set before him; some he shovels straight into his mouth while others he indiscreetly stashes away in the breast of his dress. This might as well as count as a whole dinner and dessert. Midst his little picking platter detour towards the exit, he fails to see where he was sidestepping and winds up bumping right into someone and fall right onto the floor; wiping off some of the food that splattered onto him while claiming that: “Ah, sorry. Didn’t really see-” The indigo angel quickly snaps silent when glancing over to who he had just bumped into and discovers that somebody to be coincidentally the very same demon princess he had ran into before, parts of her dressed stained with steak grease. “No. I should be sorry. I-” Vera attempts to retort with, but stops speaking when peering over to find no one before her; swiping off some of the food that got on her as she rises confused. Glancing around to figure out who she might’ve ran into, the princess fails to notices a couple of feet sliding straight underneath the tablecloth; the indigo angel keeping his mouth shut tight as he crawls along towards the other side of the platter table.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” a voice questions. Gazing over to her side, the demon princess finds her father walking over to her side; Vera answering him on how: “Oh, I’m just fine dad.” “Did you simply just trip?” “No, I...I thought I just bump into someone. But I’m not sure who, or even what. I wanted to apologize, but I couldn’t find a soul.” As her daughter explains this, the king’s eyes venture out towards the very back of the room; where a lone figure with matching indigo hair and dress slithers out from the dining hall and straight into the backyard garden. His eyes squinting as a sense of familiarity starts to creep upon him.

“Why did you decide to try and hide up here and not talk to us.” Damian questions, staring to his friend huddled in the corner. “How could I even start? Having been appointed the leader of the Vanguard league about a week ago and now of all times in the middle of an introduction party are doubts and pressure starting to set in; how are people gonna look seeing me like that? I supposed to be the spearhead against rising evil, but they haven’t even properly formed the team yet I’m already shaking?...I’m not so sure now if they made the right choice putting him in charge.” Kingsley worries. “That ain’t the kinda shit I seen you do.” he hears the spice queen pierce through with. “What are you alluding to?” “The hell I’m saying his that we’ve been dragged through all sorts of bull, and every single time we’re drowning in the absolute worst piss, that carrot top ya got for a head goes into overdrive to get us out. All the kids Circe had kidnapped, Renee’s dad nearly blowing up the city, everyone’s souls getting fucking ganked; even when you’re knocked outta the game, the work ya put in gets us all so damn far. I’m not fucking with you when I say I think we’d all be long dead if you weren’t there covering our asses.” Hearing this coming from his friends causes him to cease quaking in his boots and start to stand back up; lifting his head up to theirs and questioning with a slight smile if: “You really mean that?” “We seriously couldn’t think of anyone better for the job if you left.” Damian assures him.

Out behind the Spicer manor, Tore ventures through the garden in his efforts to distance himself from the party as far as he could on foot; his eyes glued to the brick wall set along the very end of the garden as he weaves around and hopes over several dug up pipes among the garden path. Just several more meters and over the wall, this whole night’ll just be a thing of the past; just another wacky and cooky night of cross dressing shenanigans full of comedic close calls and socially awkward misunderstandings. Just the usual teenage dramatic comedy happy hour on whatever the heck channel or streaming service even airs those anymore. Wonder if I should keep the dress?

Alas, before the finely dressed blue boy could bound right atop the wall, Tore peers his eyes right along the top and screeches dead in his tracks; his pupils shrinking as he slowly starts to waddle back as he beholds the very king of demons staring down upon him. Oh...oh no. “To think, after you and your partners transgressions, you decide to nest right above my kingdom. Foolishly wondering about as if I would not seek justice. After all that you two have done; breach my kingdom’s abode, destroy my forced, threaten my family; the tormentous pits of the damned would be but a mercy. Instead, I shall carry your execution out myself; engulf your entire being in the depths of my scorching pyres until nothing remains of you in this world. Not even a single piece of your soul.” Promising such to the indigo angel under him does the demonic king leap down from the top of the brick wall and land before the blue boy; the earth quaking in a glowing hellish red as his feet stamp onto the ground.

Everyone in the manor sitting behind them stop right where they stand and gaze about to wonder what’s causing the commotion; some of them falling on their asses while the trembling shakes the entire estate. Within the attic above does Kingsley nearly plummet down into a display of pointy figurines, Damian catching him before he could fall right into a single figure. “What the fuck is that?” Cayenne exclaims. “It sounds like it’s coming from outside.” Kingsley answers.

Erecting out from the cracks of this trembling earthquake be a shell of unholy red power with patches of brimstone covering its surface; threatening to encase both the king of demon’s and the indigo angel within. The blue boy rockets up in a frantic hurry to outrace the forming barrier in hopes of escaping; his hopes dashed when the spherical prison encloses at the top and cuts off the angel’s escape. Slamming right into the top of the cage does its inner layer let out a violent pulse of orange red that sends Tore plummeting back down towards the garden earth; crashing straight down into the concrete set before the cages very conjurer.

Outside this newly formed prison do most of the guests that dwell inside the manor all look out through every glass door and window they could see from, including the king’s own daughter; who attempts to reach out to him with: “Dad, what are you doing!?” Yet do the princess’s words fail to bait even a single bit of the demon’s attention as he keeps his sites to the angel rising before him; his majesty swinging his open palm upwards to let a geyser of hellfire erupt right underneath the boy and launching him up in enveloping flames.

Among the crowd watching the chaos unfold before them, the queen herself manages to squeeze herself through the other guest with her young baby boy in her arms; peering upwards to the figure her husband had just set alight. All of them behold as the scorching blaze that engulfs the boy above is dispersed all at once as the boy’s angelic white wings sprout forth from his backside; his facade having been burned away to reveal the angel underneath. Most of his dress covering his upper torso destroyed, the make up covering his face chipping off under the heat, and the band holding his hair burned away and letting his indigo blue mane flow out; all of these details together giving the queen the answer of who he really was. “...Him! That little miscreant! He’s the exact same boy who broke into our home and terrorized out baby boy.” In listening to that single realization is the crowd around her left utterly astonished, some of them gasping while others say among themselves how: “Did that really happen?” “I heard recently that the royal family’s home was attacked.” “Can’t believe somebody would try and scare poor Issac like that.” “What a little blue asshole.” “Hope the king lights this little marauder aflame!” Soon enough is the entire spectating crowd riled up into a maddening cheer, their numerous praises and encouragements coming out from their mouth being for the king to beat the little blue punk into a sobbing mess. Agh, great. Not only am I gonna die, I’ll go down in history as the jackass that deserves it…Maybe I just had this coming. Peering down to the demon king himself, Tore could see the blazing fury held within his very eyes; a wave of hellfire beginning to erupt from his entire body. Whelp, if I’m going out like this, better get as much fun outta it as I can.

Upon the realization of there being little way out of this predicament, indigo angel quickly decides to start off by delving straight down to where the fiery king stood; constantly flipping through the air as he plummets downwards with but a single leg sticking out. Right as the blue boy’s spinning axe kick was moments from slamming straight onto the demon’s horned head; the king halts the boy’s descending kick with just a single arm; Tore feeling as if he had hammered the back of his foot against a solid wall In a matter of moments does the demonic king let out a blazing burst of flames from his body that blows the blue boy away and send him out through the rest of the garden; the angel’s very body crashing straight through the stone fountain set in the middle and through numerous other flowers making up the rest. Tore manages to flip back onto his own two feet and grind himself to a skidding halt moments before he could hit the side of the unholy cage, soon glancing out in the direction he came from to behold a blaze of fire streak out towards him like a lunging serpent. As he witnesses his angelic foe spring up from the very flames he had cast forth, his majesty launches himself straight after him in a fiery explosion and reaches out in just a matter of moments. Hanging just above the indigo angel, the hellish royalty unleashes a blast of hellfire that sends the blue boy careening back down towards the earth below; the crowd inside cheering for the king as the angel crashes into the dirt.

Just above the cheering crowd of guests, Kingsley, Cayenne, and Damian all peer out a window overlooking the entire garden and peer out to the ensuing brawl between the angel and demon; all the while the boy genius question: “What’s going on!? Why is hell’s King trying to roast Tore alive!?” “Seriously, its been like half an hour since we split up. What the hell did we miss?” Damian asks as well. “Heh heh heh heh. Okay, so you guys are seriously not gonna believe the shitshow that blue dumbass wound up getting into.” Cayenne offers to elaborate.

Behind the spectating crowd gathered beneath them Renee joins in watching the ensuing fight alongside the numerous guests; asking one of them: “What on Earth is happening right now?” “I’m wishing to know the exact same thing.” the blonde hears someone beside her say. Peering off to her side, the blonde girl discovers the questioning voice to belong to none other than the princess herself; Vera adding: “Just what is my dad even thinking doing something like this.” “Seriously can’t believe that blue asshole broke into their royal family’s home and terrorized their family.” they hear someone vent. “Wait what!?” the princess exclaims. “No! He’s not like that. It’s all just one big misunderstanding. Does he even look like somebody like that to you.” Renee attempts to informs.

Despite most of the crowd either ignoring or dismissing the blonde, Vera peers back up towards the chaos and watches closely as her father continues to duke out against the angel; the unholy king letting loose a bevy of fire from his maw that transforms into a demonic creature of flames that pursues his majesty’s foe. The indigo angel glides away from the pursing monstrous blaze, fending away the fiery beast with a volley of pale rays; all the while the princess state how: “He does seem rather familiar. The blue mane, the white wings, the light coming out from his body; all of it’s just making bells ring in my head. Just where have I seen him before?” Its in thinking back to not so long ago that she remembers the moments she was just moments away from the cold grip of death; bleeding out underneath a pile of broken castle rubble, surrounded by darkness. In but seconds his the vial of shadows lifted away, her site blurred to everything except a figure dressed in light; that very same glow enveloping her and pulling her away from the brink of demise. Among her recovery does her vision start to return, all the while the figure began to fly away down the castle corridors; the princess only able to make out white wings and a blue mane from the retreating figure. “That person...It was him...Oh no.”

Hearing this from the princess, Renee looks over and sees Vera attempt to slip through the thick crowd in hopes of making it outside; only for the overwhelming numbers to shove her aside. Coming over to the princess’s side does the blonde help Vera off the floor, all the while hearing her state how: “If I can’t get through, I won’t be able to break dad’s cage in time to tell him.” “You know how to break it?” Renee questions. “I’ve seen my dad use this barrier many times and saw how he breaks it open when he’s done. But even if I got out there, I’m not sure how I could even reach up around it by myself.” Its in hearing the princess lament of such that Renee peek out through the window set beside the sliding glass door and gaze upwards to discover her boyfriend and his pals watching the ongoing brawl through a second story window: “I might know some people who can. Come on, we gotta hurry.” the blonde girl tells the princess as she races back from the crowd, the princess she tells this to feverishly following after her.

With just a single blast of white does the indigo angel blow away the pursuing flaming demon, the monstrous pyre evaporating in the ray of pale power. This tiny victory is unfortunately short lived however as a pillar of rising flames erupts right behind the boy with a demonic silhouette underneath its blaze. The very moment that Tore turns back towards the column of fire, a hand of fiery brimstone reach out from the flames and grasp hold of the angel’s neck, the blue boy feeling the incredible heat radiating underneath the rock palms grasp as the king of hell emerges out from the blazing inferno. Amidst struggling under his majesty’s burning grasp, the king himself take his other brimstone covered fist and prepares to swing its hard rock right into the angel’s face; Tore repeatedly beating against the rock clutching his neck tight, the brimstone cracking with each it. With the fifth strike does the boy manage to burst the brimstone holding him up apart and free himself from the demonic king’s grasp; though his escape proves too late as his majesty slugs the angel right in the face with his other brimstone gauntlet, sending Tore spiraling down towards a part of the garden lined with numerous statues.

Among the resulting rocky collection of dust and dirt, the king hovers back down upon the earth where he had struck the blue miscreant down to; peering around to a number of statues that lined out along the walkway wayside that bare items such as books, weapons, and other tools, some baring a sort of resemblance to both Kingsley and Chloe. In strolling along the garden path is his majesty in his search, the hellish lord is left unaware of the angel himself hiding behind a statue of a beautiful woman holding a scale of justice in her hand; Tore himself peering out through the rest of the garden for anyway to tip the metaphorical scale. Okay Tore, you went through this before and barely survived the last time against this guy. Taking this guy head on right now is a seriously bad idea.  Maybe not with what’s in the tank right now, but maybe with what’s around. A bit of juice outta turn things around. Glancing out towards the foliage that makes up the garden, the indigo angel realizes his options in drawing out nearby power having been cut short; most of the flowers, vines, and other lively greens that once stood in bloom among the decor now engulfed in a blaze of hellfire Doesn’t seem there’s a lot left to work with here, but what about outside; All the other plants and animals out in the city. Should be more than enough to borrow from it all to make it through this.

Setting his mind on the life that lies beyond the garden, Tore clasps his hands together as he focuses on the plants, people, and animals that dwell within the city. Come on, need something here. Yet no matter how hard he focuses on all that live beyond the garden, even to those with the manor just outside; the angel opens his eyes to find not even a single bit of colorful light coating his body. Wh-what? Why hasn’t anything came yet? Focused on all the living things in Townsville, but there’s not even a single glow of color here. Why is this happening now!?

Left at a flustered loss over the lack of power he had failed to gather, the blue boy has little time to ponder how or why as he feels an incredible heat come from behind and turns back to witness the stone statue he hides behind start to melt before his eyes; Tore crawling backwards as he sees the demon king standing right behind its stone. Raising his fist up high, the demon king’s hands suddenly combust in a blazing fury as he starts to swing them down to the angel before him; Tore managing to flee back away before his majesty hammers his fist down to the ground in a blazing quake. Among the bursting flames does Tore peek back in his retreat to see his hellish foe relentlessly pursue after; his mind running a hundred miles an hour thinking of what other options he has. Fine, if anything out there won’t help out, then there’s might be something in here that can; something that can quell this guy’s fiery temper. But what? Among his swiftly look around does the blue boy manage to spot the remains of the broken fountain; some of the pipes sticking out from the stone and dribbling water out from within. Hey, that might work.

Before the indigo angel could take the chance to delve down towards the busted fountain; the king himself swoops right beneath him with hands of blazing fury; Tore evading his grasp as the demon cast forth a bevy of flames up towards the boy above. In the middle of evading his majesty’s blistering hellfire, Tore delves right down towards the king himself to deliver a couple of kicks to counter with; one right in the stomach and one straight into his face. Attempting to send out a third one however, the indigo angel winds up getting his leg caught right in his hellish foe’s clutches; the demon king seeing fit in the moment to light the boy’s leg ablaze. Enduring the burning pain, the blue boy swings the leg the demon king holds straight upwards and flings his majesty up into the air above; following up by firing a beam of white straight upwards out to the ascending demon and using its force to descend down towards the ground.

Recovering from the unexpected counterattack, the demonic king plummets down towards the plume of stone dust with his burning red eyes locked to the cloud; seeing the figure of the boy he pursues. While the king of hell drops downwards towards his angelic foe, the dusty cloud starts to let him see the blue boy grasp something from under his feet and uproot it up to the surface; ultimately caught off guard when witnessing the angel pull out a massive pipe pointed up towards him. “Get ready for the flood!” Tore warns with a smile. Descending down too fast to stop himself in time, all his demonic majesty could do was grind himself to a halt just before the open end of the pipe; preparing to face an entire torrent of gushing water from the quaking pipe. Alas when the pipe finally stops shaking, nothing but a pitiful stream is all that drizzles out from its steel depths; Tore looking inside to wonder if that was really all the water it had as the king lowers his guard. “Does...does he not know people shut their water off when working on their piping?” Kingsley questions. “Oh my fucking god…” Cayenne sighs while shaking her head.

In realizing the angel’s attempts to thwart him having blown up right in his face; the hellish king uncovers his face and tilts his burning scowl down upon him; returning his remark with: “Cute. Wish to see what a real flood is like?” With but the snap of his finger, the entire garden ground underneath starts to violently tremble as fissures form between what foliage had yet to burn; the remaining flowers combusting into flames when geysers of lava spew out from earth. The fiery hot goo swiftly covering the earth, Tore leaps upwards into the air to avoid its molten heat; the boy peering down in his ascent to see nothing but a few statues and rocky stands peek out from under the melting lava.

Taking in the view of the unholy red prison starting to flood with the fiery hot goo from the second floor, Damian claims to both his friends how: “Okay, this is getting too outta hand. We need to do something.” “My thoughts exactly.” the spice queen declares before leaping out through the window and towards the scene. “Cayenne, wait!” Kingsley attempts to warn. Spurring her friends warning aside does Cayenne charge straight towards the side of the unholy prison; putting as much force as she could as she rams her shoulder straight onto its side. The very moment that the spice queen touches the surface of the barrier is a powerful pulse of hellish power unleashed, one that blast Cayenne aside and have her crash right into the side of the manor. “The hell was that shit!” “A rather counter intuitive attempt with solve this with force, I’d say. Allow me.” the ghost boy scolds her with as he hovers out towards the red cage for a go. Approaching the hellish barricades surface does the ghastly young man turn himself completely intangible, gliding out towards the red wall as fast as he could. Yet strangely does this as well prove fruitless; the unholy cage stopping Damain right their and pushing him away; despite being totally incorporeal. “What!? How!? Why can’t I phase through it!?”

Its midst their questioning mysticism that Kingsley hears somebody behind him give them their answer; responding to the ghost boy’s quarrel with: “Only royal blood can unlock the seal. Without doing so, everything, even souls, are kept in and out of its unholy walls.” Hearing this answer, the boy genius quickly peers back to find both his blonde lover and the princess of demon’s herself standing behind him; Kingsley going: “Renee! Wait, you know how to break it open?” “Indeed I do. Those chunks of brimstone that line the barricade are the locks that ultimately keep the cage together. If they are unlocked, the cage shall shatter.” Vera elaborates to them. “So, you know where the key is?” Renee questions. Upon hearing the blonde girl ask this does the princess take off the pointed crown set atop her head and pricks one of her fingers with one of its sharp ends; a thick crimson leaking right out from the tip of her finger. “It’s right here.” “So you were being literal? Why?” “It’s a family practice. With but a drop will the brimstone locks break, I simply need someone to break through the layer’s underneath to reach them.” In hearing the princess explain all of this does Kingsley peer down through the window to see both of his friends still struggling to pierce through the prisons unholy defenses; Cayenne constantly beating against its surface while Damian repeatedly attempts to phase through, both yielding little to no success. “I’m not sure that’ll be enough. We need to do more than that.”

Inside the unholy prison itself, Tore continues to flee from the grasp of the demonic king of hell in a boiling sweat; all while beholding his majesty thrusts his palms down towards the lava beneath them both and commanding the molten liquid to spew up in geysers after the angel. As the blue boy weaves around the spewing strands of red hot goo, he could feel his very skin on the cusp of boiling as the incredible heat from these flung strand beats down upon him. Finding a couple of approaching waves of lava far too large to evade, the indigo angel instead fires out rays of pure pale power against these encroaching hellish waves; effectively dispersing the boiling before it could engulf him. Despite having spurned away his hellish foe’s cascading waves, his efforts proves to be nothing more than a distraction as king of hell plummets downwards from above with a blazing flame in the palm of his hand. The very moment that Tore turns back is one that is far too late, discovering his demonic royalty hovering above and unleashing the hellfire he holds in his hand; engulfing the angel in a plume of his fiery wrath as he’s blasted back.

While holding in the overwhelming desire to scream out, the blue boy careens through the fiery garden air in a smoking mess; threatening to crash right into the side of the hellish red barrier. But in the nick of time does Tore manage to regain his aerial balance and stop himself moments before he could slam straight into the side of the cage; the smoke enveloping his body disappearing to reveal the numerous burns along his skin. Okay. Can’t really call on any sort of power from outside. Every living thing in here that could’ve been a source of power is submerged in a sheet of boiling lava. And the King of hell is still aiming to burn away what skin is still left. If there’s nothing left around here to draw life from… With his demonic foe on the verge of striking him down, the indigo angel takes his focus away on the seething burns left along his body and starts to concentrate on what life he held within; the pain he feels eventually numbing as a colorful power starts to well from within the depths of his soul.

“Enough dawdling here. The time of your punishment is at hand. Say what prayers you have left, for they will not be answers for where you shall be sent!” the king of hell tells the angel before lunging after with hellfire engulfing his entire hand. Right when his hellish majesty was on the verge of striking the boy down with a furious hellfire, his assault thwarted on the spot when the blue boy grasps his wrist moments before he could be struck. Left astonished by the unexpected grab, his hellish majesty glances down to the blue boy as Tore in kind peers upwards; the angel’s eyes flashing a rainbow of colors along his pupils. ...Then I’ll just use what life I got left.

His fist coated in a colorful aura, the indigo angel straight slugs his demonic foe right in the chest; the incredible force of the assault hard enough to send his majesty crashing down into the pool of lava, with the red hot goo splashing onto the sides of the red unholy cage. “Whoa!” Kingsley exclaims. “Holy shit!” Cayenne shouts. “Dad!” Vera screams.

Yet mere moments after taking the descending splashdown straight into the pool of fresh hellish lava, the demonic king surfaces up out from the molten goo in an ascending burst straight after the angel above; globs of the boiling liquid clutched in his hands. Closing in on the indigo angel, his majesty scatters the globs of fiery goo straight out towards the boy above in little pieces. With small bullets of flaming lava coming straight at him, Tore rockets straight down towards the approaching flurry of flung lava; sticking his arms out towards the spread as he begins to twirl through the air in a straightforward aileron roll. The colorful life force held within his hands combined with the swirling velocity, the indigo angel spur away the flung scatter of molten liquid; piercing straight through the storm and towards its very sender.

Upon nearing his demonic majesty does the blue boy cease spinning through the air, focusing all the power he has in a single fist; ready to slug the demonic royalty straight in the face. Alas when Tore was on the cusp of punching his foe right in the shnoze, the king of hell weaves right around his swing with hellfire coating his fist; his majesty countering back with own brand of a fiery strike straight onto the boy’s backside. The burning assault sending him careening across the blistering hot garden air, Tore sticks his legs out towards the side of the cage he threatens to crash right into and manages to land right on his feet; the unholy prison wall letting out a furious pulse of flames that launches the blue boy back out towards the very demon that had conjured it. In but a matter of moment does the indigo angel return out towards the king of hell and swings his leg straight out to his majesty, the glowing blue boy landing an overwhelming kick right to the king’s side hard enough to send his fiery foe careening aside. As the demonic royalty recovers from the swift counterattack, the indigo angel thrusts his palms out towards the demonic royalty and fire out an incredible wave of colorful life out towards his majesty; the incredible ray widening exponentially as it streaks through the blistering hot air. The colorful ray proving too wide to dodge, the king of hell commands the magma beneath him to rise up before the encroaching wave and hardens its molten goo into fiery stone in but a matter of seconds. Though the wall of hardened lava manages to take initial brunt of the colorful ray, it quickly begins to weaken under the constant stream of power and breaks apart in a matter of seconds; the overwhelming blast engulfing the fiery demon in a flash of of bright colors.

Once the light from the incredible wave starts to finally dim, the indigo angel peers down to the pool of lava beneath to discover his fiery foe left floating along the surface; then witnessing his majesty swiftly snap right out from his dazing stupor in a roar of blazing hellfire. Arising out from the molten pool does the king of hell once more face the radiant colorful angel with a burning rage reflected in his bright red eyes; his entire body engulf in a scorching fury as he proclaims that: “That’s it! This has gone on long enough. I thought of making this quick, but you seem to wish for this to drag on. No more! I’m going to fry you alive from where you float!” While listening to the hellish devil’s decree, an encroaching dizziness begins to seep its way into the boy’s head; his vision blurring in and out as he threatens to pass out from exhaustion. Come on, don’t give out just yet. Just a bit more.

Right outside the barrier do both Damian and Cayenne hover above the unholy prison with both Vera and Kingsley riding upon them; the boy genius informing the spice queen that: “We need to break open that cage as fast as we can. Cayenne, take Vera around and break the locks holding it together.” “On it.” Cayenne simply complies with, gliding down to the crown of the hellish cage with the Vera atop her back. “Right. Damian, I need you to take me over to the water pressure controls. They’re right down in there.” the boy genius then orders the ghostly young man he rides on; pointing to a little steel shack set along the corner of the backyard. “Alright, hang on.” the ghost boy complies, delving down towards the very shack his friends pointed out. As they dive down towards the small steel shack, Damian turns both himself and the boy genius on his back totally intangible and phases right on inside; Kingsley hopping right off his back when landing inside and race straight over to a set of pressure valves and control panels within its walls.

While the boy genius starts to get to work on the panel and turning the numerous valves; the ghost boy behind him argues: “Kingsley, are you sure about this? The pipes underneath all that lava are probably sealed shut by now. I doubt any water would get through, even if we break the barrier.” “I know, but that’s not what this is for. When we bust it open, all that lava inside’s probably gonna spill out all over the place. So if we can’t stop it from spilling, I think it’s better if we try and slow it down while keeping it from reach the manor so no one watching all this gets hurt.” “If you didn’t want anyone in the splash zone, why didn’t we break them all up first?” “With what little time we have to work with, I got Renee to try and work on that, maybe clear a way for them to escape.”

“Seriously people. We need you to evacuate the estate before the situation here becomes any worse. Don’t any of you understand how severe this could turn?” Renee tries to reach through the observing crowd with. “You’re kidding, right?” “I sure am not gonna leave now and miss all this.” “I wound up traveling across the world just to see what this new team has up their sleeves and sure as hell ain’t leaving now.” Among their overall noncompliance can the blonde not help but let out a frustrating growl; swiftly calming herself down with a little breath before she could do or say anything crazy. Oh Kingsley I seriously hope you have a plan working for this.

Above the very barrier before them do all of them watch as Cayenne hovers just above its very top; the princess riding atop her eyeing the brimstone chunks along the outside. “So, ya saying that these locks are under a sheet of brimstone right?” “Indeed, but none of you have yet to tell me how you plan to break through their layers.” Vera claims. “The hell’s so fun about telling you? Why don’t ya just see for yourself.” “Wait, what do you mean by tha-” Just before the princess could finish questioning the spice queen’s statement do they both start diving straight down towards one of the brimstone slabs along the unholy barricade; Vera holding on for dear life as Cayenne prepares to strike away at the stone. In just a single swing does the Spice queen manage to bust through the brimstone’s outer shell; swiping away the debris to reveal a hellish insignia with a hole dead on the middle. “Damn, that looks fuckin sick. You need to dunk your finger in there or…?” “No, no. Th-that won’t be necessary. Just give me a moment.” the princess tells her, her body still quaking from the unexpected drop down. Hovering her finger right over hellish insignia,  the princess lets the blood seeping from her finger drip straight into the hole; the entire face alights in a glow of orange and lets out a horrible shriek from under its stone. While covering their ears from the trembling screech, both of them witness the brimstone crumble apart in a burst of hellfire; the unholy prison’s red walls starting to flicker as the lock falls apart. “Hell yeah. One lock down, three more go.”

Gliding within the burning air of the red cage itself does Tore continue to fight off the devils hellish assault, pushing away the demonic king with a pulse of pure colorful life. In being pushed back that the king of hell command the lava beneath in to rise out from the earth and bellow out towards the indigo angel; the intense light from the boiling lava covering the boy as he rushes outwards. With but a wave of his hand, the blue boy casts forth a colorful wave that disperses the fiery hot goo wave and rockets out towards the king himself; his entire body coated in a lively colorful aura as he nears. Seeing the indigo angel incoming, the demon waves his arms upwards to conjure a whirlwind of fiery hot flames from right underneath the blue boy; engulfing the boy in a tornado of blistering heat. Tore blocks his body from the fiery inferno blowing at him from all sides, enduring through the searing flames as his body starts to glow brighter and brighter in a multitude of colors; a light that the king beholds beyond the blaze of his whirlwind. Finally does Tore unleash all he had in an overwhelming shockwave that disperse the flaming whirlwind, the almighty push casting his hellish fiery foe straight down into the pool of molten liquid.

From this overwhelming wave, the colorful aura that irradiates out from the boy’s body starts to fade away to unveil his skin left nearly gray; Tore clutching his heart as he tries to catch his breath. “Ah...Oh god...Can’t keep going anymore...Might just burn myself out.” “You’ll burn either way.” a voice from below claims. Peering down beneath his feet does he see a pillar of lava spew out from the below and flutters back to avoid the seering goo; his escape failing to take him far as an arm pops out from the molten liquid and tightly grasp his neck, the devilish pyro emerging out and finishing with: “I promise such.” Midst his struggle to free himself from the fiery king’s clutches, the blue boy grabs hold of the king’s horns and pushes back with as much strength as he had left to muster; his majesty letting out a seething growl as he begins to take in a deep breath. When seeing his hellish foe taking in a deep breath, he realizes all too well what the king’s next move was and shove his knee straight into the devil’s jaw; the indigo angel keeping the devil’s trap shut as bits of lava escaping from the demon’s nose. The demonic king’s cheeks puff bright orange as he starts to choke on all the excess lava gathering in his mouth; tearing up as he finally lets go of the blue boy and kicks him away, vomiting all the molten goo out from his maw. The demonic royalty takes a brief second to cough out bits of lava as he rubs the part of his chin the angel had kneed; his other hand trembling as he peers over to the blue boy and calls him a: “Cheeky little bastard.”

Just outside the unholy prison do all the numerous dug up pipes littering the garden starts to spew out a torrent of rushing water; all of it starting to soak everywhere from the stone paths, the grass, the foliage, every drop spreading out along every inch of the backyard. Up along the crown of the devilish cage does Vera let a drop of her blood peter out from her finger and fall straight into the brimstone lock; the symbol surrounding the hole letting out an unholy shriek before crumbling to pieces. Witnessing the red power that makes up the bubble flicker more frequently, the spice queen claims that: “Just one more.” Right when they were about to hover out towards the final lock, both of them hear a familiar voice call out from the distance; peering out to find both Kingsley and Damian gliding over as the boy genius orders: “Heya, lets switch!” “On it!” Cayenne complies, taking grasp of the princess atop her back. “Wait, what the hell do you think your-” Without even a single warning does the spice queen straight up toss Vera up out towards the ghostly young man hovering above, all the while Kingsley leaps down as she arises. Almost simultaneously, the boy genuis manages to land right in Cayenne’s arms just as Damian catches the princess amidst her ascent; Vera taking a brief moment to calm herself while riding atop the ghost boy’s back. “Oh...Oh dear…”

Held within the spice queen’s grasp, Kingsley peers down and watches as the open pipes soak his backyard in more and more water; Cayenne asking the boy: “You wanna say what you got in mind or are we just pissing in the wind?” “At this rate, most of the water here won’t be enough to stop all that lava. I think we need to do something else to keep it from reaching the manor, something I think you excel at.” “Whatcha got in mind for me to fuck up?”

After explaining what else the boy genius has in mind, Cayenne hovers out over towards a stone column set over the garden and setting Kingsley down at its very top; the boy genius watching as the spice queen fly out near the manor and delve down towards the ground set between it and the garden. All the numerous guest spectating these events jump back as Cayenne dive bombs down along the ground and scrapes through the dirt with her bare fists. Seeing his spicy partner starting to make out a ditch between his home and backyard, Kingsley peering over to Damian and the princess hover above the cage.

When floating just inches away from the last brimstone lock guarded in a layer of brimstone, Vera wonders to the ghost boy: “I do wonder how you plan to break through the layer to reach the lock.” “Oh please, I’m not a brute. There won’t be any breaking needed.” he claims. Gently grasping the princess’s arm the ghost boy turns her limb completely transparent, Vera letting out a little shriek before Damian tells her to: “Calm down. It’s alright. Just simply dunk your hand right in where the hole is.” “Uh...okay.” Carefully, Vera does what he instructs and is astonished to see her arm phase straight through the brimstone like nothing was there. The blood from the demon princess’s finger dribbles down from the tip straight down through the brimstone; soaking through until dripping into the lock hole underneath. Like before does the hard rock begin to scream out before it falls apart, the entire red bubble holding both her father and the boy he fights trembling at the seems. “What is going on?” the ghost boy questions. “I suggest we flee before it burst open.”

Upon the princess’s warning does Damian take her away from the red cage as it starts to quake far more violently; suddenly collapsing in a powerful burst that breaks the glass of the manor and knocks the people inside on their asses. With the walls of the unholy cage broken does the lava that was kept inside start to spill out further through the garden; the guests of the manor running like hell as a big wave of the molten goo flows out towards them. When arising right out from the ditch that she had just dug out, Cayenne sees some of the lava melting the stone column her pal stands atop off; the base of the pillar melting away as it threatens to tumble down into the scorching lava. Immediately does the spice queen spring into action and dart straight towards her falling comrade, snatching Kingsley right out from the air moments before he could take the fiery plunge. While hovering above, Kingsley watches as the lava that spills starts to collide with the water streaming through the backyard; only slowing the molten liquid down as he head straight for the manor. “Come on. Come on.” the boy genius utters. With sweat running down their foreheads, Kingsley and Cayenne watch as the lava starts to fill up the freshly dug out ditch set before the manor; growing more tense as the lava starts to reach the top. But with how deep Cayenne had dug and the running water starting to slow it down, all the lava that spills out manages to just rim the very top of the ditch, both of them letting out a huge sigh knowing their home and all the people within were safe and sound. “Holy shit...So, now how are we gonna take care of that shit show.” the spice queen wonders, pointing out towards the continuing brawl.

Despite the red cage that had encased them both having vanished, the demonic king continues his onslaught against the indigo angel; slugging the boy with fiery swing after another and scorching him further with every strike. Though Tore attempts to counter the king’s flames, he proves far too exhausted and spent to reliably get any hits of his own in; failing to even raise a single hand up as all that be left for him is to endure his majesty’s blazing wrath. Placing his palm right underneath the blue boy’s head, the king unleashes a burst of searing flames right from above; a fiery blast that sends the angel plummeting down towards the earth. Crashing down into the charred soil below, Tore still feels the scorching heat beat against his back; despite there not even being a single glob of molten liquid left. When attempting to pull himself off the blistering hot earth, the blue boy only able to pull up onto his ass moments before his demonic foe lands before him; Tore left frozen in place as the king of hell looks down upon him with a fiery glare. Not even a word is spoken between them as his majesty raises his hand to the sky and engulfs his arm in a thick burning layer of hellfire; the light it emits rivaling that of the sun. Whelp, really facing the heat now, and with a nearly empty tank of gas too. Body here’s practically more burns than skin. And lookin like the final stop here is a one way road straight into the fiery depths of oblivion. If this is the way this road trip ends, better just use what fuel I got left. These determined thoughts ringing through his head, Tore faces the demonic king head on as the colorful aura that had once coated him returns in full force; its rainbow glow matching that of the very fires that he faces.

Seeing the two on the verge of clashing at any moment: Vera peers down to her ghostly ride and demands that: “No! Damian, let go of me!” “From this high up!? But-” “There’s no time! Just do it!” On Vera’s request does the ghost boy complies and releases the demon princess from his grasp, letting her plummet down towards both her father and the angel; the princess gazing down to witness both her father and the angel lunging out towards one another. Right as the two were about to lunge upon each other in a clash of lively flames does Vera drop between them both; urging the two to suddenly stop dead in their tracks, their blinding light dimming as they behold the princess standing between them.

Even as her legs quake from the drop that she had just endured, the demonic princess stands before the fury of her burning father and demand out from him that: “Daddy, you need to stop, right now!” “Vera?...Why!? After this miscreant broke into our home, scared your mother and brother, stole the family treasure, and beat me unconscious! Why after all of that do you wish for his life to be sparred!?” “Because he had saved mine!” the princess answers, his daughter’s responds quelling some of the king’s burning fury.

In my hurry through the castle hall’s, parts of the roofs had collapsed onto me and buried me underneath their dark red stone; it honestly felt as if my chest had been smashed open and that death was knocking on my door. That is until I started to feel a warm glow run throughout my body and return me to reality once more. The unbearable pain that I had suffered from had vanished in a matter of seconds as I began to return; awaking from my stupor to find my dress torn open in places where I had felt this agony. Rising up from the behind the rubble, all I could see retreating from me was a figure donning a blue mane and wings of pale white gliding deeper into the castle. Since then, I couldn’t help but wonder if those events had actually transpired or if they were simply a hallucination brought on by a concussion. But seeing this boy with my own eyes proved to me that it was no mere illusion; if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be standing here before him tonight.”

His daughter having told this side of the story to her, the demonic king takes a calming breath as the flames enveloping his body disperse; quelling the murderous rage he had gardened towards the blue boy. Yet does a thin layer of doubt remain as his majesty marches right past his loving daughter and over to the boy behind her; Vera staring in concern to her father as he walks beside her while uttering: “Daddy?” Standing tall just inches away from the kneeling angel, Tore takes up a stance as the king stares down upon him with a fiery orange glare; the only words that he says as a demand to the boy to: “Start explain. Now.”

About a half an hour passes as the lava that dwells within the ditch starts to cool from the water flowing from the pipes; whatever fires and flames that lingered having been dowsed out. Sitting patiently beside him does the fiery royalty listen to the indigo angel he was but moments away from roasting in burning hellfire as Tore goes on to finish with: “Once I realized who the Kybr truly were and what they were like; I wound up having to fight Mall in hopes of stopping him. If it weren’t for my sibs and their friends helping me to stop Mall and destroying the warp gate’s core, the Kybr would’ve wound up flooding the universe.” “Is that all?” the devil beside the angel questions. “Yep…” the blue boy simply responds back to with hints of disappointment. Hearing the last of what the blue boy has to say for himself, the king of hell lets out a small sigh as he rises back on his feet and stroll out towards his daughter; telling her to: “Come on, Vera. We’re heading back home.” “Um, okay. Thanks again for all your help, Vanguard League.” the princess thanks with as she follows her father out towards the backdoor. The misses of the estate coming out from the sliding glass door, she winds up running into the exiting royalty; who apologizes to her with: “I apologize for the mess I had caused tonight. I promise to pay off the damages.”

Despite the night having just been saved, Kingsley can’t help but peer over to the blue boy; watching the angel as he slouches over with his hands over his face. Before he could go over to try and comfort the blue boy, he suddenly feels somebody giving him a big pat on his back and glances over to find Cayenne congratulating him with: “Damn, Kingsley. You’d did a fine ass job keeping yer cool under all that heat.” “Uh, thanks. Pretty surprised myself on how cleanly I handled it all. I thought for sure I was gonna crack among the action.” “Well, I can safely assure that you handled it all with such incredible grace and fortitude; even I was shaking through most of it all.” the ghost boy hovers over and praises. Racing right over to his side does Renee give the boy genius a great big hug, embracing her boy tight as she claims how: “I told you that all those worries you had were just in your head. Even when things turn out their worst, you become your very best and bring out everyone’s A game.” “You guys think so? Maybe being this whole leader thing won’t be as bad as I was inflating it to be.” Kingsley corrects. “I wish I could say the same about our garden.” he then hears his mother lament.

Peering aside, the boy finds her mother grieving over the site of her now destroyed backyard; what remained of the numerous colorful flowers and bushes that made up its natural beauty now left charred and burned beyond any sort of recognition. “It might not be that bad, Mrs. Spicer. We could just rebuild and replant everything again.” Renee attempts to cheer her up with. “I’m not sure that’ll be possible. The soil itself is far too charred and burned for anything planted here to grow. I’m not sure if it’ll ever recover.” Damian points out, a statement which only furthers the mother’s sorrow.

Rising out from his self pity does the indigo angel behold the consequences of what his fight with the demon king had entailed; the smoke wafting from the burnt foliage covering the night sky. “God...all this is just my fault. None of this wouldn’t have happened if I was here. If I didn’t go with all and wind up nearly dooming everyone.” “Oh Tore...yeah it pretty much is.” “Cayenne!” Kingsley snaps. “What? It’s cause if him that the king of hell through a big shit fit in the first place.” “But he was just trying to help us with the party; how were we supposed to-” “No...Cayenne’s right. I gotta try and make up for all this. All the trouble I just wound up bringing here.” the blue boy states. “Just how do you plan to start? This garden’s practically lifeless the way it is.” the ghost boy tells him. “...I might know how.”

Among saying such does the angel start to stroll out towards the very center of the destroyed garden, taking in a deep breath of the smoke arising from the earth. Once standing right in the midst of the ruined garden, the indigo angel exhales the breath from his lunges and closes his eyes while clasping his hands in a prayer; once again focusing all the plants, animals, and people that reside outside the garden wall. All throughout the city are little bits of colorful light drawn out from within every single thing alive within Townsville; be it from the biggest of elephants held within the zoo to the smallest of insects that crawl along the underbelly of the town. The countless bits of life all flutter through the city skyline and gather out towards the upper district; every single piece taken straight out to the backyard where they all drawn within the blue boy’s body. Kingsley, Cayenne, Damian, Renee, and the Misses stare upon the indigo angel as his entire body and the wings on his back is enveloped in a rainbow of aura that alights the entire backyard in a colorful glow. Holding all the lively power he had gathered throughout Townsville, Tore thrusts his arms straight down into the charred earth beneath his feet and sends it all surging through the soil; the once burned and scorched ground now glowing alight in a multitude of lively colors that shine across the neighborhood.

Soon enough does this brilliant light start to fade, letting all that dwell within the once ruined backyard all behold the overflowing flora that spreads out before them; numerous flowers, plants and tree’s of dozens of families and species now standing before them all in an incredible burst of nature and vegetation. “What?” Cayenne utters. “Wow.” Renee softly awes. “Amazing.” Damian gawks. “Our garden. It’s practically overwhelming. Everything’s flourishing greater than ever.” the misses of the estate gushes. Peering over is everyone’s attention drawn to the blue boy who had made it all possible, resting soundly against the base of a thick oak whose height rivals the manor before it. “Can’t believe he did all this in mere seconds.” the blonde girl surmises. “He brought not just the plants, but the soil itself back from the clutches of death.” the ghost boy marvels. “If he can do all this. Just what the hell are we supposed to do about this blue bastard.” Cayenne questions. Kingsley stares out to the indigo angel left soundly sleeping underneath the massive thick oak; letting his burns rest as the nightly wind brushes the leaves down from their branches and flutters onto the slumbering blue boy. “I don’t know Cayenne. I really don’t know.”

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

Thank you all for sticking around here for this long. And I wanted to start off this season by finally firing a Chekov's gun that I set up a while ago. Also wanted to do something with Kingsley processing the thoughts of being a leader to a budding organization with big plans since it wasn't really touched upon. Also add in some little details that weave into the mainline story here.

I'd say I'm at a near competent in terms of writing skills, but there's always more out there I could learn from and improve. I hope all of you stick around to see that process take place. Thank you.

#lillaxtrigger #Young Hope #callyieverse

[deancas-fanfiction]

Hardest Part is Letting Go

Part 3/7

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel

Fic Summary: Upon his diagnosis of a terminal illness, Dean vows to spend the rest of his short life with Cas by his side, completing his bucket list while learning what it really means to live and love.

Chapter Summary: Dean and Cas cross another item off Dean's bucket list by embarking on a road trip for Sam's law school graduation.

Part 1 Part 2

available on ao3

“Can you believe it? Sam Winchester: attorney at law.” Dean mused.

“Or Sam Winchester, Esquire.” Cas offered.

Dean snorted and shook his head, throwing another flannel in his suitcase. “He’s a big fancy lawyer now. My baby brother is all grown up.”

“Well, he is twenty-seven. I imagine he’s been ‘all grown up’ for some time now,” Cas joked.

“Yeah, I suppose when he married Jess that ship kind of sailed, huh?”

“I suppose.” Cas agreed with a faint smile. He zipped his suitcase and sat on their bed, watching Dean throw another wrinkled shirt in his bag. “Are you really not going to fold that?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Cas. It’s a t-shirt. I think it will be fine.”

“What about your nice shirt for his graduation?” He eyed Dean and took in the way he avoided meeting his eyes. “Please tell me you’re packing a nice shirt for his graduation.”

“It’s a graduation ceremony, Cas! I don’t need a suit. Remember his college graduation? Most people were dressed casually.”

“And remember when Jess booked us all a reservation at that French restaurant afterward? The host made you go home and change because you didn’t meet the dress code. Besides, I’m willing to bet Jess will make another fancy reservation for celebrations after the ceremony.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll bring a nice button-down. But I’m not wearing a suit,” He warned.

Cas held his hands up in mock surrender. “I would never dream of making you wear one.”

Dean threw the nearest button-down on the top of his suitcase and began zipping it up. He only paused when he heard Cas wince.

“It’s going to wrinkle, Dean!”

Dean stepped back and scratched his jaw, letting out a sigh. “Okay, new plan: I’ll leave the room and make us some dinner. This allows you to completely repack my suitcase the way you like, and I won’t even complain about it.” 

Cas grinned, happy with the outcome. “Deal!”

Dean kissed the top of his head and left the room, mumbling something about how a few wrinkles wouldn’t hurt anyone, which Cas pointedly chose to ignore. He then dumped out the contents of Dean’s suitcase and methodically began folding and repacking the luggage.

As predicted, autumn was fleeting and quickly turned into a cold and brutal winter. It was only early December, but the wind was biting and the snow ruthless. When Dean and Cas learned that Sam was graduating from law school a semester early, they were ecstatic. Mostly because Sam was the male equivalent of Elle Woods by graduating from law school top of his class, but also because they get to trade the incessant cold of Kansas for the sunny warmth of California.

The timing of his graduation was perfect, actually. Dean’s symptoms remained stagnant for the last two months and were completely manageable with the help of his medications. If Sam hadn’t taken those extra summer classes the last two years, he would actually be graduating in May and Cas wasn’t so sure if Dean could make that cross-country trek six months from now. But he pushed that thought from his mind and returned to the task at hand.

They originally planned on flying to California for the graduation, but then Cas had a stroke of genius. Remembering item six on Dean’s list, he suggested turning it into a road trip. For as long as Cas has known him, Dean dreamed of road tripping along the historic Route 66, which begins in Chicago and ends in Los Angeles; and suddenly all of the pieces fit into place. They would join Route 66 in Oklahoma, just four hours away from Lawrence. Then they’d follow the route all the way to L.A., arriving just in time for Sam’s graduation from UCLA. After he proposed the idea, Dean was completely on board and already mapping out the best stops for pie and burgers along the way. 

Cas finished with Dean’s suitcase and quickly returned his attention back to his own bag. He double-checked he had everything packed, including a small wooden box hidden at the bottom with a certain piece of jewelry inside. Satisfied with the completion of his mental checklist, Cas zipped the bags and followed the scent of dinner to the kitchen.

-----

“Dean.” Cas groaned, his voice rough and gravelly from sleep. “Must we leave at such an obscene hour?”

Dean chuckled and shut his car door. “According to the schedule that you made, we need to drive about twelve hours today to make it on time. I’m just following your orders, babe.”

“The sun isn’t even up yet,” Cas whined, slumping in the seat.

“Here, this will help.” Dean handed him a large thermos with coffee and started the engine. The engine purred beneath him and Dean couldn’t help but let out a quiet sigh. It always felt so good to get behind the wheel of his baby. He put the car into gear and pulled out of their driveway, heading towards the open road.

He glanced over at Cas as he took a large gulp of coffee. His hair was sticking out in all directions, making it clear Cas didn’t even attempt to smooth it down today. He smiled at the grumpy expression on Cas’s face and turned his attention back to the road, drumming his fingers on the wheel.

The first hour of the drive was quiet. They headed south to hop onto Route 66 in Oklahoma. While they weren’t making the official Route 66 trek by beginning in Chicago, Dean was completely fine with that. He’d spent most of his life in the Midwest, he didn’t need to backtrack just to see the flat landscape he was already familiar with. The radio was playing softly as Dean and Cas both took the time to wake up for the day. As Cas pointed out, it was still dark so there were few cars on the road. It was actually a rather peaceful start to the day. 

As soft colors began to replace the dark sky, Cas’s mood began to turn around as the caffeine entered his system. He hummed along with the radio and watched the snow-covered trees quickly pass by. The pastel pinks and oranges from the rising sun reflected off the white snow, creating a warm glow. At that thought, he turned and leaned his back against the passenger door so he was facing Dean.

“You know, at first I was disappointed with the timing of the road trip. I didn’t think the drive would be very picturesque in December. I always thought fall or summer would be the opportune time to go.” He paused, looking back out the window. “But this is actually really nice. Everything is so still and quiet.”

“Well, by the time we get farther west it will feel like summer anyway. So, we’ll get a little bit of both.”

“That’s true,” Cas mused. “We should have done a road trip like this a long time ago.”

“We were always too busy with life. You had summers off, but that’s when the shop got the busiest for me. We just never made the time to slow down and experience things like this.” Dean observed. “Not that being so busy was a bad thing. We both loved our jobs, but we always said, ‘there will be a better time’ or ‘maybe next year.’ But now…well we don’t really have that privilege, do we?”

“I suppose not,” Cas sighed sadly.

“On a positive note, I’m glad that now we’re making the time for things like this.”

“Me, too.” He murmured, attempting a smile.

“Hey,” Dean said softly. “Stop that.”

“Sorry, I don’t like thinking about how we can no longer make long-term plans.”

“Then don’t think about it.”

“You know it’s not that easy.”

“Yeah, yeah I get it. But right now, I’m here, okay?” Dean tore a hand away from the steering wheel and intertwined it with Cas’s. “Focus on that. When your mind starts wandering to those thoughts, shut it down and focus on the now. Because these moments right here, these are the ones I want you to look back on and I only want you to remember how happy we are. I don’t want this last year tainted with sadness. Can you do that for me?”

Cas nodded and squeezed Dean’s hand. The gesture said more than he could vocalize at the moment. Cas had never cared for anyone as much he does for Dean. He always thought that finding Dean and experiencing that all-consuming, world-shattering love with him was like some kind of reward for surviving the first shitty eighteen years of his life. But now that Cas knows their time together is limited, he can’t help but feel like the punchline to some kind of cosmic joke.

He shook his head and slowly exhaled, turning his attention on Dean’s advice to focus on the positives. Dean is next to him right now and that’s all that matters. He has his left hand draped on the steering wheel with his right intertwined with Cas’s; and despite the heavy conversation, he still has a genuine smile on his face. It’s the kind of smile that lights up his whole face, giving him a youthful glow regardless of the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Cas returned his smile with a genuine one this time.

“We’re doing this all wrong, you know.” Cas states, changing the subject.

“Doing what wrong?” Dan asks quizzically.

“Your bucket list item. It said, ‘road trip with a kickass playlist.’ We’re currently road-tripping listening to a subpar radio station. Not really the same thing.”

“No,” He agreed. “I suppose it isn’t the same thing. Grab a tape out of the glove box, will ya?”

“I know you have very strict rules which state that the driver picks the music, but you’ll have to make an exception for this one instance.” Cas held up a cassette tape he dug out of his own jacket pocket which read ‘Dean’s Top 13 Zepp Traxx.’

Dean grinned. “That is always an exception. Pop it in.”

He inserted the tape into the player and turned the volume up a little higher. The opening notes to Immigrant Song played out and Cas settled into his seat, letting the music wash over him.

“Remember when I gave this to you?” Dean baited.

“We were fighting,” Cas laughed.

“Over something stupid.”

“Big surprise there.”

“God, I don’t even remember what the fight was about anymore.”

“I do. You –” Cas caught himself off. “You know what, it doesn’t matter.”

“Good save, Cas.”

Cas smirked. “You hadn’t talked to me all day. I was reading in the living room and you stomped in, dropped it on my lap and just walked away.”

“This was early in our relationship. I was bad at communicating! This was the best way I could tell you I was an idiot and that I was sorry.”

“Well, it obviously worked. I went for a drive and listened to it. I forgave you by the time this first song was over.”

“It’s only a two-minute song, Cas.”

“Exactly my point. I never have much resolve when it comes to staying mad at you, do I?”

“I suppose not,” Dean acknowledged. “Besides, that was a pretty romantic move on my part.”

“Yes, it was. If I hadn’t already been so in love with you at that point, I’m sure the mixtape would have sealed that deal.”

“So, what you’re saying is I should have made you a mixtape right after I met you?”

“I’m pretty sure from the moment I met you, I knew you were someone special, Dean.”

Dean flushed at that statement and he felt the tips of his ears turn pink. At this point in their relationship, he’d grown accustomed to how forward Cas can be, but it still has quite an impact on him. “Yeah, I thought the same about you,” He murmured.

Cas beamed at him, showing the whites of his teeth and leaned over to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. At that exact moment, the song ended and switched into Good Times Bad Times. Dean cranked it up and sang loudly along with Cas.

I know what it means to be alone

I sure do wish I was at home

I don't care what the neighbors say

I'm gonna love you each and every day

You can feel the beat within my heart

Realize, sweet babe, we ain't ever gonna part

Yeah, this moment here is the exact reason he put this item on his bucket list.

In no time, they were cruising on Route 66 heading west towards New Mexico, their destination for the night. When they stopped to grab gas and snacks a few miles back, Cas grabbed a handful of Route 66 brochures and had been thoughtfully studying them ever since.

“Anything good?” Dean asked, rather amused at his boyfriend’s total infatuation with the tourist gimmick.

“Did you know that Route 66 was commissioned in 1926 but wasn’t fully paved until 1938? Then in 1985, it was decertified a U.S. highway. Originally it was 2,448 miles in 1926 but now it totals 2,278 miles from beginning to end.”

Dean hummed in response, not daring to interrupt Cas. He learned it’s best to let Cas get it out of his system.

“You know, there’s a place called ‘Cadillac Ranch’ in Texas. We could stop there! We’re pretty close.” He chirped, bringing Dean’s attention back to the conversation.

“A Cadillac ranch?” Dean grimaced. “What is that?”

“It’s a public art sculpture of ten Cadillac’s buried nose-first in the ground.” Cas paused for a moment. “Actually, that doesn’t sound very appealing at all.”

Dean chuckled. “Thank God. I was wondering how I was going to talk you out of it.”

“Are there any stops along the way you want to make?”

“Cas, I’m in this for the driving and for the company. I don’t need to stop at niche tourist stops unless it’s something you really want to do.”

“I just want to make sure you get the full road trip experience!”

“To me, the full road trip experience is exactly what we got going: good music, good conversation, and my car. I don’t need anything else; I promise.”

“If you say so,” Cas’s lips turned up at the corner, in a smile that Dean recognized as pure contentment.

The rest of their drive sped by as they joked, sang along to the music, and reminisced as songs played that reminded them of different points in their lives. Soon enough, they were pulling into Santa Rosa, New Mexico where they decided to call it for a night. They found a mediocre chain hotel with vacancy and pulled off the road. At that point they had been in the car for a little over twelve hours and were in desperate need of some space to stretch out. Driving long distances used to be much easier. Now Dean’s joints popped as he stepped out of the Impala and his legs felt uncomfortably stiff.

Dean checked them in as Cas went to grab dinner. The original plan was to grab food and drinks to celebrate a successful first day, but Dean could feel the exhaustion weighing him down. So, Cas volunteered to pick up takeout instead. After throwing his and Cas’s bags down on the floor, Dean collapsed on the bed. Instantly he longed for his memory foam as the springs of the cheap mattress poked against his back. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure it would be a big enough problem to keep him awake as he was so damn tired.

As he was beginning to nod off, he heard the door to the room click open and was met with the intoxicating smell of greasy takeout.  

“Honey, I’m home!” Cas greeted cheerfully. “And I brought pie.”

Dean shot up from his spot on the bed and kissed Cas in thanks. “God, I love you.”

“Are you talking to me or the food?”

“Why not both?” He asked, his mouth already full of fries.

“Touché.” Cas laughed and began digging in as well. He joined Dean on the bed, with their knees touching as he flipped on the television and found a movie for them to watch. They ate in a peaceful quiet, both engrossed in the movie.

Once the food was gone and the slices of pie were eaten, they both began tiredly stripping down to their boxers.

Dean watched with a different form of hunger in his eyes as Cas undressed.

“I can feel you watching me.” He chided, bending over to put his discarded clothes back in his bag.

“Of course, I am. I have a sexy boyfriend who is undressing right in front of me,” He murmured, wrapping his arms around Cas. Cas leaned back into the touch, letting out a soft sigh. Dean began peppering kisses along Cas’s jaw, pausing only to suck on the sensitive spot below his ear. Cas let out a quiet whimper at that and closed his eyes. Dean continued kissing down his neck to his shoulders when he paused to fight a yawn breaking to the surface.  

Cas laughed and the tension immediately lifted. “C’mon, let’s go to bed.”

“I don’t wanna,” Dean grumbled. Yet he allowed himself to be pulled to bed anyway.

“You can have your way with me tomorrow, I promise. But for now, sleep.”

Dean hummed and pulled Cas’s arm around his waist, so they were spooning. All previous annoyances about the crappy mattress were pushed from his head and quickly replaced with thoughts of Cas as he felt a soft kiss press to the back of his neck. With that, he allowed himself to lose consciousness and fall into a deep, happy sleep.

Author’s Note: Surprise, I decided to post the chapter two days early! Originally I planned on the whole road trip and Sam's graduation taking place in one chapter but it's turning out to be much longer than I anticipated. So I'll be breaking it up over the next chapter or two.

I also decided to change Sam's law school from Stanford to UCLA for the purpose of the road trip because Stanford would have been another 5 hours from L.A. and this just made it less complicated. Next chapter you can expect some smut, more road-tripping shenanigans and Sam! Please let me know what you think so far!

#destiel #deancas #destiel fanfiction #Destiel fanfic #destiel fluff #dean and cas #fanfiction #dean winchester #castiel #angst #deans top 13 zepp traxx #read on ao3 #supernatural fanfiction

[copias-thrall]

Pretty Thing

[Should I be working on any of my other things? Yes! Did I write this instead? Also yes!]

Mary Goore is a troll. 

Yes—a shit stirrer for sure, but mostly he’s a fiend who lives somewhere dank and far from people. Some say he squats in a mausoleum, but others will laugh and tell you he sublets a garden-level apartment. He’s always just around—the scene’s unofficial mascot who flits around, always there with everyone and no one, and damn … you just missed him! But on weekends you can find him working the doors at bars and venues collecting tolls for entry.

On cloudy days, you can find him hanging out in The Pit with all the other gutter punks, passing around a needle to pierce each other and the guitar to play out some tunes. At night, though, he always seems to be hanging off the arm of someone way too clean, looking like the cat who ate the canary. Wherever he lives, he seems to spend more time in someone else’s bed.

It’s a bright, sunny day when you encounter him alone—without the camaraderie of your tribe. Mary Goore is stomping down the sidewalk holding a black-lace parasol aloft. It’s a hot day, so beneath his studded and patched denim vest is just the pale , paleness of his dewy skin—so bright and reflective in the sunshine that you think that maybe he was the inspiration for that vampire. His black jeans are so ripped, you wonder if he wore them special—for the aeration. The carefully-constructed mat of his hair is making a valiant effort to stand up, despite how tufts of it stick to the sweat on his skin.

Some of it’s the shock of seeing Mary Goore out in the sunlight , and some of it is just how blindingly white he is—like sun refracting off a snowdrift—but you can’t help gaping at him even when you know he’s close enough to watch you do it.

Now, you don’t know Mary Goore, but you spend enough time in divey bars and underground venues that you’re sure he at least recognizes you, so you expect maybe a wink as he passes by. Instead he walks straight up to you and stops.

“You’ll catch flies that way,” he says, and you shut your mouth with a click. He leans against the building with his free arm and gives you a once over. “Like what you see, gelfling?”

Reflexively, you look him up and down. What you thought were freckles is actually a collection of moles that dot his skin. It’s cute.

“I thought you were a mirage.”

He snorts and leans into your space. “Cuz I’m a cool drink of water?”

You look down again at the flat planes of his pale chest. 

“Because you’re, um … glowing.”

Mary licks his lips and hoods his eyes. Your heart pounds.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He leans in, and your eyes flutter closed. You wonder if he’ll taste as rank as he usually looks, or if he’ll taste like mint gum or something. Instead, you feel his lips at the conch of your ear.

“See ya ‘round, gelfling.”

Eyes snapping open, you whip around just in time to him striding away, the parasol still raised to shield him from the sun.

You don’t make it a point to seek Mary out—in fact, you’ve been trying to avoid him, sure he’d only make fun of you. So, it’s a surprise when—while waiting for your drink order—Mary suddenly appears. You start, but he just leans his elbow on the bar. 

“Hey,” he says as he catches the straw from his—mostly-finished, bright-yellow drink with a pink paper umbrella—and wraps his plush lips around it. He sucks, and soon you can hear the rattle and slurp as his glass empties. He maintains eye contact with you as he keeps going, the death knell of the drink now gurgling in a prolonged throe as Mary makes use of his surprisingly robust lung capacity.

Before you can say anything, the bartender is placing your pint of beer in front of you.

“That’ll be $6.50, doll.”

Mary waves his arm. “Hey, Ned—put it on my tab.”

Ned raises his eyebrow at him. “You mean ‘Stephanie’s’ tab?” His chin indicates a girl across the room with bright pink and purple hair.

Mary grins, then slams his glass down on the counter. “And make me a tequila sunset.”

“That was a sunrise.”

“I know, man. I like variety.” 

When he says ‘variety,’ Mary turns his head to you and winks.

Ned rolls his eyes and buses the glass—but not before Mary plucks out the paper umbrella. Mary crooks his finger at you, but when you hesitate, he leans forward instead.

“I expect you to treasure this forever,” he says as he sticks the umbrella in your hair just above your ear.

You sniff at him. “I’ll treasure it as long as you do your conquests.” You go for a dramatic exit, but almost spill your beer all over you when you practically collide with the guy behind you, and it sloshes a little bit over the lip of the pint glass. Straight backed, you walk stiffly away as Mary guffaws behind you.

The rest of the night, you make a point of not even glancing in Mary’s direction—you don’t want to see if there’s also an umbrella in Stephanie’s hair.

It’s late, and you’re drunk. The lot of you had parted ways after trivia with multiple $5 pitchers. Despite having downed your own weight in French fries, all you want is some fake cheese of the Cheetos variety. 

The convenience store is on your way home and it’s still open. After the dark of the night outside, you almost have to shield your eyes from the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights. The bored teen at the counter watches as you stumble around to first the household aisle, then to the candy aisle, and back to the household aisle.

“Motherfucking cum whore,” you say out loud as you squint up at the signs again.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

You jump out of your skin, and almost careen into the greeting card rack—but Mary grabs your arm at the last minute. He’s in his worn leather jacket and some really tight-ass jeans. After leering at his thighs for a moment you say,

“Oh. It’s you.”

Mary squints at you and then grins. “You’re sloshed.”

You make a pffft noise at him.

“What drunk logic has brought you here?”

“I can’t find the Cheetos,” you whine.

He laughs at you. “All right. Hold on.”

You let Mary prop you up against the wall by the magazine rack, and you read all the celebrity gossip headlines while you wait. By the time he finally comes back, your eyes are beginning to droop with sleep. 

“Hey,” he snaps his fingers in front of your face. “No sleeping yet.”

“Cheetos,” is all you can manage before pointing into your mouth with an ah noise.

There’s a bag placed into your hands, already open. You shove a handful into your mouth before you remember you have to buy it. So you start rooting around in your pockets.

“Jesus you’re a mess.You’re getting cheese dust everywhere. The fuck are you doing, anyway?”

“Gotta pay,” you mumble around the masticated food in your mouth.

“I took care of it. C’mon.” He puts his arm around your shoulders and guides you out of the store. You notice he’s got a coffee cup in his other hand when he brings it up to his mouth.

Once you’re outside, you see a woman in her best goth blacks and contoured Elvira face. She looks up at the two of you.

“Mare?”

“Aww, shit. Sorry, baby. I gotta walk a friend home. Some other time?”

The woman looks at you; even with Mary’s arm you’re weaving, and you haven’t stopped shoving the snack food into your mouth.

“Yeah, whatever.”

She walks into the street and immediately a cab pulls over.

“All right, you,” Mary says, drawing your attention back to him. “Let’s get you home.”

The two of you walk in silence except for the crunch of the Cheetos and the slurp of the coffee.

When you reach your apartment building, you say, “This is me.”

Mary shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Hey, uh—do you mind if I crash on your couch?” He gives you a sheepish smile. “I kinda thought I’d be sleeping … elsewhere.”

“Me casa su casa,” you slur.

“Cool, thanks.”

You can’t wait to see the looks on your roommates’ faces when they wake up to Mary Fucking Goore in their apartment. 

But when you all get up, he’s already gone.

You’re eating meat off a stick to soak up the scorpion bowl you and some coworkers shared after a long fucking week. They’re upstairs getting the dance party started, but you’re not allowed up until you finish, so you’re content to watch the shot girls weave expertly in and out the crowd with their wares.

Suddenly a yellow and orange drink slides in front of you.

“But I didn’t …” you start, and that’s when Mary appears and clinks his bright red drink into yours.

“Fancy seeing you here. Oh—is that chicken?” 

Before you can answer, Mary is sliding off a chunk of meat from the skewer and popping it in his mouth.

“Hey!” You sputter at him, but he just pushes the drink at you.

“Drink your sunrise.”

You glare at him, but he just takes a big gulp of his own, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. He removes his cherry and holds it out, and you notice that his nails are painted black with a red glitter topcoat.

“C’mon, don’t leave me hanging.”

Sighing, you remove your cherry and hold it out. As Mary touches his to yours he says “Clink”, and then pops it into his mouth. You do the same, squishing it between your back molars before taking a sip from the plastic stirrer in your sunrise. When you look up again, you see that Mary’s mouth is moving, his eyes unfocused. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong when he suddenly makes a noise of triumph. He spits something into his palm, which he immediately presents to you proudly.

He’s tied the cherry stem into a knot.

You just gape at him.

Mary deposits the stem into your hand, closing your fingers around it before leaning in. “In case you forget what I can do with my tongue.” Then he gently closes your mouth with a hand to the bottom of your chin. “You know, you keep doing that, and one day someone’s gonna stick something in there.”

Before you have a chance to respond, someone across the bar yells Mary’s name.

“Oop! Gotta bounce! Smell ya later, gelfie.”

And then he’s downing the rest of his drink and heading over to a gaggle of hipsters in flannel and leather. As you finish the last hunk of meat, you watch the group leave as they shout and whoop.

The last thing you expect to see on stage is Mary Goore on guitar when he’s not even in the fucking band. True, he’s been known to mix and match and do the occasional substitution—but there wasn’t even an announcement about it. 

He’s in his stage shirt—the one almost covered in myriad blood trails—and a pair of jeans that are only torn at the knees. There’s a line of drinks next to him from admirers that he’s doing his best to slam back in between songs. The venue doesn’t make those kind of mixed drinks, so you’d sent Mary a shot of tequila with a cherry impaled on a plastic sword in it. “Inside joke,” you’d explained to the confused bartender.

When Mary gets to it, you watch the confusion on his face as he examines the contents. Then his head shoots up, scanning the crowd until his eyes land on you. You wave your own cherried sword at him before sucking the cherry into your mouth. He grins, takes out the sword, and runs it along his tongue before popping the cherry in. There are a few hoots from the audience, and then Mary is shooting the tequila before starting into the chords of the next song.

After the set ends, you convince your friends to stay for another round, vibrating with the certainty that Mary will come out to sass you. You can’t wait to see the look on your friends’ faces when he does.

It’s completely by accident that you even see him leave at all. 

You’re waiting in line for the only bathroom in the entire place, when you see the band erupt from the back room. You raise your hand to wave, but Mary isn’t even looking in your direction. Instead, he’s got his arm draped around the bassist—the one everybody considers the “pretty” one—and is close talking in his ear. From the way the bassist’s hand is moving in Mary’s back pocket, you have a good idea who he’s leaving with tonight even before you watch them slip out the back door.

After that night, you go back to avoiding any place you think Mary might be. So it’s with irritated exasperation that you see him collecting cover for Thursday 80′s Night. He’s sitting on a stool, legs splayed wide open—with absolutely no shame that there’s a giant hole on the inside of his one thigh—his signature leer on full display.

You’re this close to suggesting to your friends that you just ditch theme night and go sing karaoke at the Chinese restaurant that turns into a club after 10pm, but then Mary sees you. He grins and waves you forward. You try to shake your head, but your friends see, and the group breaks free of the line. 

A few people still waiting whine, but Mary just shrugs and taps his pen on the clipboard. “They’re on the list, guys.”

With exclamations of “Cool, dude” and “Thanks, man”, your friends fork over the $20 to Mary. When you try to hand yours over too, Mary just shakes his head.

“Gelflings don’t pay.”

“Stop calling me that,” you snap.

Mary looks a bit taken aback, but nods. “Yeah, ok.”

Again, you hold your money out, but he shakes his head again.

“Nah, you’re all set.

You narrow your eyes at him. “But I want to pay.” 

“Buy your friends a round or something.” He gives you a wolfish smile. “Buy me a round.”

You slam the bill down on the stool between his legs, and he only flinches a little. He looks up and squints at you.

"Uh … have I done something to you?”

Inching closer, you get right up in his face. His eyes drop down to your lips before flicking back up.

“You’ve done nothing to me, Mary Goore. Nothing at all.”

For once he has no witty rejoinder, and you don’t bump into anything as you make your way inside.

Life gets a little busy, and before you know it, you realize it’s been two weeks since you’ve been out and about for real anywhere. You send out a text to the group chat, and soon there are plans to see some up-in-coming band at the bowling alley venue.

When you get there, you’re resigned to your fate when you see Mary holding court in the corner. His jeans are more holy than ripped, but you can definitely see his boxers peeking through. He’s in a modified sleeveless tee and his vest. The table next to his group is littered with empty pint glasses and beer bottles.

You look away before he has a chance to catch your gaze. It’s not like you can hide your presence, but you certainly don’t have to encourage him.

The group of you manage to snag a table close enough to the stage that’s being constructed over the lanes, and you put in an order for a round of beers. You sense him even before your friends do a double take at who’s behind you. Sighing, you twist around in your seat.

“What.”

Something you can’t pinpoint flickers across his face. He shrugs.

“Haven’t seen you ‘round.”

“Well, I’m not a grifter. I got shit to do.”

His face falls.

Your friends are watching this exchange like it’s a tennis match.

“I have something for you.”

Before you can even say anything, he’s walking back to his corner and rummaging through his leather jacket. He comes back over and starts searching your face—or at least that’s what you assume he’s doing. Satisfied with what he sees, he nods, then unfurls his palm. In it is a jeweled stud that’s eerily close to the color of your eyes.

“I noticed you were pieced,” he says as he offers forth the earring.

Game. Set. Match.

“I—”

When you make no movement to take it, Mary gently places the stud on the table in front of you.

“Ok,” he says and walks away. You only watch him for a moment before turning back to your table and picking up the stud.

One of your friends gapes at you.

“Did Mary Goore just penguin you?”

You look up sharply. “What? No. Shut up.”

It doesn’t stop there.

When Mary sees the stud in one of your holes—after you sanitized the fuck out of it—he starts giving you tokens. A bejeweled pin for your coat lapel. A subtle bracelet chain. A scuffed silver ring with a onyx inlay. A mother-of-pearl button to replace one you lost on your jacket.

A new one every time he sees you wearing the last one.

You have no idea where he’s getting them. They obviously aren’t new, and you doubt he’s trolling the pawn shops. Each time, he merely comes over, presents his offering, then leaves. 

Some part of you realizes you’ve accepted his pitched woo when you get him a band pin from the local secondhand record shop. You know he usually works the door at the Irish pub on Friday nights, so you make it one of your stops. If he sees you in line, he certainly doesn’t try to wave you in again—but when your turn comes up again, you can see a smile start to break out on his face before he schools it.

“ID, please. Cover is $10 before 9 o’clock. No exceptions.” He smirks.

You mock gasp at him. “Highway robbery. I don’t even expect to pay that much on drinks.”

“Like you need to pay for your own drinks, beautiful.” His eyes take all of you in.

“Is that flattery, Goore?” you say leaning into his space.

His shrug says “maybe,” but his hooded eyes say “absolutely.”

Eyes still trained on his, you fish out two crisp fives while stealthily palming the pin. He cups his free hand out, and you place the bills in it, then rest the pin on top. Mary’s eyes zero in on the thing that’s not like the other, and you take the opportunity to skedaddle into the pub—two can play at the gift and run game.

It’s Saturday afternoon, and you’re bumming around in your apartment in a ratty tee and shorts when the buzzer makes its god awful noise. You’re a little wary because your other roommates are out, and you’re not expecting company.

You press the intercom. “Yes …?”

Feedback and a garbled male voice come through.

“Uh. This is Mary Goore. I’m here for …” he trails off, and you wonder if at any point you told Mary your name.

“Hey, dude,” you say.

“Oh. Is that you, um …”

You smile.

“Your gelfling? Yeah.”

“Cool. Cool cool cool. Can I … come up?”

You look down at yourself, and then at the detritus in the living room from 5 people.

“Or you could come down …?” he crackles.

“Gimmie 10,” you say.

Twenty minutes later you’re out the door, and you find Mary leaning against your building, thumbs hooked in his jeans. It’s a dreary day, so his parasol is nowhere in sight.

“Hey,” you say, and Mary opens his eyes. You’re in a comic book t-shirt and your denim shorts, and his eyes travel over you.

“Can I show you something?”

“Sure—” you start, then add, “—within reason.”

He nods. “Yeah. C’mon.”

The two of you start walking, you letting Mary take the lead.

After a block in silence, he says, “Thanks for the pin.”

You look over at him. “Thanks, uh … for the everything.”

He grins. “They look great on you.”

You walk a few more blocks, Mary taking you to a part of town that’s still close to the grid, but far enough that the houses are spaced apart. When he leads you to the back of a 3-story Victorian, you hesitate as he slides through the gate.

“What?”

“Is this the part of my life where I end up in pieces in a ditch?”

Mary rolls his eyes. He points to what looks like a back door.

“My door is here.”

Still wary, you follow after him as he unlocks the door and heads down a set of concrete stairs. You peer down at him.

“Are you sure this isn’t your murder basement?”

He turns to look up at you, his face scrunched in annoyance.

“Not all of us can afford nice, sunny apartments in high rises. Don’t be an asshole.”

“Sorry,” you say, even if you’re not 100% convinced.

You make your way down the steps and into the apartment. It’s actually not the lair you thought it would be. There are support beams throughout, but the paint is cheery and the furniture looks like your grandma got loose. Black clothes are draped everywhere, and there’s an old pizza box on the coffee table—but otherwise Mary’s place isn’t the shitshow you thought it would be.

“The lady’s mom died down here,” he says as he drops his keys on the kitchen counter. “I got it at a steal. As long as I pay rent and don’t blast music past 10pm, she could really give a fuck.”

“Is this what you …?”

He smiles at you, almost shyly. “No. C’mere.” He opens a door, and your interest propels your forward.

It’s Mary’s bedroom. Black cotton sheets are hung all around the room, and what look like back silk sheets—ripped at the corners—are stretched over a queen mattress laid on the floor.

“I’m not allowed to paint,” he says when he sees your line of sight. “And she got rid of the bed for obvious reasons.”

Your gaze comes down to the mahogany dressers. They’re covered in … costume jewelry? You approach one and are fascinated by all the baubles on it. There’s also a stack of polaroids. You pick them up to shuffle through. Most of them are portraits of what you assume are Mary’s conquests—though there are few … less than tasteful nudes. 

You squint up at him. “I don’t understand, Mary. What am I supposed to be seeing? Some dead woman’s costume jewelry and bedroom set? Your porn collection?”

“Sorry,” he rubs the back of his neck. “I forgot about those.”

He comes over to take them from you. “I usually keep them here …” He opens the top drawer of the dresser, and you see that it’s full of lingerie.

You back away. “What the fuck is this? Am I here to pose for you or some shit?”

“What? Wait, no! That’s not—” Marys rubs his face in his hands. “Wait, lemme start over.”

Even though you’re dubious, you let Mary take your hands in his.

“Yeah, this place has strong grandma energy … but everything else is me. I brought you here because …” He sighs. “I like to look at the jewelry and I like to wear the lingerie. People, too. I like pretty things, ok? I like to collect them.”

You look back over at the hoard on his dresser.

“So you like … go to estate sales or something?” 

You try to imagine Mary in his studs and ripped clothes—fake blood dripping down his face—at some fancy yard sale. 

He grins at you.

“You have no idea what my day job is, do you?”

“It’s not making breakfast for your conquests?”

Mary laughs.

“Jesus, no. They want me to stick around as much as I want to stick around. No. I’m a grave digger. Well, I’m kinda a grave digger. Blah blah blah … long, boring story: because of union rules I can’t officially be a grave digger—so I’m paid under the table.”

You slap your hands to your mouth. “OH MY GOD. You’re a grave robber. OH MY GOD YOU’RE A GRAVE ROBBER. Did you?” Your hand flies to the stud in your ear. “ IS THIS?! ”

Mary chuckles at you, then shrugs.

“Yeah, ok. Maybe. But it’s not like they can take it with them—and it turns out that under the table doesn’t come with benefits.”

“Oh my god—is this where the mausoleum rumor came from?”

Mary again takes your hands and draws you closer to him.

“That’s actually not far from the truth. It’s a nice, quiet place. The stone’s a little cold, but no one bothers you there. We should go sometime.”

You look around his room again.

“But … I guess I thought you lived …. This is nice, Mary. Why wouldn’t you want to take people here? Why did you sleep on my couch that one time?”

He shrugs. “It’s just a place to sleep, isn’t it? A cheap, furnished basement.”

You stare at him.

“Why me? Why show me?”

He sighs, air punching forcefully out his nose.

“I dunno. Just a feeling. You ever just. Vibe with someone?” He ghosts a finger down the side of your cheek. “And I like pretty things.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I’d like to.”

You stare at him. Hard. “I don’t like to share.”

He grins at you with too many teeth.

“If I collect you, I want you to be mine.” He crowds into you. “Will you be my Pretty Thing?”

You smile back at him before you’re leaning forward to press your lips into his.

#mary goore #my writing #original content #sfw